ronnie kegg can kick [your] ass. (keggers) wrote in wished,
"Indeed?" An amused smirk curled on her lips, as she felt him press more forcefully against her hips. It was this part of their "relationship" that Kegg loved the most. She loved all the teasing, and taunting, don't get her wrong, but the physical aspect of whatever they had made all the teasing worth it. Harold was definitely the type of guy that Ronnie could see herself dating - if she was the dating type. Incredibly attractive, with an affinity for pranks and sarcasm - sometimes Ronnie wondered what made me a Ravenclaw, he had all the characteristics of a Gryffindor, even the ego. Nails were threatening to leave marks along his rib cage as they dug deeper into his shirt. Harold should know from past experience that there was nothing slow and romantic with Ronnie. She liked it rough, she wanted marks, and she wanted to leave marks.
"Oh?" Her voice was right up against his ear, as she moaned very slightly against him as his tongue trailed up her neck. "I like to catch you off guard." Pushing off the wall, she gripped his shirt and spun him forcefully around, slamming him up against the wall. Pressing her entire body against him, one leg lifted to press against the wall on his side and pin him there. If there was one thing Kegg was NOT ashamed of it was her height. It gave her an advantage over people most of the time, even during her time at Hogwarts, she was always the tall girl. At sixteen she was all ready towering over most of her house mates, and by the time she hit 17 she was toeing the line of 6 feet. Her father enjoyed calling her "amazonian", claiming that it wasn't something to be ashamed of. Her height definitely made her distinctive. It wasn't like she was Crabbe and Goyle gargantuan - nor was she troll-like in comparison to Marcus Flint. Veronica Kegg looked exactly like her father described - Amazonian. Tall with a body to match, long legs, slender but not weak. Most of her weight went to muscles that were developed for Quidditch.
Then came her eyes, those eyes that could captivate and seduce someone with just a glance. They weren't veela eyes, but they were unique. They were her mother's eyes - "tiger eyes" - very distinct in color and in contrast to her dark skin and dark hair. Gaze slowly lifted to look up at Harold, focusing those pale hazel eyes on the boy, that look could say so many things at once and if Harold looked hard enough he was bound to see the flecks of green mixed in that hazel gaze with a pale gold ring around the iris. Hands snaked up his sides, as fingers gently slid over his neck. Leaning up she pressed a feather light kiss to his jaw line. That perfectly angled jaw line that begged to be touched and kissed in her mind.
Both of them were lucky that the majority of Diagon Alley's patrons were at Memorial Park because their scene would likely NOT be appreciated. Ronnie certainly had NO problem with public displays of affection, in fact, she encouraged it just because it gave her an extra thrill. She loved to see how far she could go before actually offending someone else.