Infiltrating Daphne (Ch. 6 - The Date)

- https://luckyquaffle.com/stories/infiltrating-daphne/chapter-6-the-date/

Fuck.

The emerald green dress clung to Daphne's body like it had been poured over her, and every coherent thought abandoned Harry the moment she stepped into the restaurant. Two thin straps sat perched on her shoulders, delicate as spider silk, looking like they might slide off at any moment and send the whole precarious arrangement tumbling down. The neckline plunged so deep that her tits seemed to defy the laws of magic itself, pushed together and presented like an offering to whatever deity had blessed Harry Potter with this particular form of torture. More cleavage than fabric. More skin than dress. The inner curves of her breasts were on full display, soft and pale and swelling with every breath she took, and Harry could see the faint shadow where her areolas began, just barely hidden by that emerald silk.

He was in so much trouble.

This is your own fault, he reminded himself, even as his eyes traced the way the fabric pulled tight across her chest. You couldn't talk to a pretty witch without jamming your foot straight down your throat. "What are you doing Thursday, Daphne?" Smooth, Potter. Fucking brilliant.

But Merlin, she was beautiful. Her blonde hair was swept up tonight, a few loose curls framing her face, and her blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight as she spotted him across the room. Her face lit up with genuine delight, and she practically bounced toward his table, her tits swaying with each step in a way that made Harry grip the edge of his chair hard enough to leave marks.

The movement made those thin straps shift dangerously on her shoulders.

Any second now, Harry thought wildly. Any second one of those is going to slip and her tits are going to spill out and I'm going to have a heart attack in the middle of this restaurant.

Harry pushed to his feet as she reached the table, and she rose up to kiss his cheek, her lips soft and warm and lingering longer than was strictly appropriate. Her perfume washed over him, and her tits swung forward with the motion, presenting him with a view straight down her cleavage that made his cock twitch against his thigh.

"Harry." Her voice was warm, intimate, like they were the only two people in the room. "You came."

"Wouldn't miss it," he managed, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.

Her smile widened, bright and genuine, nothing like the polished mask of the Ice Queen. This was the Daphne he'd seen in the garden, in the parlour at the Parkinson party. The real Daphne, warm and playful and looking at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

You're supposed to be keeping her occupied, he reminded himself. The raid is happening right now. Your team is moving on the shipment while you sit here staring at her tits.

But the thought felt hollow, distant. Harry didn't believe Daphne was smuggling anything anymore. He'd stopped believing it somewhere between her lips wrapped around his cock and her cunt clenching around him while she screamed his name. A dark artifact smuggler wouldn't look at him like that. Wouldn't moan his name like a prayer. Wouldn't beg him to fill her up with his seed.

She was innocent. He was certain of it now.

Which meant the only reason he was here, the only reason he'd asked her to dinner, was because he wanted to be here. Because he couldn't stop thinking about her. Because every night since the Parkinson party he'd lain awake replaying the feeling of her tight little cunt gripping his cock, the way her tits had bounced while she rode him, the desperate sounds she'd made when she came.

Harry pulled out the chair for her, and his eyes dropped involuntarily to watch her arse as she slid into the seat. The dress clung to her like a second skin, hugging every curve, and there was no panty line at all. Nothing. She was either wearing the tiniest thong in existence or nothing at all, and both options made Harry's cock throb against his trousers.

Fuck fuck fuck.

"I've been thinking about this all week," Daphne said, her eyes bright. "I know we've been to parties together, but this feels different. More... intimate."

Intimate. Harry's mind flashed to the parlour. Her impaled on his cock. Her tits in his face. Her cunt milking him dry while she sobbed his name.

"Yeah," he croaked. "Different."

Dinner was exquisite torture.

The food was excellent, not that Harry tasted any of it. He was too busy watching Daphne's lips as she ate, the way her tongue darted out to catch a drop of sauce, the way she moaned softly at a particularly good bite.

Those lips, he thought, remembering. Wrapped around my cock. Stretched wide. Taking me to the root while she looked up at me with those fucking eyes.

She licked her lips, and Harry's cock jumped.

Dragging along the underside of my shaft. Her tongue swirling around the head. The sound she made when I grabbed her hair and fucked her throat.

