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Queens ch.22
🕑 Added 2024-02-12 11:00:01 +0000 UTC"Some of us didn't have swimming lessons in magic school," he replied, his gaze fixed on her glistening, water-soaked body. Even from a dist
"Some of us didn't have swimming lessons in magic school," he replied, his gaze fixed on her glistening, water-soaked body. Even from a distance, her silhouette was exquisite.
Her taut nipples crowned her firm breasts, and she stood confidently on the rock, water cascading from her long brown hair as she tossed it over her shoulder. "No worries. I'll take a nap while I wait," she teased.
Emma was a fast swimmer, and he often felt like a tugboat trying to keep up with her. But the allure of the brown-haired beauty basking in the sun was all the motivation he needed to join her. He swam, determined, splashing water as the sun beat down on his back.
When he reached the rock, he found Emma sitting with her feet gliding over the water's surface, her skin almost dry. Her hair, once wet, now clung damply to her skin, framing her face with unruly tendrils. Her breasts stood proudly on her chest, barely moving as she clapped her hands and cheered. "The award for the slowest swim goes to Harry Potter," she teased.
Holding onto the rock with one hand, he walked on the water, smiling at her. "You know, you could teach me to swim faster."
She rolled her eyes. "That's my only advantage. You'll crush me on the bike and during the run."
"Your competitiveness rivals Gabrielle's," he remarked. "But I don't want to crush you. You're my friend."
She tilted her head, furrowing her brows. "Just a friend?"
"Yes, we're friends," he confirmed. "At least that's what I thought."
Emma slipped into the water in front of him, emerging with barely an inch between them. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and her legs encircled his waist. "Don't just call me a friend, Potter." She leaned in, and their lips met in a kiss.
His stomach fluttered. The kiss, the first electrifying kiss, momentarily left him dazed, and his heart raced. To hell with it. Engaged or not, ignoring her would be a crime. He responded, wrapping his arm around her waist and reciprocating the kiss. As her lips parted, he followed, their tongues intertwining in exploration, and Emma's fingers caressed his neck.
His cock twitched, regretting the cold water, but when Emma clung to him, he held onto the rock with both hands, pulling her close and pressing her body against his.
Her firm breasts pressed against his chest, and her nipples stiffened against his cool skin. Emma broke the kiss, focusing on his eyes. A slight smile played on her lips. "Are we just friends?"
He furrowed his brow. "Uhhh... no?"
"Ideal answer." Emma smiled, moving away from the rock. She surfaced and sat on the edge, watching him. Her brown hair glistened in the sun, and her breasts bounced as she adjusted her position.
Walking on the water, he observed her from a short distance. "What about Louis? What does he think of that kiss?"
She shrugged. "What you and I share is separate. You and I are like teenagers caught up in a hot summer romance."
As their bond deepened, his feelings for Emma grew with it. Her words hit home. "So it's not real? Is that what you're saying?"
She shook her head. "Don't overanalyze it, Potter." She playfully splashed water. "You and I are training partners, preparing for the race."
He swam to the edge of the rock, grasping Emma's ankles. "Are you sure Louis won't mind if we travel together?"
Emma pressed her feet against his chest, her fingers brushing his skin. "Louis couldn't muster the energy to feel anything, not even jealousy."
His hand slipped under her calves, performing a gentle massage. "If I were in his place, I'd be damn jealous."
She smiled warmly at him. "Well, you're lucky you're not wearing his shoes." Her contented sigh accompanied the tilt of her head backward, letting her hair cascade down her shoulders. "Your hands are pure magic. Do we really have to hop back on the bikes?"
He moved his hands down her calves and then delicately cradled her foot, running his fingers between her toes and massaging the arch. "How does that feel?"
"Mmmmm... it's amazing. Marry me," she closed her eyes and purred. Lying on the rock, her naked form stretched out, her brown hair scattered over the stone like that of a goddess. Her legs were slightly apart, a pink blush peeking from her tight crevice. Like Tracey and Gabrielle, Emma took meticulous care of herself. Not a single trace of hair marred her beauty.
The water had soaked his skin, and he longed to absorb the warmth of the rock into his arms and back. Having finished Emma's foot massage, he crawled beside her, completely naked, and his erection stirred with renewed vigor. He stretched out beside her, extending his arms wide.
Emma drew closer, resting her head on his shoulder, leaning to the side to admire his substantial member. "What happens after the race?" Her tone turned wistful, bordering on somber.
He turned to look into her eyes. "What do you mean? We pick another race and keep on training. How about a marathon together?" Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "I've never run such a distance before."
Her beauty was captivating, and her eyes cast an irresistible spell on him. Each visit to the quarry deepened his feelings for her, and the approaching end of summer cast a shadow he feared. "Where are you going with this?"
"It's a lot of races to train for," she noted. "We'd have to run together every day."
He smiled. "Isn't that what friends are for?" "Hold on a moment." She laughed, playfully tapping his chest, but her hand remained flat on his ribs. Emma locked her gaze onto him, as if studying his lips, nose, and eyes. "If you promise to train with me every step of the way, I'll run that marathon with you. But I don't want to hold you back."
His gaze focused on her, and emotions swirled in his stomach. Emma's eyes were the perfect blend of green and brown, their hue shifting in the light like an enchanting spell. "You won't slow me down in the slightest."
"All right." She smiled, shifting closer, her body's warmth melding with his.
