The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Guilt

{{since today is a Sunday and nobody likes the end of the weekend, I decided to be nice and publish this chapter. It's really self serving because I'm DYING to get to these next few chapters. Buckle up everyone! MATURE WARNING}}

James runs his thumb along Phoebe's jaw, his lips melded perfectly to hers.

Her breathing hitches when she feels his tongue tracing the seam of her lips. She smiles slightly, keeping her lips clamped shut despite his impatient groan.

She jumps when his hands suddenly grab her arse, making a gasp that opens herself up to his advances. She moans quietly when his tongue sweeps past her lips and finds her own. He's teasing, gentle then rough. It makes her dizzy, how James can transition so effortlessly from kissing her sweetly to making her thighs clench together.

He reluctantly pulls away from her, asking huskily,

"Where are we?"

"London. My mum's house."

His eyes light up at her words. Alone. They were alone. The wicked smirk that takes over his face has her knees shaking in anticipation. She lets out a shriek of surprise when he suddenly grabs her into his arms and lifts her into the air.

"Put me down!" She laughs, smacking his arm. He grins knowingly and replies,

"As you wish."

He's suddenly setting her down on the dark wood table that she saw in her dream of her mother. She smiles up at him, grabbing his collar to force him down to her. Their open and wanting mouths meet, their kiss slow and languid and so sensual it nearly makes James' eyes cross. He groans when she slides her tongue against his fleetingly, her mouth separating from his and gracing his neck.

He grabs onto her thighs, parting her legs so he can stand between them. He wants—needs to be close to her. He cranes his neck to the side to give her more room, practically vibrating from how good her lips felt against his throat. She presses an open mouthed kiss to the skin just below his jaw.

"You're killing me, Bee," He rasps from above her, making her shoulders shake with restrained laughter. His eyes flutter shut when she licks a slow stripe from his jaw to his ear, his grip tightening on her bare thighs as her skirt pools at her waist.

"Fuck," He croaks, his member fully awake and needy now. Phoebe smiles against him, playfully licking and sucking and biting until a mark blemishes his otherwise perfect skin. Perfect. That's what he was to her.

When she pulls back she smiles up at him so beautifully that it makes his heart hurt. He grins at the glint in her lustfilled eyes, chuckling when she slowly unbuckles his belt and slides it off of his hips. Her fingers gently trace the outline of his erection, her mouth watering slightly at the thought of being close to him again. She wants to taste him again. But he has other ideas.

She shudders when his thumb traces her lips, resting gently on her lower one as he wonders quietly,

"I seem to recall a reward being mentioned."

She nearly corrects him, tells him that the reward was promised if he behaved. But she wants him so badly it hurts. She smiles against the pad of his thumb, whispering,

"Anything you want."

James let's out a curse when she gently bites his thumb before taking it into her sweet, sinful mouth. Clothes go flying after that, shirts and shoes and the pretty cream skirt she was wearing piling on the floor. A rushed contraceptive spell, and then their wands join their clothing.

James crashes his lips to hers while his fingers busy themselves with her bra, his mouth punishing on hers. She moans into him, her back arching as her bra disappears and his hands claim her breasts. He's that combination of gentle and aggressive again, kneading roughly and then caressing so lightly it sends electricity up her spine.