Page 31 of Begging for Mercy
She shrieks and slams the heel of her boot into my nose. “You fucking pervert!”
Thecrunchhurts—that shit’s gonna fucking bruise—but at least I have my answer. If Kane had slept with her, he’d probably have torn her panties off or taken them with him as a trophy. The fact that they’re still on means that she survived her first day with him unscathed.
That is, until I notice the hickey on her fucking throat.
“What thefuckis that?”
Mercy backpedals, jumping off of me to grab the baseball bat leaning against her shitty metal headboard. Its wood is worn and chipped on the side. I doubt it’s hers. Maybe her brother’s? Shewields it like a weapon and bares her teeth at me. “Get the fuck out of here, Zane!”
I roll onto my feet and close the distance between us, grabbing the middle of the bat when she tries to swing. Wrenching it from her grasp, I toss it across the room and shove her against the wall. “Did he do this?” I grab her chin and force her head to the side to get a better look at the bruise. It’s hickey-shaped. Reddish purple. Exactly where Kane likes to leave them. “I told you not to let him fuck you.”
She sputters, blowing her hair into my face. “I didn’t!Hedidn’t!”
Mmm. “You sound guilty.”
She flushes bright crimson, and my anger flares.
“One day,” I murmur, feeling the bitterness rise like bile in the back of my throat. “Onefuckingday, and you couldn’t keep your hands off of him.” I’ve known Kane for over a decade, and when he wants something, he goes after it without an ounce of hesitation. I’d expected Mercy to fight him, but perhaps that was naive of me.
It’s hard resisting Kane’s charms.
Mercy’s eyes lock onto mine as she tries to turn her head, but I don’t let her, too angry to let her win.
“It’s not from him! It’s from Sam!”
Some of the hot air in my chest escapes. “You’re lying.”
“Sam and I—” Her flush trails down the side of her neck.
Maybe sheisn’tlying.
“We were intimate today, okay?”
I force myself to breathe. “Explain. In detail.”
Her eyes nearly bug out of her skull. “Excuse me?”
I wrap her hair in my fist and tug until she winces. “I said,explain.Paint me a goddamn picture.” I can tell that she doesn’t want to. Her tongue ties in knots the first few times she tries to form a coherent sentence.
“We—we were at the Registrar’s office?—”
“Weird hookup spot, but go on.”
She glares. “Fuck you.”
Smirking, I rub my thumb across her jaw. “You wish, Kitten. Keep going.”
In the end, her tale is boring. They were in the Registrar’s office for God knows what reason, and they ended up kissing and mutually masturbating. But it doesn’t make sense. Who the fuck gets each other off without actuallyfucking?
I stare into her eyes for a long, long time, trying to determine if she’s lying or not. “Why didn’t you have sex? It would have been faster if you’d let him blow his load inside you.” Hand jobs are tough on the best days. Dry, unsatisfying, boring.
Mercy won’t meet my eyes, and I quickly reach beneath her skirt to touch her pussy. She fights me, but I’m already sliding my fingers through her folds by the time she grabs my arm. Gasping, she pushes up onto her tiptoes as she tries to retreat, but I pull her hair until she cries out and gives up.
She’s wet, sure, but notthatwet. If she had gotten off, she’d be soaked. Swollen.Needy.Her body twitches as I explore, rubbing her clit with the pads of my fingers before I slip one inside. She’s tight asfuck, sucking me in like a greedy little whore.
I search her face as I finger her nice and slow, analyzing every shallow breath and muscle spasm. She should be riding my hand right now, not acting like a scared?—
My eyes widen as it hits me. “You’re a virgin.”
