Page 62 of Shot For Mercy

Andrey whimpers. “Fuck you.”

Cole looks at me. “Have the doc stitch him up, babe.” Oh, fuck. He’s not playing games. “I’m not done with him.”

I nod. “Consider it done.”

He walks toward me, his hands bloody, and I’ve never seen him like this. Sexy. Uninhibited. I should’ve been present for more of his jobs. I’m regretting staying away right about now. This has been entertaining, to say the least.

Cole washes up in the sink behind me, then dries his hands. Once he’s done, he walks toward me and grabs my hand, pulling me out of the warehouse until we’re back in the SUV. He kisses my cheek and smiles, and my heart flutters in my chest. I want to say it. Those three little words, but I hold back.

This is not the time.

Not yet.

Emiliano wanted to go back home, but I wanted to come to the Pink Pony Club. I need to burn some energy, and what better way to do it than getting fucked up and dancing? Maybe fuck around a little with him as well. Would he fuck me if I was drunk? If I begged him? God, I hope so. If not, then I guess the fucking will have to take place first.

I’m amped up after torturing Andrey. The motherfucker is a tomb, but I guess I can’t force him to talk. Either way, he’s a dead man. I’ll figure out the safe house on my own if I need to. Well, safe houses, apparently. Plural. Which makes it even harder for us, especially since I have no idea where to get started. Did they leave New York City? How about New York in general? Wherever they are, we need to figure it out.

I also have to figure out what the hell Em needs to talk to Matteo about. What could Natasha possibly have to do with either of them? I don’t have a fucking clue, and it’s bothering me. I have to trust that he’s going to tell me though. The hard part is going to be convincing Matteo to come around, even for an important conversation. Where could he be, anyway? I’m surprised Emiliano hasn’t had him followed. I’m also surprised he’s given him space and hasn’t gone after him at all. It’s so unlike Emiliano, but then again, what the fuck do I know? I agree with giving him space either way. He deserves to take his time trying to figure this out and come to terms with it.

The question is—will he ever come to terms with it, or is this how it all ends? I don’t want to give up on him, but I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it. There’s nothing I can do but wait for him to come around. And it kills me slowly every day. With every hour that passes, I miss him even more. It makes me wonder if I made a mistake by not telling him how I felt before. All those years he came to visit me in prison.

We finally pull up to the club, Luca parking in the back. We make it inside, the strobe lights almost blinding, the boom of the music vibrating through my body. I love this place. It makes me feel alive. Before Emiliano, I’d come here to pick up men. It was fairly easy, and the way I dress gave me a bit of anonymity. No one would ever suspect I’m involved with the Italian mafia. I mean, look at me. I look like a glorified emo boy. Not that it has ever stopped me.

Emiliano grabs my hand and pulls me through the club, dodging people left and right. Right to the bar, exactly where I want to be at the moment. He orders us three shots of tequila each, and we slam them back-to-back. After we’ve finished the last shot, we make eye contact. It’s heady, and now I’m fucking horny and ready for him. Who knew a simple look could get me all hot and bothered?

“Wanna dance?” I ask Em, and he looks skeptical. “Come on. You know how to fuck, right?”

Em raises an eyebrow, and I smirk.

“It’s just like fucking.” I tell him, pulling him toward the throng of bodies moving to the beat of the music. “I’ll show you.”

I turn around, pressing my ass against Emiliano’s groin, and grabbing his hands to place them at my hips. He grips me tightly as I start moving against him, his cock hardening against my ass. I smirk, knowing all too well what this is doing to him—tous. My cock is throbbing between my legs, and I’m ready to say fuck it all and take him upstairs and show him what I can really do. But I don’t. Instead, I move sensually against him. We flow like water, move like we’re fucking.

“I could come just like this, Cole,” Emiliano tells me against the shell of my ear. “Is that what you want?”

I look at him over my shoulder with a grin. “No.” Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I need to go upstairs with him. Right fuckingnow. “I want you to come in my ass. Want to feel you for days, baby.”

Em’s eyes flare with lust, and a shiver runs down my spine. I’m so fucking ready for him, and I know all I have to do is say the word and we’ll be on the way to his office. Instead, I torture us for a bit longer. I rub my ass against his cock, and his hands tighten even more on my hips, surely bruising me, but I like when he’s rough with me. I’ve come to realize that I love everything about this man.

Definitely dick-whipped.

I turn around, pressing my leg between his, and he’s practically humping my thigh. “Take me upstairs.” I tell him, and he grins, nodding.

“Finally,” he says.

We make our way through the crowd and up the stairs in the back, not slowing down even when we reach his office. He pulls me quickly towards the bathroom, closing and locking the door for good measure. Then he’s on me, pressing me against the door, slamming his lips to mine. He tastes like tequila, sin, and something so uniquely him that my head begins to spin with the lust I’m feeling. He sucks on my bottom lip roughly, tugging it slowly with his teeth, and I groan, reciprocating. When I’m done sucking on his lips, I thrust my tongue into his mouth languidly. It’s at odds with the desperation I feel, but I also want to savor this moment.

Emiliano pulls away first, grabbing my hand and tugging me to the sink. He wraps a hand around the back of my neck, forcing me to look at us in the mirror, pressing his lips against the shell of my ear. His eyes flash and he smirks. I can feel his breath on my skin, and I shiver.

“Look at us, Cole,” he whispers, and my cock twitches, hardening painfully. “I want to fuck you just like this.”

I whimper. “Please.” One simple sentence from him and I’m falling apart at the seams. I’m not above begging, never above begging. “I need you.”

“So fucking greedy for my cock, aren’t you?” He grins, pushing on my lower back until my ass is sticking out. I unbutton my jeans and lower my zipper, and it’s loud in the silence between us. He bites his bottom lip as I push them down to my knees, showing him I’m not wearing any underwear. He looks down at my ass and grabs it with both hands, spreading me to look at my hole. “Fucking hell. You’re so pretty.”

“All for you,” I breathe. “All yours.”

Emiliano lowers his pants too, then reaches into the medicine cabinet and pulls out a bottle of lube. He slathers his fingers in the thick liquid and presses them to my hole. It’s cold and I jump but then relax once he breaches me with one and then two fingers. Once he gets to three, I’m whining and pushing my ass back toward him as I fuck myself on his fingers. They brush against my prostate with every thrust, and my cock leaks profusely.

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