She pressed her hips down until her slick, exposed flesh made contact with his rigid length. She gasped at the sensation-the velvety heat of his cock meat rubbing against her sensitive, soaking wet lips.
She didn't take him inside. Instead, she began to grind.
She rubbed her clitoris against the sensitive underside of his shaft, sliding up and down in a slow, agonizing rhythm. The friction was exquisite. Her juices coated him, making him shine in the dim light, slicking the way for the friction to turn electric.
"Fuck," Harry hissed, his head falling back against the pillows, his neck tendons straining. "You're such a tease."
"I'm just making sure you're ready," she teased back, though her own breath was hitching. She rolled her hips in a circle, mashing her swollen vulva against the ridge of his cock head, spreading her lubrication all over him. Every movement made her breasts bounce heavily. They swayed with a hypnotic rhythm, the soft flesh jiggling, nipples dancing in the air just out of reach of his mouth. She saw his eyes tracking the movement, saw the hunger in his gaze as he watched her tits jump and sway.
She moaned, the sound low and guttural. Her pussy was aching, throbbing with a need so intense it felt like a physical weight between her legs. It had been years-decades-since she had felt this kind of raw, animalistic desire.
She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. She ground down harder, the head of his cock slipping partially between her lips before she lifted her hips and denied him again. She rubbed the length of his shaft along her slit, treating herself like he was a living dildo she wasn't quite ready to accept.
"Beg me," she whispered, the demand slipping out before she could stop it. It was the Black family arrogance surfacing, the need for control even as she surrendered. She looked down at him, eyes heavy-lidded with lust. "Tell me you want it, Harry. Tell me you need to be inside me."
Harry growled, his hands abandoning the sheets to grip her wide hips. His thumbs dug into her flesh, bruising and possessive.
"I need it," he snarled, his voice rough with restraint. "I need to bury myself in you, Narcissa. Stop playing games and sit on my cock."
The command sent a bolt of lightning straight to her core. That was what she wanted. She didn't want a boy who asked permission. She wanted her King to take what was his!
"Yes, Master," she breathed, her voice trembling.
She lifted her hips one last time, reached down with one hand to guide him, and positioned the wide, weeping head of his cock at her entrance.
She paused for a heartbeat, looking him in the eye. "This belongs to you," she vowed.
Then she let gravity take over. She sank down.
Narcissa gasped, her head throwing back as he breached her. He was huge. Incredibly, impossibly thick. She felt him stretching her, filling her completely, pushing past rings of muscle that hadn't been touched in years. It was a feeling of fullness so intense it bordered on pain, but the pleasure that rode its coattails was blinding.
She slid down inch by agonizing inch, her body accommodating him, her inner walls clutching at him greedily. She felt every vein, every ridge of him as he invaded her.
When she finally bottomed out, her ass hitting his thighs with a soft slap, she let out a long, broken sob of pure ecstasy.
"Oh, Merlin," she whimpered, her hands clutching his shoulders to keep from collapsing. "Harry... you're so big... you're filling me up completely."
She could feel him pulsing inside her, deep in her stomach. She was impaled on him, anchored to the bed by his cock. It was the most grounding sensation she had ever experienced. She felt safe. She felt owned.
Harry didn't give her time to adjust. He gripped her hips and thrust upward, hard.
Narcissa cried out, her eyes flying open as the pleasure spiked!
She began to move, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence. She rose up on her knees, dragging her tight, wet pussy along the length of his shaft until he almost slipped out, then slammed herself back down, impaling herself to the hilt.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
The sound of her flesh hitting his filled the room, obscene and wet. She found a rhythm, a desperate, grinding cadence. She rolled her hips as she rode him, churning against him, trying to take him deeper than physically possible.
"You feel incredible," Harry groaned from beneath her, his hands roaming over her body. One hand squeezed her hip, the other moved up to cup her breast, kneading the heavy flesh, his thumb flicking over her nipple.
The sensation of his hand on her breast while his cock hammered into her womb was too much. Narcissa threw her head back, her hair cascading down her back like a silver waterfall, and moaned loudly, uncaring if the portraits in the hallway heard.
"Yes! Touch me! Use me!" she begged.
