The Trouble With Veela (Ch. 4)

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

The Trouble With Veela

Chapter 4

Gabrielle Delacour pushed the beach house door open with a wet, sandy foot, barely balancing the rolled towel over her shoulder. The Mediterranean sun still gleamed on her damp skin. Somewhere outside, Fleur’s laugh echoed in the salt-tanged air as she erotically shook her body to the upbeat tempo of the Wizarding Wireless. It would have been a perfect afternoon, if not for the low, animalistic moan echoing from the master bedroom.

The whole house smelled of sex. Not the light, passing tang of a woman in slight need, but the rich, heavy, all-consuming stench of bodies writhing in pleasure. Even the sun-warmed oranges piled on the kitchen counter couldn’t mask it.

Gabrielle rolled her eyes, exaggerating it, hoping the empty hallway could appreciate her dramatic patience. “Merde,” she muttered as if there was any doubt where Harry was.

She dropped her towel and let the sun dress her in dripping shadows, her wet, blue bikini clinging to her curves. She padded down the corridor, hips swinging with each deliberate step. If Harry was going to keep her waiting, the least he could do was put on a show.

The noises grew louder as she neared the door. Not just grunts, but ecstatic, high-pitched whimpers, punctuated by the slap of skin on skin. Gabrielle pushed open the door, unceremoniously, as if it were her own bedroom. The sight—she’d have called it shocking, but it was really just typical Harry. The man was a sexual beast, and one small serving of his prey wasn’t enough to sate his insatiable appetite.

Apolline Delacour, the living embodiment of the mythical Veela goddess, was on all fours, her wide, sweaty ass high in the air. Her silvery blonde hair was a spill of moonlight over her bare back, streaked with a damp gleam of sweat. Her face was buried in the tangled silk sheets, lips parted and glazed with a smile so satisfied it almost looked spiritual in nature.

Harry, behind her, drove into her with relentless, hungry thrusts. His hands gripped the thick swell of Apolline’s hips, knuckles white. His swimmer’s body flexed with each motion, the sinew of his back and arms rippling under his sun-kissed skin. And his cock … Gabrielle smirked, never above admiring the love of her life … was buried to the hilt in Apolline’s perfect, pale ass.

Apolline let out a squeal, not of pain but of pure, unadulterated pleasure. “Mon dieu!” she gasped, voice muffled in the bedsheets. Her breasts swung beneath her, the nipples flushed a shade pinker than the tip of her nose. As her breasts swung back and forth, Gabrielle could see the hard tips brushing against the cool sheets. Each time Harry bottomed out, Apolline’s pussy … smooth, hairless, and obscenely wet … gushed another shimmer of clear liquid onto the bed. It was quite shocking to see how much the rim of her asshole stretched as Harry pulled back. The smooth skin clung to his cock for dear life, stretching away from Apolline’s body. When Harry thrust forward again, a perverse squelch echoed off the walls. Gabrielle wondered if her body looked like that whenever Harry claimed her ass.

Gabrielle stumbled, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of the smell. Not just the musk of Apolline’s sex, but the tart, metallic aftertaste of anal. It was so thick she almost choked on it, and for a split second, she felt faint.

She steadied herself against the doorframe and made a show of crossing her arms beneath her breasts. “Are you trying to fuck ‘er through the wall?” Gabrielle said, louder than necessary. She didn’t like being ignored after all.

Harry didn’t stop. His eyes were slitted, his jaw set with the focus of a predator. Sweat beaded along his hairline. Apolline craned her head around, her face flushed, strands of silver hair sticking to her lips.

“Gabrielle, mon cheri,” Apolline managed, her voice trembling. “What are you doing ‘ere?”

Gabrielle looked at the clock on the wall, barely hearing the tick over Apolline’s whorish squeals of pleasure. “You two ‘ave been going at it for six hours,” she explained, her perfectly manicured eyebrow raised. Her gaze drifted back to the slick, twitching mess of Apolline’s pussy and the way Harry’s cock vanished into her ass. His bloated balls swung like a wrecking ball, smacking into her wet pussy and splashing her juices everywhere. The bedspread was ruined, stained with a pattern that could only be made by a woman who orgasmed with every thrust.

She shifted, legs pressed together. Her own arousal was a warm, impatient throb, a hunger not so easily ignored. The tight, thin fabric of her bikini bottom could only do so much to hold back the flood, and a drop of pussy juice escaped, rolling down Gabrielle’s inner thigh.

Harry’s head tilted, catching Gabrielle’s gaze. His emerald eyes sparkled with a devilish glee, even as he kept pounding Apolline, who had started to squirt in earnest, drenching Harry’s balls and thighs in clear fluid. Gabrielle was almost impressed. Almost.

