I was with my mother, Hermione explained. We depart this afternoon.
Miranda didn't think it possible in her position, but she blushed.He nibbled on her ear. "Did you like that?"
She nodded, unable to voice the words."There are many, many things for you to learn.""Could I…?" Oh, how to ask it?
He smiled indulgently at her. "Could you what?"She swallowed down her embarrassment. "Could I touch you ?"
In response, he took her hand and guided it down his body. When they reached his manhood, her hand jerked back reflexively. It was much hotter than she'd expected, and much, much harder. Turner patiently moved her hand back to him, and this time she made a few tentative strokes, marveling at how soft the skin was. "It's so different," she marveled. "So very odd."
He chuckled, partly because that was the only way he could contain the desire that was racing through him. "It's never seemed odd to me.""Don't provoke you ?" she burst out incredulously, advancing toward him. "You don't provoke me !"
"I haven't done a damned thing, Miranda. One minute I thought we were blissfully happy and the next you've come at me like a fury, accusing me of God knows what awful crime, and- "He stopped when he felt her frantic fingers biting into his upper arms. "You thought we were blissfully happy?" she whispered.
For a moment, when he looked at her, it was almost as if he were merely surprised. "Of course I did," he said. "I told you all the time." But then he gave himself a shake, and he rolled his eyes and pushed her away. "Oh, but I forgot. Everything I've done, everything I've said- none of it mattered. You don't want to know that I am happy with you. You don't care if I like to be with you. You just want to know how I feel."And then, because she couldn't not say it, she whispered, "How do you feel about me?"