Page 94 of Penance

“Come on Mercy,” I tell her. “Tell me why.”

“Because you make me feel safe?”

I stop, staring down at her.

I wasn’t really expecting her to saythat.

“I make you feel safe? Really? You want to fuck me because I make you feelsafe?Interesting.”

“P-please?”

“Please what, Mercy?” I taunt her. “Please give you what you want? Please take away your guilt? Please make the decision for you?”

I laugh, a cold sound that echoes through the room. I don’t move off her as I reposition myself, shifting my weight. I kick her legs apart and press myself between them. I’m still clothed, but even through my pants, I know she can feel how hard I am. I’m fucking throbbing.

“I should,” I growl. “I should hold you down and fuck you until you’re screaming and then send you to church with my cum dripping out of you. I should send you into God’s house full of the devil’s cum, but I won’t.”

She swallows hard, her throat working visibly. I can see the struggle in her eyes, the desperation to comply, to earn my approval.

She wants me so fucking bad.

I move away from her and stand up, stepping back and staring down at her.

I can see her glistening pussy, see the need that’s dripping out of her.

“Go get dressed,” I say, staring down at her. “Take a shower. Put on some makeup. Get dressed up like a good little doll, and sit beside me in church. Then, if you’re good, I’ll give you what you want when we get home. Understand?”

She nods.

“You have an hour. Go now.”

She lunges to her feet and scrambles away. I hear her run into the bathroom and slam the door closed.

I fucking own her.

Chapter 19

Mercy

The scalding water pounds against my skin. It’s so hot that my head is swimming, but I need it that way. My hands tremble as I lather shampoo into my hair, the suds sliding down my body like tears—tears that I shed while I begged for sin.

What have I done?

What is wrong with me?

The questions echo in my mind, and I can’t escape them.

What happened to me?

Draco,a voice in my head sneers.

His name alone sends a shiver down my spine, and it’s not from the cold. I can still feel his hands on me, his breath on my neck. My stomach churns, a disgusting blend of need and anticipation.

No,a different voice tells me.No, not anticipation. That’s fear. You’re scared.

I run my hands over my body, scrubbing harder, as if I can erase his touch and make myself good again.

But the throbbing between my legs… that’s not fear.

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