"Harry?" Daphne's voice cut through his haze. "Are you alright? You look a bit flushed."

"Fine," he lied. "Just... warm in here."

Her smile turned knowing, and she leaned forward on her elbows, resting her chin on her laced fingers. The position made her tits press together, the cleavage deepening, and the neckline gaped open enough that Harry could see the dark edge of her areola peeking out from behind the emerald silk.

Merlin.

He could see the beginning of that dusky pink circle, just a crescent of colour against the pale swell of her breast, and his fingers itched to reach across the table and pull that fabric aside. To watch her tits spill free. To take those stiff nipples into his mouth and suck until she moaned.

Daphne held the position, watching him with amused eyes, letting him look. Then she straightened up, and her tits settled back into place, the areola disappearing behind that sinful neckline, and Harry nearly groaned with frustration.

"The dessert here is supposed to be incredible," she said innocently, as if she hadn't just given him a glimpse of heaven. "We should order some."

Harry nodded, not trusting his voice.

The dessert arrived, some elaborate chocolate creation that Daphne attacked with undisguised enthusiasm. She took a bite and her eyes fluttered closed, a soft sound of pleasure escaping her lips, and Harry watched her tongue sweep across her mouth to catch a smear of chocolate.

"Mmm." The sound was practically obscene. "You have to try this."

She held out her spoon, and Harry leaned forward to take the bite, his eyes locked on hers. The chocolate was rich and sweet, but all he could taste was her, all he could think about was her lips and her tongue and the way she'd lapped at his cock like it was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted.

Daphne grinned at him, chocolate on her lips, and Harry wanted to lean across the table and lick it off.

Focus, he told himself desperately. The raid. Your team. You're supposed to be—

One of her straps slipped.

Time seemed to slow as the thin emerald ribbon slid down her shoulder, dragging the fabric with it. The neckline pulled to the side, revealing more and more of her left breast, the pale curve of flesh, the shadow of her areola, and then the nipple, stiff and pink and perfect, popping free into the candlelight.

Harry's breath stopped.

Her tit hung there, exposed and beautiful, the soft swell of flesh crowned by that dusky nipple, and Daphne's cheeks flushed pink as she realised what had happened. She glanced around the restaurant, but they were in a secluded corner, partially hidden by a decorative screen, and no one seemed to have noticed.

She looked back at Harry.

He was staring. He couldn't help it. Her tit was right there, full and heavy and gorgeous, the nipple pebbling under his gaze, and his cock was so hard it was almost painful.

"Well," Daphne breathed, her blush deepening. "That's embarrassing."

But she didn't cover herself.

Instead, she held his gaze and slowly reached up to her other shoulder. Her fingers hooked under the remaining strap, and Harry watched, transfixed, as she pulled it down.

The second side of the dress fell away, and both her tits spilled free.

Fuck.

They were magnificent. Full and round, swaying gently as she shifted in her seat, her nipples stiff peaks of dusky pink against her pale skin. She cupped them, hefting them slightly, presenting them for his hungry gaze like an offering.

"Better?" she whispered, her eyes dancing with mischief despite the flush on her cheeks.

Harry's mouth was dry. His cock was straining against his trousers. Every rational thought had fled his brain, replaced by a single, overwhelming need.

"Do you have plans for tonight?" The words tumbled out before he could stop them, raw and desperate.

You're asking to keep her occupied, he tried to tell himself. The raid. The team. That's why you're—

But the lie was so thin it dissolved before it could fully form. He didn't give a damn about the raid anymore. Didn't care if Proudfoot's conspiracy board was right or wrong. All he cared about was getting this woman alone, spreading her cheeks wide, watching her pussy grip his cock and never let go. He wanted to hear her moans as he fucked her hard into her mattress. Wanted her to beg him to fill her up with his seed. Wanted to see her eyes pleading with him over her shoulder as he took her from behind.

Daphne's face lit up like he'd offered her the world.

"I'd love to spend the night," she breathed, and the promise in her voice made his balls tighten. "I was hoping you'd ask."

She stood.

