Gabrielle walked through the entrance of the small café in Montmartre just as the lunch crowd began to thin. She spotted Fleur immediately at their usual table by the window, her older sister's silver hair catching the light like spun glass.
"You're late," Fleur said in French without looking up from her menu, though there was no real reproach in her tone.
"Only by five minutes." Gabrielle slid into the chair across from her and reached for the water pitcher. The morning meetings had run long, each healer more interested in discussing their theories than listening to hers. Still, she'd made progress.
Fleur lowered the menu. Her blue eyes swept over Gabrielle once, then twice, and a slow smile curved her lips. "Well. Someone had an eventful evening, looks like."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Please." Fleur set the menu aside entirely, leaning forward with the expression of a cat who'd spotted cream. "You're practically glowing. And there's something else." She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. "The energy around you is different. Satisfied."
Gabrielle felt heat rise to her cheeks despite herself. She should have known better than to think she could hide anything from Fleur, especially this. Veela were sensitive to such things, attuned to the currents of desire and pleasure that most people couldn't detect.
"Can we order first?"
"Absolutely not." Fleur's smile widened. "You're going to tell me everything right now. Is it the friend you mentioned?"
"Maybe."
"Gabrielle."
"Fine, yes." She picked up her own menu just to have something to do with her hands. "We spent last night together. And this morning. Are you happy now?"
"Ecstatic." Fleur's expression softened into one of genuine happiness, the teasing look fading. "I'm glad, truly. You've been so careful for so long, never letting anyone close enough. It's good that you found someone you trust."
"It's not like that." Gabrielle set the menu down with more force than necessary. "We're not together or anything. We're just enjoying each other's company without putting labels on it."
"Friends with benefits, then?"
"Exactly."
The waiter appeared before Fleur could respond, and they ordered quickly. Gabrielle chose the salad niçoise without really looking at the menu, her mind still half occupied with the memory of Harry's hands on her skin, his mouth against her throat, and the feeling of his dick in her…
She forced herself to focus as the waiter retreated.
Fleur watched her with barely concealed amusement. "So this friend of yours. He must be quite something if you're willing to take that step with him."
"He is." Gabrielle couldn't quite keep the smile from her face. "It's easy with him. No pressure, no expectations beyond having a good time. He makes me laugh."
"And other things, clearly."
"Fleur."
"What? I'm your sister. I'm allowed to be interested in your happiness." Fleur reached across to squeeze her hand. "Truly, I'm relieved. You've always been so particular, and I worried you'd never find someone who met your standards."
"My standards aren't that high."
"They absolutely are, and that's not a bad thing." Fleur released her hand and sat back. "But tell me, what does he think of this arrangement? Most men aren't content with just physical intimacy."
Gabrielle thought about Harry's easy acceptance of their situation, the way he'd seemed as relieved as she was to keep things simple. "He suggested it first, actually. Or we decided together. The point is, we're on the same page."
"How refreshingly mature." Fleur's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I have to say, you've become quite proficient at this little game already. Deflecting my questions, keeping details to yourself. One might think you'd been doing this for years."
"Or maybe I just know you too well and prepared my defenses accordingly."
Their food arrived, giving Gabrielle a temporary reprieve from Fleur's interrogation. She speared a piece of tuna with perhaps more enthusiasm than necessary, suddenly ravenous. The morning's activities had burned through breakfast quickly.
"So the meetings this morning," Fleur said after a few bites, apparently willing to change the subject. "How did they go?"
"Better than expected, worse than hoped." Gabrielle swallowed and reached for her water. "Healer Dubois was actually helpful. She works with magical creature injuries and had some interesting thoughts on burn treatment. But Healer Laurent spent twenty minutes explaining why my theories couldn't possibly work before admitting he hadn't actually read my research."
"Typical." Fleur rolled her eyes. "Did you set him straight?"
"Politely but firmly." Gabrielle allowed herself a small smile at the memory of Laurent's expression when she'd quoted his own published work back at him, highlighting where it contradicted his objections. "He agreed to review the materials properly before our follow up meeting next week."
