Push Her to the Limit (Ch. 3) (Exclusive)

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

Push Her to the Limit

Chapter 3

Three days later, Fleur was still in a foul mood, and she hadn’t stopped thinking about those shoes. She hadn’t stopped reliving the moment she’d lost them. Every time she tried to distract herself, her mind wandered back to the dragonhide or the burnt-orange sole or the way that stiletto heel had glinted in the light. She had tried to force herself into believing she didn’t care, but of course she cared. Fleur cared so much that it made her physically ill sometimes, and she hated how much it made her feel weak and silly.

She had intended to spend the day alone at Shell Cottage, but Gabrielle had other plans. A sudden giggle sounded from the entryway, and Gabby swept into the house like a summer breeze. As always, Gabby was dressed to impress, and her white dress was cut so short that it looked more like a shirt than a dress. The neckline dipped dangerously low and threatened to expose the full curves of her breasts at any moment. Those perky tits shifted with every step, and her hard little nipples pressed against the thin fabric. Fleur found herself momentarily distracted by her sister’s confidence. Gabby walked straight to the kitchen, and then she plopped herself down at the table across from Fleur. She crossed her long legs and immediately began bouncing her foot in the air.

Fleur noticed them right away. Gabby’s shoes practically twinkled in the morning light. They were white … they were new, and they were beautiful. Gabby wiggled her foot, showing off the delicate ankle strap and the cream-colored shoe sole. They were not from Sergio LaFlont, but they were still expensive.

“Look,” Gabby said, not even bothering with a greeting. “Aren’t they the most gorgeous things you’ve ever seen?”

Fleur made a dismissive noise, but she couldn’t help but stare at the way the shoes perfectly hugged Gabby’s arched feet or the way the high heels made her legs look longer and sexier. “They’re not bad,” she conceded.

Gabby grinned. “Not bad? I’ll have you know these are Philippe Legrand’s White Moons. They’re enchanted to repel stains, and the heel never scuffs.”

Fleur’s face didn’t betray her, but inside she felt her stomach twist with envy. Philippe Legrand was a master shoemaker, and Fleur had once spent three months trying to get on the waitlist for a custom fitting. She had failed, of course, because Legrand refused to service anyone outside the Parisian elite, and Fleur had been living in Britain for years by then. The only way to get a pair was to be gifted them by someone with connections, which Gabby had effectively done with her current boyfriend.

“They’re pretty, I suppose,” Fleur said, hoping her voice sounded neutral.

Gabby gave her a look. It was one of those slightly condescending older-sister-knows-best looks, except Gabby was younger and had never bested Fleur at anything in their lives. “You’re jealous,” she said. “I can see it in your eyes, Fleur.”

Fleur rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Gabby smirked, and then she kicked her foot up onto the table so Fleur could get a better look at the shoe. The sole of the shoe faced Fleur, and the arch of her foot stretched taut. Fleur’s eyes lingered on the smooth skin of Gabby’s ankle and the way the strap dug lightly into the soft flesh. “Pierre got them for me,” she said. Her tone was just the right balance of smug and innocent. “He knows I love white shoes, and he said these reminded him of all the things he adores about me.”

Fleur wanted to gag at the mention of her latest boy toy, Pierre. Pierre was a bore. He was a failed poet who worked at his family’s business and spent most of his time taking filtered photographs of himself in various states of undress. He was not worthy of Gabby, and yet Gabby clung to him with the same intensity she used to cling to her stuffed unicorn as a child. Fleur had never understood it, but she also didn’t care to understand it. Instead, she focused on the shoes. They were beautiful. The leather was impossibly soft, and the stitching was perfect. Fleur’s pussy gave a slow, unwanted clench at the thought of those shoes locked around her own ankles.

“It must be nice to leech off a gullible man,” Fleur said, unable to keep the edge out of her voice. 

Gabby shrugged, and the action made her breasts shift and the neckline gape further until one of her pink areolas was almost visible. “You could have married rich, if you hadn’t scared off every wealthy man you ever met.”