The movement made her tits sway, heavy and perfect, and the dress pooled at her waist, leaving her bare from the hips up. She stood there in the middle of the restaurant with her tits out, shameless and stunning, and Harry couldn't have looked away if his life depended on it.

He pushed back from the table and rose to meet her.

She crossed to him, still topless, her tits jiggling with each step, and then she was pressing herself against him, her bare chest crushed against his shirt, her hands sliding up to cup his face.

She kissed him.

Hard and hungry, her tongue sliding against his, her body melting into him. Harry's hands found her arse through the clinging fabric of her dress, and he grabbed, his fingers sinking into the firm flesh of her cheeks, spreading them through the thin material.

No panties, he confirmed, his cock throbbing. Nothing at all.

Daphne moaned into his mouth, her hips rolling against him, and Harry pulled her closer, grinding his erection against her belly. Someone gasped nearby, and Harry dimly registered that other diners were starting to stare, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Let them look, he thought savagely. Let them see.

His hands clawed at her arse, kneading and spreading, and Daphne whimpered against his lips, her fingers tangling in his hair. She was trembling in his arms, warm and willing and desperate, and all Harry could think about was getting her somewhere private.

Getting her naked.

Getting inside her.

The image flashed through his mind again: Daphne on her hands and knees, her arse in the air, her pussy pink and glistening and begging for his cock. Him behind her, spreading her cheeks, watching his thick shaft disappear inside her. Her face pressed into the pillows as she screamed for more.

Now, his body demanded. Need her now.

Harry pulled back just enough to look at her, and Daphne's eyes were glazed with lust, her lips swollen, her tits heaving against his chest.

"Hold on," he growled.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her bare tits pressing against him, and Harry took hold of her and twisted.

The crack of Disapparition swallowed them whole.

They materialised in a whirl of colour and sensation, and Harry barely had time to register the unfamiliar bedroom before Daphne was shoving him backward.

He hit the bed hard, bouncing once on the mattress, and she was on him in an instant, her hands tearing at his shirt, her mouth hot and demanding against his. Buttons popped and scattered across the floor as she wrenched the fabric open, and then her palms were sliding across his bare chest, her nails dragging through the hair there, and she was moaning into his mouth like she couldn't get enough of him.

"Waited all week," she gasped between kisses. "Couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Daphne—"

"Your cock." She was yanking at his belt now, her fingers clumsy with desperation. "Kept touching myself. Imagining you inside me."

The belt came loose. The button. The zip. And then her hand was wrapping around his shaft, pulling it free, and Harry groaned as her fingers squeezed.

"Fuck," she breathed, looking down at where she held him. "I dreamed about this cock, Harry. Every single night."

She didn't give him time to respond. She was already sliding down his body, her hair brushing across his stomach, her breath hot against his throbbing cock. She looked up at him through her lashes, her blue eyes dark with want, and then she lowered her mouth and took him in.

Merlin.

Her lips stretched around his girth, wet and warm, and she sank down slowly, taking him inch by inch until he hit the back of her throat. Harry's head fell back against the pillows, a groan tearing from his chest, and his hands found her hair, tangling in the blonde curls.

She was good at this. Better than good. Her tongue swirled around his shaft as she bobbed, her cheeks hollowing with suction, and every time she pulled up, her lips dragged along the sensitive underside of his cock in a way that made his toes curl.

"That's it," Harry groaned. "Fuck, Daphne, just like that."

She moaned around him, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure straight to his balls, and she took him deeper, her throat fluttering as she pushed past her limits. He could feel her swallowing around him, could see his cock bulging in her throat, and the sight was so obscene that he nearly came right then.

Not yet, he told himself, gritting his teeth. Need to be inside her.

When he couldn't take it anymore, Harry tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her off his cock. She came up gasping, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his swollen head, her eyes wild and questioning.

"Face down," he ordered, his voice a rasp.

Daphne's whole body shivered, and she scrambled to obey.

She turned and dropped onto her elbows, pressing her face into the pillows, her arse rising into the air. The emerald dress was still bunched around her waist, and Harry grabbed it and yanked it down her legs, leaving her completely naked before him.

Fuck.

