She pushed the thought of Nott away, picturing Martin again. He would sink in deep, steal her breath with every thrust. Perhaps he might leave a mark or two—a bruise or a bite, if he was brave enough. Would his mouth ravage her breasts like Draco always did? Would he leave her completely spent and unable to speak or move yet deeply satisfied, as her husband often left her? If she tied him down, would he wrestle against those binds in order to touch her, or would he accept his fate and await her caress?