Push Her to the Limit (Ch. 2) (Exclusive)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

Push Her to the Limit

Chapter 2

Fleur shut the bedroom door behind her with a quiet click. The guest room was hardly a guest room at all. It had more square footage than Shell Cottage's entire ground floor. The plush white carpet ran wall to wall, and it matched the silky curtains, which fell from ceiling to floor in perfect, tailored columns. There was a king-sized bed dressed down in crisp white linens, and it was flanked by dark lacquered nightstands. A single vase of white lilies stood on a writing desk, and their perfume filled the air. 

There was a dressing room attached, and she went straight to it. She flicked on the lights and found herself looking into a wall of mirrored glass, surrounded by built-in cabinetry and a sprawling, illuminated vanity. She took a moment to examine her own reflection. The dress hugged her curves as if she’d been sewn into it. The fabric stretched tight across the full swell of her tits and the soft curve of her ass. There was a faint crease under her left eye where the makeup had been accidentally rubbed away, and her lipstick was just starting to fade. She dabbed at her face with a tissue, then reached behind and unzipped her dress. It glided to the floor, leaving her standing in nothing but her plain white bra and panties. She hung the dress on an empty hanger.

She surveyed the closet. Harry, or more likely his house elves, had arranged an entire section for her. There were half a dozen dresses in various styles, and each one had subtle differences that telegraphed Harry’s taste. Some had lower necklines that would let her tits spill forward the moment she bent over. Some had higher hems that would flash the lips of her cunt if she so much as crossed her legs the wrong way. There were crisp white blouses and pencil skirts, silk camisoles and stockings, and a row of lacy, expensive lingerie sets from La Perla and Aubade. Fleur felt her cheeks flush, but she couldn’t stop herself from running her fingers over the delicate mesh and velvet ribbons. There was no doubt that everything in here would fit her. Fleur had provided her services to him enough times that he likely knew her measurements by heart. 

She chose the red set almost immediately. The bra was cut low to display her cleavage and push her healthy tits up and together, and the matching thong was so tiny that it would disappear between the plump cheeks of her ass. Fleur imagined how Harry would look at her in it. She peeled off her bra and panties and slid on the blood-colored set. It fit perfectly, as if she’d been measured by hand. The thong nestled snugly against her bare cunt and the bra cups barely containing the pale, full flesh of her breasts.

She stepped back and admired herself in the mirror. The effect was undeniable. Her porcelain skin really made the red lingerie pop. Her big breasts bounced around in her bra, and the tiny triangle of the thong accentuated her slim waist and wide hips. It did nothing to hide the smooth mound of her pussy or the way her labia pressed against the fabric. She twisted to see her ass from every angle, and she saw the thin strip of lace disappear between her soft, rounded cheeks.

But she wasn’t finished just yet. Fleur knew from experience that Harry liked her in heels. He liked the way they made her legs look, and Fleur fully agreed with him. Her smooth, sexy legs were made for heels. She went back to the closet and scanned the bottom shelf where a dozen or so shoeboxes were stacked. She pulled out the first box. The lid read “Christian Louboutin,” but the shoes inside weren’t the right color. She put the box back and chose the Jimmy Choo box. They weren’t quite right for her outfit. She reached for a black box with a burnt orange insignia, and her heart nearly stopped. It was a name she recognized from the French fashion rags she and Gabrielle often read. The box read, “Sergio LaFlont”. He was the Parisian shoemaker regarded as the best in the magical world. Snobby purebloods flocked to his salon in droves, hoping to snag themselves a pair of his shoes. Unfortunately, very few were made every year, and Fleur knew for a fact that they were outrageously expensive. 

“Mon Dieu,” Fleur whispered. She carried the box to the bed and took a deep breath before opening it. Inside were the most beautiful heels she had ever seen. The upper part was made of supple, jet-black dragonhide, and the heel was spiked and glossy. At the bottom was the unmistakable burnt orange sole that signified the craftsman’s signature line. She lifted one out and caressed the dragon leather. Fleur actually shuddered. She knew that the price of these was larger than Bill’s salary for an entire year.

Fleur bit her lip and sat on the bed. She ran her fingers over the soft leather, then slipped her foot inside. The fit was so perfect and precise that for a moment she wondered if the shoes were enchanted to shape themselves to her. She tightened the slim, silver buckle around her ankle, then put on the other shoe.