"That's my sister." Pride colored Fleur's voice. "You have the best combination of brilliance and stubbornness in our family."
It was a hot afternoon, and the café's cooling systems had to work overtime. Gabrielle finished her salad and started on the crusty bread that came with it, tearing off pieces and dragging them through the vinaigrette left on her plate.
"You're having dinner with him tonight?" Fleur asked eventually, returning to the earlier topic with the persistence of a dog with a bone.
"We're cooking together, yes."
"How romantic," Fleur teased with a grin. "At his place?"
"Yes."
"And you'll probably stay the night again."
"Probably." Gabrielle refused to feel embarrassed about it. She was an adult woman who could make her own choices, and if those choices involved spending another night in Harry's bed, that was nobody's business but theirs.
Fleur studied her for a long moment, then nodded as if coming to some internal decision. "Just promise me you'll be careful. Not about the physical stuff, obviously you're being sensible about that. But with your heart. I know you say it's just casual, but feelings have a way of developing whether we want them to or not."
"I'll be fine." Gabrielle meant it, too. She knew herself well enough to recognize when she was getting too attached, and right now everything was exactly as it should be. Fun, exciting, and blessedly uncomplicated. "We're both clear about what this is."
"If you say so." Fleur signaled for the check. "But if you need to talk, I'm always here. Even if it's just to tell me the scandalous details."
"There are no scandalous details."
"Liar." Fleur said with a warm and affectionate smile, typical of an older sister. "You forget I can sense these things. Whatever happened last night and this morning must've been definitely worth the wait."
Gabrielle felt her cheeks heat again but couldn't suppress her own smile. "Okay, fine. It was good. Very good. Happy now?"
"Delighted." Fleur paid the bill over Gabrielle's protests, waving away her attempts to contribute. "My treat. Consider it a celebration of your newfound freedom to enjoy yourself without overthinking everything."
They parted ways outside the café. Gabrielle had two more appointments that afternoon, both mercifully shorter than the morning sessions. She threw herself into work, discussing treatment protocols and reviewing case studies, letting her passion for healing magic override any distracting thoughts about what the evening might bring.
But as five o'clock approached and she wrapped up her final meeting, anticipation began to coil in her stomach. She apparated back to her parents' home with just enough time to shower and change, washing away the day's accumulation of travel grime and meeting stress.
The question of what to wear took longer than it should have. This was just dinner, just cooking together like friends. But she found herself reaching for her blue sleeveless blouse, the one that brought out her eyes and happened to show off her cleavage quite nicely. She paired it with fitted black trousers and simple flats, telling herself this was perfectly appropriate attire for a casual evening.
The walk to Harry's home from her bedroom took ten minutes, long enough for the sun to fully set. Gabrielle's heels clicked against the path. The heat of the day still lingered despite the evening, and she was sure it was going to be a warm night ahead.
In more ways than one, she thought with a grin.
Harry's cottage came into view just as a group of children poured out the front door, chattering excitedly. Gabrielle stepped aside to let them pass, watching as they scattered toward their respective homes. One girl turned back to shout her thanks.
"See you Thursday, Professor!"
Gabrielle smiled as she approached the door. It stood ajar, presumably to let in whatever breeze might appear. She knocked anyway, not wanting to simply walk in unannounced.
"Come in." Harry's voice carried from inside. "Door's open."
She pushed it wider and stepped into the main room. Harry stood by the kitchen counter, his back to her as he organized the cooking ingredients.
"Hello, Professor," Gabrielle couldn't resist the tease as she closed the door behind her.
Harry turned, a smile already forming. "Told them so many times to just call me Harry, but they don't listen." His eyes traveled over her, slow and appreciative. "You look good."
Gabrielle took her time to take him in properly. He was dressed in dark trousers and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The top few buttons were undone, revealing a triangle of tanned skin and the hollow of his throat.
"So do you." She meant it. There was something about the casual domesticity of the scene that appealed to her more than it probably should. Harry in his kitchen, sleeves rolled up and ready to cook, hair slightly mussed from the day's activities. "Professional attire suits you."
