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Fifty Shades of Golden

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Fifty Shades

Fifty Shades of Gold

She should know better by now.

Yet, after three years– one dating, two married– he still had a way of tricking her into accepting a challenge that she knew she would end up losing before it even started.

Hermione stood next to her husband at the back of the extravagant elevator. Before her, stood a proud Lucius at the side of his ever stunning wife, Narcissa. It was not the first time that Hermione wished she would look as dazzling as her mother-in-law– especially at the woman's age.

Not that she could complain, dressed in this body-hugging golden sequins collar dress, the stiletto's he bought her for Valentine tightened around her ankles, and hair in a relaxed updo. The one piece she conceded was the emerald pendant at her chest, his gift for their second anniversary.

Draco looked as if he came straight out of one of Ginny's Witch Weekly's issues, in his black wool tailored three-piece suit which hugged his athletic shape at the right places. His arse asked to be patted, she thought for the tenth time that night. At his feet, perfectly polished black derby shoes.

Hermione had one little issue. One of his demands regarding winning his bet. A small detail that had her squirming, particularly every time she thought about where they were headed, with whom and what she wore at his request. Better said, what she didn't wear.

The bloody snake was even unable to hide his half curled smile, knowing all too well that this was out of her comfort zone, light years away to be precise. Inside their private chambers, with the door closed and locked, she pushed her boundaries with him, never complaining if the one night she was the submissive in bed, the others her dealing the reigns.

This slightly moving-up on the kinky road was something it grew on them. It started with role-playing a certain passage of a movie they watched and moved on to several other times like in the aftermath of a joke that lit up their moods. In fact, the vanilla missionary was only reserved for when they were both too lazy for more. What's the fun otherwise?

But going out tonight to this high profile charity gala, in the company of the UK's finest, and wearing absolutely no piece of underwear? She cleared her throat, again. Her ferrety husband coughed to hide his chuckle.

"Aren't you feeling well, darling?" Narcissa looked over her shoulder, worried.

"I have something in my throat, 'Cissa. I'm eager to get my hands on some water." I must be mastering the art of lying, a fleeting thought, watching her mother-in-law accept the cheap excuse.

His voice came dangerously near her ear, "Do I need to provide for fluids?"

At last minute, another couple entered the elevator just before it closed the doors, making the room even narrower. With the jerk, the whole cage came in motion.

Narcissa apparently knew the new arrivals, and a polite chatter filled the air.

"Oh." Draco sank through his knees, feigning to tight the lace of his shoe.

A slight touch startled her. The ghosting of fingers, following the path of each caged strap on her black stilettos, a digit outlining every diamond it encountered. Her breath stoked, and she tensed fully when that same hand traced up her leg as he rose to his feet.

"Draco..." She whispered, moving slightly to the side, not that it did any good. The hand kept its stubborn path over the back of her knee, higher up the thigh digging under her dress to cup her globe.

It turned her on as much as it embarrassed her. She looked at him with pleading eyes, staring at intense molten mercury. Especially when his hand followed the crease of her arse to sense the level of wetness between her folds.

The inquiring finger inside her walls had her pursing the lips, biting back the whimper that was so eager to escape.

Hermione changed her clutch quickly from sides, so the hand closest to the invasive arm could prevent more harm. In vain, nonetheless. Her breath left her mouth in broken puffs, and she fought with all her might, the last thing she needed was to moan and draw the attention of the entire elevator cage to her and her husband's ministrations.

Draco inched closer, yet instead of redrawing the intrusive finger, he added a second one, pumping in and out and obviously delighting in the squelching sensations, "Are in you interested in a tasting?" He circled her channel, retreated the soaked fingers and used the lubrication to rub her clit with firm strokes. A series of movements he kept repeating relentlessly.

She panted, watching the screen light up the floor they reached, silently ordering the bloody elevator to move faster.

A small whelp escaped her mouth, despite the efforts.

Narcissa looked once more, "Darling, you need to call our healer tomorrow, you're looking a little blushy. It's not good in your condition."

Hermione squeaked, "It's hot in here." The fingers at her apex, remained hidden inside her pussy, rubbing circles. Feeling torn between arousal and embarrassment, she fanned herself.

