Page 42 of Burned in Stone
I rest my palm on her cheek, thumb brushing under her eye where the tears threaten.
“You’ve been doing everything alone for so long, it’s muscle memory. But this is where you got it wrong, Mercy—you think you’ve gotta keep me safe from your past, but that’s not how it works.” I lean closer, pinning her with a look that leaves no room for argument. “I’m the one who protectsyou. You got that?”
She gives a shaky little nod, eyes wide. “Yeah. OK.”
“I mean it.” I press my forehead to hers, letting my voice go soft but keeping my words serious. “You don’t take another step in this alone. We can’t get back that time we lost. But I’m here now, angel. All in. No more running, no more pushing me away.”
“No more pretending,” she whispers. “I’m so tired of pretending, Cash. Tired of pretending that I’m not crazy about you, that I didn’t know you kept following me home and watching over me, that I didn’t like it.”
I pull my head back. “You knew about that?”
“Mrs. Yu told me. Said some pretty boy biker kept lurking outside my window like a lovesick teenager.” She laughs, watery but real. “That’s how I knew I was in deep. Because instead of being creeped out, I just felt... safe. Even a little turned on by it.”
“Angel.”
“Cash—”
I can’t wait another second. I close the last inch and take her mouth with mine, heat meeting heat. This isn’t our first kiss, not even our second, but it’s the first one where there’s no hesitation, no pulling back. My hands frame her face, holding her steady as I pour everything into this moment—all the waiting, the wanting, the frustration of watching her from a distance, being near her and never taking what I desperately want.
She melts under my touch, her body going soft and pliant as she opens for me. The drag of her mouth over mine hits like a jolt—months of waiting condensed into one hungry slide of lips and breath. I slide my hand into her hair, cradling the back of her head as my tongue traces the seam of her mouth. She opens for me, greedy and sweet. Her little gasp sends a bolt of electricity straight through me.
“Fuck,” I growl against her mouth, dragging her up onto my lap without letting her mouth go.
She settles onto my lap, thighs tight around my hips, heat lining up flush against me. I get my hands under the hem of her shirt and the sound she makes—low, breathy, involuntary—damn near unspools me. And the way she fits there, all curve and heat and restless hands, makes me understand in my bones how stupid we were to ever wait.
“Cash.”
Her hips rock against me, slow at first, tentative. Testing. Then with more purpose as I grip her waist and guide her into a rhythm that has us both gasping.
“Jesus,” I groan as she grinds down harder. “You feel so good, angel.”
Mercy whimpers, her forehead dropping to my shoulder as she moves faster, chasing her pleasure against the rigid line of my cock straining against my jeans. The friction is maddening—not enough and too much all at once.
She changes the angle, movement hungry, and the friction spikes hard enough to punch a sound out of me.
“That’s it, angel.” I slide one hand up her back to tangle in her hair, my other hand guiding her movement. “Take what you need.”
She moans, a broken little sound that nearly undoes me. Her movements become erratic, frantic. I can feel the heat of her through our clothes, can feel her trembling close.
“Mercy,” I groan as she tenses against me. “Fuck, that’s it.”
She shudders, her whole body going rigid before a tremor runs through her. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she comes, a strangled cry escaping her throat. The sight of her falling apart in my arms, fully clothed, the feel of her grinding down on me just right… It’s too much. My hands lock on her waist, pulling her down into the pressure. The drag of her body breaking apart on mine rips the control right out of me. And I go with her.
Fuck.
What the actual fuck.
I just came in my pants like a teenager who can’t control himself.
Any other time in my life I would have felt ashamed, exposed. I hate losing control with a passion. But in this moment, I just feel... close to her. Losing control with her is different than every other time control was taken from me.
“Holy shit.” She drops her forehead to mine, and for a moment we just breathe together. Mercy’s eyes are closed, her lips parted, cheeks flushed with color. She looks like every fantasy I’ve ever had, but better because she’s real and warm and mine.
Then her eyes flutter open, and there’s a moment of stunned silence before we both burst into laughter.
“That was fucking embarrassing,” I say, shaking my head as I hold her against me, trying to play it off even though something just shifted in my chest. “Christ, Mercy. I haven’t come in my pants since I was going through puberty.”
She buries her face in my neck, her laughter muffled against my skin. “At least you’re not the only one. I haven’t...” She trails off, suddenly shy.
