Hermione shivered all over and whimpered, rocked back into him and provoked him into moving faster, harder. Draco thrust deep and it ached so deliciously, her bum bumping back into him as he jerked into her, the bedsprings squeaking a faint protest, listening to her ragged breaths, and Draco's stifled moans, his stream of low, incoherent compliments. So tight. Fucking – perfect. Merlin. So fucking sexy. At one point he leaned forward and growled in her ear. "Do you like that?" he demanded, with obscene intonations, and although Hermione huffed a breath that was almost-but-not-quite a laugh and just nodded, made a shy sound of assent, the way he said it sent bolts of white hot lust through her.