Fleur glared at her over the rim of her tea mug. “I prefer men with substance, thank you very much.”

Gabby snorted. “You prefer men who let you walk all over them, you mean.” Fleur huffed loudly, which made Gabby giggle. 

The conversation drifted for a while. Gabby talked about her flat in Paris that their parents were paying for and the upcoming wedding of a mutual friend. Fleur only half listened. Her mind kept circling back to the shoes and how they made her boil with jealousy. Every time Gabby crossed her legs or shifted in her seat, the shoes caught the light and made Fleur even more jealous. 

Gabby was loving every second of it. The two girls had always been competitive about hoarding luxury items. With those shoes, Gabby had taken the lead in their friendly competition. But Gabby’s shoes were nothing compared to the ones that Harry had. Sergio LaFlonts were beyond anything Gabby could ever dream of owning. Sure, Gabby’s shoes were expensive. Fleur knew they cost somewhere in the high hundreds of galleons, but the ones Harry owned were somewhere in the high thousands. Every witch on the continent would cream their panties at the opportunity just to touch one, and Fleur had been achingly close to owning those limited-edition works of art. Gabby’s face was infuriatingly smug as she crossed her legs again. She angled her shoe so it caught the light and reflected it back into Fleur’s eyes. The little trollop was mocking her. Fleur couldn’t let this stand. She needed those goddamn shoes!

Push Her to the Limit

Harry was relaxing in his den, reading the Daily Prophet, and enjoying a mug of coffee. He was just about to start the crossword puzzle when the door was flung open with unnecessary force.

Fleur strode in like she owned the place, and she looked like a woman on a mission. Her hair was beautifully styled and secured with a mother-of-pearl clip that looked quite expensive. She stopped and stood a meter away from his chair, folded her arms, and stared at him.

Harry set down the Prophet, took a slow sip of his coffee, and smiled. “Lovely morning, isn’t it, Fleur?” he said. His voice was smooth and full of amusement.

She ignored the pleasantry. “You know why I’m ‘ere,” Fleur replied.

He cocked an eyebrow. “I assume you want to beg for those shoes.”

Fleur gritted her teeth. “I will do no such thing. I am ‘ere to negotiate.”

He let out a little laugh. “I didn’t realize there was room for negotiation. You left in quite a huff last time.”

Fleur narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t back down. If anything, she seemed even more determined. “What do you want, ‘Arry?” she demanded. “Name your price.”

He leaned back in the chair, surveyed her, and let his eyes travel lazily from her cute, little nose, down to the gray pumps she was wearing, which, to his delight, were nowhere near as exquisite as the dragonhide heels she so desperately coveted. “You’re right about that. Everything has a price, Fleur,” he said. “Even you.”

She scoffed. “I am not for sale.”

“I never said you were,” he replied. “But I know you, and I know you want those shoes more than anything.”

Fleur held his gaze. “You are correct. I do want them.”

“Good,” he said and set the cup aside. “Then let’s make a deal.”

They stared at one another for a moment, and both were unwilling to be the first to look away. Fleur’s jaw clenched, and her nostrils flared, but Harry merely waited. Eventually she exhaled through her nose and said, “Fine. What do you want?”

Harry grinned. “Three days. That’s all.”

She blinked in confusion. “Three days of what?”

“Three days with me here.” He gestured around the den. “With no complaining and no running off. If you last three days, the shoes are yours.”

Fleur considered this. “You want to … spend time together?” The suspicion in her voice was clear.

He chuckled. “Oh, Fleur. You know very well we’ll be doing much more than spending time together.”

Fleur bristled again. “I will not be offering my body like that. I am a married woman!”

Harry snorted. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before you offered up lap dances for spending cash,” he told her, and Fleur flushed red. “But if you’re so worried about it … I promise I won’t stick my dick in your pussy. Better?” he asked. 

“You will not trick me like that,” Fleur said, crossing her arms over her perky tits. “You will not stick it in my mouth or ass either,” she told him. 

“Fine, but I get to do whatever else I want,” Harry told her. Fleur thought about it for a second. She stared at him and weighed the offer. 

