Brooms and Cocks ch.21

Harry Potter and Amelia wrestled with these concerns for several days until Hermione and Harry sat down with her and discussed the process they outlined and the math behind it. Amelia wasn't a Six Sigma engineer who understood how to optimize and eliminate waste in the production process, but she knew business, especially broomstick business. She was easy to sell once they presented her in such conditions.

"Are you copying the Japanese production process? Not what you Brits have always done?" She seemed impressed by the idea but wary of the associated risk.

"On the assembly lines," Harry said, "But in our Scuderia and in the research and development department, we'll follow the Italian model: let it work."

"Hmmm," she pondered. "That might work. It's cost-effective in the long run, but the risk is predetermined. Just like with this racing venture."

"Nothing else comes without racing," Harry said. Seeing there was no more debate to be had, he closed his laptop, which was resting on Amelia's lap.

"I've been reviewing shipping contracts."

"There'll be time for that later. Will you pour me a drink? It's been a long day."

His gaze fell on Hermione, sitting off to the side, and he felt more than saw Amelia's hungry smile. The older woman rose smoothly, sliding aside as Harry stood and positioned himself in front of the petite woman. The cabinet creaked, and the sound of liquid splashing into glasses accompanied the elderly Italian woman's sigh of delight as his gaze landed on the deep neckline of her dress.

"I'll look at them in the morning," Hermione addressed Amelia, but her gaze didn't leave his. "Is there anything I could assist you with... sir?"

She murmured the last word, sliding off the chair and dropping to her knees before him. Biting her lower lip, she ran her hands over the bulge forming in his trousers, hissing with shallow breaths, her fingers trembling with impatience. However, she knew her place and didn't undo his belt or even unzip him until he allowed her to.

"Pour one for yourself too," he said to Amelia, accepting the 18-year-old Macallan she poured him with two fingers. Inhaling the smoky aroma, he exhaled the vapors, relishing the hint of fire at the back of his throat. "We have much to discuss today."

"And for me, sir?" Hermione asked, a smile appearing on her pale cheeks. "You first have something else to drink. Don't you?"

Smiling with impatient delight, she hopped onto her knees and freed his belt, pulling out his cock and sliding it into her hot mouth within seconds. He hissed with pleasure as she sucked, as if her life depended on it. Hermione's eyes glowed with inner light as Amelia stood beside him with her own glass. "To health," she said, exchanging glasses with him. "To fulfilling dreams."

"To fulfilling our dreams," Harry Potter muttered, sipping his Scotch and wrapping his arm around the older woman's waist, pulling her closer. "Eleonora asked me to stop by her villa when we land next week. She wants to spend the evening discussing our strategy for the federation meeting. Jesus, darling, you've improved."

He smiled approvingly at Hermione, who took his cock deep into her throat, swallowing softly, milking the head and shaft with her tonsils. The small woman's eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, pleased with the compliment, before returning to deep throating.

"My cousin never allowed a man into her villa," Amelia said with a look of impatient surprise. "You're planning to bed her, aren't you? You dirty boy. You'll have her crawling to you on the floor like a dog, won't you? Pounding her fat ass until she starts screaming?"

The woman worked herself into a frenzy, forgetting about her drink as her fingers slipped into Harry's shirt, unbuttoning it as she caressed his muscles. Nothing seemed to excite Amelia more than the thought of dominating her imperious and incredibly splendid cousin. The problems between the women weren't violent, but they were deep-seated and went back to childhood, and Harry was more than happy to exploit them as long as everyone got what they wanted.

Unable to focus on the conversation with Amelia, Harry downed the last drink. It was a crime to drink 18-year-old Scotch in shots, as if it were vodka filtered through charcoal. But there is a time and place to appreciate better things in life, and his priority was the wonderful little creature who intended to swallow a mouthful of cum.

"Kiss me, darling," Amelia muttered, pulling his face to hers.

The woman's thick, painted lips met in a hungry kiss, and Hermione moaned with happiness. His cock throbbed, his balls emptied as he flooded his assistant's mouth. He didn't stop sucking until he pulled her head away from his too sensitive cock and pushed her towards Amelia's ready pussy.

The submissive woman sucked the MILF's pussy while Harry made love to her. It didn't take long for the Italian to scream in ecstasy as he came on Hermione's face. Then he poured another drink, this time intending to enjoy it all while two women crawled between his legs and licked him firmly.

Hermione rode him. Her feet were on either side of his hips, and with determination, she pressed her tiny rear against his groin. Looking into his eyes, she observed his facial expressions, recognizing all the little signs of an impending orgasm. When he was on the edge, she dismounted, making way for Amelia's wide hips to straddle his knees in a reverse cowgirl position, riding him until they both reached climax together.

It wasn't until later, when all three lay together, catching their breath and holding each other close, that Harry heard what truly troubled them.

