Page 72 of Ruthless Beasts

Her hand shot up, gripping my bicep to hold me in place. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I taunted, knowing damn well what she didn’t want me to do. Stop. She didn’t want me to stop and fuck that, I didn’t think I could. But I wanted to hear the words, wanted her to give me a little something in return for the orgasm we both knew I was too weak to hold back on.

“Don’t stop.”

“Was that a beg?” I taunted.

“Never.”

“So feisty and stubborn for a girl whose nails are digging into my arms, trying to hold me in place,” I observed. “Say you want us.”

Fuck.

Her body felt so fucking good grinding against mine. I was nearly weak trying to hold back. I leaned closer, biting her ear before whispering. “I’d bet you’d look fucking beautiful with Ace’s cock down your throat. Do you think he’d moan your name?” I paused. “Or mine as I held your hair, guiding you over his dick, learning the ways he likes to be sucked off.”

She whimpered, her legs tightening on my hips as her body rocked against my length, and I wanted to give it to her. Wanted to give it all to her. But not nearly as much as I wanted to hearthe words, the ones proclaiming she belonged to me. I was never selfish, always willing to share, and the flesh of her naked body would be no exception.

Ours.

“Say you’re fucking ours.”

Her throat bobbed. Her head thrashed in defiance, and I liked this side of her. No, I fucking loved it. Our meek little queen had some fight in her. I never doubted it. I’d seen glimpses here and there, always craving more. But this only proved she was made for us, made to take whatever shit we gave, made to take and give, however we pleased.

I reached a hand down, stopping my thrust to cup her pussy. “These shorts do nothing to hide your want, little one. In fact, you’re so fucking wet, you’ve soaked through.”

Her head turned away from my gaze, and I used my hand to force her eyes back as I slipped my fingers inside her shorts and underwear, cupping her bare cunt, letting her want coat my palm. “Is all this for me?”

She didn’t need to answer. I could tell by the pulse beating in her neck. I dipped a finger inside of her, coating my finger before I brought it back to her clit. The sound of her voice was so fucking pretty with my name on her lips. “Please, Mercer.”

“Are you… begging?” I pressed down on her clit, taunting her with the orgasm I knew she was close to.

“No.”

“So fucking stubborn.” I laughed. I pulled my hand away. “Only good girls get rewarded.”

Peeling my body off hers was physically painful, but I’d not give in. I wanted ownership. I wanted begging. I wanted her to know that I’d give her fucking anything outside the bedroom, but inside, I wanted her to give. I wanted her begging. Pleading. Giving me all the fucking things I deserved so I could give her what she earned.

Straddling her hip, I pulled my dick out, biting my lip to hide how pleased it made me to see those beautiful green eyes widen at the sight of my cock. I stroked the length, feeling my balls tighten from how worked up I already was. It took four pumps before I was coming, ropes of cum spraying over her shirt and coating her neck. My head tilted back, and my eyes closed as my orgasm tore a long moan from my throat.

My chest was heaving as I looked down at her again, satisfied with my work. “Next time, give me what I fucking want, and I’ll give you what you want in return.” I climbed off of her, not giving one ounce of fucks that she was tussled and wanting. I reached down, offering her my hand to help her up. “You should really get cleaned up. You’ve got a meeting about a dress showing up?—“

The doorbell rang.

“Now.”

She stumbled up, refusing to take my hand as she panicked and rushed forward. She stomped past Adam, where he leaned against the archway. He waited until she was gone before he praised, “Glorious. That was fucking glorious.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

BELLAMY

God, I hated him. I hated him so fucking much, even as I craved him. Okay, maybe hate was a strong word, but my body was burning with need, and it was all Mercer’s fault. I had no outlet, no time when the stylist was just down the hall waiting for me to emerge. It was his intention; I was sure. He wanted to leave me wanting and withering with the need for release.

You started this. You provoked him.

I preferred to ignore my inner monologue in favor of blaming him for looking so damn good as he was concentrating on whatever scheme he was creating. I didn’t have time to shower off the cum that coated my skin. I had to settle for using a rag to wipe it off, hoping that the stylist couldn’t smell Mercer on my skin. I dressed quickly, putting on a pair of leggings and a tank top before meeting Adam and the stylist in the living room.

The popcorn had been cleaned up, either by Mercer or Adam, and I tried not to let embarrassment consume me when I met Adam’s knowing eyes and secretive smirk. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He encouraged us to get close. It wasn’twrong. It couldn’t be. Not when his body felt so right between my thighs.

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