She stood, wobbled for a second, and then adjusted to the unfamiliar height. The shoes made her calves flex, and her legs look impossibly long. The high arch forced her posture into one that made her tits thrust forward, and her ass tilt up. She took a few careful steps. It didn’t take long for her to gain a confident stride. She crossed the room to the mirror and admired the effect the shoes had on her body. She looked like a woman made for seduction. She reached up, undid her hair, and let the silvery gold strands fall over her shoulders. She shook it out, then found a brush and ran it through until it gleamed.

The vanity was covered in little luxuries, including a crystal vial of French perfume, a compact of Chanel powder, and a silver lip brush. All her favorite makeup brands were present. Fleur dabbed powder under her eyes, redid her lipstick in a deeper, more daring red, and spritzed a touch of perfume behind her ears and between her tits. She sat on the velvet stool, crossed her legs, and made sure she looked her best. 

She let her mind wander. The last time she did this, she promised herself it would be the last. But the slow crush of debt and her own chronic hunger for beautiful things had worn her down. Luckily, Harry never asked for more than she was willing to give.

She closed her eyes and pictured the way Harry would look when she walked back into the den wearing nothing but this. The way he tried to play it cool always failed the moment he saw her tits nearly spilling out of the bra and the tiny scrap of lace that barely covered her pussy. Her stomach fluttered as the guilt set in. She was about to betray Bill again. It wasn’t the ultimate betrayal, but it was a betrayal nonetheless. Still, she couldn’t help herself. Her desire for luxuries she couldn’t afford was too difficult to fight. “It is not that big of a betrayal,” she told herself as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. “It is not like I am giving my body to ‘im,” she added. She always said the same thing to herself every time she came here for money. It always made her feel better. 

She set her hands on her knees and took a few calming breaths. She practiced her walk again in the mirror. She didn’t want to trip and fall in front of Harry. That would be outright humiliating. With each step, her hips rolled, and the thong would shift against her clit. Once she had calmed herself to a reasonable level, Fleur opened the door and stepped into the hallway, ready to earn her money.

Push Her to the Limit

Harry had just finished his tea when the door opened, and Fleur strode in. The red lingerie she was wearing was provocatively minimal, and the bra’s cups consisted of a pair of tight triangles that barely contained her full breasts, while the matching thong sat high on her hips with the elastic stretched taut against her smooth, pale skin. Every step she took was a flagrant display of her raw, Veela sexuality, and Harry’s cock immediately swelled, pressing hard against the front of his trousers. 

Fleur neither hesitated nor slowed her pace, and she walked directly to the center of the den. Her heels clicked sharply on the hardwood floor, and she stopped in front of Harry and crossed her arms behind her back, thereby pushing her breasts forward for his viewing pleasure. She tilted her chin upward and met his eyes directly.

“Are you ready?” he asked with barely restrained desire.

Fleur simply answered, “Oui.” She then uncrossed her arms so that they hung loosely at her sides before she rolled her shoulders back and took a single step closer to him. Harry moved to the plush sofa behind him and lowered himself into the cushions. He snapped his fingers, and the lights dimmed while a charmed speaker near the ceiling began to thrum with deep bass. A sultry pop song filled the room, completely transforming the atmosphere. The den was no longer a quiet reading room but a private club, and Fleur stood as its sole performer.

She allowed the music to take hold of her, and her first movements remained slow and restrained. However, she was in perfect control of her body, and she let her hips sway in time with each beat as she approached Harry. She placed her left hand on her hip before running her right hand slowly upward along her rib cage, caressing the elegant curve of her body until her fingers curled beneath the strap of her bra. She tugged it so that the fabric snapped sharply against her flesh with a soft pop. Harry bit his lip and stared without blinking.

Fleur smiled in response, and she turned her back on him before glancing over her shoulder to confirm that his attention remained fixed upon her. She then bent at the waist with deliberate slowness, as though she was retrieving a dropped earring, and as she did so, the thin string of the thong disappeared entirely between the full, round cheeks of her ass. She wiggled her hips in a small, teasing motion while her hair fell forward to conceal her face. Every curve of her body was fully exposed, and she suddenly straightened, tossed her hair over one shoulder, and pivoted once more to face him.