Her arse was spectacular, round and full and toned, her cheeks spread slightly from the position, and between them Harry could see everything. Her arsehole, a tight pink rosebud that winked at him as she squirmed with anticipation. And below that, her pussy, swollen and glistening, already dripping down her inner thighs.

A hole for another time, he thought, staring at that tight little pucker. But tonight...

He grabbed her hips and lined himself up, the fat head of his cock pressing against her entrance. Daphne moaned into the pillow, pushing back against him, trying to take him in, but Harry held her still.

"You want this?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Yes!" She was trembling, her whole body quivering with need. "Please, Harry, please, I need it, I need you inside me, please—"

He thrust.

"FUCK!"

Daphne's scream was muffled by the pillow, but Harry felt her whole body seize as he buried himself to the hilt in one savage stroke. She was so tight, so wet, her walls gripping him like a vice, and he had to hold himself still for a moment just to keep from exploding.

Then he started to move.

He fucked her hard and deep, his hips slapping against her arse with every thrust, and Daphne sobbed into the pillows, her hands fisting in the sheets. Each stroke sent ripples through her cheeks, the firm flesh bouncing and jiggling with the impact, and Harry couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Look at you," he growled, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. "Taking my cock like you were made for it."

"Yes!" Daphne wailed. "Made for you, Harry, made for your cock, please don't stop—"

He didn't stop. Couldn't stop. He pounded into her, watching her arse ripple with every thrust, listening to the obscene wet sounds of her cunt swallowing his cock again and again. She was drenched, her arousal coating his shaft, dripping down onto the sheets, and every time he bottomed out he could feel her cervix kissing the head of his cock.

"Harder!" Daphne begged, her voice breaking. "Merlin, Harry, harder, please—"

Harry grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled.

Her head snapped back, her spine arching, and her mouth fell open in a silent scream. The new angle let him sink even deeper, and he fucked up into her with brutal force, using his grip on her hair to yank her back onto his cock with every thrust.

"Is this what you wanted?" he demanded, his voice savage. "Getting fucked like a whore while you beg for more?"

"Yes!" She was babbling now, tears streaming down her cheeks, her body shuddering with every impact. "Love your cock, Harry, love it so much, love how you fuck me—"

"Say my name."

"Harry!" She screamed it like a prayer. "Harry, Harry, Harry—"

He felt her walls start to flutter, clenching and spasming around his shaft, and he knew she was close. So was he. His balls were drawing tight, the pressure building at the base of his spine, but he needed to see her fall apart first.

"Come for me," he commanded, yanking her hair harder. "Come on my cock like a good girl."

Daphne shattered.

Her whole body convulsed, her cunt clamping down on him so tight it was almost painful, and she screamed his name. Her orgasm rolled through her in violent waves, her walls milking his cock, her juices gushing around him and soaking his thighs.

"Fill me!" she begged, her voice breaking with ecstasy. "Harry, please, fill me up, I need your cum, need to feel you—"

Harry lasted three more thrusts.

"Take it!" he roared, burying himself to the hilt and holding. "Take every fucking drop!"

His cock pulsed, and he emptied himself inside her, rope after rope of hot seed flooding her spasming cunt. Daphne wailed beneath him, her hips grinding back against him, her walls milking every last drop from his balls.

Harry stayed buried inside her for a long moment, both of them trembling with aftershocks, his cock still twitching as the last of his release pulsed into her. Then, slowly, he pulled out.

His cum followed.

It spilled from her swollen pussy in a thick wave, white and obscene against her flushed pink lips. He watched, transfixed, as more leaked out of her, dripping down to pool on the sheets. Her cunt was gaping slightly, twitching and clenching around nothing, trying to keep his seed inside.

Hottest thing I've ever seen, Harry thought dazedly.

Daphne collapsed forward onto the bed, her arse still raised, her pussy still leaking, and she was making soft, whimpering sounds of satisfaction.

"Fuck," she breathed into the pillow. "That was..."

The door burst open.

"Daphne, there's been a problem, we need to—"

Tracey Davis froze in the doorway.

Harry stood there, cock still hard in his hand, slick with their combined release. Daphne was on all fours in front of him, her arse in the air, her pussy stuffed full of his cum and leaking in thick white rivulets down her thighs.

Tracey's eyes went wide.

Oh fuck.