She watched as Apolline, shuddering, reached back and spread her cheeks wider for him, arching her hips until Gabrielle could see everything … the raw, stretched circle of her anus clutching Harry’s thick cock, and the swollen, desperate throb of her clit. Harry reached down, without breaking rhythm, and lightly pinched Apolline’s clit. He expertly rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, making Apolline’s body buck as the pleasure became too much to handle.

Apolline yelped, arched, and came again. A spray of fluid shot from her pussy and spattered onto the hardwood floor, leaving a shining, obscene trail. Some of it even splashed on Gabrielle’s bare feet. Gabrielle’s lips curled in both annoyance and envy.

Harry finally slowed, his body trembling. “Are you waiting for your turn, love?” he grunted, voice thick with effort. Gabrielle could instantly tell that he had just pumped her full of cum.

Gabrielle laughed, letting the sound roll over her soft, pink tongue. “If you leave me waiting much longer, I might explode.” As if to prove her point, she started rubbing her smooth, creamy legs together, smearing the lines of wetness that had streaked down her thighs.

Apolline rolled onto her back, somehow keeping Harry’s cock in her ass. Her legs splayed wide and shamelessly. A mixture of cum and juice trickled out from between her messy pussy lips, pooling in the hollow of her belly. Her face was radiant, her eyes glassy with pleasure.

“Never in my life …” Apolline quietly stated through the violent spasms of her body.

Gabrielle rolled her eyes again but was unable to hide her smile. She could feel the dampness in her own bikini bottoms as she thought of how good a lover her boyfriend truly was. He had never failed to make Gabrielle cum, and it seemed the same was true for both Fleur and Apolline.

Harry slid out of Apolline’s ass with a wet, obscene pop, his cock glistening with a thin layer of spent lube. He sat on the edge of the bed, wiping sweat from his brow. His gaze lingered on Gabrielle, slow and possessive.

Gabrielle stepped closer, planting her hands on her hips. “You look tired, Harry. Maybe you need a break?” she teased. Harry raised an eyebrow and looked down at his own cock. It was still rock-hard and pointing toward the sky. He then looked back at Gabrielle and smirked. Gabby couldn’t help but giggle.

He reached out and grabbed her by the waist, dragging her into his lap. The wet heat of his cock pressed against her thigh, leaving a streak of lube on her skin. Gabrielle didn’t flinch. She tilted her head, looking down at him with feigned disapproval.

“You smell like ‘er,” she said, wrinkling her nose cutely.

Harry grinned, kissing the hollow above her bikini line. He ran his tongue along the inside of her cleavage, tasting the sea salt still on her porcelain skin. “That’s because I spent the last six hours making her scream,” he proudly stated.

Apolline stretched, arching her back like a satisfied cat. Her round, perfect tits rose high into the air, her stiff nipples heavily crinkled and reaching for the ceiling. “ ‘e is insatiable, Gabrielle. You should know that,” she giggled madly.

Gabrielle smirked, sliding a hand into Harry’s damp hair. “Believe me, I know.”

She straddled his lap, pressing her bikini-clad pussy against the length of his cock. She could feel his shape beneath her, pulsing and ready for more. Harry’s hands slid up her back, untying her bikini with practiced ease. The fabric fell away, exposing her breasts, nipples hard and eager. Apolline watched with a shaky breath, her own hand lazily toying with her throbbing clit.

Gabrielle leaned down and whispered in Harry’s ear. “You’re going to fuck me now, oui?”

He didn’t hesitate. He stood, lifting her with effortless strength, and pinned her against the wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck. She could taste another woman in his kiss, and she still wanted it, more than she’d ever admit. In the mess of their tangled bodies, the boundaries of who belonged to whom blurred, but Gabrielle was sure of one thing … Harry was hers, now and forever.

The second her legs wrapped around his waist, she felt the urgent grind of his cock, still from his previous fuck, pressing against the hungry heat between her thighs. He pushed forward, pressing Gabby harder against the wall, and she bit his shoulder, relishing the feral groan he gave in return.

But even as he braced her weight, Harry’s attention flickered back to the bed. To Apolline, who had rolled to her side, feet tucked beneath her, a gooey, shimmering liquid trailing down the inside of her thigh. She was still moaning, her ass winking open and closed, milking the air for the cock it had just lost.

“Unbelievable,” Harry muttered, voice thick with something between awe and amusement.

He slid his hands up Gabrielle’s back, digging his fingers into her skin. She could feel his cock, still rock-hard and leaking, slapping against her lower belly as he hoisted her higher, aligning himself with her already-soaked bikini bottom. He didn’t waste time; he pushed the thin blue fabric aside, his knuckles grazing her bare slit.

Gabrielle watched him, shameless, lips parted in anticipation. Harry shoved forward, burying his cock inside her with a single, brutal thrust. She cried out, the pain and pleasure burning up her spine.

