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I bit my lip until blood spotted my tongue. He pulled another orgasm from me, this one weaker, but lasting so much longer. Then he flipped me over and told me to hold onto the headboard and sit on his face.
When I came again, my legs giving out under me, I heard him groan.
Deep and heavy, his body shuddering.
Panting, I looked over my shoulder and a ripple of surprise broke through the haze.
He had finished on his stomach.
I whipped back around, shocked. He moaned from somewhere down below, muffled by my pussy. My glittering, red nails dug into the oak headboard right before my eyes as I processed what had just happened.
He’d come just from going down on me.
My nipples peaked and, despite my exhaustion, arousal surged in a hot wave down my spine and pooled in my hips and thighs.
“You really love eating pussy,” I whispered.
He lifted me off his face and ran a hand over his jaw, cleaning the arousal from his skin. He looked drunk and thoroughly satisfied. Not embarrassed at all.
“I really fucking do,” he panted.
He pulled me to him, kissing my mouth. I tasted us together on his tongue and it made my head spin. My sweetness and his saltiness mixed in the back of my throat.
He was gone when I woke and it was almost ten. There was a notecard on the bedside table and our clothes were folded on the chair. He’d even attempted to make the bed around me, tucking the sheets over my body.
I smiled, sitting up. Wincing at the soreness between my legs.
The world felt right. Like I was where I belonged.
I flipped open the card and written in his sharp, rigid handwriting, it said:
Don’t forget, no drinking except on weekends.
I rolled my eyes and got up, dropping it in the trash. There was something else on the table, propped up on the lamp. A velvet pouch with a little emerald clasp.
I shook it out in my hand and my stomach sank. It was a fine, silver bracelet with my initials on the clasp. There was another note inside, but the handwriting wasn’t Merrick’s. It was loopy and messy.
Please accept this as a token of our future commitment.
—OC
My eyes smarted and my hand shook as I sank down onto the bed.
Why had Merrick chosen to accept the first piece of jewelry now? Why had he ruined everything when he could have put it off and let me pretend this never had to end?
I gripped the bracelet, looking for somewhere to put it. I didn’t want it in my room, but I couldn’t get rid of it because Osian would expect to see me wearing it.
Merrick could keep it for me.
Blinking hard to hold back the unexpected tears, I tugged open his dresser drawers, but they were full. The closet door was shut, but I doubted Merrick would care if I went inside so I pulled it ajar.
And stopped short.
There wasn’t a single shirt, suit, or pair of shoes inside. Instead, it was a dimly lit room with locked cases on the wall. Full of guns of all shapes and sizes. Black and silver wicked looking things that made my pulse still.
Just like the ones my father had kept in his office.
My throat was dry as I swallowed, stepping into the closet and letting the door swing shut. I flicked the light on and my mouth went dry.
