Indecent Proposal (Ch. 5)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

Indecent Proposal

Chapter 5

Harry had Daphne pinned beneath him. Her wrists were trapped together in one hand, held hard against his headboard, and her breath came in ragged bursts. She was completely naked, flushed, and spread wide. Her knees were pressed against his sides, and her small, delicate feet were resting on his hips. Harry smirked, his mouth hovering just above hers. “I’m surprised you were so quick to pull me in here. It looks like someone spent all of their allowance,” Harry teased and gently pecked her on the lips.  

Daphne’s gorgeous, smoky eyes flashed. “I’m not some mindless shopaholic, Potter,” she bit back. Of course, that wasn’t true at all. Although she still had a bit of her gold left over. No, the reason she pulled Harry back to his room the moment he came home from work was simple. Her sister, Astoria, had been heavily hinting that she might need a place to stay very soon. Apparently, the idiot she was shacked up with was getting tired of her careless regard for his bank account. It was only a matter of time before he sent her packing, and Daphne just knew that she would be the one Astoria came to for help. 

Harry kissed her, his tongue darting between her lips. Daphne swallowed the last of her sarcasm that was threatening to break free. Her mouth was wet and demanding, biting at his lower lip and returning every ounce of pressure he gave. She squirmed beneath him, twisting her arms for show but making no real effort to break free.

His free hand slid down her stomach, caressing the incredible smoothness of her skin. He paused at the faint dip of her navel. His fingers traced a slow circle there, and then he let his palm drift lower, feeling the heat radiating from her bare mound. He didn’t have to look to know how smooth it was. Daphne took very good care of her body, and he admired the way her skin felt impossibly soft every time he touched her.

She bucked her hips, rubbing her pussy up against his cock. The movement left him dazed for a second. Her folds were slippery and hot, and her clit was swollen and pink. She rocked against him, dragging her slit up and down the length of his shaft. Every time she did, she left a shimmering trail of wetness on him. “I see you’re not planning to take this slow,” Harry joked, grinding his cock into her wet pussy.

Daphne shuddered breathlessly. “I’ve waited all day for this … So shut up and keep going.”

He chuckled, pressing his cock harder against her slick opening. The angle was deliberately awkward. She kept twisting her hips, trying to force him inside, but he would only let the tip tease her for a second before shifting his hips away.

“You’re a jackass,” she said, panting. Her thighs trembled as she tried to trap his cock between them. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to bite you.”

“No need to get nasty,” Harry smirked and released her wrists. She immediately clamped her hands around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

He rolled his pelvis again. This time, she clamped her thighs shut, locking his cock between her wet lips. She pumped her hips with frantic energy, grinding her clit along the ridge of him. Harry groaned, feeling the tight pressure of her thighs and the scorching wetness squeezing him.

“Fuck … you’re so hot,” he groaned, not sure if he was talking about her body temperature or attitude.

She lifted her chin and smirked. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

He bent to kiss her again, pressing her hard into the mattress. She clawed at his back, arching her body up to meet his. With every thrust of her hips, her pussy lips split open and slid along his length. Her clit caught on the head, making her gasp and writhe in pleasure.

Harry watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered, and her mouth fell open. He loved this look on her. Daphne, always so self-assured and snarky, was reduced to a moaning, desperate slut from just a little friction. He let his fingers drift to her tits. He palmed one, then the other, squeezing until the pale flesh spilled through his fingers. Her nipples were crinkled, pink, and as hard as gemstones. He thumbed one and pinched it. She gasped again, her pussy contracting around nothing.

“Are you ready?” he asked in a strained whisper. He was certainly ready.

Daphne glared at him, breathing hard. “I was ready ten minutes ago.”

He smiled cheekily and obliged. Harry lined himself up, pushing the swollen head against her opening. She was so wet he nearly slid in by accident. He stopped, savoring the moment, letting her feel the thickness of his cock stretching her open.

She whimpered, grinding forward. “Stop teasing.”

He drove all the way into her with one forceful thrust. Daphne squealed, clutching at his back. Her cunt clenched around him, impossibly tight and wet. She let her legs fall open, surrendering every inch of her body to him.

“God, you’re huge,” she panted.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Harry repeated her words, smirking into her neck.

