Page 136 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
Chapter Forty-Five
Ivy
My palm is still tingling as we return to Edgar’s home. I clench and unclench the hand. The hate spewing out of Margot left me unsettled and jittery. I can’t imagine what it must’ve done to Tony. To hear all those horrible things from your own mother’s lips… I shudder.
The fact that she showed no remorse whatsoever for her role—hiding what really happened that night—sent a rush of anger through me. But at the same time, I understood before going in for the dinner that there was a chance she would try to deny it—out of pride or shame. But the way she spoke about Harry…spoke to Tony…
What a piece of work.
When we arrive at Edgar’s, Tony helps me out of the Escalade.
“I still can’t believe you did that. Is your hand all right?” he asks as we walk past the kitchen. “You want some ice?”
He’s asking me about my hand when his own mother ravaged him in front of everyone.“I’m fine. My hands aren’t that fragile, you know.” They’re big, and very strong from endless hours of practice. I hug him. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Tony. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” But his voice is too hollow. “I know she hates me. I always did.”
“But how is that okay? How is that just…fine?” I look at him, my palms on his cheeks. I see the wound in his eyes, the soul that’s hurting. I should’ve slapped Margot five or ten more times. “She shouldn’t have said those things to you. You’re a good man. And you’re her son.”
“It doesn’t matter. She’s said similar stuff before.” He gives me a small smile.
Except it only serves to break my heart more. “If I’d known she’d lash out at you personally like that—and Harry too—I wouldn’t have agreed to this. I expected her to fight us about the recording.”
“But now we know the truth.”
We reach our room, step inside together and close the door, shutting the world out.
“The cost was too high,” I say. “It isn’t like I can make her pay for staying silent about it.” It galls me, but not reporting a crime isn’t in itself a crime; I already looked it up. Hard as it is to believe, Margot isn’t legally liable for ruining a good chunk of my life. What’s worse—since we only have the audio, we can’t even go after Caleb. His lawyers will argue the recording doesn’t prove anything. So Tony heard all that ugliness…for what?
Tony kisses my forehead tenderly.
“You’re wonderful,” I say, needing to erase what Margot said from his mind. “Strong. Intelligent. Honorable. Resilient.” If he weren’t, he would’ve crumbled under the weight of his mother’s hatred years ago. He would’ve grown up as a sullen, angry man. Or maybe a pale, listless ghost. “You’re the only man I love. The only man I will ever love.”
I kiss him because he needs the comfort, the reassurance beyond words. He needs to know nothing that happened tonight changes how I feel about him, what I want for our future.
I flick my tongue over his lips, then slip it inside when they part. I revel in the heady, intoxicating taste of him. His tongue glides against mine, plunders my mouth. Blood roars; my heart starts to race.
The slow and soft tenderness I thought to offer vanishes from my mind. We both need heat—fast and intense enough to burn away the evening’s ugliness.
His hands roam restlessly over me, undoing my dress’s zipper, pushing the shoulder straps down. Everywhere he touches tingles, my nerves hyperaware and alive.
Our mouths fused, I shove away his jacket, unbutton his shirt. Our breathing growing unsteady and shallow, we undress each other with fumbling, impatient hands.
Every inch revealed gets kisses and caresses. I trail my fingers over his chest and tight abs, and sense the muscles jerk, his breathing shallower. Lust is clouding his eyes, pushing out the misery. I need more of that. I need him to feel good. Happy.
When Tony pulls my bodice down around my waist, he licks one nipple while caressing the other one with the pad of his thumb, sending hot shivers down my spine. He pulls the hardened tip into his mouth, sucks hard as he pulls the dress down, past my hips and legs, then finally throws it over to the seating area.
My head falls back, pleasure swamping me. He always knows just how to touch me, how to set me on fire. He lavishes attention on my other nipple, then slowly makes his way down my body, showering my belly with kisses and licks, toying with the slick flesh between my legs.
Then his mouth is on me, his tongue merciless. He pushes two fingers inside me, and I clench around them, my back arching. Pleasure and need drive me, and I grab his hair and grind against his face shamelessly.
An orgasm rushes, then slams into me. The speed and the intensity of it make me scream, digging my fingers into his scalp. Air clogs in my lungs, and I fight to breathe, to anchor myself as bliss short-circuits my mind.
Panting, I find myself on the cool sheets with him on his elbows over me. I look at his gorgeous face. Lust has put a deep flush on his cheeks, but his eyes, so dark and beautiful, shine with a need that goes beyond the physical to love so intense that a teary lump clogs my throat.
“I love you.” He takes my hand and places the palm over his thundering heart. “You’re my everything.”
“I love you too.” I loop my arms around his neck. “Inside me. Let’s forget everything but each other,” I say, rocking against him.
He drives into me hard, pushing my knees toward my chest so he can go even deeper. I feel him everywhere, and hot bliss rushes through me from the most incredible sensation of being filled by him—to be so intimately connected to this man.
He moves hard, fast and relentless.
“I love you,” I whisper. “Love you, love you, love you.”
My heart races, my blood hot. Mind-shattering pleasure sweeps over me, making my back arch. I climax screaming his name and my love for him.
His mouth crashes over mine, as though he’d capture my words. Then he shudders into me, coming hard.
He holds on to me as though I’m a lifesaver in a stormy sea, and I hold him back because I’m never letting him go either. He’s mine—my future, my past, my everything.