“What if I leave early?”

“You get nothing,” he simply stated. “And I might just give those shoes to someone else. I’m sure Gabrielle would look fantastic in them.”

Fleur bristled at the mention of Gabby, but she masked it well. The thought of Harry giving those shoes to Gabby made her blood boil. She knew Harry would do it just to piss her off. “Three days,” she repeated as if trying on the words. She shook her head. “This is ridiculous.”

“Then walk away,” he told her. “But you’ll never see those shoes again.”

She glared at him, and then, after a long pause, she nodded once. “Fine. I accept.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled. “Excellent. Time starts now.”

Fleur looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Now?”

He nodded. “You’re not busy, are you?”

She gritted her teeth again. “Not at all,” she admitted. With no husband in the country and no money in her personal coffers, Fleur had nothing better to do.

“Good,” he said. “Let’s go to the bedroom and get to know each other better.”

He rose smoothly from the chair, set aside his coffee, and motioned for her to follow. Fleur hesitated for a second, appearing reluctant. However, the thought of those gorgeous Sergio LaFlonts spurred her into action. She uncrossed her arms and stalked after him.

Push Her to the Limit

Fleur hit the bed with a force that bounced her a full arm’s length across the mattress, and she had only a second to squeak in protest before she realized what had happened. Harry had picked her up and tossed her as if she weighed nothing, and now she was lying across his bed. Her hair was fanned out, and her naked tits were heaving with every breath. The bed felt huge underneath her, and the sheets were crisp and cool against her overheated skin. The only thing she had on was the small pair of satin panties she had worn underneath her clothes.

It took Fleur a moment to orient herself. She tried to push herself upright, but Harry was already there, standing at the foot of the bed. His eyes were locked on her with a look of pure lust. The look alone made her heart hammer in her chest. He tugged off his shirt, and Fleur watched as his torso was revealed. She saw just how much he’d changed since Hogwarts. Harry was more than just fit. His body appeared to have been carved out of stone, and every muscle that was revealed made her pussy tingle just a little bit more. His skin was smooth, and his chest and stomach were as hard and defined as any she’d ever seen on a man. Fleur forced herself to look away, and yet her eyes returned again and again to the bulge of his muscles as he unbuckled his belt.

The sound of the buckle clinking open made Fleur’s mouth go dry, and she watched as he stripped out of his trousers and boxers. She was suddenly overcome with nerves at the sight of Harry’s cock. It was massive. It looked too big to be real. His cock jutted out far from his body, and it was rigid, thick, and veined. Fleur’s first instinct was to scoff at the way he was smirking at her, but the words failed her. She simply stared with wide eyes, and she tried to keep from squirming on the bed.

Harry’s balls hung heavy and low beneath his shaft, and they were big and swollen with what Fleur could only imagine was a massive load of cum. The sight made her shudder. Some deep part of her brain recognized all the pleasurable things that could be done to her with a cock like that. She couldn’t help but remember the first time she’d seen Bill’s penis. It had seemed impressive to her then, but now all she could think was that Bill’s was nothing compared to this. 

Harry climbed onto the bed, looking at her with lustful eyes. Fleur instinctively scooted back, but Harry caught her ankles. “You’re mine now, remember?” he teased with a casual confidence that made Fleur’s heart rate spike. He spread her legs apart and lifted them so her knees bent toward her chest. He then slid her forward in a single, effortless pull. The panties she wore rode up high on her hips, and the blue satin dug into her skin, but she hardly noticed. All her attention was on him and the way his hands moved over her body.

Harry’s touch was surprisingly gentle, and he peeled back the panties and dragged them slowly up her thighs, watching the way the fabric clung to her skin before sliding away. He didn’t rip them or rush it. He just peeled them from her pussy, and Fleur let her legs go slack and allowed him to slip the fabric from her body. She felt helpless and exposed with her knees up and panties tangled around her shins, but Harry looked down at her with eyes that were very nearly black with lust. Fleur mortifyingly realized that now Harry was the only man, other than her husband, of course, who had seen her naked pussy. She blushed fiercely as she realized how much she was betraying her husband because of her uncontrollable desire to own things she could never afford. 