"Kate made arrangements for her film crew to follow us overseas. She already has permits in Italy and Monaco. I don't know how she did it, but your little side project aimed at keeping her busy and away from your hair is becoming a problem." Harry Potter grumbled, contemplating a confrontation with his unstable stepmother. "I'll talk to her," he muttered, resigned to the task ahead. Hermione spoke up, offering a suggestion from her place on his chest. "Instead of keeping her away from yourself, why not involve her more in the company? Your stepmother can be a pain," she said with a smile, eliciting an eye roll from Amelia. Their recent arguments had been intense, especially about Harry's romantic escapades.

Amelia leaned in, her voice softening. "You know it's true, Harry. And you know how to handle it." Hermione added, smiling suggestively. "Are you afraid of your own desires for her? I've noticed how you look at her... and I sense the tension that discussing your mom stirs in you."

With a tantalizing move, Hermione slid down Harry's chest, sending shivers down his spine as she trailed her tongue along his lengthening shaft. Amelia joined in, her ample curves pressing against him. Harry couldn't help but moan, despite his efforts to resist. Hermione was pleasuring him while Amelia whispered provocative words in his ear. It seemed that Amelia was more interested in the idea of seducing Harry's stepmother than he was himself, which spoke volumes. She even tried to extract a promise from him that she would be allowed to watch when he finally made his move on Kate.

Most days, Harry spent in the offices or in the production department, overseeing the production of the First Article parts. He mainly focused on the runic engine being developed by the engineers and technicians. After long discussions and modeling, they made only minor changes to his father's project.

Although they had support from Zabini, Harry wanted the propulsion unit to be designed and built in-house to make a strong impression when they appeared abroad. It was crucial for sales that they were perceived as independent from European manufacturers or Zabini subsidiaries.

For weeks, they worked in secrecy, iterating, testing, rebuilding, and retesting until they had a working prototype. With the engine ready, three weeks after the investor meeting, they released the machine onto the track.

On the first day of testing, tension was high, but Harry was prepared for potential failures, understanding the nature of engineering projects. The Sisters and Hermione were confident, closely monitoring each stage of the process.

Upon arrival, Harry was warmly welcomed by the Sisters, who introduced him to the team. Although they were unfamiliar faces to him, he knew details about them from studying their CVs. There was an atmosphere of excitement, but Harry felt like he was intruding. Hermione seemed to effortlessly blend in with the engineers and technicians, while Harry made them uncomfortable in a way the Sisters and Hermione did not.

Instead of allowing it to bother him, Harry withdrew with Hermione, seeking something to occupy their time until the tests began. Seeing lights on in the apartments upstairs, Harry went upstairs, finding his stepmother and Molly in the track owner's apartment, enjoying champagne with ice.

"Do you fancy a glass?" Mom greeted Harry with a wry smile as he entered. "It's Veuve Clicquot."

"Not yet," Harry replied, shaking his head. "I want to see the brooms' reactions first."

"Good luck calming him down," Molly muttered under her breath, intending for only Harry's mom to hear her, but Harry easily caught her words. "Harry always acts like this when he's stressed."

"I'm not stressed," Harry snapped, furrowing his brows at the sharp tone. "It's just a very important day."

"I know, dear," Mom said, rising and wrapping her arm around Harry's before walking over to the Sisters to refill her glass. "But you need to learn to manage stress before it gets to this point. You might think you have it under control, but it affects your team downstairs."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione appeared at the apartment door, her expression confirming the truth before she could mask her emotions.

"Is she right, Hermione? Am I stressing everyone out down there?"

"You don't mean to," she said, delivering the hard truth with her customary tact. "But they're stressed enough as it is, and you're the one signing their paychecks... If this doesn't work out, they have reason to believe you'll fire them all, and where will they turn?"

"Don't dwell on the negatives," Mom said, pausing beside Harry on her way back to her seat and placing a warm hand on his chest. "It keeps them focused, sharp, and they'll respect you as their boss. She winked conspiratorially. "Plus, it makes for a fascinating story in the documentary."

"She's right, sir. The team is tearing their hair out, and we'll have a few more gray hairs before this is over. But at the same time, they're working harder and smarter than they have in weeks. And that says something."

"You should find a way to... unwind," Mom said, her dark eyes dancing over the rim of her champagne glass as she took a sip. "This place has everything. There's even a spa in the basement. Very exclusive and private, or so I've heard."

"I should stay nearby," Harry said, "just in case they need me."

"For what? To ride a broom?" Mom joked, laughing along with Gabrielle.

The sound pricked Harry's pride, realizing he had silly fantasies of being both a driver and a broom owner. Only now, after his mother elegantly set them straight, did he realize how foolish he had been. Racing brooms as a boy didn't qualify him for the level he should be at. He couldn't waste his employees' hard work on something so self-centered, no matter how much he wanted it.

Setting aside childish fantasies, Harry let a playful smile grace his lips and nodded at his stepmother. She winked at him before turning her attention back to the team working on the prototype, trying to get it up and running.

"It looks like it'll take another hour... Why don't you take Molly and go have some fun? Amelia should be here any minute, and the Sisters seem to have everything under control. It's all right, Harry. Go relax and let the people you hired do the job."