Page 79 of Burned in Stone
He’s already nodding, desperate for surrender. I don’t let him speak. Instead, I back him toward the table, hands on his hips, and when the backs of his thighs hit solid wood, I hold him there and break the kiss.
“What are you?—”
“Trust me.” The backs of my knees go liquid as I drop, slow, until I’m kneeling on the faded carpet.
And for a second I think about how Gabriel never let me lead. Never trusted me to know what I was doing, what he needed. Everything was about him and his needs.
But Cash? Cash is shaking above me, surrendering, trusting me to take care of him.
There’s something sacramental about it, a new religion stitched together with lust and the unspoken ache to make him whole.
I look up and see him scramble for the edge of the table for leverage. “You good?”
He nods, unable to unlock his jaw enough for words, and the plea in his eye makes any last hesitation in me vanish. I undo his belt slowly, not teasing, just savoring the unfamiliar slide under my fingers. His hands fist tighter on the edge of the table—white-knuckled, like he’s bracing for something catastrophic and beautiful at the same time.
I pull him free with as much care as I can, and the sound he makes is pure animal. Pain, relief, need, everything at war inside him with nothing to muffle the edges. I feel powerful, weirdly tender, wholly myself. He’s not the only one who needs to erase the last twenty-four hours with skin and heat—my mind has been running in frantic hamster wheel circles, and right now the only thing I want is to flatten every memory of my old life, every inch of scorched earth and loss.
I trace the tip of my tongue lightly along the length of him, watching as he draws in a breath so rough it makes my ownlungs seize in sympathy. I flatten my tongue and lick a slow stripe up his length, sucking the head gently into my mouth. It throbs, salt and desperation. He’s trembling, the tremors rolling down his stomach, and for the first time since this nightmare started I feel like I have something powerful—the ability to make him forget the world, to make him need me more than he needs to be strong or right or safe.
“Fuck, angel.” The words are a growl through gritted teeth. I slide my hand up the outside of his thigh, feeling the tension ready to snap. He tastes of sweat and longing, and as I take him deeper, I let my mouth go slack and my throat open up, giving him everything.
“Touch yourself,” he commands, and the rawness in his voice does something to me. Makes me want to give him whatever he needs. I hold his gaze for a long moment, then slide my hand down the front of my jeans.
“That’s my girl.”
I slip my fingers into the heat between my legs, and the relief is instant, a sharp, bright spike of pleasure that makes my eyes flutter closed for just a second. But then I force them open again because I need to see him, need to watch what I’m doing to him as I work my fingers in slow circles while taking him deeper.
His hips jerk forward, just slightly, and I hum around him in approval. The vibration makes him curse, low and filthy, and his hand comes down to tangle in my hair.
“Jesus Christ, Mercy.” His voice is wrecked, barely more than a rasp. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”
I take him deeper, feeling my jaw ache in the best way as I hollow my cheeks and suck in slow, steady pulses. Above me, Cash’shand strokes clumsy through my hair, sometimes gripping too hard and then going gentle, like he can’t decide if he wants to keep control or lose it completely. I glance up, and the look on his face makes my own pleasure spike. I want to ruin him, to rebuild him. To be the one thing in this world that no one can ever steal from him, not with a badge, not with a gun, not with a match and gasoline.
I hum around him, and his hips jerk. I can feel myself getting wetter, my fingers moving faster as I match the movement of my mouth.
“That’s it.” His voice drops lower, dirtier. “Want to watch you fall apart while I come down your throat.”
I’m so close. My rhythm stutters as pleasure builds, my hand working faster between my legs. I take him as deep as I can, eyes watering as his grip tightens in my hair.
“Mercy, I’m gonna?—”
I don’t pull back. Just keep that steady suction as he comes down my throat, groaning despite clearly trying to stay quiet. The sound of him losing control pushes me over, and I shudder against my hand, clit pulsing, a muffled moan escaping as I work us both through the aftershocks.
When I sit back, Cash sags against the table, hands braced behind him, chin tipped to the ceiling like he’s praying to a god he doesn’t believe in. I wipe my mouth on the back of my wrist and get to my feet, legs shaky.
He lifts his head and looks at me, smile lopsided and soft around the edges. “Come here,” he murmurs, and tugging me into a kiss, slow and deep. When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t let go—his thumb smoothing across my cheek, his other hand pressed tothe small of my back like he’s afraid I’ll be snatched away if he stops holding on.
“Are you OK?” I whisper, brushing damp hair away from his forehead.
He laughs, breath hot against my lips. “I feel fucking incredible.”
Someone pounds on the door hard enough to rattle the hinges. I freeze, but Cash just groans and zips up, braced on the table with both hands, blinking like a guy who’s just taken an uppercut to the soul.
I scramble to fix my shirt and smooth my hair, heat flushing up my neck. The knocking comes again, more insistent.
“Occupied,” he calls, but his tone says fuck off and die. I can’t help laughing into his shirt.
“Open up, it’s Bones. Stone’s on his way down the hall and I am not stalling him while you put your dick away, Cash.”
