Even with the false starts of new lovers, of learning how to move and fit and mold with each other, sex with Malfoy felt right in all the ways she imagined sex should. Hermione rode him faster as she found her confidence, as the feel of him slapping into her drove them into a frenzy, and the way he whispered obscenities while he ground against her clit upon entering her made her dizzy with lust. When she was too tired to bounce, he took over, one arm around her waist and the other under her arse, moving her body for his pleasure and driving her higher and higher. His teeth were at the base of her neck, hot breaths scorching her slick skin between growls of praise, of how amazing she was, how pretty she looked bouncing on his cock; how he wanted to fuck into her tight wet little hole every fucking day of his life, and he’d die happy if she would let him eat her again after pumping her full of his load; how he wanted so desperately to make her his forever, ruin her for other men, and Hermione—