Page 95 of Merciless

“Bet it wouldn’t stop Reid,” I scoff, making him chuckle.

“Wouldn’t it? Why do you think it’s me down here right now and not him?”

“Because he’s gone out and you have the self-control of a flea?” I offer, his smile widening even more.

“Because I can admit what I want and take it like a man.”

I let my eyes roll down his body, lingering on his dick.

I might not be able to see his piercings from this angle, but knowing they’re there makes my mouth water.

Before I get a chance to do anything other than just stare, he moves.

His knees hit the floor as his hands skim over my hips and down my thighs.

“W-what are you—”

“Hand me the razor.”

I gaze down at him, blinking away the water that’s running into my eyes.

“Dove. Razor,” he demands when I don’t move.

Unable to do anything but what he says, I reach for it and pass it down with a trembling hand.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, utterly enthralled as he lifts one of my feet from the floor and rests it on his thigh. He rubs a whole load of shower gel on my leg. Heat blooms from his touch as my body sags against the wall, my eyes glued on his hands. Once he’s happy I’m prepped, he reaches for the razor, but just before it touches my skin, he pauses and looks up. For long agonizing minutes, he just stares at my pussy.

My clit throbs, desperate for his touch, but it never comes. Instead, his eyes climb up my body before locking on mine.

His are electric and full of wicked ideas that I’m totally on board with.

These past few days have been torturous. I expected pain down here; I expected to hurt. But I never could have imagined this—him—the first time I was locked in my cell.

“J-JD?” I whisper, my brows pinched together.

He blinks, dragging himself out of his daze before looking down again and slowly dragging the razor up my thigh.

Tingles erupt beneath the innocent object, all of them rushing to my clit, making the process so much more arousing.

“Such a shame,” he muses, his hand pausing as he glances up at me quickly.

As his eyes drop back down my body, his gaze lingers on my waxed vagina.

“No need. Already taken care of,” I say, reading his thoughts.

“Damn. Maybe next time.”

He goes back to my legs, working meticulously to ensure he has every hair.

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I never joke about pussy, Dove.”

Once he’s happy, he places my foot back on the ground and taps my other foot.

He covers my skin in gel, right up to my hip, and sets to work.

“You’re doing a lot of touching for someone who isn’t allowed to do so.”

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