The Deal

The Yellow Chrysanthemums

"Are there any superstitions about sex?"

Harry's curious tone just barely breaks through the lust-filled haze I had fallen into after my third orgasm. A dank must has filled the air as we lay on my silk sheets completely bare, slick with sweat, and flushed from head to toe after our extra-curricular activities.

I turn my head to meet his eyes, but his gaze is intently focused on the rapid rise and fall of my breasts. Scoffing, I brush away the hair that had stuck to my face after I fell back onto the bed. Unbelievable, we had been in this bed since sunrise when Harry stumbled through my door and began stripping. Yet, he still only has one thing on his mind.

"There are so very many," I laugh and Harry finally meets my eyes, flashing me a wolfish grin when he realizes he had been caught ogling me.

"Any that I should be aware of?"

The smile that tugs at my lips is unconscious, Harry had been more and more curious about my beliefs and less and less weirded out by them. It felt nice to be validated, even if he didn't quite understand where I was coming from.

Ever since the party last week, Harry had spent most of his nights between my thighs and most of his days in my thoughts.

I know that we are on very thin ice; the rules we had established a few nights ago slowly blurring as our affair dragged on, but my lack of concern towards our growing familiarity was beginning to worry me.

He wants to know more about me and I want to let him and that is very dangerous territory. But, I just can't seem to stop myself, not when it comes to him.

Harry turns on his side, the mattress squeaking in protest, and lifts a hand to trace the sharp edge of my collarbone so lightly I almost don't notice it.

Almost.

A shiver runs down my spine as I meet his playful gaze with one of my own, "Well, if you masturbate too often you'll go blind from vanity and pleasure. And... men with more body hair tend to be more passionate and virile than men with less body hair."

Harry's hand stills against the curve of my breast, a devilish smirk on my face as my eyes roam his hairless chest.

Leisurely, my teasing gaze meets his, a surprised gasp leaving my lips when I see how dark his eyes have grown, the bursting flare of bright red in his aura.

Auras of a brilliant red indicate a very sexually charged soul. Passionate and full of energy –these individuals tend to become very competitive in intimate relationships and make for enthusiastic lovers.

"Is that so?" The challenge in his voice is clear and I feel a sharp tugging sensation in my lower stomach at the hunger in his eyes.

He leans over me predatorily, one hand balancing himself on the mattress as his other dances across my ribs, caresses my hips, and takes its time dipping down between my legs.

I bite back a moan, his hungry gaze focusing on the cushion of my lip caught between my teeth as he teases my slickness.

I'm shocked at how instantly my body responds to him -how ready I am to take him inside of me again- even though I've had him all morning. He is relentless in his attention, fingers deft and skilled in their assault of my sex. After all this time, he has learned just what I need to get going, just what drives me crazy.

I am completely at his mercy and I give myself up to him willingly.

"Mhmm," I hum in satisfaction, the sound morphing into a loud moan as the cold rings on his fingers brush against my folds.