Page 40 of Mercy in Betrayal

I struggle against him once again as he goes to his knees before me, his intent plain as he pushes me against the single pew of the small room we find ourselves in. His hands snake beneath the red velvet skirt of my dress and begin pushing it up. “No! I’m no man’s prize, Enzo. No man’s possession. I won’t be some pawn for you to play when you need leverage against—”

A whimper escapes me when his teeth scrape against my clit through the silky lace of my panties. “No?” One hand holding my dress secure at my waist, the fingers of his other skillfully pull the panties down over my hips until they’re bunched at my ankles. “Your cunt tells a different tale.” One thick finger invades me without warning, gliding forcefully into my channel while his thumb works my clit.

“My cunt is stupid,” I gasp out, my head falling back. My hands latch on to the edges of the pew, needing some form of support when he leans forward, spreads me open with his other hand, and licks me slit to clit in one long, smooth motion.

I keen.

“She seems pretty smart to me.”

He turns me in one swift motion, bunching my dress again so it stays pinned between me and the pew, and places my hands decisively on either side of my hips on the pew seat. The position forces me into an exaggerated lean forward, tilting my ass into the air and sending me up onto my tiptoes. “Stay,” he grits out.

Behind me, I hear the rasp of a zipper being lowered and close my eyes. I should move. I should at least protest, show him that he can’t just use me like this. He can’t…trick me…make a fool of me…the way he has, and get away with it.

Tears rise behind my eyelids, and heat blooms in my core, where it’s pressed against the wooden pew.

I want him. I don’t know what that says about me, what that means…but I still want him.

I stay.

A moment later, when I expect to feel the fullness of his cock invading me, I feel the shock of his tongue against me once again. He buries his nose against me, inhaling deeply, and laps greedily at my pussy from behind. While I’m reeling from the shock of that sensation, his hands slide up to cup my ass and part each cheek; then his tongue is there—rimming my dark hole just as greedily as it did my pussy. The sensation is different, making me simultaneously want to sidle away and grind myself hard against his tongue.

“Oh, God—” The broken cry escapes in concert with his wicked chuckle.

“Call me God,” he says. “Call me whatever you need to. Just know the only hands, the only mouth, the only dick that will ever touch this body going forward is mine.” He shifts position behind me, and a moment later, I feel the blunt head of his cock nudge against the folds of my cunt a second before he thrusts forward, seating himself in a single heartbeat of a movement.

Neither of us move for a moment. We hold there, suspended together, bound by lies and something more…something neither of us have figured out just yet. Then Enzo places a hand at the base of my skull, smoothing my hair in a tender gesture before cupping me there, and begins to move.

His hold should frighten me. It’s inerrantly, unmistakably dominant—his fingers curled around my neck. It’s meant to hold me in place, establish authority, bind me to him in as irrevocable a way as possible. Despite my inexperience, I recognize this.

And yet there’s a sweetness to it that belies all of that. Maybe it’s the way he touched my hair first.

Maybe I’m just depraved.

He pounds into me viciously, each press of his flesh into mine heralded by the slap of skin and the bump of the softness of my pubic bone against the hard pew. I cry out with each thrust, the sounds forced out of me with each rock of my body. Part of me knows this is a claiming. There’s no going back, no returning to the Rowan I once was.

This will change everything.

His hand snakes around my hip, coming between the pew and my clit and pressing down hard. “You’re going to come for me, little bird.”

I shake my head.

His thumb gentles, circling teasingly. Relentlessly. He slows his thrusts, dragging his cock in and out of my channel with excruciating slowness. “I’m not stopping until you do. They’ll find us like this, my dick buried in your sweet pussy—”

He pinches my clit, and with a broken, defeated cry, I come. The orgasm breaks over me like a thousand stars splintering over a nighttime ocean, retreating slowly with the ebbing tide.

Enzo increases his speed again, and moments later, he comes. He drapes himself over my back, breath coming hard, for exactly three seconds before he straightens.

I hear him tuck himself back into his pants before he fixes my dress and pulls me to stand. I’m limp, all the fire fucked out of me.

I look at Enzo with all the hollowness I feel. “You win,” I tell him. “Whatever game it is you’re playing…you win.”

“Rowan—”

Whatever he’s about to say is cut off by the clatter of boots on the steps and the door being flung open. Cassidy stands framed in the doorway, his expression moving from concerned to enraged in the space of a second.

He doesn’t speak. Just acts.

The punch catches all of us off guard. Enzo spins and crashes into me, knocking me into the wall before he manages to right himself. “Motherfuck—” His hands go out in an automatic gesture, making sure I’m okay and out of the way before he wheels around to confront my brother.

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