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Maybe I was, but I didn’t care.

“You want my cock, don’t you, Mercy?”

I can’t answer. All I can do is gasp and moan, my head fallen back and resting against his shoulder. I feel like I’m being turned inside out. Part of me wonders if I’m dying, but I never thought dying would feel so good.

Every thrust is painful, but amazing at the same time. He pushes into me, so hard that I think I can’t take any more, and then just as the pain reaches heights that I think may tear me apart, he’s retreating and all I can do is hope and pray he comes right back to me.

It feels so good, it’s worth the price I have to pay—my soul.

“Say it,” he growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me, even as he doesn’t stop his bruising thrusts. “Say you want this. Say you want my cock, Mercy.”

I hesitate, but only for a moment. The truth is there, even if its faint, waiting to be let out. Maybe it’s the heat of his body against mine, or the way his hands grip my hips so tightly they leave marks, but I feel like the answer floats on the steam above our heads. Do I really need to say it?

“I want you,” I whisper. “I want you so much, Draco. W-want your cock.”

His lips crash down on my neck again, his teeth dragging along the skin, hard and punishing. I moan as he thrusts into me, each stroke sending shockwaves throughout my entire body. I can hear the slap of wet flesh, and the sound is like a symphony of hellish screaming.

I can feel inside me, deep down, that this is wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be letting him do this to me, but why not?

We were going to be married, so that meant it was okay, right?

No, it wasn’t okay.

It wasright.

I was supposed to be pure.

But I wasn’t, not anymore.

Not since he touched me.

Not since he showed me everything I’d been missing out on.

“Fuck, Mercy,” Draco growls. “You’re so fucking tight. Shit.”

My body trembles in response, and my head falls forward, my forehead smacking against the tile enough to jar me, but not enough to hurt.

I am lost in him, pushing against him, arching my back and feeling the way he slips in and out of me.

He touches something inside me, something raw and sensitive, and I groan, rolling my hips back against his. My heart races, pounding against my ribs with a wild frenzy. I’m overwhelmed, drunk on the way he claims he, the way he fucks into me so hard that my head is spinning and I can’t properly draw a breath.

“Draco,” I whimper, reaching my hands behind me to clasp around his neck.

I can smell the heat of the steam, and I can hear the drumming patter of water hitting tile, but its like background noise, a soundtrack for our sin to dance to.

“Please,” I beg, my voice like a thread that could snap at any second. “Harder.”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

His hips surge forward, each thrust deeper than the last, harder, higher, deeper, and before I know it, I’m drowning in him.

I cry out, a mixture of agony and ecstasy ripping from my throat so hard that I taste blood. My body writhes and bucks beneath him, each movement pushing me closer and closer to the brink. I can feel myself teetering on the edge.

I’m so close.

So close that my thighs are shaking and my muscles are clenched so hard that every joint aches.

“Close,” I whisper, my nails digging into the back of his neck as I struggle to pull him closer, deeper, against that spot inside of me. “Close, Draco, Gonna—”