“Shut up,” she said, but she wrapped her legs tighter around him, heels digging into the small of his back.

He fucked her slowly at first, with long and deep thrusts. He watched her reactions, the way her eyes rolled up when he bottomed out, and the way her mouth twisted in pleasure and pain. Every thrust drove her to new heights. She pulled on his sides, dragging him deeper with every movement. Daphne came quickly, bucking and shuddering beneath him. Her pussy squeezed his cock, milking him for all it was worth. She didn’t squeal this time. Instead, she hissed, biting down on his shoulder while holding him in place as her orgasm ripped through her. Harry didn’t stop. He wanted to see how much she could take. She loosened after a few seconds, but not by much. He kept pounding into her, feeling the slick squelch of their bodies colliding. Her cunt got wetter and wetter, coating his cock in a sheen of arousal. The sound was obscene.

“Don’t … don’t stop,” Daphne gasped, fingers scrambling for his hair. She pulled him down and kissed him again, hard and desperate. “I want you to cum in me.”

He thrust faster, his hips slamming into her ass. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. Her nails raked his scalp, and Harry felt himself getting close. He wanted to make her cum again before he finished. Harry reached down, thumbed her clit, and rubbed in tight, relentless circles. Daphne shrieked, her back arching like a bow. She was so sensitive she nearly threw him off, but he held her steady, working her until she fell apart a second time. Her pussy clamped down, pulsing with aftershocks.

Harry lost control, unable to hold on any longer. He rammed into her, cock swelling, and shot his load deep inside. He came hard, grunting into her ear. The feeling of her body milking him, squeezing out every last drop, was almost too much. He collapsed on top of her, both of them panting. For a long minute, they didn’t move. Her heartbeat thudded against his chest. His cock softened inside her, leaking cum onto the sheets. Eventually, Daphne shifted, and Harry rolled to the side, pulling her with him. She curled up next to him, one leg thrown over his, her face pressed to his neck.

“That was just what I needed,” she said. Her voice was raw, but there was a smile in it. Harry squeezed her shapely bottom and then gave it a playful pat. 

“It’s definitely a good way to end the day,” he replied, with a yawn.

She nipped at his shoulder, and he pulled her tighter, burying his face in her hair and inhaling her scent. “You smell good.”

For a while, they just lay there, skin sticking together and bodies tangled. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. Eventually, Daphne pushed herself off the bed and stood up. She stalked to the bathroom, hips swaying and cum dripping down her thighs. She didn’t look back, but Harry knew she was smiling. He watched her go, his eyes never leaving her bouncing ass.

Indecent Proposal

Daphne spent the morning in an extended routine of tea, napping, more tea, and deliberate laziness. The manor was so quiet that the only noises were the faint rustling of pages being turned. She was sprawled across Harry’s expensive couch, one bare leg draped over the armrest while thumbing through the latest issue of Witch Weekly. It was the “Wizarding World’s Sexiest Bachelor” issue, and, of course, Harry had made the cover again. Daphne almost laughed out loud when she thought about his reaction to seeing it. 

She checked her nails. They were as flawless as ever. She admired the way the wine-red polish made her fingers look even paler. She scrolled through three more pages of the magazine, pretending not to care that Harry was literally on every third spread.

Around midday, an owl slammed into the windowsill with the grace of a hungover Quidditch player. Daphne didn’t bother checking up on it. The owl got up, ruffled its feathers, and let itself in with a withering glare and landed on the coffee table, knocking over an empty tea cup. The cup shattered on the marble floor. Daphne didn’t flinch.

“Well done,” she said, giving the owl an unimpressed look. She took the letter off the owl’s leg and tossed it a piece of her scone. The owl gobbled it up before it started preening.

She recognized her sister’s handwriting before she even unrolled the parchment. Daphne set the magazine aside, squared her shoulders, and braced herself. Her pinky finger lifted slightly as she unrolled the letter, as if she could ward off bad news with mere etiquette.

Daph,

You know I hate to ask for help. I really do. Things have gotten dire at the flat. Marcello is a complete ass and has thrown me out. There’s literally nowhere else for me to go. If you can spare a room, I promise I’ll stay out of your way and not bring any boys home unless they’re rich. I’ll owe you forever, or at least until I get back on my feet.

