"I dreamt of you every night, my sweet love, my beautiful wife," he crooned softly into her ear, punctuating every word with a hard thrust. She was wincing, wetness glistening just under her eyes, her jaw clenched. He could feel her body respond ravenously to it, angled his hips to get deeper inside. Her mouth had opened involuntarily, her eyes were screwed shut—denial or pleasure, or both? Draco pressed himself flush against her, so that he was buried inside without an inch to spare. Her head fell back, she panted loudly, here eyes less than half open, looking at him with exhaustion, resignation. Draco wrapped his hand around her throat and resumed thrusting, hard enough that she moved against the wall every time he pushed back inside.