Page 85 of Penance

I go to church.

What if I run?

If I pull away from him and run, will he chase me?

He will.

I know he will.

And he will catch me.

His tongue flicks out, lapping against me in one long, languid stroke that sends a jolt of electricity through me.

A taste, a promise.

I gasp, my body jerking in response.

How does he do that?

“Draco, please,” I gasp.

Please… what?

Please stop?

Please keep going?

His tongue passes over me again, harder this time.

“Come on, Mercy,” he says, but it’s not asking.

He’s telling.

“I said sit!”

Hands on my hips rip me down, and I can’t fight him. He forces me down, and I blush hard as I feel his mouth meet the apex of my thighs. His tongue plunges into me, and I’m lost—lost in the sensation, lost in the sin, lost in Draco.

My body responds. My hips move of their own free will, grinding down on him. His grip on my hips loosens, his handssliding down to cup my thighs, supporting me, guiding me. His tongue explores me, down, and back up, and then he finds that aching bud and suddenly I can’t breathe.

I’m not a good church girl.

Not anymore.

I’m Draco’s.

He owns me, and we both know it.

My body convulses.

My hands go to the wall, desperate to find something to cling on to. I’m a shuddering mess, every nerve ending alight with a pleasure so intense it’s almost painful. My hips jerk against his mouth, grinding harder, and a thought crosses my mind.

What if I hurt him?

No, no, I can’t think about that.

Draco’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.

“Oh, God,” I gasp, my voice a ragged whisper. “Oh…God, Draco.”

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