Saved by the bell. She ran as hard as possible without looking rude out of her husband's reach, snatching the first glass her fingers could grab, and drinking it greedily.

"Take it easy, witch."

She seethed, "I'll make you pay for that little act. One week me and my buzzing friend only. You may watch but not touch."

"All bark no bite. Love, I know you prefer the real deal. Your little friend can only do so much."

"The real deal will have to satisfy himself." Her snarky response only fuelled his pleasure instead. In fact, it was his favourite pastime, and her pregnancy hormones added fire to his game, while it made her astonishing body even more attractive.

To the point he might knock her up again and again, just to soak in her blushing beauty. She looked even more angelic nowadays, bathing in a special kind of glow.

Although not today. Today his wife made every single male head turn in appraisal, the feminine stares carried an open shade of jealousy. Her dress left nothing over to the imagination. It pushed her bosom upwards seductively - another perk of her pregnancy, he had more volume in his hands - and the waist wrapped so perfectly around her frame, that her lightly swollen belly was hidden for the eye.

The seam ended just a palm below her behind, revealing a pair of shapely legs. She moved with a slight sway of her hips, carrying a regal allure effortlessly. The Malfoy family was already considered the royals within the Wizarding world, fame that required some restoration after the War. But Lucius Malfoy used every trick inside his sleeve to return his family name to its former glory, was it by crawling at the correct time or the use of their deep vaults.

With the addition of the War's Heroine to their ranks, not by common interest but a true love story filled with trial and error, the family became more prominent than the British Muggle Royalty. Lucius bathed in the attention, Narcissa also to a lesser extent, and Draco enjoyed especially the fact how Hermione made him feel a proud man.

She completed him in a way, not one Pureblood witch ever could. In return, he pampered her in every possible way. A trip to a distant library, her favourite chocolate, locating a rare manuscript or the first edition of one or other Muggle writer. Go that extra mile to please her. Since she told him four weeks ago that she carried his heir in her womb, there was no limit to how far he went to show her how much he adored her.

At night, Hermione's pleasure was half his pleasure. During an early morning lazy love making or a more intense session that left him spent but satisfied. Trying out a pose from her Kamasutra, role-playing a specific moment of an erotic movie, or introducing a toy she picked from one of her trips to Muggle London. Some of these adventures were so gratifying that they deserved an encore, or two three.

It was what he did this evening. Unknowingly to her, he caught her newest erotic novel in his hands, Fifty Shades of Grey, and he was testing a thing or two. That moment in the elevator was literally stolen from the book, and he added on-the-go a few ideas to his plans.

She kept her distance while socialising with one or other guest, afraid he would repeat his little intermezzo. But when the bell invited every guest to head over to their seat at the dinner table, Draco held her chair for her and took his own place at her side, assisting her with the napkin. His prey couldn't escape, thought the hunter, pleased.

The first course was served, for Hermione an alternative for the raw salmon he received. He devoured it, he needed his hand free for the next part.

Waiting for the perfect moment, a spoonful of soup close to her mouth, he snaked his hand behind the table cloth, over her thigh up to the apex and touched her right over the trimmed mound.

Her eyes widened in panic, some of the soup spilling back into its bowl due to her shaking hand. Hermione begged him silently to stop, yet she braced herself expecting worse.

"Eat more soup, love. You need your strength." His voice didn't falter a note, despite his accelerated heartbeat; teasing her came at a personal cost. For now, Draco kept it to rubbing of a clit, feeling it engorge under the attention.

"Please, not here Draco." Hermione leaned back on her chair, giving up on spooning the last of her delicious lobster soup. Her action gave him more playroom, and he dipped his fingers further to find her soaking again. His middle digits entered and rubbed at the entrance, pressing in that place that drove her wanton, and if it wasn't enough, the cushioned base of his thumb pushed against her nub. Not stopping for a heartbeat with enjoying a sip white wine or chatting idly with his mother at his side.

It awakened the coil at her belly, and she fidgetted in her seat, hoping that her hand could mute her moans. People talked to her, and she nodded totally absent-minded.

