Page 63 of Shot For Mercy

“Enough,” Em groans. “I don’t want you to come yet.”

I pant as he withdraws his fingers from me, and then he’s coating his cock with lube. He notches it at my entrance, then pushes in with one long thrust, bottoming out far too gently. I want to feel him. I want to be sore for days. I want to walk funny and not be able to sit the hell down.

“Harder,” I demand. “Faster.”

Em smirks as he looks at me, pushing on my lower back once more. I hug the sink now, my neck straining as I lift my head to keep eye contact with him. His hands grip my hips tightly, and he bites his bottom lip, then releases it. A bead of blood bubbles up, and I clench around him. It makes his eyes roll to the back of his head, and it makes me immensely proud that I have this effect on him. This much power over him.

“Tell me how much you love this, Cole,” Emiliano says through gritted teeth, as if he’s struggling not to come on the spot. “I want to hear you scream.”

Emiliano bends his knees and changes the angle, pegging my prostate, and I begin to shake. He does it again and again, and my moans start getting out of control. “Em!” I moan loudly. “I love—I love this so much. Don’t stop, please.”

“Say my fucking name.”

“Emiliano!” I scream as my spine tingles and my balls draw up. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna come.”

“Hands free.” He groans. “Don’t touch your cock.”

He pegs my prostate again, the head of his cock passing over it with every thrust at this angle, and I make eye contact with him. It pushes me over the edge, staring into those beautiful brown eyes, and my cock begins to spray cum everywhere. I shout as I come, knowing I can be as loud as I want, and his lips part.

“You.”Thrust. “Are.”Thrust. “Mine.”Thrust.

“Yours!” I tell him.

I feel his cock twitch, and then, a second later, he’s filling my ass. He stills, keeping his cock inside of me as he presses his front to my back and kisses the side of my head. He looks like he wants to say something; instead, he slowly pulls out of me, moving me away from the sink for a moment as he retrieves a washcloth and wets it with warm water. He cleans me up gently, and I suck in a sharp breath. Once I’ve put my jeans back on, I realize that I have cum all over my shirt. I smirk and shake my head, turning around to grab the washcloth from him so I can clean myself, but he shakes his head.

With my back to the sink, he presses me against it, crowding me. He kisses me softly, then breathes against my lips as his forehead meets mine. “I love you, Cole.”

Fuck.

Surely I’m fucking delusional. It must be the sex talking. “W-what?”

“I said I love you,” he reiterates, and my stomach flips. “And I mean it. I’ve wanted to tell you for a few days now, but I never found the right time.”

“Fuck, Em. I love you too.”

“I know you do, baby,” he whispers.

I watch as he tucks his shirt back into his slacks and then pulls them back up, buttoning them. All the while, his eyes are on my face, as if he can’t bear to not look at me. It makes my heart flutter in my chest, and I exhale loudly. I want to go home and get in bed with him, have his strong arms wrapped around me. I need him to hold me.

“Let’s go home,” Emiliano says softly, as if reading my mind, and I nod. “Wanna get something to eat?”

I smile. “Yeah, I’m starving.”

Em opens the bathroom door and slips out, but then he stops short and extends his hand toward me, willing me to take it. And that’s how we exit the club, hand in hand. I can’t believe he told me he loves me.

It feels too good to be true.

Emiliano and I have been in some kind of love bubble for the past two days, staying in bed together, fucking our lives away. I swear I’ve lived out most of my fantasies with him, and we’ve fucked in every position on my bucket list. It’s been amazing, and I wouldn’t trade the past couple of days for anything. Ever since he told me he loves me, he hasn’t been holding back. He says it all the time now, and I can’t get enough of it. But that also means I’m emotional and need to get my shit together. Especially now that we’re headed to see Andrey.

I totally forgot about him the past few days that we’ve been holed up in the penthouse, but no more. We can’t afford to let more time slip through our hands. He has to die, and he has to dietoday. Every second he’s kept alive could be a second he gets rescued, and like hell am I going to let that happen. This ends now. This battle between him and I is over, and I’m the fucking victor. Now we have to get ready for the war. I know the Pakhan is going to retaliate if I kill his son. It’s only a matter of time before it happens, and we have to be ready. There will be a price on my head.

Even though I know I’m in danger, it still won’t stop me from doing what I have to do. Andrey fucked up all those years ago by shooting Matteo, and now it’s time to finish what I started. After this, it’s imperative that I find his family and end this once and for all. Like I’ve already told Emiliano, we need a new alliance. The Pakhan needs to die, and so does his precious Natasha. I will die on that fucking hill. Yet I know Emiliano will protect her from me, which means I won’t be killing her. It’s a damn shame too. I was willing to get creative with their deaths. It’s been a long time since my blood lust was satisfied. The beast inside of me craves it, and who am I to deny him?

Killing Andrey will have to be enough for now, though, that much I do know. And then Em will want me to lie low for a while. This war is just getting started, and the threat of an eye for an eye will be carried out no matter the cost. So if I don’t want them to have my head, I will unfortunately have to do what Emiliano asks of me. Even if it’s completely unnatural for me to hide. But for him, I’d do just about anything.

Walking around in the dank warehouse, I circle Andrey’s chair. We debated having him stand with chains around his wrists hanging from the ceiling, but in the end this won out because it’ll be easier to make him suffer. He’s not going to talk, that much is obvious, so whatever torture we inflict will be for fun. I have to say, I admire his resilience. He’s looking worse for wear, and yet he hasn’t said a fucking peep. While it’s annoying, I have to give it to him. At least he’s not a traitor. Although I probably would’ve killed him faster, showed him more mercy than I have, if he had given over any information.

Emiliano stands across from Andrey, fiddling with his gun, and in a moment of clarity, I realize I want to use one for the final blow. Put Andrey out of his misery. I don’t want to keep drawing it out, in fact, I kind of want to be done with him. I’ve already tortured him plenty, slicing him up. He got stitched back up by the doctor, but I’d be surprised if the wounds weren’t getting infected in this dirty tomb. And that’s exactly what it is, though he won’t be getting buried here.

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