"This old thing?" He gestured down at himself with mock modesty. "Just threw on whatever was clean."
"Liar." She crossed the room toward him, putting more sway to her hips as she moved. She pulled the band out of her hair, shaking her head sensuously, and tossed it onto the nearby sofa without looking, her attention fixed entirely on Harry.
His gaze tracked her movement, lingering on the way her blouse skimmed her curves, the hint of skin at her throat, and how hot she looked with her hair loose like that.
"Have a good day?"
"Productive." She stopped in front of him, close enough to catch the clean scent of soap and his unique cologne. "Fleur sends her regards, by the way. Or she would if she knew I was seeing you tonight."
"She doesn't know?"
"She knows I have plans with a friend." Gabrielle reached past him for the vegetables he'd set out on the counter, letting her arm brush against his. "She also knows I slept with said friend last night, thanks to her inconvenient ability to sense these things."
Harry chuckled. "That must have been an interesting conversation."
"She was relieved, actually. Apparently I've been too uptight for too long." Gabrielle picked up a bell pepper, turning it over in her hands. "What are we making?"
"Thought we'd do a simple pasta. Nothing too complicated." Harry moved to stand beside her, pulling out a cutting board and knife. "There's wine in the fridge if you want to pour us some."
She found the bottle easily, a crisp white that would pair well with whatever they were cooking. Two glasses materialized from the cupboard and she poured generously, handing one to Harry before taking a sip of her own. The wine was cold and dry, exactly what the evening called for.
"So your sister can sense when you've had sex," Harry said conversationally as he began slicing onions. "That's either very useful or incredibly invasive."
"Both, depending on the situation." Gabrielle started washing the peppers and tomatoes, setting them on the counter to drain. "It's a veela thing. We're more attuned to certain energies than most people."
"Certain energies," Harry repeated, amusement clear in his tone. "That's one way to put it."
"Would you prefer I be more explicit?" She glanced at him sideways, noting the way his hands moved with confidence as he worked. "I could tell Fleur exactly what we did, in detail. I'm sure she'd be fascinated."
"Please don't."
"Coward," she teased with a smile, enjoying the easy banter between them. This was what she'd hoped for when she'd suggested their arrangement. No awkwardness, no morning after regrets. Just two people who genuinely enjoyed each other, having fun.
Harry finished with the onions and moved on to garlic. "What else did you and Fleur talk about?"
"My meetings mostly. Work stuff." Gabrielle began slicing the peppers, cutting them into strips that would cook quickly. "She wanted to make sure I wasn't getting too attached to my casual friend."
"And what did you tell her?"
"That we're both adults who know what we're doing." She set the knife down and reached for her wine, taking another sip. "That this is exactly what I need right now. Simple, fun, uncomplicated."
"Uncomplicated," Harry echoed. He'd moved closer, close enough that his arm brushed hers as he reached for the tomatoes. "I like that word."
"So do I." The contact sent a pleasant shiver up her spine despite the evening warmth. "Makes everything so much easier when everyone's honest about what they want."
They worked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, falling into an easy rhythm. Harry handled the base ingredients while Gabrielle prepared the vegetables.
"Hand me that basil?" Harry gestured toward the small pot of herbs by the window.
Gabrielle plucked several leaves and passed them over, deliberately letting her fingers linger against his as he took them. "You're quite good at this."
"Cooking?"
"All of it." She leaned back against the counter, watching him work. "The cooking, the tutoring, the whole domestic god thing you've got going on here."
Harry laughed warmly. "Domestic god might be overselling it a bit."
"I don't know. You're making it look pretty effortless." She took another sip of wine, enjoying the slight buzz beginning to form at her temples. "It's been over a year since you started tutoring the kids, right?"
"Almost a couple of years now. Started when the Meunier boy was about to head off to Beauxbatons and his parents were worried he'd be behind everyone else." Harry set a pot of water on the stove to boil. "Word spread and now I've got almost a dozen students every summer."
