Chapter 3
Lily had the sneaking suspicion that despite technically being the mastermind behind this little fake-dating plot, she’d just been expertly manipulated, rules or no. But she didn’t give a damn, because all she wanted to do was snog that stupid smirk off James Potter’s face.
She slid her hand to the back of his neck, pulled his face down towards hers, and kissed him. Hard. His lips were firm and so surprisingly soft that she kissed him a second time, lighter and more controlled. She didn’t want him to think that she had no finesse, though why she cared what he thought she had no idea.
Lily had snogged exactly five boys in her life, starting with Charles Braithwaite in third year during a game of spin the butterbeer and ending most recently with her Muggle neighbor Andrew Baker, whom she’d allowed to second base during their brief fling over the summer. But none of it had prepared her for snogging James.
She gasped softly as he teased her lips apart, and flicked his tongue into her mouth with the barest caress. It was mind-melting. It was perfect. It was… it wasn’t even snogging, really. Everything that came before felt like wet fumbling compared to the warmth that spread from James’ lips and tongue through her whole body, which was suddenly clamoring to be touched. And that was when she realized he wasn’t touching her.
Why wasn’t he touching her? Lily almost released a pathetic whimper as desire coursed through her from head to toe, bringing the tips of her breasts to sharp peaks and pooling between her legs. Then James bit gently on her lower lip and she actually did whimper.
Lily felt irritated and hot and she wanted his hands everywhere. Somehow through the haze of her desire, his husky words came back to her. Unless you touch me first. She had one hand threaded through the hair at the back of his neck and the other on his broad, muscled shoulder—when had he gotten so big?—but apparently that wasn’t enough.
Well, fine. Lily had never said she’d play fair. She stepped into the warmth radiating from James’ chest and raked the hard peaks of her breasts up his body as she arched into him. Though she was on the verge of collapsing from the trembling in her knees, Lily felt a perverse satisfaction at the harsh groan that escaped James as her breasts pressed against chest. At last, his arms came around her as he drew her up against him—hard—just like she’d wanted. Lily melted. She pressed every inch of herself against the deliciously hard planes of his chest and stomach. She could feel his heart thundering.
At this angle, Lily’s head tipped back and James took advantage, plundering her neck, kissing and nipping as Lily moaned—moaned!—in pleasure. She shivered as she felt his rough stubble scraping along the sensitive skin over her pulse. One of his hands tangled in her hair, supporting her head, while his other crept around her waist and tugged her shirt free of her skirt. Slowly, agonizingly, his hand traveled up her ribs, the warmth of his palm sending shivers up her spine. He stopped just below her breast, his thumb tracing the outline of her bra, as though waiting for her encouragement. Lily was surprised to find she knew without a doubt that if she pulled away, he’d stop instantly and respectfully. Despite her earlier accusation, she knew James well enough by now to know he’d never push her if she didn’t want him to.
But she did want. She wanted very badly. So instead she arched her back and bit down on James’ lip in impatience. She could have sworn she heard him give a rough chuckle, but the next instant all thought fled her brain as his hand swept up underneath the cup of her bra and covered her breast, his thumb rubbing a teasing rhythm back and forth over the taut peak of her nipple. It was a good thing he was holding her so tightly to him, or she really would have melted into a puddle on the ground. When he squeezed and lifted its weight in his palm, then pinched lightly at the tip, the pleasure was so intense Lily reacted on instinct and ground her hips against his.
They both gasped, James at the sensation, and Lily at the hard length she felt against her hip, so close to where she was aching for his touch. James pulled back a fraction, and Lily dug her fingers into his shoulder, silently begging him to stay.
“James,” she choked, his name the only plea she was capable of forming.
It was like a switch had flipped—the instantaneous change that came over James as his control slipped away. Lily hadn’t even realized he’d been holding back, but she knew now. He looked wild and untamed, his hair tousled, cheeks flushed, the sleeves of his button down shirt rolled to expose flexing forearms. His eyes blazed heat as they met hers, silently asking if she was sure. She bit her lip and nodded and the last of his restraint disappeared.
James bent to pull at the backs of her thighs, and Lily picked up on the cue, climbing into his arms, her legs straddling his hips, her skirt riding up between them. She felt wanton and wild, with her thighs spread on either side of him—a feeling that burned hotter when he backed her against the rough, stone wall of a moonlit alcove and pressed his hard length directly against the apex of her thighs. The thin fabric of her knickers was all that stood between her and the friction of James’ hard body. Lily gasped, and tipped her head back as the sensation made her core throb.
Living in a dormitory with four other girls, Lily had found little opportunity to explore her budding desires on her own. She’d only managed to bring herself to release a handful of times, always late at night when she couldn’t sleep and she was certain the others were dead to the world. But even though she didn’t have much experience, she knew what she needed now. Tilting her hips desperately, she begged James for friction.
Despite the faint light from the moon, Lily saw the way James’ eyes darkened with desire at her silent invitation. Skimming his hands along the hem of her skirt, he met her eyes as he slowly traced her inner thigh until his fingers met the edge of her knickers. Lily bit her lip to stop the whine that rose in her throat. With his other arm, James gripped her waist and shifted her quickly so her bum was resting on the windowsill, then lifted one of her thighs and stepped between her legs, opening her more fully to him. Lily was nearly panting with desire as James’ fingers deftly slipped under the edge of her knickers. He hissed through his teeth as he felt how wet she already was.