She looked down at where they were joined. It was a beautiful, carnal sight-his thick cock disappearing into her stretched, pink flesh, glistening with juices, white foam gathering at the edges from the friction.
"I'm yours, Harry," she panted, increasing the pace, bouncing harder. Her breasts jumped wildly, slapping against her chest. "I'm your Bishop. Your slut. Your woman. Lucius never made me feel like this. He never filled me like this!"
She needed him to know. She needed him to know he was superior in every way.
"Fuck Lucius," Harry growled, his hips snapping up to meet her thrusts, driving deeper, hitting a spot inside her that made her vision blur white.
"Yes! Fuck him!" Narcissa screamed, lost in the haze. "You're the only man who matters! You're the only one who can make me cum!"
She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest, trapping him beneath her. She stared into his blue eyes, watching the pleasure wreck him, watching his face twist with the same desperate need she felt.
She ground her clitoris against his pubic bone, circling her hips, milking him with her internal muscles. She squeezed him, tightly, rhythmically, feeling him throb in response.
"I'm going to drain you," she whispered, her voice husky and dark. "I'm going to take everything you have, Harry. Give it to me." With a sharp intake of breath, Narcissa tightened her core muscles and began to move her hips with a renewed, feral intensity.
She abandoned the slow, teasing rhythm she had started with, replacing it with a punishing, desperate cadence. She slammed her pelvis down against his, the wet slap of her flesh meeting his thighs echoing obscenely in the quiet room.
She rode him harder, faster, her mind narrowing down to a singular point of focus: the sensation of his massive, throbbing cock piston-ing in and out of her.
Her pussy felt incredibly full, stretched to its absolute limit by his girth, and she reveled in the feeling of invasion. She clamped her internal muscles down, gripping his shaft with a tightness that she knew would drive him mad!
She could feel the veins on his erection, the ridge of the head dragging against her sensitive interior walls with every stroke, hitting a spot deep inside her that sent blinding white sparks of pleasure shooting up her spine.
"Oh, fuck," she hissed through clenched teeth, her head falling back as she ground down on him, her hips rolling in a wide, lubricated circle that allowed her to feel every millimeter of him inside her. "You feel... you feel absolutely massive, Harry."
"You're so fucking tight, Narcissa! You're amazing!" he groaned back.
It was a delicious, filling pressure that erased every other thought from her mind. She was drowning in him, her pussy slick and dripping, her juices coating his shaft so thoroughly that every movement produced a wet, squelching noise that sounded like music to her ears.
She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as his cock disappeared into her again and again, glistening with her arousal, disappearing into the swollen, pink lips of her sex before emerging again, shiny and wet. It was hypnotic.
Needing more contact, needing to feel him everywhere, Narcissa leaned forward. She lowered her torso slowly, arching her back to keep the friction constant between her legs, until her chest met his.
She gasped as her large, heavy breasts pressed firmly against his muscular pectorals. Her nipples, swollen and aching, dragged across his skin, the friction sending fresh jolts of electricity through her nerves. She rubbed her chest against him, flattening the soft mounds of her flesh against the hard wall of his body, reveling in the contrast between her softness and his strength.
"Harry," she breathed, her face hovering inches from his. His eyes were blown wide, dark with lust, staring up at her with an intensity that made her knees weak.
She didn't wait for a response. She crashed her mouth down onto his, sealing their lips together in a kiss that was less about affection and more about consumption.
It was deep, wet, and passionately messy. She opened her mouth wide, inviting him in, and moaned into his throat as his tongue swept inside to meet hers. She sucked on his tongue, swirling hers around it, tasting him-he tasted of desire and power. She kissed him as if she were trying to breathe his air, trying to merge their souls through the contact of their mouths.
As they made out, saliva slicking their lips and chins, Narcissa kept working her hips, refusing to break the rhythm. She ground her clitoris against his pubic bone with every downward stroke, the friction against the sensitive bundle of nerves making her vision swim.
She felt his hands moving restlessly over her body. They swept up her spine, tracing the indentation of her backbone, his fingers digging into her soft skin with a possessiveness that thrilled her. He mapped her body with his touch, exploring the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips.