"That's sweet." And it was, genuinely thoughtful in a way that made warmth unfurl in her chest. She pushed the feeling aside, reminding herself not to read too much into it. "Do they know who you are?"
"That I'm Harry Potter?" He shrugged. "Some do, some don't. The older ones figured it out pretty quickly. They're the ones who are more familiar with all the tales. But I try to just be Harry, you know? The guy who helps them with their prep."
"Professor Potter," she corrected with a grin.
"That's Mr. Potter to you." He pointed the wooden spoon at her in mock sternness. "Show some respect."
"Make me," she said huskily.
Harry's expression shifted, a heated look flickering in his eyes before he turned back to the stove with a slight smile. "Careful what you wish for."
"I'm not wishing for anything." Gabrielle moved to stand beside him, seemingly to check on the vegetables she'd prepared. "Just stating facts."
His free hand found her hip, his fingers curving against the fabric of her trousers. "Facts, huh?"
"Mmhmm." She didn't pull away, instead leaning slightly into the touch. "For instance, it's a fact that you've been looking at my arse since I walked in here."
"Also a fact that you wore those trousers knowing I would." His thumb traced small circles against her hip bone. "Or this little blouse of yours. Don't think I don't notice these things."
"I hoped you would notice." She set her wine glass down and turned to face him properly, bringing them chest to chest. "Would defeat the purpose otherwise."
Harry's other hand came up to cup her face, tilting it toward his. "What purpose is that?"
"This one." She closed the distance and kissed him, slow and thorough, tasting the wine and spice on his tongue. He kissed back just as deeply, his hand tightening on her hip as she pressed closer.
When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Harry's expression had shifted into something darker, more intent. "We should finish cooking."
"Probably," she agreed but made no move to step away, enjoying the solid warmth of his body against her. "Though I have to say, you're making it very difficult to focus on dinner."
"Likewise." He stole another quick kiss before reluctantly releasing her. "But if we don't eat something soon, I'm going to end up backing you against that counter and forgetting about food entirely."
"Would that be so terrible?"
"Yes, because I'm starving." Harry grinned at her disappointed expression. "Delayed gratification, Gabrielle. It'll be worth the wait."
She sighed dramatically but moved back to her position at the counter. "Fine. But only because I'm hungry too."
They returned to their preparations, though the air between them felt heavier now, filled with anticipation. Every casual touch became charged, every exchanged glance loaded with promise. Harry's fingers brushed hers as they both reached for the pepper grinder. Gabrielle's hip bumped his when she moved to get olive oil from the cupboard.
The water came to a boil and Harry added pasta, stirring it while explaining something about cooking times that Gabrielle only half heard. She was too distracted by the flex of muscles in his forearms, the capable way his hands moved, and she couldn't help imagining those same hands on her skin later.
"You're not listening," Harry observed with mirth.
"I am absolutely listening."
She wasn't.
"You were saying something very important about al dente."
"Liar," Harry said with a fond roll of his eyes. "Go on. Pour some more wine. Might help you concentrate."
Gabrielle obliged, topping up both their glasses. The bottle was half empty already, which probably explained the pleasant warmth spreading through her limbs. Not drunk, just pleasantly relaxed and more than a little aroused.
Harry added the vegetables to a pan with olive oil, the sizzle filling the kitchen with mouthwatering scent. He added herbs and seasonings without measuring, tasting and adjusting until satisfied.
"Where did you learn to cook like this?" Gabrielle asked, genuinely curious despite her distraction.
"Trial and error mostly. My aunt and uncle weren't exactly generous with cooking lessons when I was growing up." Something dark flickered across his expression before it disappeared. "So I taught myself once I had my own place. Turns out it's pretty relaxing."
"It suits you." She moved closer again, unable to resist. Her hand settled on the small of his back, thumb rubbing small circles through his shirt. "The whole taking care of people thing."
"Is that what I'm doing?" Harry glanced at her over his shoulder, his green eyes warm. "Taking care of you?"