She kept going, and her dancing grew even more daring. Fleur slid both hands up her body and squeezed her breasts together, and then one hand drifted between her open thighs. She ran her fingers slowly over the thin strip of lace and pressed the fabric right into the soft folds of her pussy, and she never looked away from Harry’s hungry stare. She moved the same hand back to stroke the full curve of her ass.

Harry leaned forward with his eyes locked on her as Fleur performed just for him. She walked over to the arm of the sofa and set one heeled foot on the cushion beside him so her leg bent at the knee. That forced her ass out and pulled the thong even tighter into the cleft between her cheeks. She ran both hands slowly up her thigh and over the curve of her hips, and finally she cupped her breasts and squeezed them together until the soft flesh nearly spilled out of the tiny cups. She bounced lightly in place, making her heavy breasts jiggle, and she smirked when she saw Harry’s jaw clench hard.

She stepped back, spun, and dropped into a deep squat while spreading her knees wide. For a few seconds, Harry could see everything. The bright red fabric barely covered the outer lips of her pussy, and her thighs trembled a little from holding the pose. Fleur stayed there for a moment before she rose smoothly to her feet. Then she started to dance provocatively. Her hips rolled in seductive circles, her hair flew about her shoulders, and her whole body moved with controlled eroticism.

She stalked toward him again, slid straight onto his lap, and ground her nearly naked body down against the hard ridge of his cock. The immediate warmth of her skin and the pressure of her scantily-clad pussy against him were intense. She leaned forward so her breasts pressed firmly against his chest, and she whispered right into his ear, “Is this what you wanted, ‘Arry?”

He swallowed thickly and answered, “You know exactly what I want.”

Fleur laughed softly, then stood and slowly began to peel the bra off. She let the straps slide down her arms, and she shrugged it free so her full breasts bounced outward. Her pink nipples were incredibly stiff, and Harry’s eyes widened at the sight. She twirled the discarded bra around one finger and tossed it toward him. He caught it easily, and Fleur took advantage by straddling his lap again.

She kept dancing on him for the rest of the song. She ground the soft folds of her cunt against the straining length of his cock while she let her bare breasts brush across his face, his neck, and his hands. She pressed herself tightly against him and mashed her tits directly into his face, and she only pulled away when the music faded. She stood and gave him a mocking little curtsy that made her breasts swing freely, and she looked down at him with a satisfied smirk.

“That was very nice,” Harry said, and Fleur smiled back. Her skin was flushed from the performance. “But it’s just getting started,” he added, and the next song began to play. 

Push Her to the Limit

The next song started with a slow, sensual beat. Fleur let the new rhythm sink in, and she pivoted slowly so she faced away from Harry. She pressed her bare ass up against him, and she made sure he felt every firm, toned inch of it. The slightly coarse fabric of his dress trousers slid against her smooth skin, and she appreciated that rough contrast, especially when she fully sank into his lap and rolled her hips downward. She ground the full, soft weight of her ass cheeks hard into the thick bulge she had already coaxed out of him, and she felt his cock swell and throb beneath the trousers. His breath hitched sharply, and she could feel the tension in his thighs as he spread them wide to make space for her.

She looked at their reflection in the glass-fronted bookcase across the den. Harry sat back with his legs spread and his arms splayed over the backrest, like he was the most important man in the country. Fleur ground hard on his lap, and her spine arched gracefully while her full, naked breasts swayed and jiggled merrily. She let her head fall back onto his shoulder so her long silvery hair spilled down his arm in a shining sheet, and she nestled her face into the crook of his neck. She turned her cheek until her soft lips nearly grazed his skin, and the near-touch coaxed Harry into action. 

Harry’s hands started on her hips, and his fingers caressed the gentle curve of her mound just above the thin red lace of her thong. Then they slowly snaked upward along her ribs as if he were memorizing every contour of her body. Fleur responded by rolling her hips hard, and his hands closed firmly around her bare breasts. He squeezed them hard at the same time so the soft flesh popped forward between his fingers, and her stiff, pink nipples jutted out between them. Harry grinned at the reaction, and Fleur gasped more as a performance than true surprise, but she couldn’t deny the spike of pleasure that made her pussy just a little bit wetter. She couldn’t help it. Her nipples had always been very sensitive. 

