Page 41 of Begging for Mercy
I need to prove to her that I can do better.
Squeezing the base of my shaft, I take deep breaths and try to calm down. I won’t waste a load in my fist. I’ll hold it for her. If she wants it.Pleaselet her want it.
My phone chimes, and I quickly pick it up and unlock my screen. Mercy’s contact photo appears beside the text message icon, and I click the image rather than the text. I took this picture last year when we were fooling around. She’s lounging back on her elbows, eyes closed, shirt unbuttoned and her tits perfectly cradled in a black bra. Smiling. For me.Becauseof me.
I open her message before I can think twice about my no-jerking-off decision.
MERCY
I’m ready
Are you still picking me up?
She’s early. Maybe she’s as eager as I am.
ME
Of course. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.
As I’m grabbing my keys, another message pings.
MERCY
You might want to hurry…
Kane just showed up.
I don’t know what he wants.
Shit. Of course he’s going to ruin our date. I shouldn’t have stayed away this long, but I wanted to make sure that I had enough information against Reaper?—
A video pops up on my screen.
Hey, Sam. Don’t worry about picking up our girl. I’ll take it from here.
Reaper’s cocky grin pisses me the fuck off. Mercy’s trapped under his arm, a bouquet of white roses clutched to her chest. Her eyes are wide as she stares at him instead of the camera, her lips parted in a precious littleo.Hair straight. Deep red lipstick. A little black dress that would turn a preacher’s head.
I hit the call button, and it goes unanswered. I try again. And again. The entire drive over, I barrel through red lights and keep calling. Every time it goes to voicemail, I hang up and redial.
By the time I storm into the Morningstar’s house and up to Mercy’s bedroom, I’m seething with rage. No one’s ever been interested in Mercy enough to steal her from me. I spot her phone on her desk, along with her purse. The sketchbook on the table is flipped to the back where a drawing of Mercy pushed up against the wall—with a man I recognize as Reaper’s brother—burying his face in the curve of her neck.
Maybe Reaper didn’t give her the hickey like I thought… and maybe thereisanother threat with Zane, after all.
Cursing loudly, I take the stairs two at a time and burst outside into the evening air. Gravel’s been kicked up on the driveway, a single track cutting a trench all the way up to the mortuary’s paved lot.
“She went with that tall fellow.” Grandma Star’s sudden comment damn near makes me shoot her. She nods to herself as she rocks in a chair on the front porch, a smile tugging at her lips. “So many suitors, so little time.”
“What do you mean, Grandma?”
She nods again, this time towards the church on the far end of the property. “That other one’s been here every night fixin’ up the old church. Don’t need a church to get married, though.” She rocks slowly, her gaze distant. “He seems nice. He cleaned up the graves until my husband gets back.”
Mercy’s grandfather’s been dead for at least half a decade.
“Did they say where they were going?”
Grandma Star hums to herself, not sensing the urgency of the situation. I’d never hurt the old woman, but it’s tempting if it means getting Mercy back. But if I hurt her, Mercy would never forgive me, so as Grandma starts muttering to herself, I consider her a lost cause and jump back into my car. Taking a deep breath, I put my phone on speaker and make another call.
“Hey, it’s me again.”
