Page 51 of Begging for Mercy
“Like you care.”
“Idocare, Mercy. I want you to feel better.”
The pill bottle is half full. By now, she can take them dry, but it still sucks. “Let me get you a glass of water.”
“I’m not taking them.”
I swallow my sigh this time. “You’re not thinking clearly, Mercy.” No wonder she’s been letting those two darken her doorstep. It’s all that she thinks she deserves. “You need to take them.” I place two in her hand and curl her fingers over them. I guess the water’s a no-go. “Please. For me.”
Glaring, she unravels her fist to stare at the two little white pills. They practically glow in the moonlight. “It doesn’t change anything. I’m still The Dead Girl. I might as wellbedead.”
Panic mixes with dread. I can’t let Mercy out of my sight if she’s talking like this. As much as I hate to admit it, maybe having Kane and Zane stalk her is a good thing if it keeps her breathing. “If you die, Mercy, then take me with you.” It’s not what I should say, but it’s the most honest thing I have right now. “Because I don’t want to know what life is like without you.”
She avoids my eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” Slipping my hand into hers, I lace our fingers together, the pills pressed tightly between our palms. “So don’t make me find out.” Gently, I turn her face towards mine. “I love you, Mercy. No matter what you think about yourself, know that I think the world of you.”
Bathed in moonlight, Mercy always takes my breath away. It doesn’t matter the time of year or what she’s wearing—she was born for the night, and even the most shadowed parts of her don’t scare me away.
Finally, she relents, slipping her hand from mine to pinch the pills between her fingers. She offers one to me, pushing it past the seam of my lips, before slipping the other into her mouth. As she swallows, I slide my fingers into her hair and slant my lips over hers, gently licking into her mouth. The pill she gave mepasses between us. “Swallow.” I cup her throat, unable to stop a full-bodied shudder as she obeys, swallowing like a good fucking girl. Sighing against her lips, I kiss her as gently as I can. This is all I’ve wanted. Tender moments with the girl I never want to live without.
Her arms wind around my neck, and she deepens our kiss. My heart seizes inside my chest, begging me for more, and I greedily oblige. Lifting her into my arms, I carry Mercy to her bed and lay her down. She stretches her arms over her head and parts her lips, the tears catching on her lashes shimmering like diamonds.
I don’t ask her what she wants, fearing that she’ll tell meno.
Instead, I pop open the front of my shirt and tear it off my body.
She does the same with her dress, tugging it over her hips, then her breasts, lifting it over her head before tossing it to the floor. Her pussy glistens in the soft, silvery glow of the moon, the bundle of curls framing her entrance still damp from earlier.
My cock stands at full mast and I groan at the memory of her taste bursting on my tongue, sweet and succulent andfilthy. She may not realize it, but she rocked her hips all over my face when she came, her innocence quickly fading as she chased her release.
Stepping over the friendship line is something I’ve yearned for, and now that it’s close, I’m desperate. My need for this woman soars, and I undress in record time, kicking off my shoes and shucking my pants, carefully tucking the gun away beneath them. When all that’s left are my boxers, I catch her eyes as I pull them down. “You can tell me to stop.”
Please don’t.
I watch for the subtlest shake of her head. An aversion of her gaze. A flicker of doubt. When none arrive, I climb onto her rickety bed and wind my fingers in the waves of her hair, sealingmy lips over hers. I groan into her mouth as she reciprocates, kissing me like she used to. Back then, she was nervous but eager, the two of us stopping because she didn’t want to ruin our friendship.
Tonight is a different story. She lifts her legs to trap me between them, eagerly locking her ankles around my waist. Our hips align like they were made for each other, my cock nestling against her curls as she drags her pussy over my length, a needy whine catching in her throat. If she’s not careful?—
I clench my entire body to keep from moving as the tip slips inside her sticky sweet center. Mercy tries to angle her hips to go deeper, but I fight against her vice grip. Every vein in my body threatens to burst from how hard my heart is pumping, spurring me on, begging me to claim her before any other man has the chance.
But I have to be sure that she wants this with me. That she won’t wake up tomorrow full of aches and pains and… regrets.
Dragging in a lungful of air, I taste her lavender spray on my tongue and know exactly where we are—in my favorite dream and my worst nightmare. “Mercy.” I grab her hip to keep her from grinding against me. She’ssoclose to sliding right in, her pussy soaking wet and ready. So fucking ready. “Please be sure.” I bury my face in her hair and pray that she is. “I won’t—I can’t go back after this.” Kissing her neck, I borrow time, shaking like a leaf and just as fragile. My muscles scream at me to give in, to let loose and plunge my entire being into this woman. But with Mercy, nothing is ever simple. It’s not just my body that I’m giving her—it’s my heart, too.
I need her to understand that.
Her voice is softer than her skin. “Don’t you love me?”
Holding my breath, I push up onto my elbows and stare into her eyes. “I do.” But something isn’t right. The tears from earlier are back, freely falling down the sides of her cheeks.
“Then you can have it.” She hastily wipes away her tears. “If you love me, Sam, you can have it. I won’t mind. I want you to have it.”
I press our foreheads together and cup her cheek, unable to look away from the agony painted on her face. “Then why are you crying?”
“I don’t—I don’t know.” A sob catches in her chest, and she slams her eyes shut. “Just do it, okay? Please.” Grabbing my shoulders, she tries to force me inside of her, using all of her body weight to drag me down. “Please, Sam.”
Fuck.