Please owl me back ASAP.

Astoria

Daphne let the letter drop onto her lap. She took a long, theatrical breath and stared at the ceiling, which, like the rest of the manor, was unnecessarily ornate. Astoria’s handwriting was even messier than usual, and there was a pinkish smudge in the margin … lipstick or possibly wine.

“Of course she’s getting kicked out,” Daphne muttered. “And of course she’s begging me for help.” She considered, for one wonderful second, what would happen if she just… didn’t respond. The fantasy was short-lived, however. Astoria would track her down anyway, and probably show up with three trunks and enough manufactured drama to fuel the next five issues of Witch Weekly. Daphne pinched the bridge of her nose and felt a headache blooming.

The question wasn’t if she’d let her in, but how she’d survive it. Astoria was born to make trouble, and she would absolutely try to get her claws into Harry, either for the money or out of some misguided sense of sisterly competition. Daphne could already hear her: “Oh, Daphne, he’s so cute! I don’t know how you can keep your hands off of him. Don’t you just love how broad his shoulders are?” Then she’d make that puppy-dog face and somehow get Harry to carry all her bags to her new suite.

Daphne’s stomach knotted. She’d worked too hard to get this far. Daphne prided herself on having Harry wrapped around her perfect fingers. All it took was for her to flash a little bare leg, and Harry would carry her up to his room like a caveman. After that, it was easy to get anything she wanted from him. Of course, there were also the orgasms Harry was so adeptly able to provide. Daphne had grown to really, really enjoy them, and she wasn’t keen on having to go without. She wasn’t about to lose to her own sister, especially not in her own house.

She scanned the letter again, reading it closely. Was Astoria actually desperate, or was this just an elaborate power play? It was impossible to tell. They’d been running the same sisterly con on each other for so long that even Daphne couldn’t remember who had started it. She let her mind wander. Daphne could picture Astoria on the couch, lounging in her panties, Astoria at the breakfast table playing footsie with Harry under the table, and Astoria accidentally-on-purpose sunbathing topless in the back garden while Harry practiced his Quidditch moves. Daphne could see it all unfolding, like a slow-motion Wronski Feint gone wrong. Daphne needed a plan. She flipped Astoria’s letter over, grabbed her quill and ink, and scribbled out a list. 

1. Tell Harry to stop walking around shirtless.

2. Move Astoria to the ugliest guest room (preferably the one with the haunted portrait).

3. Schedule more date nights with Harry and wear him out in bed.

4. Lay ground rules. No flirting. No borrowing clothes. No stealing my hard-earned gold. No asking Harry for a massage. 

She dropped the parchment onto the table and glared at the owl, which was now sitting and staring at her with open contempt. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” Daphne said, and the owl fluffed its wings, unimpressed.

For a moment, she considered writing back and saying something like, “Sorry, out of the country. Be back next year.” But she was a Slytherin at heart, and nothing would be gained from open hostility. Daphne had learned to weaponize politeness. She unrolled a sheet of lavender stationery, grabbed her quill, and wrote …

Astoria,

Of course, you may stay. I’ll prepare the East Wing. Please let me know your whereabouts so I can come and collect you.

Let’s keep this as painless as possible, shall we?

Daphne

She folded the note and called the owl over. It ignored her, so she picked up a crystal paperweight and tapped it lightly on the table. The owl glared, stalked over, and grudgingly extended its leg. Daphne tied the reply to it, then watched as it lifted off and spiraled away through the high window.

She sat back on the couch, tossed the Witch Weekly onto the floor, and let her head loll back over the cushion. The whole situation was ridiculous. She was the most beautiful woman in England … at least according to last month’s Bachelorette List, and yet here she was, losing her mind over her younger sister and a dumb boy. It wasn’t fair.

But she was Daphne Greengrass. She never lost, not to anyone, and certainly not to Astoria. She sat up, adjusted her top, and ran her hand down her leg. Her skin was silky smooth and flawless. She’d need to step up her game. Maybe buy some new lingerie, or at least start wearing it for Harry instead of leaving it hidden in a drawer. Maybe stop calling him a dumbass every time she saw him, or maybe just remind Harry exactly why she was the best thing to ever happen to him. That last part would be easy, Daphne giggled as she thought it over. It would be fun for her as well. 