On the bed, Apolline watched, eyes shining with a dazed sort of pride. ‘She found the perfect man,’ she mentally purred, lazily rubbing the tip of her finger over her clit. She then pinched it and gave it a little tug, sending blinding pleasure throughout her sexually-charged body. She moaned loudly, her sexy voice mixing with their moans and grunts.

Gabrielle flexed her thighs, locking her ankles behind Harry’s back, and rocked her hips forward, grinding herself against the base of his cock. He hissed, shuddering. Every time he pulled out, she clamped down, refusing to let him go.

Harry’s hand slipped between their bodies, pressing firmly against her lower belly, pinning her in place while he fucked her in short, punishing strokes. Gabrielle felt her body unravel, her pussy growing wetter, tighter, until she was trembling in his arms.

“Fuck, Gabby,” Harry growled through the pleasure. “You’re …”

“Perfect?” Gabrielle finished for him with a sexy smirk, digging her nails into his shoulder. “Oui. I know.”

He pounded her harder, the slap of his balls against her ass echoing off the floor. Behind him, Apolline’s breathing grew faster, her body arching off the sheets.

Gabrielle, half-crazed with pleasure, craned her head around Harry’s shoulder. She watched as Apolline slid her fingers into her pussy, two at a time, curling them up until she was shaking, gasping, milking every last drop from her spent orgasm. Her wet, pink pussy lips sucked on her fingers like it was a particularly tasty cock.

Harry carried Gabby over to the bed and reached his free hand back, as if drawn by instinct, and pressed a finger into Apolline’s puckering, twitching asshole. Apolline bucked, howling, and came again, a violent spray of fluid shooting from her pussy, spattering her thighs and the edge of the mattress. Gabrielle moaned, the sight pushing her closer to her own climax.

She clung to Harry, her whole body locked up with tension, the muscles of her cunt clenching around his cock. Gabby squealed loudly, and she violently shook in his arms. He pistoned faster, sweat slicking their skins, until he finally snapped, thrusting deep inside and roaring out his release.

Gabrielle could feel it, the hot pulse of cum, the twitch of Harry’s cock, the way his body trembled as her pussy milked him for all he was worth. He kept moving, grinding his hips in slow, shuddering circles as he emptied himself inside her.

Apolline collapsed back onto the sheets, her face flushed, a beautiful smile tugging at her full, pink lips. Her stunning blue eyes fluttered closed, and she exhaled, long and low.

Gabrielle, sated, let her body melt against Harry. He staggered back to the bed, dropping down beside Apolline, still holding Gabrielle in his lap. His hands gently caressed Gabby’s shapely curves.

Apolline, half asleep already, murmured, “That was … just what I needed.”

Gabrielle laughed, rolling her hips one last time before sliding off Harry’s cock. She could see the mess they had made, the mixture of juices and cum dripping down her own thighs and pooling between Apolline’s legs. She grinned, pleased.

Harry, gasping, fell back onto the pillows. “You Delacour women are going to be the end of me,” he said.

“Not yet, my love,” Gabrielle replied, kissing his jaw. “I still need you.”

But for now, it was enough. Apolline drifted off to sleep, smiling like she had won the lottery. Harry clung to Gabrielle, lovingly exploring every curve of her delectable body, and Gabrielle, content and sated, let herself doze, basking in the sticky afterglow of her orgasm.

The Trouble With Veela

The bright, warm sun woke Apolline Delacour as it crept through the open windows, casting honeyed bars of light across her bare skin. For the first time in years, she felt completely, vibrantly alive.

She stretched, luxuriating in the aftermath of her body’s demolition. Her thighs and ass tingled with the ghost of Harry’s touch. The insides of her legs were sticky, evidence of her late-afternoon excess. Her pussy was tender, her anus deliciously sore, but these aches felt like trophies, proof she was still wanted, still beautiful.

She swung her legs over the bed and padded to the bathroom. In the mirror, her face was unrecognizable from the day before. The shadows beneath her eyes … ghosts that had haunted her since her marriage fell apart … were gone, vanished like a bad memory. Her hair, flat and lifeless over the past few days, spilled over her shoulders in glossy waves. She smiled, teeth bright against her flushed cheeks, and ran a hand down her body, admiring the way her breasts hung firm and high, nipples still flushed from pleasure.

Apolline pulled on the tiniest bikini she owned, barely a suggestion of coverage, the blue triangles not much bigger than her areolas, the bottoms a thin string that vanished between her pillowy cheeks. She poured herself a cold glass of water, savoring the taste, and walked barefoot onto the terrace.

The others were already outside. Harry lounged in the blinding sun, bare-chested, his black hair tousled from sleep and sex. Gabrielle sprawled next to him on a beach towel, face turned toward the sun, her pale breasts completely exposed to the morning air. Beside her was Fleur, similarly topless, her skin already glistening with oil, nipples standing proud and pink.