"In a manner of speaking." Gabrielle rose on her toes to press a kiss to the curve where his neck met his shoulder. "Though I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"Never said you weren't." He turned in her arms, abandoning the stove for a moment to pull her close. "But there's nothing wrong with letting someone else do it sometimes."
She kissed him again because she could, because he was right there and solid and warm, because the wine had lowered her already limited inhibitions. His tongue swept into her mouth, confident and sure, and she melted into him with a soft sound of pleasure.
The timer on the stove beeped, forcing them apart.
"Saved by the bell," Harry murmured against her lips.
"More like interrupted by the bell."
Gabrielle stepped back, allowing him to return his attention to dinner. "Though I suppose we should eat before anything else."
"Delayed gratification," he reminded her with a grin.
They finished preparing the meal together, working side by side in the kitchen. Harry drained the pasta while Gabrielle tossed the vegetables, combining everything in a large bowl with fresh parmesan and more herbs. The result looked simple but smelled incredible, and Gabrielle's stomach growled its appreciation.
They carried everything to the small dining table by the window. The sky was moonlit now, and Harry lit candles with a casual wave of his wand, creating an ambiance that might have felt too romantic if they'd been on an actual date. As it was, Gabrielle found it charming rather than presumptuous.
"To uncomplicated summers," Harry said, raising his glass.
"To uncomplicated summers," Gabrielle echoed, clinking her glass against his.
The pasta was excellent, perfectly cooked and seasoned. They ate and talked, conversation flowing as easily as it had earlier. Gabrielle told him more about her research, finding him genuinely interested rather than just politely attentive. He asked intelligent questions that showed he was actually listening, making connections between different aspects of magical healing that she hadn't considered.
"You'd make a good researcher yourself," she observed, twirling pasta around her fork.
"Not patient enough." Harry refilled both their glasses, emptying the bottle. "I prefer doing to theorizing."
"Hence the tutoring instead of teaching full time at Hogwarts."
"Exactly." He grinned at her. "Plus this way I get my summers free to do whatever I want."
"Like hosting beautiful French women?" The wine had made her bold, though not so much that she regretted the words.
"Like hosting beautiful French women who enjoy casual summer flings," Harry agreed easily, a smirk on his face. "Among other things."
"What other things?"
"Reading. Swimming. Flying. The occasional bout of absolutely spectacular sex with said French women."
"Spectacular, hmm?"
"Did I stutter?" His eyes gleamed with amusement and lust. "Unless you'd care to disagree with my assessment."
"I wouldn't dare." She set her glass down carefully, suddenly very aware of how his gaze had dropped to her mouth. "Though I might need more evidence to form a complete opinion."
"We can arrange that."
They finished dinner slowly, neither rushing despite the tension building between them. They talked more about their work, and Gabrielle learned that he preferred to have something that was not too time consuming, just enough to let him stay busy and feel useful without the commitment of a full time position.
"Sounds like you value your freedom," she observed.
"I do." Harry met her eyes across the table. "Spent too many years having my life dictated by other people's expectations. Now I do what I want, when I want, with who I want."
"A man after my own heart." Though her heart wasn't what was currently demanding attention. Lower parts of her anatomy had grown increasingly insistent as the meal progressed.
When they finally finished eating, Harry moved to gather their plates. Gabrielle stopped him with a hand on his wrist.
"I'll do the dishes," she said firmly. "You did most of the cooking."
"We can just magic them clean."
"Where's the fun in that?" She stood, collecting the plates before he could protest further. "Sit. Relax. Let me do this."
Harry looked amused but didn't argue, settling back in his chair with his wine glass. "You're very determined about this."
"I am." Gabrielle carried everything to the sink, throwing her silky silver-blonde hair over her shoulder as she went. The water ran hot and soapy over her hands as she began washing each plate carefully.
"You know you're a witch, right?" Harry called from behind her. "This seems like an inefficient use of magic."
Gabrielle smiled but didn't respond, continuing her methodical cleaning. There was something meditative about the simple task, the cool water and repetitive motions. Besides, she was perfectly aware of the view she was presenting, bent slightly over the sink in her fitted trousers.