Daphne rose, padded barefoot to the kitchen, and poured herself a cup of coffee. She watched the birds chirping and the insects buzzing around the garden. She watched the breeze gently rocking the rose bushes. She sipped her coffee and plotted with a saucy smile. If Astoria was coming for her, she’d just have to be ready.

Indecent Proposal

Harry’s day had been shit. He barely had enough energy to toss his robe on the coat rack before collapsing onto the couch, groaning. He closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair, leaning his head back. Something cracked in his neck, which did not help. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes. He could already tell his skull would hurt for the next few hours.

Then he heard the pads of Daphne’s bare feet on the floor, and the stress faded just enough for him to open one eye. She leaned against the kitchen door, mug in hand, and lips stretched into a smirk. Her dark hair was loose and flowing over both shoulders. She wore nothing but black, high-cut shorts and a loose white T-shirt, which clung to her chest. She gave him a slow, unblinking once-over.

He waited for her to say something sarcastic or sharp, but she didn’t. Instead, she swirled the mug, took a long sip, and then set it down. Daphne walked across the room with the deliberate confidence of a model on a runway, her wide hips rolling with every step. Harry couldn’t help but stare. It was impossible not to. Everything about Daphne was calculated for attention, right down to the way her small feet angled in when she stopped in front of him.

She cocked her head. “Was your day that bad?” she asked, her voice smooth and almost sympathetic.

“You have no idea,” Harry said, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I need a potion … or a new job.”

Daphne didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she dropped to her bottom, knees apart, and rested her elbows on her thighs. The shirt slid up her smooth legs, almost to her crotch. Harry’s mood improved by several degrees. “Want to tell me about it?” she asked, but her attention was fixed on his lap, not his face.

“Nope,” Harry said, relaxing into the couch. “Unless you’re planning to make me forget about it entirely.”

Daphne considered him with a predatory smile. “Lucky for you, I am.”

She reached down and yanked her shirt over her head in one motion, dropping it to the floor. Harry lost his breath. Daphne’s tits were perfect. He never got over it. Her skin was pale and flawless. Her breasts were so perky they practically defied gravity. The curve of her underboob was heavenly. The tips of her nipples were small, tight, and a soft shade of pink that looked even more delicate against her skin. Her areolas were so light they were almost invisible, like they’d been airbrushed out. She pressed her arms together, mashing her tits and making her cleavage seem more impressive than it already was. Even the arch of her collarbones was distractingly elegant. 

Harry stared, unable to move or speak. He had seen them many times, but they always seemed to take his breath away. Daphne smirked at his silence, then climbed up onto his lap and straddled him, her bare chest in his face. She ran her hands through his hair, mussing it further, then tilted his head back and kissed him hard.

She tasted of coffee and cinnamon. Her nipples were already stiff and stabbing into his shirt. She pressed them against him, grinding slow circles on his chest. Then she pulled back, and her tits wobbled for a second before settling. Harry reached up and cupped one, letting his palm fill with the soft, perfectly warm flesh. He rubbed his thumb over the peak and felt it pebble tighter. Daphne moaned quietly, then leaned into his hand, arching her back to push her tits at him.

“You know what I want,” she whispered, pinching his earlobe with her teeth.

“What do you want, Daph?” Harry asked, his voice low and full of arousal.

She leaned back, keeping her hips pressed to his, and grabbed the waistband of his pants. “I want this,” she said, and slid her hand down, squeezing his cock through the fabric. “I want it in my mouth.”

His cock throbbed, half-hard already, and getting thicker by the second. He watched her. Daphne licked her lips and grinned. Then she untied the string of her shorts, let them slip down her thighs, and kicked them off. Now she was naked except for a pair of tiny black panties. She ground her soft mound against his bulge, slow and deliberate, making sure he felt the heat of her pussy through both layers.

Daphne rolled her hips, humping him lazily. She worked her tits with both hands, squishing them together and tweaking her nipples until they were red and swollen. Harry grabbed her by the hips and pulled her harder against him. She moaned again, louder this time, then leaned in and nipped his jaw.

“Are you going to let me have a taste?” she asked, biting his neck.

