Page 25 of The Price of Mercy
My brain struggles to catch up. The only thing keeping Zane from grinding me into dust is the fact that he’s too uncoordinated while drunk to do a good job of it. Every half-thrust slips from my palm to my thigh, and it’s a struggle to keep him from notching himself between my legs. The strongest barrier to entry, however, happens to be his own hand as he absentmindedly strokes my clit through my panties.
He’s also not doing a good job of that, but it’s persistent enough to send tiny shocks of pleasure to my core. I bite my lip, hoping that this ends soon. If Zane passes out, I can roll him onto the floor and sleep in Sam’s room tonight. But if Sam finds out that Zane drunkenly wandered into my bedroom, he’ll be even more pissed than he already is. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tosses me over his shoulder and drives me home after this, which is the last thing I want.
I’ve spent enough of my life hiding behind closed doors.
Telling Sam about this is out.
“He’s so talented,” Zane mumbles, continuing his monologue about Kane. I’d suspected that Zane at least had a crush on him, but the past twenty-four hours have taught me that Zane doesn’t just like Kane—he loves him. “He painted you, you know. You and me and Kane and Sam?—”
I inhale sharply as Zane suddenly presses a gentle kiss to the spot below my ear.
“It’s really beautiful. The painting.”
The sudden scrape of Zane’s teeth contrasts the soft press of his lips and sends a shiver down my spine. His fist clenchesaround the edge of my pillow. “Which is why I fucking hate it.” Dragging the pillow out from under me, he covers my face and holds it down.
Gasping, I taste cotton as he shoves the pillow harder over my face. My nose smushes. My hands, trapped between us, claw at his thighs. My eyes water. Through the fabric, I hear Zane’s muffled voice.
“You’re too beautiful,” he growls, realigning our hips so that his cock presses against my center. He thrusts, snarling. “I can’t get the picture out of my head. I knew I wanted to kill you, but now I want to kill youandfuck you.” A bark of his laughter fills my ears as stars dance in my vision. I’m going to pass out. Zane is going to dry hump my unconscious body—maybe mydeadbody—into oblivion. My tears wet the pillowcase as I imagine Sam bursting through the door to find me exactly as he’d feared—raped and unconscious and desperately wishing she were dead.
“I’m so fucking confused,” Zane mumbles, his grip slackening. “You make my head hurt, Mercy. And my—” he hiccups. “My heart.”
Mustering all of my strength, I take advantage of Zane’s waning resolve andpush.He flails, dropping the pillow and wailing a high-pitchedwhoa!that would make me laugh if I wasn’t so goddamn furious. My anger overpowers my panic as I snatch the pillow from him and slam it into his face. Growling, I smack him three more times with the pillow. “You—”Smack.“Piece—”Smack.“Of—”Smack.“Shit!” To my complete satisfaction, he sinks onto his back and takes each hit, not even lifting his hands to defend himself.
By the time I’m finished, I’m panting. Rage fuels my lizard-brain, and I’m half-tempted to straddle the bastard just so that he can feel how muchthe virginturns him on. “You want to fuck me, Zane?” Leaning into my anger, I climb on top of him andhold the pillow to his face like he’d done to me. My heart pounds as he scrambles for purchase—not on my arms, like I expect, but on my hips.
With a muffled groan, he thrusts up into the cradle of my thighs. I cry out at the shock of heat that ignites in my core. Shit.Shit.I didn’t think this through. My body trembles as I frantically abort mission and climb off of him.
He holds on tighter and pulls me back, jerking his head to the side to dump the pillow to the floor. The wicked twist of his lips shows his teeth as he snarls. “Don’t you fucking move.” A tremor courses through his body as he thrusts again, dragging the coarse denim of his jeans into the heat radiating from my pussy. “You dirty little virgin. You fucking slut. You like my cock, don’t you?” Not waiting for an answer, he drags my hips over his and tosses his head back. It dangles over the edge of the bed so I can’t see his face. “Fuuuuck, Mercy. Why do you feel so good? That’s soooo—” He drags in a lungful of air. “Annoying.”
Electricity zings up my spine as the tip of his cock, straining against his jeans, nudges my clit. A cry catches in my throat. “Z-Zane, stop it.” I shake my head but can’t stop a tear from falling. This is so messed up on so many levels. “We can’t.”
He snorts, lifting his head to glare at me. “Kane would cream his pants if he saw this. Your boyfriend would, too.” With a scoff, he grabs my hands and places them on his chest. “Put your hands here. Then you can lift your hips.”
“I’m not—” My cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I’m not doing that!”
“Yes, you are,” Zane huffs, holding my hands in place and dropping his head over the edge of the bed again. “I’m too tired. You do it. It’s not that hard.” His chest suddenly shakes as a bubble of drunken laughter passes his lips. “Not as hard as my dick!”
Okay, I amsodone here.
Rolling off of him is easy while he’s caught in a fit of laughter. He slides off the bed and bumps his head on the floor as he falls, mumbling anouch.By the time he sits up and leans against the closet door, I’m already standing on the other side of the room. My heartbeat pounds between my legs as sticky heat gathers in my panties. I’m horny and frustrated and flustered and?—
More tears gather in my eyes. Zane fuckinghurtme, or tried to. Close enough, right? It’s my turn to laugh as my adrenaline turns bitter. Storming to the other side of the room, I shove my finger in his face. “You don’t get to touch me.” My anger burns so hot that I have to stop myself from slapping him. He fucking deserves it, but I don’t trust a drunk man with violence.
He blows out a breath and reaches for my hand.
I smack his away. “You don’t get to touch me,” I repeat, glaring. His stupid bulge has a dark spot on the tip, either from his cum or my desire. I tamp down the heat burning through my system and shove it into a box deep, deep down, where I can hide it forever. If I’m lucky, he won’t remember anything about tonight. But just in case he does— With a snarl, I crush his dick beneath my heel. “You might not fuck virgins, Zane, but guess what?” Flipping him off, I put more weight onto his cock. “I don’t fuck rapists.”
The malicious grin curving on his lips falters. He wraps his fingers around my ankle, directly over the bruise another man createdwhen he tried to rape me.“That’s not fair. I’m not a?—”
Pulling my foot free, I grab the pillow and throw in his face. “Fuck you, Zane.” Not waiting for him to recover, I flee towards the door. I can’t sleep here. Going to Sam means that he’ll notice something is wrong and start a fight, so I can’t sleep next door, either. The cabin is huge. I’ll have to find somewhere else to curl up and cry.
“Mercy, wait?—”
“Stay the fuck away from me.”
I slam the door on my way out, hoping that it conceals the ugly sob I can’t hold back anymore.
Chapter 11
