Both lovers were intimately aware of every point of contact between them. Ginny’s thighs rubbed against Harry’s hips while her quim massaged his ...tiff pole. The back of the redhead’s thighs and bum smacked against the front of her man’s thighs each time she impaled herself on his length. As Harry gazed up at Ginny and the light caught her hair it seemed to glow like it was on fire. This vision was aided by the witch’s magical aura, strengthened by her mate’s mystic might. Harry and Ginny. Hungry and welcoming. He draws his piston back and she can lower her eyes and look at him again. Can remember what it is like. He is not the animal. She is. He plunges again, pursuing his greater worth, easier this time. He is slick with her copious offering. By her. From her. She takes him easily. Watches him climbing. Climbing her, climbing her chest, the walls of her womb. Clinging to her. It is her turn to climb. Camilla clutches the young man’s bottom, her mind and entire body. More

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