Page 35 of At Your Mercy
His certainty burned worse than the cut on his side.
The knife hovered uselessly now, my strength bleeding out of me.
“You’re fucking insane,” I whispered.
His lips curved, almost a smile, though his voice stayed deadly quiet. “So are you, doll.”
The knife slipped the rest of the way from my fingers before I even realized I’d let it go. Wes caught my wrist and twisted,not hard enough to break, just enough to remind me who was stronger, to force a pained whimper from my throat.
The blade clattered to the pavement, echoing down the empty street.
My breath came in ragged bursts. I lunged to grab it back, but he flipped us, shoving me into the wall instead, forearm pressing across my chest, the rough brick biting through the back of my sweater.
“Pathetic,” I spat, trying to find my strength again. “You think you’ve won because you pinned me to a fucking wall?”
He leaned closer until his body caged mine in, his voice a low growl at my jaw. “I don’t think. I know.”
I twisted, tried to throw him off, but he only pushed harder. I could feel the warmth of his blood smearing against me. The smell of iron mixed with the faint spice of his cologne, and it made my stomach twist with a desperate need.
His fingers closed around my throat, and his thumb brushed lazily over the pulse hammering under my skin. “You’re shaking,” he repeated, as calm as if he were commenting on the weather.
“I’m not—” My denial cracked into a shocked hiss when he tilted his head, lips grazing just beneath my ear.
“You tried,” he murmured. “I’ll give you that. But deep down, you wanted me to stop you. Didn’t you?”
My nails dug into his arm, not pulling away, not pushing him closer either—caught in the paralysis of fury tangled with want. “No!”
His laugh was quiet. “Whatever you say, doll.”
He angled my chin up, making me look him in the eye. No smugness there, no softness either—just an unflinching control that stripped me bare. My lungs felt too small for the air I was dragging in.
“Stop calling me that,” I shakily said.
“Would you like me to call you something else?” he asked. His grip tightened at my throat just enough to make the air thin, then eased again—a rhythm that left me dizzy. “Good boys,” he said, voice like a brand searing through me, “don’t disobey twice.”
The pressure at my throat eased, only for Wes to catch both my wrists and slam them above my head against the wall. His body pressed flush to mine, his weight solid, unyielding. I bucked against him, a snarl tearing out of me, but the movement only rubbed heat into the sharp line of his thigh between mine.
“Still fighting,” he murmured, tone almost fond. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from my boy.”
My chest heaved. “What?! I’m not yourboy! I’m not your anything.”
“Yes,” he countered, his mouth brushing the corner of mine, “you are. You proved it the second you dropped the knife.”
I should’ve spit in his face. Should’ve cursed him, clawed until I drew blood. Instead, I gasped when his hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back to bare my throat. His lips trailed the exposed line slowly, teeth scraping just enough to make my knees threaten to give.
“You’re still trembling,” he whispered against my pulse.
“I’m not—” The denial broke off when his mouth closed over the spot, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. The pain lanced through me, sharp and hot, making my hips jerk forward, grinding against the hard press of his body as I moaned.
His laugh was dark and triumphant. “There he is.”
“F-fuck you.”
“Babydoll, you don’t have to keep asking. I fully intend to fuck you.” The words were a growl against my skin, vibrating through me.
Then his mouth was on mine, not gentle, not coaxing—claiming. His kiss tasted of iron and smoke, demandingsubmission even as my teeth clashed against his. I bit back, desperate to salvage some shred of control, but he swallowed the sound, turned it into a low moan that I hated myself for making.
The grip in my hair tightened, pulling me deeper, locking me in place while his other hand slid down, rough palm dragging over my ribs, my waist, until it cupped me through my pants. I choked on a gasp, my body arching despite myself.