Harry faked a yawn. “I don’t know, you haven’t convinced me yet.”

Daphne rolled her eyes, climbed off his lap, and dropped to her knees between his legs. “You’re such a dick,” she declared, but she was smiling. Harry chuckled and felt his headache turn into a dull throb. 

She unbuttoned his black trousers and tugged down the zipper. His cock strained at his boxers, and Daphne wasted no time hooking her fingers into the band and yanking them down. His cock sprang out, flushed and huge. She wrapped one hand around the base, fingertips unable to meet. She stroked it once, slowly, and looked up at him.

“It sure looks to me like you’re convinced,” Daphne said, then leaned in and licked a long, slow stripe up the shaft. She lingered at the tip, teasing it with her tongue and swirling it in little circles. Harry’s eyes closed, and he groaned. She started stroking him, slow and gentle, as she sucked just the tip into her mouth. Her lips were so pink and soft that he nearly burst on the spot.

She bobbed her head, letting him pop out of her mouth with a wet, obscene sound. She then took him deeper on the next pass. Her cheeks hollowed. Her black hair hung around her face and contrasted beautifully with her pale skin. She made eye contact with him as she sucked, and her smoky eyes glittered with wicked pleasure.

Harry groaned, “Fuck, Daph … You’re going to be the end of me.”

She pulled off his cock, still stroking it with her hand, and smiled up at him. “That’s always nice to hear.” She flicked her tongue against his tip again, then dove down and took him all the way to the back of her throat. She gagged a little, but held him there, swallowing around him before coming back up for air.

Daphne used both hands now, twisting and squeezing his cock in alternating directions. Her hands looked small against his impressive size. She peppered kisses up and down the shaft, then dragged her tongue under the head, licking the sensitive ridge. She loved the way his cock jumped and twitched every time she touched a good spot. Her pussy was wet and throbbing, but she ignored it, focusing all her energy on making Harry lose his mind.

She pumped him faster, hand slick with saliva, and glanced up at him through her lashes. “If I suck you off, will you do me a favor?” she asked, pausing to stroke him slow and hard.

Harry blinked, struggling to speak. “What kind of favor?”

Daphne ducked her head and sucked his balls into her mouth, rolling them with her tongue. Harry shuddered, his hips twitching. She let them go with a pop, then went back to stroking his cock. “I need you to let Astoria stay for a while. The asshole she was staying with kicked her out.”

Harry snorted. “So this is a bribe?”

Daphne smiled sweetly. “Is it working?”

He considered, but she didn’t wait for an answer. She leaned in and sucked the head of his cock into her mouth again, bobbing her head faster, sliding him deeper every time. She moaned as she worked, sending vibrations through his cock. Her hands kept up a relentless rhythm at the base, massaging and twisting it, much to his satisfaction.

Harry surrendered to her talented mouth and hands. “She can stay,” he gasped, his voice hoarse.

Daphne rewarded him by deepthroating his cock, swallowing until her nose mashed against his stomach. She held him there, eyes watering, spit leaking down her chin. She pulled back slowly, gasping for air, then licked him clean. She never broke eye contact. She picked up the pace, determined to finish him. She twisted her wrists faster, tongue darting out to flick the sensitive spot just beneath the head. Harry gripped the couch cushions, his muscles tense. He tried to warn her, but she just shook her head and sucked harder.

When he came, he came hard. The first jet hit the back of her throat, and Daphne swallowed instinctively. She kept sucking, milking every last drop from him, until his cock stopped twitching. She popped off with a smug, satisfied smirk and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Whew! Daph … You’re good,” Harry complimented her through his heavy breathing. Daphne stood up, not caring that he was visually devouring her gorgeous, half-naked body. In fact, she turned her body to give him the best angle. 

“I know,” she smirked and turned on the spot. Harry eyed her ass as she sauntered back to the kitchen, hips swaying and ass jiggling. She then stopped and turned back. She blew him a kiss and disappeared around the corner, humming. Harry sank deeper into the couch, feeling oddly lighter … like the weight of his shitty day was suddenly gone. His cock still tingled, and it was already hard and ready for more. He wondered how long it would take before Daphne dragged him to the bedroom for round two. He hoped it wasn’t long.