Chapter 69 Hestia Jones R-18

"Suck my balls," Harry said, his voice low and commanding.

If anyone was sitting there scratching their head, wondering how they'd gone from a quiet shop visit to him getting his cock sucked in the back of a limo — he had only one thing to say:

"Don't ask. Just enjoy it. Life moves fast, magic moves faster, and some moments... you're better off riding the wave than questioning the tide."

He let out a low chuckle under his breath, watching Hestia work her magic with a lot less wand and a lot more tongue.

He had to give her credit — a lot of it.Hestia was a natural, sucking him off with a grace so smooth it almost seemed effortless.

Her mouth twisted skillfully around his cock, her hands gliding up and down his shaft with a sensual rhythm, taking him down her throat with a skill that left him breathless.

"Fuck! That's good!" Harry groaned, tossing his head back. "You're incredible."

Hestia paused, holding him in her mouth for a moment, her eyes locked onto his. Then, with a wet pop, she pulled back, her lips glistening, and looked up at him through her dark lashes.

"Do you like what I'm doing, Daddy?" she asked, her voice sweet and deceptively innocent.

The tone made Harry's cock throb painfully.

"Very," he growled, his gaze dark and hungry. "You look so fucking sexy with my cock in your mouth."

She smiled, batting her long lashes again, a picture of angelic mischief."Thank you, Daddy," Hestia whispered. "It's my job to make you feel good."

And before anyone started rolling their eyes about the whole "Daddy" thing — don't. That was all Hestia. All him."I didn't ask for it," Harry thought wryly. "But hell if I was going to complain."Some things in life you didn't question. You just let them happen.

And Hestia? She was a bloody machine.

She never missed a beat, sucking him off with relentless determination, her hands joining the act in a double-fisted grip, stroking him while her mouth bobbed hungrily along his shaft. The wet sounds grew louder — slurping, sucking — saliva trailing down her chin in messy, delicious strings.

"You gonna deepthroat me?" Harry asked, his voice rough.

Hestia peppered soft kisses along the length of his cock, flashing him a sly grin."Is that what Daddy wants?" she teased.

"You know it's what Daddy wants," he growled back.

"Well," she purred, "maybe Daddy should take what he wants then."

That was all the encouragement Harry needed.He surged forward, gripping the sides of her head firmly with both hands, and guided her mouth down onto him. Hestia relaxed, pliant, letting him use her as he pleased.

His cock slid effortlessly into her throat, her lips pressing flush against his groin, her nose brushing his pelvis. She took every inch — like a good girl should.

Her throat pulsed around him, sending vibrations through his entire body, nearly buckling his knees even though he was sitting.And bloody hell, if there was anything more ego-stroking than a woman — smart, confident, capable — choosing to submit to him like this, Harry hadn't found it yet.

He wasn't some needy prick who demanded women look up to him. Hestia was sharper than most men he knew, and ten times as charismatic. But in bed? She loved giving herself up — and Merlin, he will love being the one she gave herself to.

Harry smirked as he dropped his right hand from her head and let his fingers wrap around his balls. He lifted them up, watching Hestia's tongue struggle to slide out of her mouth.

Slowly but surely it worked its way down to his testicles, where she licked each one while his cock remained lodged in her throat.

This was heaven. This was Zen. Whatever it actually was, nothing could rival this moment. Naturally, Harry decided to be an arsehole. He released his balls and instead brought his hand up to Hestia's nose, pinching it shut with his thumb and index finger.

Hestia instantly gagged.

Her head tried to jerk back, but Harry held her firmly in place.

Her gentle brown eyes blinked wildly, and a tear welled in the corner of her right eye and slid down her cheek.

Harry didn't relent.

She gagged again, a thick wad of spit exploding from her mouth and pooling on her chin. He felt her saliva drip down his bare thighs but refused to ease his grip. Instead, he leaned in further, pulling her closer.

Dominance met submission. A man who craved control had a woman who lived to be owned in his grasp. They were exploring new boundaries together.

More and more saliva poured from Hestia's mouth before Harry finally released her nose. She lunged backward, gasping for air, her lungs desperate as they filled with much-needed oxygen.

Harry glanced down at his thighs, slick with her drool. When Hestia turned back to him, the front of her light pink T-shirt bore a messy patch of slobber. Rough, messy—and exactly how he liked it. Hestia, however, didn't look quite so pleased.

"Arse!" she spat.

Harry couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "You loved it," he said.