He didn’t simply hold her. He manipulated her body, and he rolled each hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger with steady pressure until Fleur’s thighs tensed tight and her toes curled inside the shiny new heels. She put one hand behind his neck for balance, and she let the other hand drift lazily along the soft inside of her own thigh. Even so, she held back a moan. She wanted him to know that she stayed in control even while she let him play with her body.

Harry’s lips hovered near her ear, and his hot breath tickled her earlobe as he teased her. “Your body’s absolutely perfect.” She shivered hard, and even though she knew it was only a line, it still landed with a thrill that radiated from her chest straight down through her belly and into the growing wetness between her legs.

He slid one hand downward, and his fingers brushed over the flat plane of her stomach. Then he cupped her fully between the legs, and his broad palm pressed firmly over the damp red lace. He didn’t push lower yet. She tensed, thinking he might shove the fabric aside and slide his fingers into her, but he only held her there so the heat of his hand radiated through the thin, already-wet material and against her swollen clit.

She turned her head just enough to look at him, and her eyes flashed a warning. “No further,  ‘Arry,” she bluntly told him. It was a line she had drawn, and they both knew it. Back when Fleur first started providing him with private dances, she had stated her rules. One of them was that while he could play with her body, her pussy was off-limits. He knew that, of course, but Fleur knew that he liked to tease her. 

Harry’s eyes twinkled, and he offered a small, conceding smile. “Of course.” He let his hand linger a second longer against the soaked crotch of her panties, and then he moved it back up to her waist. Underneath the smug playfulness there was a kind of reverence in the way he touched her.

Fleur let herself sink against him, and she relaxed into the solid warmth and pressure of his body. She could feel his heart beating hard through his shirt, and she could sense the fine shudder in his arms as he forced himself to hold back. Fleur could feel the longing in every stroke of his hands. She recognized that hunger because she felt the same urge herself. Fleur was a Veela. She was a creature of passion and desire, and Harry was an attractive man, after all. It was the same craving that always got her into trouble due to her bad habits, and it was the same need for something she could never truly afford. It felt easier to surrender to the moment. It was easy to tell herself it was only a game, or to pretend she wasn't betraying anyone.

Her mind drifted to Bill for a second. She thought of his easy smile, and the way he looked at her when she wore something nice for him. Unfortunately, over the last couple of years, he had been gone for longer and longer periods of time. By then, it was normal for him to be out of the country more often than not, and Fleur was left to entertain herself, which she did with an overabundance of shopping and spending. She forced the thought away, and instead, she focused on the music, the warmth of Harry’s body, and the simple pleasure of being wanted so openly. Just for a moment, she let herself imagine what would happen if she let Harry go further, or if she abandoned every rule she had set. The fantasy was dangerous. She could imagine his thick cock as it was freed from his trousers. She could almost feel the head pushing past her wet folds, and the deep stretch as he filled her while she still sat in his lap. The image was as intoxicating as it was risky.

But Fleur had always been skilled at walking that line. She rolled her hips in a slow, grinding circle, and she rubbed the full weight of her ass into Harry’s hard cock with enough force to make him groan aloud. She caught his reflection in the bookcase glass. His eyes were hooded, his lips were parted, and his face was flushed deep with raw desire. She looked beautiful as she worked his body. She looked powerful, and she liked that.

The song dragged on, and Harry’s hands never stopped moving. He alternated between gripping and squeezing her full breasts, rolling her stiff nipples, and running his palms over her belly, up the soft insides of her thighs, or even down to her knees when she shifted position. Each touch was a silent question, and Fleur answered with the roll of her hips. ‘Yes, you can touch me here. No, you cannot have more than this.’

At one point Harry slipped a hand behind her neck, and he tilted her head to expose the long slope of her throat. He kissed the sensitive spot beneath her jaw with a feather-light press of his lips, and Fleur found herself melting a little under the contact. She knew she had to be careful, and she knew she could not let herself slip. Still, she let his lips linger, and she even returned the gesture by flicking her wet tongue slowly over Harry’s earlobe while she rocked her soaked, lace-covered pussy against the thick bulge of his cock. They both gasped at the same time, and suddenly a dangerous feedback loop of desire and restraint took hold.