“Merlin, Evans,” he groaned against her shoulder. “You’re soaked.”
The sound of his rough voice only made her grow wetter. Pulling her knickers to the side impatiently, James began stroking soft, merciless circles against her clit. Lily’s head tipped back to rest on the edge of the window as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her, and James took the opportunity to renew his sweet assault of her neck, licking and sucking at her pulse point. His other hand had roughly pulled down the cup of her bra so she was spilling over the top, kneading and caressing her breast. Never in her life had Lily felt such an overwhelming onslaught of physical sensation. She couldn’t concentrate on any one thing James was doing to her—it was all happening at once, winding tighter and tighter, faster than she’d known was possible.
The light pressure against her clit was maddening. Her hips twitched involuntarily, seeking something more. And James knew exactly what she needed. He pulled back a fraction from her neck and met her hazy stare as he pushed one finger inside her core. He growled audibly as she clenched around him. Lily gasped at the feeling of being stretched for the first time.
“Okay, Evans?” James asked, sounding strangled.
She nodded. “I’ve never had anything inside me before,” she confessed.
James exhaled so sharply it sounded like he’d been hit in the chest. He met her eye with an intense but inscrutable look.
“What?” she said.
“I’m the luckiest bloke in the world." His voice was reverent. Awed.
Before she could think of a reply to that, James brought his thumb back to her clit, building her back up. In three small circles, she was done for. Lily didn’t even recognize the noises that fell from her lips. Mewling. Whimpering. Praying. She shattered into a million pieces around James’ finger, which thrust deep and stilled as she rode out her pleasure.
“That’s it,” James said, watching her come apart with hunger writ into every line of his face.
He worked her through the aftershocks until at last she collapsed against the wall, boneless and glowing. Her eyes flicked down to the sizable bulge in his pants and her core fluttered again. If his fingers had felt so incredible, what would he feel like? She wanted to bring him as much pleasure as he’d just brought her. In that moment, she didn’t care that it was James Potter, that she’d hated him for most of their time at Hogwarts, that he was an infuriating, arrogant jock—she wanted to give herself to him, just as he’d given himself to her.
Not taking her eyes off his, she slid her hands down the hard planes of his stomach to his belt. James was breathing in hard pants. His eyes met hers and there was something like pain swimming in their hazel depths. His jaw clenched.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“Evans, we… shouldn’t…”
“Why?” Her voice came out much more plaintively than she’d have liked.
James was silent for several seconds, something just wrong in the way he was looking at her. Finally he gritted out, “I can’t… I don’t want… Not this.”
Lily recoiled. He didn’t want her? She cursed herself silently. She was a fool. What had she been thinking, letting her guard down for James Potter? Everything she’d experienced at his hands over the past six years came crashing back to her in one harsh breath of reality. The way he’d pursued her like it was some big joke that the whole school was in on. Of course he didn’t want her. He’d never really wanted her. Experienced, rich, Pureblood, popular, Quidditch-star James Potter had her practically serving herself up on a platter—he’d already gotten what he wanted. She may have started this game, but somehow the tables had turned and suddenly James was the one in control. After six years of pursuit, he’d finally won the get-in-Evans’-knickers challenge. Lily’s stomach turned.
Shame flooded her cheeks as she realized what she’d done. Worse than her body betraying her by, her mind had given in to desire. She’d forgotten completely that this was all just about proving a point—that it wasn’t real. James had effortlessly goaded her into dropping her restraint and proving him right—that she really did want him, after all.
And then, at the last second, he’d pulled back, in perfect control, and called her bluff. She was mortified when she thought how close she’d come to offering—no, begging—James to take her virginity. How could she have forgotten six years’ worth of him tormenting her? It was just like what she’d accused him of two years ago: he’d had only ever wanted her because she was the only one who’d never said ‘yes.’ And now she’d gone and acted every bit as much a fool as every other girl who’d thrown herself at James Potter’s feet over the years.
She stepped back, gathering what little dignity she had left, and faced him as coldly as she could muster.
“Evans, I—” James started, but she cut him off.
“No, you’re right. The deal was a snog, and now I’ve snogged you.” She folded her arms across her chest, refusing to acknowledge that they’d done a lot more than snog.
“And?”
“And what?” she snapped.
James sighed and ruffled his hair in the way she hated. “I don’t think either of us can pretend we don’t want each other. So the question is: did it mean something to you?”
Lily flinched, feeling like he’d cut her. Did he have to go in for the kill? Wasn’t it enough that her body had responded? Why did he need her to say she’d felt something? She obviously had, but he’d only use it to humiliate her, like he had a thousand times before, with his supposed love.
Even though he certainly wasn’t acting like some conquering hero who’d finally bagged the one witch who’d always refused him, six years of pranks, of “Oi, Evans!”, and more recently, of seeing him tumble out of this broom closet or that with his hair mussed and lipstick on his stupid, beautiful neck, made her say, “Don’t be silly. It was just a snog. Just a really good snog.”
And then, because she was brave but not dumb, she turned and fled towards the Gryffindor tower. And missed the flash of hurt across James’ face.