He paused as he held her knees up, and he stared at her crotch. Fleur knew what he saw. Her bare, hairless pussy lips were pressed closely together, likely making them look plumper than they really were. As a woman with Veela blood, she never had to shave or wax her body. Her body was always as smooth as silk. Harry certainly seemed to appreciate it. He knelt between her legs for a closer look at her bare pussy. Fleur’s cheeks began to heat up.

“So sexy,” he said under his breath, and Fleur’s cheeks burned hotter.

Harry trailed a hand down her inner thigh. His fingers brushed her pussy lips, and Fleur trembled at the touch. He took his time, exploring every fold and hollow. Fleur tried to think of something other than how much she was betraying her husband, but all she could do was breathe in shuddering gasps as Harry’s hand explored her taut pussy. 

Harry pulled her panties down her calves, and the satin bunched at her ankles as he took them off. Fleur’s limbs trembled, and she watched him bring the damp fabric to his face. He pressed it to his nose and inhaled deeply. Her cheeks burned, and her eyes moved to a spot on the wall because she refused to watch this humiliation. However, there was something both mortifying and magnetic in the way he handled her underwear. It was like every aspect of her body belonged to him now, and he could do whatever he wanted with it. 

He let out a satisfied sound and flung the panties over his shoulder, and the blue silk landed somewhere on the dresser. “You won’t be needing those,” he said, which made Fleur’s insides clench with indignation. Before she could respond with a cutting remark, Harry pushed her knees apart and pressed her thighs forward until she was practically folded in half. Cool air hit her exposed pussy, and the obscene position sent a wave of embarrassment through her from the shameful thrill of being spread so wide.

“ ‘Arry …!” she cried out, but he was already lowering himself between her legs. The bastard smirked at her just as his mouth found her clit. Fleur’s vision went white for a moment. His lips closed around the swollen little bud, and he sucked gently. However, his gentleness didn’t last long. Soon, he was sucking on her clit like his life depended on it. Fleur’s eyes rolled back, and her toes curled in pleasure. She wanted to protest at the way he was so casually taking liberties with her body, but all conviction left her the moment his tongue swept up the length of her pussy, licking every slick fold. As much as she wanted to deny it, his tongue felt incredible, and she could feel herself dripping onto his chin.

He tongued her relentlessly, and he circled her clit and wiggled his tongue around it. Fleur had never felt anything like it. Bill liked to take his time and kiss her all over to make sure she was comfortable, but this was different. Harry’s mouth was hot and demanding, and his hands stayed firm on her thighs, keeping her pinned so she could not wriggle away from the pleasure. She grew wetter, and her hips unconsciously rolled to meet each pass of his tongue. She hated how easily he could rip pleasure from her body.

Harry then dipped the tip of his tongue inside her, and Fleur’s eyes went wide. “ ‘Arry! You promised you would not …” Her thought was cut off when his tongue thrust deep into her pussy. Her silky walls instantly clenched around it, squeezing it for all it was worth. Harry then pulled it out and teased her entrance before lapping up every drop of her arousal, and she could hear the wet sounds over her breathy moans. She clamped her lips shut in mortification.

Harry sucked hard on one of her plump pussy lips, and he slowly lifted his head, stretching her taut, pink flesh. He let go of her lip, and it snapped back into place. He smirked at her with his mouth glistening from her juices. “You said I wasn’t to use my cock, Fleur. You didn’t say anything about my tongue.” His fingers dug into the backs of her thighs, and he held her legs wide open for his viewing pleasure. “You can always quit and go home empty-handed.”

She glared at him when she realized that he was correct. She only said he couldn’t penetrate her mouth, ass, or pussy with his cock. She didn’t say anything about his tongue or fingers. “This is not fair,” she breathily pouted.

“Life rarely is,” he replied, and he lowered his mouth to her pussy again.