Hestia shot him a glare. "That was my favorite shirt."

"I'll buy you another one," he offered, voice softening slightly. "Or you can pick out a new one and I'll get it for you."

"If I let you do it again, will you buy me a new skirt to go with it?" she asked, eyes shining with mischief.

He rolled his eyes. Materialistic bitch. She'd openly declared she'd be his whore in bed—ready to do anything he fancied, so long as he indulged her shopaholic tendencies and paid the agreed salary. Why not?

He'd budgeted two hundred and fifty Galleons per month for secretary pay, and that was before really knowing the real Hestia Jones.

"Well?" she pressed, voice hopeful.

"No," Harry said, folding his arms. "I'm already paying you plenty. Besides, you loved choking on my cock, didn't you?"

Hestia glanced away sheepishly. "Maybe…"

"Who's my little slut?" he asked, tone dark.

She bit her lower lip, warmth flooding her cheeks. "I am."

"Louder."

"I'm your little slut!" she shouted, heat and defiance in her voice. "I'm your little whore! Make me your bitch!" She tightened her grip on his thighs. "More. Choke me."

Harry cocked his head, studying her.

Unlike Petunia, Hestia was a complete—and utter—slut. She craved submission, and if he wanted to keep her around, he'd have to give her what she wanted.

"Stick out your tongue," he commanded.

Without hesitation, she obeyed, extending her tongue eagerly. On a whim, Harry pressed the head of his cock against her outstretched tongue a few times, savoring her willing compliance.

"Now open your mouth wide for me," he added, his voice low and commanding.

Hestia parted her lips and allowed Harry Potter to slide his cock into her mouth again. He wasn't sure how long they'd been at it.

The tinted glass of the limo had kept him insulated from the world outside, and he'd been far too absorbed in burying himself in her pretty mouth to cast a Tempus charm. So far, she'd deep-throated him and licked his balls, but now he wanted to fuck her face.

And fuck he did. Harry pressed his cock deep into her mouth and kept thrusting, unconcerned with whether she could comfortably take him all. He rocked his hips back and forth, maintaining a steady rhythm of in-and-out as she struggled to keep pace.

He had plenty of force and speed to spare—sharp thrusts delivered with considerable momentum—but he didn't settle into a simple routine.

Hestia craved submission, craved domination—to be used as a cum-bucket, his cock-sucking whore—and she wanted it badly. She was fiercely competitive, her mouth sloshing against him, drooling the whole time. So Harry kept going.

He shoved himself as deep as possible and held it there, forcing his shaft down her throat until she gagged.

With one hand, he pinched her nose, watching tears fill her eyes as her airway was cut off. Five seconds stretched to ten. Ten stretched to twenty. Damn, she was something else.

She responded by balling her fists against his thigh to protest. Harry's nerves tingled as he watched her captivating brown eyes begin to fade.

The stray clumps of spit that had escaped the corners of her mouth now ran in a steady stream.

She drooled like some ravenous animal. He nearly eased his grip on her head, but then clamped down harder. Wave after wave of vibrating bliss washed over every inch of his cock. The pulsations grew stronger as she clung to consciousness.

The way her little button nose pressed against his pelvic bone spoke of something stronger than pleasure—it spoke of trust.

And then, finally, she tapped his thigh.

Harry instantly released his grip on Hestia's head and reached out to steady her as she panted for breath, her distant brown eyes gradually brightening.

With every passing second, more life returned to her pretty face. Moments later, his secretary was back to herself, saliva and drool still clinging to her lips and trailing down her cheek to her neck.

"Oh... my... God..." she gasped.

Harry cocked his head and looked down at her. "Now you look like a proper whore."

"I deep-throated you for so long!" she exclaimed, eyes shining. "Like a good girl!"

"Which is great," he snorted. "But come on—let's get started. I need you to do a job for me."

"Did you say you wanted a handjob?" she cooed.

"No—"

"Blowjob?"

"No—"

"Titjob?"

"No—" He found he couldn't stop thinking about all of them.

Hestia grinned and pressed against him. "Well, when you do, put me to work. You've got a lot of fucking to do, Sir."

"Mmhmm." Harry pushed her back gently. "I can see why Tonks thought you'd fit right in. But I'll warn you now: no messing around at my apartment."

"Oh?" she purred, brushing her breasts against him as she rose to meet his gaze. "Does that mean you'll punish me if I do?"

Harry snorted.