Page 22 of Shot For Mercy

I narrow my eyes defiantly and shake my head once more but then do as he said. He shoves two fingers down my throat, and I gag, but he goes even deeper.

“Suck.” He grins. “Now.”

So fucking demanding.

But I suck, loving the way he tastes. I hum as he pulls his fingers out, and he takes a step back. I never thought I’d love this with a man, but he’s different.

“You call me a whore,” he says with a raised eyebrow. “But you’re a dirty fucking slut too, Emiliano. You love my cum, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Don’t worry.” He groans, looking down at me as I pull my pants back up. “There’s more where that came from.”

I’m quiet as we straighten our clothes. The one thing I don’t need is for people to know what just happened in this room. But a small part of me wishes everyone knew too. Though I know that’s not possible for us. I have to be okay with this being a one-time thing. Yet the thought of Cole being with someone else makes me murderous.

Cole walks toward the door, looking like he’s about to leave. I don’t know what I was expecting, but him walking away without so much as a kiss goodbye wasn’t it.Wait, what?What the fuck is wrong with me right now? His hand wraps around the doorknob, and I clear my throat. He looks back at me expectantly, raising one eyebrow.

“Torture him,” I tell him, raising my chin. His eyes light up, and I love I put that look on his face. “Send the message.”

“Consider it done.”

I smile tightly, nodding once. I wish he’d come back and demand things from me. Demand I make him mine for good. Taunt me some more. Tease me. Fucking anything but him walking away as if this never happened. But as he opens the door and shuts it behind himself, I’m left staring after him.

I’m so fucked.

My stomach churns with guilt as soon as he’s out of sight. I shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have allowed him to push me off the edge of the very tall cliff. He’s temptation personified, and I need to learn to stay the fuck away. Matteo has to come first—always. So, as much as I want Cole, I can’t let myself have him. Not now.

Not ever.

Leaving Emiliano behind earlier was possibly one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life, but the alternative terrified me. What if he kicked me out as if it meant nothing? No, I wasn’t going to put myself in that situation. I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Maybe I am a sensitive bitch when it comes to him, but I can’t help it. This is so much more than sex with him. He has to know that.

My throat is still sore from earlier, but I’m not mad about it. The way he used me was a turn-on. Even my wildest fantasies could never compare to the real thing. Having his cock in my mouth was a dream all on its own, but the way he talked to me… I thought that would never come true. He has me wrapped around his finger, and I need to ask myself if this is the best idea. My dick really loves the thought of fooling around with Emiliano, but a much more possessive part of me doesn’t want to be another one of his conquests. A notch on his bedpost. No, I want to be so much more than that. I want to be his. I want him to be mine. I want him to belong to me—mind, body, and soul. Because heownsme. And I know if I ever allow him into my body, I’ll lose all the restraint I possess. Which is already close to being none.

Damn him for making me feel this way.

Emiliano and I are a match to gasoline, and if allowed, we’d blaze through everything in our paths. He’s just as possessive as I am. He might not say it, but his eyes did all the talking today. He claimed me in that room, and I let him, giving him scraps of myself that I don’t easily hand over. I gave him my lips, and with my eyes, I offered him my heart. Except I know that’s a horrible idea. Giving myself over to a man who has mixed feelings about me on the best days. And on the worst days? He wants nothing to do with me.

Not that I think I conveyed my emotions clearly enough. He seemed to be completely oblivious to what I was trying to tell him with my eyes. The way I offered myself to him—I never do that. Maybe he brushed it off, ignored it. I’m not entirely sure anymore. On the other hand, it’s possible he knew. He looked longingly after me as I opened that door, and it made me weak in the knees. I almost stayed. Almost begged him to give me a few more minutes with him before popping our bubble. Instead, he gave me a reward for being his good boy. I can’t say I’m upset, though. Not when I get to torture the motherfucker in front of me.

Emiliano gave me full permission to do as I please, and I plan to use that to my advantage. Tonight, I’m getting the blood lust under control.Just one more taste.

Ever since my mother was beaten to death in front of me, I’ve had problems. But doesn’t everyone? Mine just seem to be a little more severe than most. I enjoy killing, and if I close my eyes just right, I can almost picture myself killing my stepfather. If only I’d had that pleasure. But no, Emiliano took care of it just like he always takes care of me. So now I want to return the favor and take care of him for a change.

I’m here on my own tonight. Matteo still won’t talk to me, and I’ve been avoiding the hurt look in his eyes as much as humanly possible. Except he’s taking this to new levels and going as far as not coming home at night. He hasn’t been home inthreedays. It’s a bit extreme, in my opinion. Who is he even with, anyway? The fact that I don’t know bothers me. We used to tell each other everything. Well—not everything, I guess. I’m definitely a hypocrite because there’s no way in hell I’d tell him about my obsession with his father. I know I wouldn’t live to tell the tale. Matty would murder me with his own two hands. And thinking about how he loves to strangle people for fun, well, it doesn’t sound very appealing. Not unless a cock is inside of me when it happens. It won’t be his, though. The last time really was the last time.

The door to the basement opens just as I sit on a chair next to Armando. Strobe lights filter in and so does the booming music. Every beat of the bass is a throb to my balls, and as I watch Emiliano come down the set of stairs that lead to me, I wonder what it would take to convince him to kill Armando and fuck in his blood. For science, of course. I’m not a freak or anything. Okay, maybe a little.

His light gray suit is pressed and wrinkle-free, the color bringing out his olive skin tone, and his honey brown eyes fix on my face as he descends the steps. He doesn’t interrupt or speak to me; instead, he goes to the far wall and leans against it, watching silently. Assessing me, probably. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s trying to gauge my level of crazy right about now. But even he doesn’t know just how demented I am.

“You fucked up,” I say softly to Armando. “So, what to do with you now?” I tap my chin with my finger. “Oh! I know. You get to meet Ally.”

Armando whimpers. “Who the fuck is Ally?”

Emiliano snorts, covering it up with a cough, and I grin. He can say whatever he wants, but even I know he enjoys my level of crazy. It matches his.

I present my scalpel to him, dangling it right in front of his face, and he begins to shake his head quickly. So fast I’m sure he’s about to snap his own damn neck. Which I won’t let him. Where’s the fun in that? I grab his face with one hand, squeezing his cheeks together, and he stays eerily still. He looks like a goddamn opossum playing dead. As if I could forget about him and move on.

“That won’t work.” I roll my eyes, not irritated in the slightest. Any day I get to do this is a good day in my book. “Your fate is sealed, fucker. Which one of your fingers would you miss the most?” I ask in Spanish.

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