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Moans thrilled my ears, echoing in the dark room.
That’s it, cuore mio. Fucking scream for me.
“Fuck, Mercer! Don’t stop!”
I didn’t. I fucked faster, harder, chasing her orgasm as I felt mine approaching. My lips moved over her body, from her perfect tits to her stretched throat. My fingers moved there, holding her, owning her.
My breaths came fast, growls slipping from me and into her ear, reminding her, without words, that my devotion, my honor, my fucking everything, was right here in this room...on this bed, laid out between us.
I sat up, my hand still around her throat as I watched her pussy lips suck my shaft. Watched myself drive in and out of her. Watched her pleasure, pink-tinted and plentiful, splash my balls and thighs.
It drove me fucking wild, and I was done for.
She clamped around me, her pussy fully encompassing my cock as she screamed my fucking name. I pushed harder, her orgasm still going, stronger and more powerful than the others, and I came inside her with a growl.
She shuddered beneath me, her arms reaching out in welcome, testing to see if I felt the same now that it was over.
Lowering her legs, I happily collapsed on her, my hand slipping from her slender throat. My dick still pulsed, still dribbled cum into her. Her fingers, all shaky with worry, lifted my chin, bringing my mouth to hers.
Her trembling lips kissed my nose instead of my mouth, and I kissed her chin in return. I kissed her mouth once, twice, but it was still not enough. I kissed everywhere before pulling her onto me for the second time.
Feeling sated, I held her close, her strong heart beating at my ribs. A musky and metallic odor became more present in my nostrils, filling the air around us.
I was still inside her, keeping most of the mess we made—a concoction of arousal, blood, and cum—trapped.
“We made a mess.” Shyness laced her sensual voice.
My fingers on her soft skin told her I didn’t care. Slipping down to the curve of her stomach, they asked a question of their own.
“I do feel a little better. Thank you.” She smiled with gratitude, a soft inquiring stare asking another question, if here, in the silence, was I wishing she was someone else.
But I wasn’t.
She was the only one of us with Chandelle on her mind.
As of tonight, I would leave her in the past.
I was content for the first time in years.
Happy, and it had nothing to do with Chandelle...and all to do with Feebee.
Chapter 25
Feebee
The sun, level with the kitchen window, shone past me to caress Mercer’s handsome face.
The purple stains under his hypnotic stare made it look like he hadn’t slept for weeks, but it had only been one night. He’d gazed up at the ceiling, and I slept in his arms. He was still staring at the same patch of plaster when I woke up. I tried not to focus on his lack of sleep as he fed a chocolate-covered cannoli into my mouth.
Crumbs dropped between us, and I rushed to collect all seven, not wanting to waste a single one. Mercer’s tight stomach made me question how much I should eat. I was small but soft in places where muscles pressed through his skin.
I felt the tension beneath his clothes, and my eyes wandered into the path of his distant gaze. Fear led the way to what I worried were thoughts of her. My eyes dropped, and the shirt of his I wore rustled as I reached for a crumb I had missed. My other hand found comfort in a single strand of hair. The frizzy ones—my faves—were harder to find in the aftermath of fresh conditioner.
The distance closed between me and his far-off mind, his baby blues now falling on me, disappointment weighing heavily. His tanned fingers weaved through my wet hair, removing my hand.
I asked, “Are you okay?”
A kiss on my forehead told me to stop worrying and reminded me he wanted to give this a try.
