Page 32 of Shot For Mercy

As soon as I get back to the penthouse, I’m leaving. He said we’re a mistake, and Matteo won’t come home because I’m there. So it only makes sense to leave. I’ve already looked for an apartment out of his building, away from him. I don’t want him to be able to keep tabs on me. I want him going crazy, out of his mind, wondering what I’m doing every day. Who I’m fucking. What trouble I’m getting into. Or maybe he doesn’t give a fuck and I’m delusional. We are a mistake, after all.

I strip out of my bloody clothes, leaving them on the bathroom floor for Emiliano to pick up. I won’t do him any favors; in fact, I’m going to do everything in my power to piss him off the way he’s pissed me off. I will get a reaction from him if it’s the last thing I do.

Turning on the shower, I wait until it’s hot, then get in. I make quick work of washing up, getting every nook and cranny. Even going as far as washing under my blunt fingernails. I wash my hair and face thoroughly, then hear the door creaking open. I tense. Fuck, I forgot to lock the damn thing.

The glass door makes the image slightly distorted, but I can tell it’s Emiliano. He’s looking down at the clothes on the ground, and I smirk even though I can’t see his face. He comes in and closes the door though, and I see him place the clothes on top of the sink’s vanity. He’s quiet, but soon enough, the water starts to get cold, and I shut it off.

I grab the towel and begin to dry myself, just for the glass door to swing open. Emiliano scowls at me, a move that shouldn’t make him look this attractive, and I look away. Focusing on drying myself, I bend over and get my legs and feet. He sucks in a sharp breath, but I ignore it as I wrap the towel around my waist. Except there’s no way out of the shower with him standing in the way.

“I’m not talking to you,” I say simply, hoping he will move, even knowing he won’t. He’s a stubborn motherfucker. “Move.”

We lock eyes, and his mouth is set in a tight line. “You will hear me out.”

“Is this the Don or Emiliano speaking?” I ask him sarcastically, and he huffs.

“This is the man who fucked you last night until you couldn’t move.”

I laugh loudly, my whole body shaking with it. “Fuck off, Emiliano. You don’t get to remind me of that.”

“For as long as I live, I won’t let you forget about it,” he growls, stepping forward and wrapping a hand around my hair, yanking back roughly. I grimace at the pain, and he seems to love that, if the wild look in his eyes is any indication. “It’s going to haunt you for the rest of your miserable life—Iwill haunt you.”

The problem is that he’s not wrong. He’s so close to my reality that I wish I could put myself out of my misery and slit his fucking throat already. But I can’t, because deep down I know I will always care for him. I’ll always be in love with him, and that doesn’t bode well. “I’ve already forgotten,” I lie.

“You’re not leaving me,” he says through gritted teeth, and the image of my suitcase and bags on my bed flashes through my mind. I smirk. “You’ll go home and unpack right now.”

“No,Daddy,” I purr, knowing he hates it when I call him that. “I will do no such thing.”

His grip on my hair tightens, but I give him no reaction. That seems to piss him off. He steps into the shower, shoes and all, and slams me against the tiled wall. “You’ll do as I say.”

“Or what?” I raise an eyebrow. “You gonna spank me?”

Before I can process what’s happening, my cheek is pressed against the wall, and the towel is pooling around my feet. There’s a loud crack, followed by pain, and my body jolts. He actually did it—he fuckingspankedme.

I snarl, and he does it again—harder this time.

There’s water running down my back and to my ass cheeks from not drying my hair, and it makes the sting even worse. He spreads the water, then spanks me harder than the last one. I’m panting and my traitorous cock is rock hard. I could come just from that.

“Safe word,” he growls, and I frown. “What’s your safe word? Otherwise, I won’t stop until I’m satisfied.”

A shiver runs down my spine as he soothes the tender skin of my ass cheek, and I groan, “Yes.”

“Yes is your safe word?” he asks with a smirk. “That’s depraved, even for you, Cole.”

I’m silent.

“Tell me, my prince,” he says softly, and I tense at the pet name. He shouldn’t call me that when it means nothing to him. “Do you get off on me forcing myself on you?”

Again, I don’t say anything, but I do whimper when his hand unexpectedly cracks against my skin once more.

“No?” he asks, and I look at him over my shoulder. He’s soothing the sting once more, but even I know I’m going to bruise. I probably won’t be able to sit down for at least a few days. “Let’s try again. Do you like it when I hurt you?”

His hand comes down on my ass yet again, but I’ve lost count of how many times he’s spanked me. All I know is that my skin feels raw. “No,” I lie.

“Tell me to stop,” he groans, his cheeks flushed, his bottom lip between his teeth as he spanks me once more. “Tell me, Cole.”

“No,” I moan, and this time, when he spanks me, my dick jumps.

“You’re making my cock so fucking hard,” he groans, spreading my cheeks. He leans in, licking my rim, and I stand up on my tiptoes. “Where are you going, Cole? There’s nowhere you can run to that I won’t find you.”

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