Crawl To Him

Thomas stepped back, his gaze lingering on Hermione as she knelt before him, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her obedience. He felt a surge of dominance, a hunger that demanded more. "Crawl to me," he commanded, his voice low and firm, every syllable dripping with authority.

Hermione’s eyes never left his as she began to move. Her hands pressed into the cold stone floor, her body arching seductively as she crawled forward, each movement deliberate and fluid. The curve of her back, the sway of her hips—it was all for him. Her breath hitched slightly, a faint sound that only added to the tension in the room. She stopped just inches from his boots, her gaze still locked on his, waiting.

"Lick them," Thomas ordered, his voice edged with a dark satisfaction.

Hermione’s lips parted, her tongue darting out to trace the smooth leather of his boots. Her movements were slow, almost reverent, as if she were worshipping him in this small, submissive act. The sound of her tongue against the leather was soft but audible, and Thomas felt his arousal spike as he watched her. Her hands rested on his feet, steadying herself as she continued, her tongue moving in deliberate strokes.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. Hermione’s cheeks flushed at the words, but she didn’t stop. She continued her task, her tongue exploring every inch of the boots, her lips brushing against the leather in a way that sent shivers down Thomas’s spine.

When she finally pulled back, her lips glistening, her eyes remained fixed on him, waiting for his next command. Thomas reached down, his fingers tangling in her hair once more, and tugged gently. "Up," he said, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Hermione rose to her feet gracefully, her body moving as if it were an extension of his will. She stood before him, her gaze steady, her breathing even. Thomas’s hand slid down her cheek, his fingers brushing against her lips. "Now," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "worship me."

Hermione’s hands moved to his chest, her fingers splaying across the fabric of his shirt as she leaned in. Her lips pressed against his skin through the material, warm and soft. She traced a path upward, her breath hot against him, her tongue darting out to taste the warmth of his body. Her hands slid around to his back, pulling him closer as she continued her exploration, her lips and tongue moving with a fervor that left him breathless.

Thomas’s hands moved to her waist, gripping her firmly as he guided her. "Lower," he growled, his voice rough with need.

Hermione obeyed immediately, sinking to her knees again. Her hands moved to his belt, deftly unfastening it before pulling down his trousers and boxers. His cock sprang free, hard and throbbing, and Hermione’s eyes flicked up to his for a moment before she leaned in.

Her lips wrapped around him, warm and wet, her tongue swirling around the tip. Thomas groaned, his hands tangling in her hair as she took him deeper, inch by inch, until he was buried in her throat. She didn’t gag, didn’t hesitate. Her mouth was a heaven of heat and pressure, her tongue working him with a skill that made his knees weak.

"Faster," he commanded, his voice strained.

Hermione obeyed, her head bobbing up and down, her lips tight around him. Her tongue flicked against the sensitive spot just below the head, and Thomas felt himself teetering on the edge. But he wasn’t ready yet. Not yet.