Then, his hands slid lower, and Narcissa cried out into his mouth as he gripped her ass cheeks firmly.
His fingers dug into the plush flesh of her bottom, kneading and squeezing the soft globes. He pulled them apart, spreading her cheeks wide even as she rode him, exposing her tight asshole to the cool air while his thumbs pressed into the dimples of her lower back. The sensation of being pulled open while he filled her so completely was overwhelming.
He used his grip on her ass to take control, his fingers biting into her skin as he began to thrust upwards, meeting her downward slams with powerful bucks of his hips. He drove into her with a violence that shook the bedframe, his cock hammering against her cervix, touching places deep inside her womb that had been neglected for far too long.
"Mmmph!" Narcissa moaned against his lips, her nails digging into his shoulders, anchoring herself as he pounded into her. The slap of skin against skin grew louder, faster, a frantic tempo that matched the wild beating of her heart.
She broke the kiss with a loud, wet smack, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes again, gasping for air. A string of saliva connected their lips before breaking, landing on his chest.
"Yes... yes, just like that," she panted, her voice ragged and unrecognizable. She threw her head back, her expression was pure ecstasy. "Use me... break me... oh, Merlin, you're hitting it... you're hitting it perfectly!"
She could feel his hands sliding around to the front of her thighs now, gripping her legs and pulling them wider, opening her up completely to him. She was totally exposed and she had never felt more powerful in her life.
The pleasure was building rapidly now, a tightening coil deep in her belly that wound tighter and tighter with every thrust. Her body was beginning to shake, tremors starting in her thighs and radiating outward until her whole body was vibrating with the force of her arousal.
"Harry..." she whined, the need becoming unbearable. She looked down at him, her eyes glassy and unfocused. "Harry, please... I'm close... I'm so close..."
"I'm close too! I'm going to cum so hard!" Harry moaned and sped up thrusting underneath her.
She felt his cock swell inside her, the head pulsing as it rubbed against her internal hotspots. He was close too. She could see it in the tension of his jaw, the way his neck muscles strained, the way his eyes were glazed over with the same animalistic need that was consuming her.
"Don't you dare stop," she ordered breathlessly, her voice breaking. She ground her hips down, holding herself deep on his shaft, swirling her hips to milk him. "I want it... I want everything... give it to me!"
Her pussy was clamping down on him involuntarily, her inner walls spasming in quick, rhythmic flutters that she knew must feel incredible for him. She was milking him, dragging every drop of pleasure from him with her own body.
"Cum for me," she begged, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper. She leaned forward again, her breasts swaying just above his face. "Cum inside me, Harry. Fill me up. I want to feel you pour into me! Fill your Bishop!"
Harry roared, a guttural sound of release that rumbled through his chest and into hers. He slammed his hips upward one final, brutal time, burying himself to the root, grinding his pelvis against hers so hard it bruised.
Narcissa screamed as her orgasm hit her like a physical blow.
"YES!"
Her body seized, every muscle locking tight as the waves of pleasure ripped through her. Her vision went white. Her inner walls clamped down on his cock with a vice-like grip, squeezing him ruthlessly as she convulsed around him.
And then she felt it.
The distinctive, powerful throbbing of his cock as he erupted inside her. She felt the hot, thick jets of his semen shooting deep into her pussy, coating her cervix, flooding her canal with scalding heat.
It was glorious.
She sobbed out his name, riding out the aftershocks, grinding weakly against him to milk out every last drop of his essence. She could feel him twitching inside her, pouring more and more of himself into her, claiming her in the most primal way possible.
"Harry... Harry... oh gods..." she whimpered, her body going limp, collapsing forward until she was draped over him like a ragdoll, her cheek resting against his heaving chest.
She lay there, gasping for breath, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She could feel the sticky warmth of their combined fluids leaking out of her, pooling between their bodies, a messy, tangible proof of what they had just done.
His arms came around her, holding her close, his hands stroking her sweat-slicked back. The gesture was so tender, so possessive, that it brought fresh tears to her eyes.
She was ruined. She was utterly, completely ruined for any other man, for any other life. And as she listened to the steady, calming rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear, Narcissa knew she wouldn't have it any other way.