Appetisers were traded by starters, and she sighed with relief. Draco needed, after all, two hands to eat. The annoying prat had the guts to lick openly a finger at the beginning, claiming there was some delicious juice he spilt earlier.

Bullocks of course, but his charm worked, as always, wonders.

His plate was cleaned faster than she hoped for. From the corner of her eye, she saw his arm sneak under the table once again.

"My apologies, I need to visit the ladies room." Hermione stood with determination, hitting the table accidentally. Her napkin was almost thrown on the table.

"Darling, do you want me to go with you?"

"'Cissa, there's no need, thank you." She gave her mother-in-law her most reassuring smile, heading as fast as it was possible to the bathroom and escape the torture. He brought her nearly over the edge, and she had never hit such high point quietly.

Her payback was going to be glorious, she had kept up with every moan and whimper she was forced to mute. This wasn't going unpunished.

Frustrated, she opened the door more rudely than planned and turning around to lock it, she found her blond wizard already doing a service by using his wand to such intent, adding silencing charms in the meantime.

"What are you doing, Draco?" Her voice was high pitched, so unlikely her, but her self-control was shattered anyway. "Why are you tormenting me this way? You're killin-"

The remainders of her complaints were swallowed by his lips. Hoisting her up to the vanity table, he pushed her skirt over her waist, spread her legs and traded her mouth for her nether labia.

"I'm a fan of your Grey bloke. I was trying a few of his tricks." The vibrations of his voice against her clit had her wanton. She had barely any strength left, letting her head rest against the mirror, mewling loud each arrow of fire down her spine.

He curled his fingers again, pushing against her trigger point until she squirted with a deep moan. Salazar, did he love to see her break and the best had still yet to come?

He lapped her juices, not easing on his rhythm for a second. Draco would only feel accomplishment once she fluttered around his fingers, not one moment before. The outcome was more than worth the sacrifice. Luckily, he didn't have to wait too long.

Her legs squeezed his head between them, waves of arousal washing over her body, the primal need fulfilled at an elementary level.

Easing on his attack, he kept a palm against her core, feeling her writhe the remains of her orgasm.

"You look gloriously satisfied."

Her eyes lowered to his hard-on, "You don't."

"Make no mistake, my lovely wife. To taste your juices is a pleasure already."

"Open the zipper and finish the job decently." Her foot rubbed his erection unabashedly.


"NOW!" She pulled him by his belt, unhooking the leather swiftly, and all that needed to be opened to release his confined cock into freedom and, after the correct positioning, into her heated velvety walls.

The grunt was simultaneous.

Draco set a slow pace, but that was outside Hermione's desire. Her heels dug in his arse, forcing him to follow a harder beat, her hand wrapped around his tie and pulled him towards her commanding mouth, "Fuck me with all you have, Malfoy. You made me all horny, husband."

"I can't deny my lovely wife's needs." He also loved this side of hers. The determined, demanding sexy hellcat.

The vanity table shook on its paws, pounding against the wall, rattling the vase and glass bottles that still rested on top, yet not for long.

Grunts and mewls filled the small room, together with the slapping of flesh. Until she cried her release and heard him groan in her ear, Draco tensing inside her and jerking at every pulse of seed.

"Are there more books like your Grey bloke? I like his style."

"No candles, or arse toys. We can try the bonding if you want."

"Not abuse it too much, I would hate to hurt our little one." He pulled his trousers, tightening everything correctly before fishing a small bundle of fabric from his pocket. Draco helped her adjust the knickers, "I want you to enjoy the rest of the evening." He scourgified them both, "Don't worry about flashing your sexy bits anymore."

"You'll pay for this."

"I can't wait, love." He was one and all Slytherin, kissing her fully on the mouth before releasing the charms on the door.

They returned to the dinner table, and he sent a warning look to a questioning blond raised eyebrow.

To Hermione's relief, the rest of the meal developed in peace. Her mind, however, kept replaying the evening. Especially his confession about reading her novel and re-enacting an erotic moment that left her also horny when she read it for the first time.

Leave it up to Draco to keep their life spiced-up.

Who was she to complain in the end?

-The End -