Collision Course

Vivienne Hale's POV

His mouth crashes into mine before I even take a breath.

It's not gentle. There's nothing soft about it. His hands are on me like I'm the only thing that's ever infuriated him and ignited him at the same time. I don't move at first—half out of shock, half because I don't want to give him the satisfaction. But that control I pretend to have evaporates the second he presses me into the stone wall of the Astronomy Tower, his body caging mine like he's afraid I'll slip through his fingers.

"You absolute prick," I breathe against his mouth, but my fingers are already tangled in the collar of his robes, yanking him back to me. I hate that I want him. Hate that he knows I want him.

He groans, low and guttural, and when he pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes, there's something feral burning behind his control. "You think you can talk to me like that and walk away?" he growls, voice hoarse.

"I did walk away," I snap, chest heaving. "You're the one who pulled me back."

"Because you don't get the last word," he says, and before I can bite back, he turns me sharply and presses me into the stone, his hand finding my wrist, pinning it on my back. His breath is hot against my neck. "You think I don't see the way you look at me?" His fingers teasingly trace the neckline of my dress at my chest.

Playing, teasing, grazing with my cleavage. 

"Like I want to punch you into next week?"

"Like you want me to ruin you."

My breath catches, traitorous. His hand is at my waist now, then my hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises I hope won't fade quickly. He's everywhere, and I'm furious at how much I like it.

"You think I haven't noticed you watching me?" he says, pressing his thigh between mine. "You think I haven't thought about this every damn time you laugh at something Callahan says?"

"Oh my God," I gasp, heat blazing up my neck. "Is this about Thorne?" His finger, then hooks under the strap of my dress, waiting for me to say, waiting for me to bite back or even... begging.

Draco presses his lips to my ear, his voice dark silk. "This is about how I can't stand the idea of him touching you. Talking to you. Looking at you." And then he doesn't wait. The strap is pulled off until my dress bunches around my legs. 

I want to hurt him. I want to melt into him. I push back hard with my hips, and he exhales like I've punched the breath out of him.

He spins me again, and his mouth is on mine, bruising, brutal, his hands already tugging at the hem of my panties. "Tell me to stop," he rasps.

I don't.

Because I don't want him to.

Instead, I shove his jacket off, biting his lower lip in defiance, tasting the curse he mutters under his breath as he presses me harder into the cold wall. I love that he's unraveling. That I'm unraveling. That neither of us is pretending this is about anything else anymore.

Draco's hand moves from my chin to my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, matching the rhythm of my own. 

My hands began to wander, tracing the lines of his back, fingers dipping beneath the hem of his shirt. He groans, his hands moving to my waist, pulling me up against him. I wrap my legs around his hips, body grinding against his, and he could feel the heat of my desire pressing against him. 

I know we are playing with fire, but I couldn't stop. He didn't want to, either. Not when we feel so right, so perfect.

Clothes hit the floor with frantic, clumsy urgency. My legs ground me to the floor, and I don't even care if the damn castle hears us. His fingers leave trails of heat and fury. And finally stop at the hem of my panties. His lips trace what his fingers left and finally, Draco Malfoy falls to his knees for me.

He spins me around, so my breasts graze the cold, rough stone of the Astronomy Tower wall. His tongue is lost in between my folds, unsteadying my hold to the ground with every lick. "Fuck" he groans, deep into my folds. "You have no idea..." He dips a finger in me as a curse leaves my lips. 

"... how long I've imagined this. How I've come undone in my pants just thinking about your perfect tits bouncing every time my cock thrusts into you" I groan as he bites one of my ass cheeks. "Don't pretend you haven't too" He moves his finger in me, turning me to rest my knee on his shoulder, as he devours every fucking inch of my pussy.

My hands tangle in his hair and fist tighter and tighter at his every flick, bite and lick. "Fuck... you taste so good!" His hands reach to grab my breasts, pinching at the nipples, not wanting to be kept from touching every inch of my skin. "So sweet... so, so... perfect!"

I let my head fall back as he flicks his tongue on my clit, not stopping when I try to pull him up because he knows I am close. Close to releasing any and all hatred for the man in between my legs. Close to finally having a real man eating the life out of me.

And of course, he stops... as soon as I am about to release.

Taking away the power to feel the world explode at the tip of his tongue.

"You fucking arse!" I breathe out, fingers rubbing the bud as I try to catch my fleeting orgasm. I groan as he watches me writhe at the orgasm he denied. His lips meet mine and I can taste myself, "Tsk, the first time I make you come, I want it to be around my cock, watching your tits bounce and you at my mercy"

His hands reach around me to grab my ass, "Then..." His lips connect to my neck, but before he can leave his mark, I pull his face to mine, "take me to your room" I don't have to tell him twice. One second, we're at the Astronomy Tower, the next, in his room. 

"Did you just-"

"Yes, are you okay?" There is a flash of concern but as soon as I nod, it's replaced with feral hunger. He pushes me on the bed and his pants are abandoned with a wave of his wand.  My nails scratch down his spine when he finally sinks into me with a groan that sounds like months of denial breaking open.

And it's rough.

Every thrust is a fight. Every kiss a dare.

"Fuck you, Malfoy" I whisper, meaning none of the words I said. Because there is no way in this Magical nor the Muggle world that this hunk of a man makes me feel like this and I hate him.

I feel his lips turn into a smirk at my neck, his tongue reaches out to lick as he whispers, "Already doing that, darling. Make different requests"

We hate each other in this moment, and it's perfect.

His hand slides into my hair, yanking it back just enough for our eyes to lock. His chest is rising fast, his jaw clenched, and he's so close I can taste the next word on his tongue.

But he doesn't say it.

Because if he does, this thing between us—this fire, this chaos—it'll stop being just hatred.

And neither of us is ready for that.