Page 25 of Mercy in Betrayal

Enzo

Ice-cold water pricks my skin. It’s like small sharp needles piercing my skin, and for the first few seconds, I lose my breath, my train of thought dispatches, and all I feel is the numbness that I have been seeking.

She has been all I’ve thought about. Even against the harsh cold water of the shower, the image of her face manages to burst through the shield of cold and take presence. It’s useless.

I reach out and twist the knob, and a blast of hot water chases the shivers down my spine. I reach up and brush the last of the icy water out of my hair. My cock starts to grow as the memory of Rowan consumes me.

She had looked up at me with such eager innocence in her gaze. The character I was playing was so far removed from the man I am that it was a struggle to remain in my role…and yet there was a curious truth in every word I quoted, too. I truly was half agony, half hope.

I truly was offering myself to her. Maybe not my heart. Not that.

But my body? Every cell, every burning stretch of skin over muscle and bone. It was hers.

Rowan’s Enzo was too slow, too patient. The hunger she stirred in me demanded I tear into her soft flesh. My hands roam down my torso until I grip my heavy cock in my hand.

I hiss at the pulsing flesh that wants release. The classroom had been empty, and all I wanted to do was bend her over a desk and fuck her from behind. Hard, fast, vicious.

I thrust into my hand with the force I can imagine pounding into her pussy. She would be tight around my cock; my grip follows the images in my head, and I squeeze my cock harder as I pound into my hand, imagining the walls of her pussy tightening around me. I imagine her cries, her soft flesh taking a hammering.

What would her pussy taste like? I’m sure it would be as sweet as she is. I reach out with my free hand and balance myself against the cold tiles as I continue to thrust hard and fast. I can almost hear flesh slapping against flesh before I give another hard stroke, my seed squirting across the tiles. I jerk again, and more pours out, spilling onto the tiles at my feet; a few more strokes, and I release my cock, taking in a lungful of air.

I’m only slightly satisfied, though, as I rinse my cum from my body and finish up showering.

Turning off the water, I step out and walk past the rows of towels. My body still hums, and I know I need more. But not yet. I still have to play the gentle, playful, and patient man. If I had my way with Rowan, I no doubt wouldn’t be able to control myself and be gentle.

I leave the bathroom and step into the master bedroom. The room is warm, and the radiant floor heating warms the pads of my bare feet instantly. I stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling window and look out at the gardens.

Below me a statue of a woman carrying flowers serves as a centerpoint to our rear gardens. The garden statues were never particularly interesting to me, but this one captures my attention today. Celeste the Flower Fairy’s leg peeks out of her dress, teasing with the small amount of flesh that’s on display. Just like Rowan teases and tests me. I’m sure it’s not intentional, but everything about her teases the beast inside me.

My gaze roams past the statue to the lots stretching below toward the Hudson; there are even more in the distance.

The island of Manhattan rises in all its splendor, and I think that somewhere in that city, my target walks around, unaware of how much I lust for her. My cock starts to grow again. I could never be gentle with her. My greed for her flesh sends aggressive waves of need through my system.

I turn away from the window and start to get dressed. The heat in the room has dried most of the moisture from my skin. As I pull my shirt over my head, my phone buzzes with a text notification, and I peer over at it, grinning to myself when Rowan’s name pops up on the screen. She had left her phone number on the coffee cup the other day, and I had wasted no time pursuing a flirtation over text message, aware that building trust this way might be the quickest method of doing so.

Little Bird: What are you up to today?

Me: Important things, of course. How about you? I’ve been thinking about you.

Little Bird: If you were thinking about me, why haven’t you messaged me?

Me: I have to play it cool. Can’t seem too eager. But I’m never not thinking about you.

Three dots appear and swim on the screen for an excruciatingly long moment of time. I position my gun and stare, willing her message to pop up, already.

Little Bird: I’m able to slip away for the evening. I thought I might go to Chinatown. If you’d like to meet me there…

Me: Are you asking me on a date, Little Bird?

Little Bird: I would never.

Me: Because I would be delighted.

Little Bird: Okay, yes, I am.

Me: I’ll meet you at the statue of Confucius in Confucius Square. Right now I have to get back to work. Until later, sweet girl.

I head to the docks, encouraged. My cock still throbs, but I don’t have time to take care of my needs again. I have some workers to locate.

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