When the song finally faded, Fleur didn’t move right away. She sucked in a deep, steadying breath, and she counted the seconds while her nerves settled. Harry’s hands softened, and he drew lazy circles across her smooth, soft belly as though he felt content simply to hold her. For a fleeting second, the contact felt like genuine affection. Fleur caught herself and regained her composure. Harry then turned her body, so she sat sideways across his lap. His hand was dangerously high up her inner thigh, but he didn’t seem like he was ready to violate their agreement. “How did I know you would choose those shoes?” he asked with amusement. 

Fleur arched her back, stretched out one long leg, and put those new high heels right into Harry’s direct view. The dragonhide caught the dim light and shimmered, and the burnt-orange sole stood out against the pale skin of her calf and foot. She pointed her toe, and the rush of euphoria from wearing a pair of Sergio LaFlont shoes was instant and delicious.

“These are magnifique,” she said, and her accent became thicker and sexier. She glanced down at her long, sexy leg and her small, dainty foot, and then she lifted her eyes and locked them on Harry’s. “Where did you get them?”

Harry grinned, and the look on his face showed he was openly amused by how she reacted. “Sergio is a friend,” he said. “He knows I like to keep a few special things ready for nights like this.” He reached out and ran a finger along the length of the thin, stiletto heel, and then he cupped her ankle in his warm palm. “These came from a very limited run. Sergio said he was only making three pairs of these specific shoes, and this is one of them.”

Fleur’s heart stuttered hard in her chest. She had already guessed they were rare, but hearing it from Harry made her burn with desire. She had never wanted anything more in her entire life. “You must be teasing,” she protested, but she didn’t pull her leg away. Instead, she flexed her calf and showed off her sexy legs and the way the leather hugged her perfect foot. “I cannot believe you just ‘ad these lying about.”

“I had a hunch you’d appreciate them,” Harry said, and his hand slid higher up her calf until it stopped just below her knee. “They fit you perfectly, don’t they?” He lightly squeezed her flesh, and Fleur’s thighs twitched in response.

She tried to play it cool, but the shoes and the naughty pleasure of Harry’s hand on her bare leg made it nearly impossible. She leaned forward so her naked tits swayed right in front of his face, and she fixed him with a look of pure desire. She wanted these shoes badly. “If you are giving these to me, I will forgive all your teasing, ‘Arry.”

Harry laughed softly but confidently. “I never said I was giving them to you.” He stroked her leg again, and this time his fingers caressed her soft inner thigh. “These are worth a small fortune. If you want them, you’ll have to work for it. The dance was nice, but …” He paused, and his eyes glinted with mischief. “I think you can do better.”

Heat flooded Fleur’s face. The blunt dare hit her full on. She was suddenly aware that she was still topless, and her nipples were stiff and aching to be touched again. However, she had too much pride to go further with him. 

Fleur held his gaze, and her pride finally won out over the desperate ache of wanting those shoes. “Non,” she firmly stated. “I will not sell myself for a pair of shoes, no matter ‘ow perfect they are.”

Harry only shrugged, seemingly casual and unbothered about her rejection. He reached down, took hold of her ankle again, and then he began to ease the first high heel off her small foot with gentle care. The dragonhide slid free, and he set it aside before doing the same to the other. Once both shoes were gone, he smirked, and his thumb stroked the soft arch of her bare sole before he teasingly caressed the heel of her foot.

Fleur did not like being denied. An angry huff left her lips, and she pulled her foot free of his hand. She stood up quickly, and her naked tits bounced heavily with the movement. She turned, flipped her hair angrily at him, and walked toward the door, and her wide, round ass jiggled and swayed with every step. He could help but watch with a smile as her cheeks shifted under the thin lace of her thong. “Fleur?” Harry called out. Fleur stopped and turned. She shot him a glare while covering her breasts with her folded arms. 

Harry held up a bag and jingled it. Fleur heard the familiar metallic clink of gold coins. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Fleur wanted to tell him to fuck off, but she felt that it would be an inappropriate thing to say when receiving a sack full of gold from him. Instead, she huffed, stormed over to him, and snatched the bag from his grasp without so much as a thank you. She turned and walked out the door. The last thing she heard before she left the den was Harry’s low, amused chuckle.