For a long moment, Apolline simply watched them. She could see the play of muscle on Harry’s stomach as he lay flat on his back, the way Gabrielle’s thigh arched against his hand, and the lazy, contented smile on Fleur’s lips as she sipped cola from a sweating can.

It was obscene, how good they looked together. Beautiful in a way that made Apolline ache.

She sauntered down the stone steps, hips swaying, and paused just behind the trio. “You all started without me,” she teased.

Gabrielle cracked one eye open, regarding her with a slow, analyzing scan. “We thought you needed your rest,” she purred as Harry toyed with her skin. “You were very … worn out last night.”

Harry grinned, unabashed. “You’re glowing, Apolline.”

She ran her fingers through her shining hair. “I feel magnificent.” She dropped onto the towel next to Fleur, whose hand immediately found her knee.

They sat in silence for a few moments, just breathing in the sea air and letting the sun soak their skin. The sounds of the coast … gulls, the distant crashing of waves … punctuated the easy stillness. Apolline leaned back, eyes closed, letting herself drift on the sensation of being next to Harry’s rugged manliness, but it didn’t take long for the mood to shift. Apolline rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand, and regarded Harry with a lascivious smile. “You know, ‘Arry, now that we ‘ave crossed that line, there is no point in pretending that I don’t want more.”

Harry looked puzzled, then amused, as Apolline’s foot slid up his shin, her cute little toes tickling his skin. Gabby’s hand joined in, trailing up the inside of his arm.

Apolline pulled away, sitting up with a wicked smile. She untied her bikini top and let it fall, exposing her breasts to the sun and to Harry’s hungry gaze. Her nipples were already stiff, the pale skin of her areola flushed pink.

She stood, and with an exaggerated slowness, untied the strings of her bikini bottoms. The triangles fluttered to the ground, leaving her completely, gloriously nude. Apolline reveled in the feeling of eyes … Harry’s, Gabrielle’s, even Fleur’s … on her body. She swayed her hips, making sure the light caught the wet sheen between her legs, before sauntering over to Harry and straddling his waist. Apolline felt like a new woman.

Harry’s cock was already half-hard, tenting his swim trunks. Apolline leaned forward, brushing her pussy against the length of him, feeling it grow beneath her. She ran her fingers up his chest, nails scraping, and whispered, “I dreamt all night about you. I woke up soaking wet.”

Apolline momentarily got off of him, and with one swift motion, she pulled his trunks down, freeing his cock. It sprang up, heavy and thick, and Apolline wasted no time. She settled over it, trapping it between her lips and his belly, and started to grind, slow and teasing, back and forth, soaking him in her arousal.

Harry reached up, grabbing Apolline’s ass in both hands, spreading her cheeks wide. His fingertip pressed into the groove above her anus, massaging the tight ring, and Apolline shivered, remembering the way he’d filled her the day before.

She wanted that again. She wanted everything.

She lined his cock up with her pussy and, with one fluid motion, sank down onto him. Her slick walls scraped against his skin, sending pleasure racing up his spine. Harry’s breath caught, and for a second, Apolline thought he might pass out. She rode him slowly at first, relishing every inch, every shuddering gasp. She fucked him like she was making a statement. The old Apolline Delacour was gone, and a sex kitten had replaced her.

Fleur and Gabrielle watched, their own hands drifting south. Fleur’s fingers disappeared into the front of her bikini bottoms, rubbing herself with small, insistent circles. Gabrielle slid her own fingers between her legs, biting her lip as she watched the sexy woman bounce up and down on Harry’s cock.

Apolline was lost in it, and her world blurred. All that existed was the stretching of her lips and the pleasure blooming in her clit, radiating outward. She could feel every pulse of Harry’s cock, every shift of his hips. She leaned back, planting her hands on his knees, and rode him harder, until she was gasping, until sweat ran down her spine and pooled between her bouncing breasts.

Harry’s eyes rolled back. “Oh, fuck, Apolline …” he gasped. At hearing him moan her name, her pussy tightened.

She squeezed him, milking his cock, until he exploded inside her, filling her with his sticky heat. Apolline came at the same moment, her whole body shaking, pussy spasming around him, squirting a thin jet of fluid that splattered against his belly.

She collapsed forward, pinning Harry beneath her, and kissed him deeply, her lips tasting slightly of salt. Fleur and Gabrielle came seconds later, their cries of pleasure rising in chorus and sending a flock of gulls soaring into the air, squawking in fright.

For a long time, they lay tangled together, happy and spent.

Apolline looked up at the sky, radiant and endless. The bright sun warmed her back and shoulders. She was alive. She was adored. She was whole.

And, she thought with a satisfied smile, she could get used to this.