She heard rather than saw Harry stand, his footsteps approaching across the wooden floor, and her heart began to beat a little faster. Then his hands were on her hips, warm and solid, and his body pressed against her back.
"This is quite the show," he murmured against her ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there.
"I'm just washing dishes." She kept her tone innocent even as she pressed back against him hotly, feeling his hardness against her ass. "Very boring, really."
"Nothing about you is boring." His hands slid from her hips to her stomach, splaying across the fabric of her blouse. "Especially not in those trousers."
"You like them?"
"I like what's in them more." He nuzzled into her neck, his teeth grazing lightly. "Been thinking about getting you out of them since you walked in here."
Gabrielle's breath hitched as his hands moved higher, cupping her breasts through the thin material. "I'm trying to finish the dishes."
"Mmm, don't let me stop you." But his thumbs were circling her nipples now, feeling them harden under his touch. "Just providing some encouragement."
"This is the opposite of encouragement." Though she didn't stop washing, continuing to work even as arousal pooled hot and insistent between her thighs. "Very distracting."
"Good." One hand left her breast to slide back down, over her stomach and lower, pressing against her through the fabric. "Because you've been distracting me all evening."
She set down the plate she'd been washing, gripping the edge of the sink instead as Harry's fingers found the seam between her legs, rubbing with just enough pressure to make her gasp. "Harry."
"Yes?" His other hand remained on her breast, kneading gently while his thumb continued its maddening circles. "Something wrong?"
"You know exactly what's wrong." She pushed back against him, feeling his hardness pressing against her arse. "Or right. Depending on perspective."
"Right sounds good to me." He increased the pressure between her legs, his fingers working the fabric against her clit in a way that made her knees weak. "Though I have to say, watching you do dishes is unexpectedly arousing."
"Everything's arousing to you right now." She said, and her voice came out breathless, undermining the attempt at sass.
"True." His mouth moved along her neck, sucking marks into her skin that would definitely be visible tomorrow. "But you make it especially easy."
Gabrielle abandoned the pretense of washing dishes entirely, turning in his arms to face him properly. Water dripped from her hands as she fisted them in his shirt, pulling him down for a kiss that was more teeth than finesse.
Harry kissed back just as roughly, his hands gripping her hips to lift her onto the counter beside the sink. She wrapped her legs around his waist immediately, pulling him between her thighs where she needed him most. He slammed into her roughly, swallowing the filthy moan that she would've let out.
"Bedroom?" he managed between kisses.
"Eventually." Gabrielle's fingers found the buttons of his shirt, working them open with more urgency than skill. "Right now I'm perfectly happy here."
"Counter it is then." Harry's hands slid under her blouse, his palms hot against her skin as they moved upward. "Though I make no promises about taking our time."
"Who said anything about taking our time?" She got his shirt open finally, pushing it off his shoulders to reveal the body she'd spent the morning thoroughly exploring. "Delayed gratification is overrated."
"Now she tells me."
With a grin, he pulled her blouse over her head, tossing it aside without ceremony. His eyes darkened at the sight of her lace bra, his fingers tracing the edge before flicking open the clasp with ease. "Beautiful."
"Flattery will get you everywhere." Gabrielle arched into his touch as his hands cupped her bare breasts, his thumbs brushing over nipples already tight with arousal.
"That's the plan." He bent his head to take one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make her gasp and clutch at his shoulders.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him against her as pleasure sparked from her breast to her core. His other hand worked her remaining nipple, pinching and rolling until she was squirming against him, desperate for more friction.
"Trousers off," she demanded when she couldn't take it anymore. "Now."
Harry laughed against her skin but obliged, reaching for the button of her trousers. She lifted her hips to help him slide them down along with her underwear, leaving her completely bare on his kitchen counter.
"This is definitely going on my list of favorite sights," he said, stepping back to look at her properly.
"Stop looking and start touching." Gabrielle reached for him, pulling him back between her legs. "Or I'll finish this myself and you can just watch."