He slid a finger inside her as his tongue continued its work on her clit. Fleur’s head fell back, and her long hair fanned out across the pillow. The sensation of his tongue flicking against her swollen bead felt incredible, and Fleur had a hard time trying not to squirm. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he was making her feel. Unfortunately for her ego, Harry curled that finger and found a spot deep inside her, and he pressed against it. She arched her back so hard that it lifted off the bed, and an involuntary cry of pleasure escaped her lips. He added a second finger, stretching her open, and her inner muscles clenched down around them. A warm tingle spread across her entire body, from her cheeks to her toes, and it really annoyed her how much more of it she wanted. 

He worked her curvy body expertly, alternating between his tongue and fingers, or using both at once. Fleur suddenly felt the coil of pleasure building in her core. She couldn’t believe she was about to cum so quickly. Bill had a hard time giving her even a small orgasm, and she often had to fake it so as not to hurt his manly pride. She grabbed fistfuls of the bedsheets and tried to think of something besides the pleasure, but it did nothing to stop the orgasm that was rapidly approaching. Every time she thought she might regain her composure, he changed the pattern. The bastard went slower, then faster. Then he would wiggle his tongue around her clit until she was shaking and dripping.

She was determined not to give him the satisfaction of making her cum, and she ground her teeth and glared at the ceiling, willing the pleasure to subside, but Harry was relentless. He sensed her resistance and delighted in breaking it down. “You’re so close,” he teased in a smug voice. “Let go, Fleur. Let yourself feel good.” He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, then sucked her clit into his mouth and flicked his tongue quickly. He repeated this until she was panting, arching her back, and mashing her clit hard against his lips.

Her hips snapped up, and she came with a full-body shudder. Her pussy spasmed hard around his fingers and squeezed, and she didn’t even realize she was crying out his name until she heard her voice echoing through the room. The orgasm lasted longer than she thought possible, and waves of pleasure rolled through her until her legs trembled and her breathing became ragged. She was soaked, and she could feel her own wetness coating her inner thighs.

Harry withdrew his fingers and looked at her with a lascivious grin. Fleur couldn’t meet his gaze. She was too humiliated by how her body had betrayed her. Her legs slid down as her knees trembled, and she curled onto her side, trying to recover her dignity while her pussy still twitched.

“There’s no need to be shy, little flower,” Harry teased. He caressed the length of her sexy thigh and placed a soft kiss on her bare hip. “Cumming on my tongue is something I’m sure you’ll be happy to get used to.”

Fleur swatted his hand away, but he caught her wrist with lightning speed and pulled her back toward him. This time he kissed her neck, and his lips were soft and gentle.

She was furious with herself for giving in so quickly and for letting him make her cum within minutes, but the anger was mixed with a sense of satisfaction. She had never orgasmed that hard before, not with Bill and not with anyone. It annoyed her greatly that Harry seemed to know it, and she hated that, deep down, she wanted him to do it again.

He nuzzled her hair and breathed in the scent of her shampoo. “You’re very sexy when you’re angry, you know,” he said. His voice was slightly muffled by her luxurious mane of silvery blonde hair.

She tried to elbow him in the ribs, but he just laughed and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she ended up sprawled across his chest. Her heart thumped loud enough that she was sure he could feel it.

He held her for a few minutes while she caught her breath. Fleur closed her eyes and tried to sort out her feelings. Harry stroked her back in a way that made her delicate skin goosebump. She should have been furious with herself, but the sensation of his hand on her bare skin was comforting in a way she didn’t expect.

Eventually Harry shifted under her, and she looked up to see him grinning like a cat who had caught the canary. Harry kissed her deeply, and all she could do was let him. Fleur stopped herself from moaning into his mouth when his tongue tickled hers. He eventually broke the kiss and said, “So … ready for round two?”

Fleur rolled her eyes, but her pussy was still slick, sensitive, and eager for another orgasm. She blamed those damn shoes for all her woes. Fleur also blamed her Veela blood for making her so passionate, and she especially blamed Harry for being so good at making her cum. But mostly she blamed herself for wanting him to do it again.