The light above the door was attracting summer beetles and their wings buzzed against the plastic cover. She knocked on the wooden door and waited. Pulling her shirt down a bit so that it covered her belt, she swallowed against the heavy pulse in her throat, feeling her blood pressure rise in anticipation.

“Ginny . . . this is a surprise,” said Hermione, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “What’re you—”

Her sentence was cut off as Ginny pushed her through the doorway, kicking the door shut behind her. Hermione made a sound, but Ginny swallowed it and she breathed in Hermione’s kisses. The room quickly became thick with the scent of lust, the aroma of passion, and they both breathed it in, using it as fuel for their desires.

Hermione backed up against the wall, her legs far enough part for Ginny to put her thigh between them. Heat radiated through Hermione’s pajama shorts as Ginny rubbed her thigh back and forth between her lover’s legs.

With confident hands, Ginny raked her fingers through Hermione’s shorter hair, wrapping the strands near the nape of Hermione’s neck around her digits, tugging on them. As her hair was pulled, Hermione moved her head back, exposing the long expanse of her neck. Ginny kissed the skin, sucking it between her lips, careful not to bite hard enough to leave a mark.

“Nuhhhhhh,” moaned Hermione, her eyes slipping closed.

Ginny smiled against Hermione’s neck. She pulled back and widened her grin at the heavy-lidded look Hermione gave her – Don’t stop touching me, said the look.

Tilting her head to the side, Ginny’s smile turning slightly lopsided – the smile replying, I don’t plan on it.

As she took Hermione’s hand, Ginny led her through the living room to the bedroom. She pulled off Hermione’s t-shirt and dropped it to the floor.

“Where are they?” asked Ginny.

“Where’s what?”

“The cuffs. I know you have them somewhere.”

Without breaking eye contact, Hermione reached over to her bedside table and pulled open the drawer, taking out a pair of silver handcuffs. Ginny took them and placed them around Hermione’s wrists. She took care not to put the cuffs on too tightly, but she didn’t want Hermione to escape either. The cuffs went around one of the posts of the headboard on Hermione’s bed.

“I don’t want you touching me. . . . I don’t want you touching yourself, either.”

“This your idea of torture?”

Ginny grinned. “Not yet.” She reached for Hermione’s shorts and pulled them down her legs. Her eyes moved up and down Hermione’s body, from her flat stomach to the curvature of her breasts. Her legs were smooth, her ankles slender, her calves with a muscular curve, her thighs twitching in eagerness. There was nothing sexier than seeing Hermione’s arousal grow, watching her shut her eyes tightly as she came, listening to her breath quicken as she got closer and closer to orgasm, feeling the vibrations of her muscles as she comes. That’s what she wanted to watch tonight, watch Hermione lose control.

“Are you going to touch me or just watch me?”

Ginny giggled and shook her head. She undid the buttons of her shirt and let it hang open, unclasping the front of her bra right before undoing her belt. It wasn’t long before she was naked and kneeling next to Hermione on the bed.

Hermione lifted her head off the pillow as though to try and meet Ginny’s lips in a kiss. Ginny evaded her and kissed her cheek, her chin, her neck. She licked across her collar bone and dipped her head to Hermione’s chest, kissing between her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers. The nipples stood up and as Ginny looked at them, she swore they practically begged to be kissed.

Then – Ginny removed herself from Hermione’s body. She lay on her side, facing her girl, but far enough away so they couldn’t touch. Before she did anything, she made sure Hermione was watching her – she was. Ginny moved her hands over herself, touching her breasts, caressing her skin down her stomach, over her navel, and between her thighs. She ran her fingers along herself, feeling the thick liquid and touching that ball of nerves that always made her body quake.

The hand that wasn’t between her legs was squeezing her breasts, running over her nipples. She licked her lips, throwing her head back against the pillow. A familiar tickle moved across her pelvis and she felt the buildup before orgasm. Her hips moved involuntarily up and down as she rode her own hand, begging her fingers to hurry up, wanting to come, needing to feel the release, the blast of pleasure that was sometimes so intense she could feel it spread through her body, straight to her toes. Breathing harder, Ginny moaned and her eyes rolled back in head as she came. She kept her fingers moving as the noises she made grew louder and louder until she stopped. Her body was on fire, her brain swimming, making her lightheaded, but her orgasm was strong and she needed a moment to recover.

Hermione let a whimper escape from between her lips, which were opened and taking in thick gulps of air. Ginny lifted her fingers, slick and shiny, and ran them across Hermione’s lips. She slipped them into her mouth, feeling Hermione’s tongue lick away all the come that coated them moments earlier.

A thin sheen of sweat covered Hermione’s body and Ginny felt her own heart beat faster, her own body grow impossibly warmer and warmer. She took her fingers from Hermione’s mouth and moved them down her lover’s body, feeling the heat at the apex of her thighs. Immediately her fingers were damp and warm. Ginny moved over Hermione’s body, pushing her thighs apart until Hermione was open to her, exposed and more naked than she was when her legs were together.

Ginny looked at Hermione, her love, her companion, her partner, her life, and waited for some sign that she was unsure or uncomfortable, but all she saw was passion and desire, lust and want, need and ardor. Her eyes looked away from Hermione’s and moved across her body. Her lips followed her eyes and she kissed every exposed bit of skin she could find. With tenderness, she nibbled at Hermione’s hips, knowing that if she left a mark no one but her would ever see.

Kissing the inside of Hermione’s thighs, Ginny could smell her lover’s arousal; she could see it, see how wet she had become. Her fingers opened Hermione up and she studied her, studied the way she looked, and marveled at their sameness. At first she just kissed her, between her legs, so softly the kiss felt like a whisper. Then she slow let her tongue run up her. Down her. Across her. Inside her.

Her mouth loved her. Hermione became swollen and drenched. Her hips lifted against Ginny’s lips and her thighs trembled. The handcuffs clanked against the headboard as Hermione’s body shuddered and she came, crying out in relief. She came quickly – almost too quickly – but Ginny put her fingers in Hermione, thrusting them inside, feeling the last of her orgasm and hoping to make it last longer.

As Hermione’s body calmed from her climax, Ginny looked through the bedside table drawer for the key to the handcuffs. When Hermione was free, she rubbed her wrists and threw her arms around Ginny, muttering endearments.

“Did you mind getting woken up for that?” asked Ginny.

Hermione shook her head. “No. Never. Not if you’re the one waking me.” She yawned and smiled and quickly fell asleep.

The smell of sex was heavy in the room as Ginny stood up and reached for her shirt. She was about to put it on when a hand reached out and took hold of her wrist.

“You’re leaving?”

“I thought you were asleep?”

“No.”

“I’m not leaving – not tonight. I was just going to put on my shirt. . . . Okay?”

Hermione nodded, but didn’t let go of Ginny’s arm until they were both in bed. Ginny closed her eyes, the heat in the room pressing down on her. She knew the warmth surrounding her had nothing to do with summer and everything to do with love.