Somewhere in the distance, cicadas chirped, and a gentle breeze stirred the air. They were approaching a precipice, a point where something had to give. It would either be Emma's engagement or their budding romance. But he was ready to fight with all his might to ensure she remained a part of his life.
He closed his eyes and sighed. "This breeze is... pretty damn lousy."
Emma laughed again and snuggled into him, resting her head on his chest, tracing invisible circles on his abdomen. "Can we stay here a little longer, okay?"
He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. "We can spend the whole afternoon here."
Later that night, Gabrielle, Tracey, and Harry had dinner plans with Harry's grandfather at the townhouse. It was Tracey's first meeting with Harry's grandfather, and understandably, she felt a bit apprehensive. Little did they know that their supposedly casual dinner would consist of seven courses, all expertly prepared by a professional chef.
Grandpa was in his element, regaling them with stories and jokes. He managed to put Tracey at ease, welcoming her with open arms. As the meal came to an end, he slipped away for a moment to the wine cellar and returned with something he claimed was an unrivaled bottle of red wine. With Tracey's hand resting high on Harry's inner thigh and Gabrielle's thumb grazing his knee, they sat around the cozy dining room, allowing the feast to settle as Grandpa unveiled a dusty bottle, a vintage collection collected during one of his many escapades.
The room was as inviting as the table. Wax-dripped candle holders provided an intimate ambiance in the space where Grandpa had captivated the two beautiful girls with Harry. Pushing aside their plates, they watched as Grandpa expertly covered the bottle's label. Leaning over the table, they observed, transfixed, as Grandpa adeptly removed the cork, his actions holding Tracey and Gabrielle in a kind of mesmerizing trance.
"During one of my travels in France, I stumbled upon this exquisite Beaujolais," Grandpa said. "I've run out of my last bottle, but today's occasion demands it." The cork yielded with a satisfying pop, and Gramps raised the bottle to his nose, inhaling deeply. "Pure magic."
Tracey leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table, her chin on her hand. The candlelight cast a warm glow on her plump pink lips, and her silky blond hair cascaded over her brows and cheeks. She tilted her head, furrowing her brows, and examined the bottle. "Is it as good as it seems?"
"My dear, it's beyond description. This Beaujolais hails from a small vineyard known as Davis." There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looked at Tracey, his petite English goddess. "Does that name ring a bell?"
Gabrielle and Harry both turned their attention to Tracey, who smiled. "Oui," she replied. "You know my family's vineyard?"
Gramps smiled. "I did my homework."
While Harry knew about Tracey's family vineyard, this revelation caught him off guard. He let out a low whistle. "You really know how to keep a secret. Completely." He raised his glass toward Grandpa.
Gabrielle's eyes widened, and a smile appeared on her face as she faced Tracey. "Really, Gabrielle?"
On the yellow label of the bottle, there was a sketched lion, beneath which, in bold letters, the word "Davis" was accompanied by "Beaujolais Villages" in French. Tracey's eyes lit up as she admired the bottle. "This is from my birth year." Her hand tightened on the inside of Harry's thigh, moving higher until it dangerously neared his excitement. "How much of your stories were true, Grandpa? Did you really visit Davis?"
Grandpa gave him a stern look. "I'm not one to fabricate stories, lad. Gabrielle's laughter and Tracey's amused expression indicated their shared amusement.
Harry leaned back, squirming under Grandpa's unyielding gaze. "I'm sorry, Grandpa. I know you're honest. Let's face it, there aren't many things you haven't experienced."
Grandpa replied with a warm smile, refilling Harry's glass. "No harm done, my boy." He inclined his head in gratitude. "I forgive you."
"By the way, I'm taking Harry and Gabrielle to spend the holidays with my family," Tracey announced. "I'll make sure to bring you another case of wine."
"That would be wonderful," he replied, nodding to Tracey, then turned his gaze to Harry. "Harry, don't keep her waiting. Marry her."
Amid Gabrielle's laughter, Tracey, and Harry, the atmosphere lightened.
"You said the same about Gabrielle," Harry remarked.
"What are you waiting for? Marry them both, or maybe even Gabrielle's older sister," Grandpa quipped. Concerned looks from Gabrielle and Tracey awaited Harry's response.
"Forgot? Bill's with Fleur," Harry reminded his grandfather, who dismissed Bill with a wave of his hand. "Bill's a fool."
Gabrielle chuckled. "He's right." She raised her glass and took a sip, her eyes gleaming with delight. She turned to Tracey. "Damn, girl, this is fantastic."
"Thanks, Gabrielle," Tracey laughed. "You can pass on your compliments to my grandfather when you meet him in December."
Grandpa furrowed his brow thoughtfully. "I'd normally discourage meddling in a happy relationship, but it certainly doesn't apply to Fleur."
"I can vouch for that," Gabrielle interjected. "The relationship between her and Bill is not healthy. He treats her like garbage. There was a hint of bitterness in Tracey's voice. "Bill even tried to hit on me."
Grandpa sat back in his chair, took a sip of wine, and looked at Gabrielle. "If the opportunity arose, do you think your sister is ready to move on?"
Gabrielle exchanged glances with Harry, smiling warmly and squeezing his hand. "For the right man."
"Good," Grandpa nodded, swirling the wine in his glass. He turned his attention to Harry. "Harry, there are keys to winning Fleur's heart and rescuing her from Bill's grasp. A plus is that you've already checked one box."
"Which one?" Harry asked.
"Self-improvement," Grandpa replied. "Work on improving your physical and mental well-being. Treat your body like a temple."
