Page 68 of At Your Mercy
Wes began to rut into my throat, his hands on my head keeping me locked in position. Spit flooded my mouth, causing obscene squelching noises as he fucked. Every few thrusts, he stalled, grinding my face against his groin and completely cutting off my air.
My vision began to blur at the edges as he roughly took his pleasure.
“Almost there,” he grunted, moaning loudly as my throat spasmed around his length. “Fucking hell, babydoll. Ah—fuck, that’s it! That’s it, baby. Gonna come. Drink it all down. Fuck,fuck—” Wes shouted as his cock pulsed and his hot cum spurted down my throat. I swallowed continuously, taking every single drop he gave me.
“Jesus, Ro,” he panted, releasing his hold on my head.
When he was finally done climaxing, I gave his dick one last suck, then let it fall from my mouth. I lay my head against his thigh, gasping for air, feeling high as oxygen flowed into my lungs.
“That was the best blowjob I’ve ever had. Fucking sucked my brains out, doll.” His hand came to rest on my head, gently stroking my hair.
“So good,” I whispered, my voice wrecked.
“Get up here, baby,” he said, his arms sliding under mine and lifting. I shakily stood, and he assisted me in lying on my back on the bed. “Your turn.”
I was just about to tell him that he didn’t need to return the favor, that I had choked on his dick more for my enjoyment than his, when he leaned down and took my cock into the warm, wet, heavenly heat of his mouth.
“Wes,” I gasped, my hips jerking up.
He hummed, sending delicious vibrations down my shaft and into my balls. My hands scrambled for purchase on the mattress.
“Wes, Wes, I’m coming, I’m coming!” I yelled, my thighs shaking from the force of my orgasm. My eyes rolled back as he sucked even harder, as if he wanted to suck the cum straight out from my balls.
A long moan pulled from my chest as I flooded his mouth with my release. Wes swallowed most of my load, but some ended up leaking from the corners of his lips, dripping down his chin.
As I lay there trembling from the aftershocks, Wes rose back up, showcasing a satisfied smirk as he licked the leftover droplets from his face.
“Was that good?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
I nodded, my chest heaving. “Uh-huh.”
* * *
The knife was a work of art.
Even in the dimness of the sedan’s backseat, the polished steel gleamed. My thumb ran across the switch, listening to the satisfying hum when the serrated blade came alive. It was beautiful.
The driver kept his eyes strictly on the road, ignoring me like always.
I leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, the leather of my pants stretching tight across my thigh. Elias had picked tonight’s outfit—a tight black shirt, cut low enough that, at the right angle, one could get a glimpse of my nipples. Dainty gold necklaces glinted on my neck, and Louboutins decorated my feet. It was an outfit that told a man I could be bought, borrowed, or taken. An outfit that lied well enough for me to walk straight through the front door of anywhere, no questions asked.
The bass of the club throbbed against my chest before I even got out of the car. Inside, the lights strobed red and violet across the press of bodies. I didn’t need to look long; my target was exactly where Elias said he’d be, drinking too much, laughing too loud, his gaze lingering too long on the boys who didn’t want him.
I knew the type. He knew mine. That made it easy.
I brushed past him once, twice, until his hand found my wrist the third time. His smirk felt sleazy. “Looking for company, sweetheart?”
I gave him a glance over my shoulder, coy, the kind of look that cracked men open without me having to say a word. “Maybe.”
The alley behind the club stank of piss and beer, trash bins lined up like witnesses. He followed me without hesitation, drunk on the promise of what he thought he was about to take. His hands were already on me when I turned.
The knife purred as I flicked the switch.
His laughter cut off sharply. Confusion flickered across his face, followed by panic.
I pressed close, chest to chest, like a lover might, before driving the humming blade up beneath his ribs. His breath left him in a choking gasp, hot against my neck. The knife tore through flesh like it had been made for me, and maybe it had.
I held him there, feeling the life empty out of him, his body twitching once, twice, before going slack. His eyes were still wide, glassy, staring at me like I betrayed him.
