Page 51 of Mercenary
My heart skips a beat as he closes in, hoisting me in the air by the waist, turning and tossing me onto the bed. My breasts are still swaying from the impact when he climbs onto the mattress and straddles my thighs.
Glaring down at me, like I’m asking for trouble.
Guess I am.
“Tell me to go to hell and we’ll end this right now.”
I should be nervous. Terrified, even. He’s . . . big. And fierce . . . practically spitting mad. But I know what fear is, how to overcome it, push it back into the recesses of my mind and allow myself to live. I’m not afraid of him. Because deep down inside him, there’s a broken heart I connect with.
Call it blind trust, or my way of opening up a part of me for him to discover, but deep down I believe he won’t hurt me.
I give a mental eye roll.
He growls low in his throat, recognizing without words that this is game on.
I feel his hand on my stomach, as he inches it downward, working it beneath my panties until the heel of his palm rest lightly against my nub. His fingertips caress my folds. Once. Twice. Then he wiggles a finger, parts my soft, sensitive flesh, and slides the tip inside me.
“Damn, you wet for me?” he demands, incredulously.
I don’t know what to say. I am wet. I do . . . want him.
He thrusts his finger deep inside me.
I buck from the abrupt intrusion, feeling myself stretch around his digit.
“So goddamned tight. Bet you can feel every last inch.”
“Yes,” I whisper, not knowing what to say. Overcome with sensation.
He stares down at me. But instead of sharing this monumental moment, a deep V forms on his forehead. “Didn’t your boyfriend finger you? Go down on you?”
“I already told you I don’t have a boyfriend,” I murmur, almost losing my train of thought as he slides his digit in and out, more gently this time.
“Okay, a fucking friend with benefits. A lover. How many times have you come from oral sex?”
His thumb rolls across my clit and suddenly I need this conversation to end. “What difference does it make?” God, I can’t believe this. Why not take what I’m offering?
His eyes shoot daggers at me. Why is he suddenly so cold?
“Never,” I respond, glaring back at him.
“And fucked? Because I’m seconds away from flipping you over and bending you across the mattress and taking you like I described, hard and fast, like an animal mating.
Damn it. How does he know? Is there a goddamned V plastered on my forehead?
“Tell me,” he bites out.
“Never,” I whisper.
I shutter as he withdraws his finger. Closing my eyes as I soak up the lovely sensation. Snapping them back open when I feel him move off of me.
“That’s what I thought,” he growls.
I sit up, confused, as I watch him stalk across the room and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Leaving me alone on the bed, wondering what the heck just happened.
16
Declan