"Tempting offer," he said, but his hands were already moving, one sliding between her thighs to find her wet and ready. "But I think I'd rather participate."
His fingers slid through her folds, gathering her slickness before circling her clit with perfect pressure. Gabrielle's head fell back against the cabinet, her hips rolling to meet each stroke.
"Fuck, you're soaked." Harry's voice had gone rough with desire. "All from just a little teasing?"
"All from watching you cook and thinking about this." She reached between them to palm his dick through his trousers, feeling him hard and thick against her hand. "Now are you going to keep talking or are you going to fuck me?"
"When you ask so nicely." He worked his trousers open one handed, the other still between her legs. "I should probably warn you though, I'm not feeling particularly gentle right now."
"Good." Gabrielle wrapped her hand around his freed cock, stroking once before guiding him to her entrance. "Neither am I."
He pushed inside in one smooth thrust, filling her completely. They both groaned at the sensation, at how perfectly they fit together. Harry's hands gripped her hips as he began to move, setting a rhythm that was hard and fast and exactly what she needed.
Gabrielle wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on as he drove into her with increasing urgency. The counter was the perfect height, allowing him to hit deep on every thrust, the angle making her see stars.
"Yes," she gasped against his shoulder. "Just like that. Don't stop."
"Not planning on it." Harry's breath came harsh against her ear, punctuated by the slap of skin on skin. "Feel too good. So fucking perfect."
One hand left her hip to slide between them, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing in tight circles. The dual sensation of him inside her and the pressure on her most sensitive spot pushed her rapidly toward the edge.
"Close," she warned, her nails digging into his shoulders. "So close."
"Come for me." His fingers pressed harder, his thrusts getting rougher. "Want to feel you."
Every slide of his thick cock stretched her perfectly, hitting that deep spot inside her that made her gasp and arch. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving marks on his skin as she met him thrust for thrust, her hips rolling up to take him deeper and harder.
The pleasure built fast… too fast, like a spring coiled and ready to snap. She could feel every inch of his cock, the way he throbbed inside her, and the slick heat where he was fucking her. Her breath came in short, desperate pants as he fucked her hard.
"Harry—oh fuck, I'm—"
Her words dissolved into a broken moan as he angled his hips just right, grinding against her clit with every deep plunge, and it didn't take long for her to explode around his cock.
Pleasure crashed through her in waves, her body clenching around him. She cried out, her thighs shaking violently around his hips, her toes curling tight.
Harry kept moving through it, dragging out every last pulse of her orgasm until she was whimpering, oversensitive and trembling, her body jerking with the aftershocks of her climax.
"Fuck, you feel so good when you come," he growled against her ear, his voice rough with restraint. "So tight… so wet… keep squeezing me like that."
Gabrielle could barely think or breathe. Her hands scrambled over his back, her nails raking down his spine as another smaller, sharper aftershock made her clench around him again. She was slick and swollen, every movement sending sparks of too-much pleasure through her.
Harry's rhythm faltered for the first time. His thrusts grew erratic, harder, chasing his own release. His breathing turned ragged against her throat, hot and uneven. "Gabrielle… I'm close—fuck—"
He buried himself to the hilt one last time, hips grinding against hers as he came with a low, guttural groan. She felt him pulse inside her, thick and hot, filling her as his cock throbbed with every spurt.
His release triggered another climax through her, and she came again with a loud cry. His arms tightened around her, holding her flush against him while she shuddered through her second orgasm, her face pressed into the crook of his neck. She could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat against her chest, matching the frantic rhythm of her own.
"Okay," Gabrielle said when she could finally speak again. "Definitely spectacular."
Harry laughed, slightly breathless. "Glad to maintain my standards."
"Very high standards." She kissed him, slower this time, savoring it. "Think we can manage the walk to your bedroom or should we just stay here?"
"Bedroom definitely." He pulled out carefully, both of them wincing slightly at the loss of contact. "Because I'm not nearly done with you yet."
"Promises, promises," Gabrielle said with a teasing smile as he helped her down from the counter.
They took their time, but they did manage to make it to his bedroom eventually.
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