Page 66 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
Chapter Twenty-One
Anthony
The limo’s waiting for us when we exit the restaurant. I adore how relaxed and sweet Ivy is. She also seemed to have a great appetite today, licking the cheesecake clean off the fork.
Or maybe she was just teasing me. She’s in a playful and generous mood, about which I’m happy. Anything that puts such an open, pleased smile on her face is good in my book.
When we’re in the limo, she wraps her arms around me and snuggles close. I put her in my lap, enjoying her soft, warm weight. The pulse in her throat throbs, the thin skin on her wrists fluttering. Every breath she takes is a sign she’s alive. She’s here. And I am a lucky bastard.
I got so many miracles where she and I are concerned.
She reaches over and raises the privacy partition between us and the driver. I raise an eyebrow.
“You know, I’ve never had sex in a car,” she whispers, playing with the top button on my shirt.
“Haven’t you?”
“I’m wondering how it feels.”
“Overrated,” I say stoically, even though I’m already hard from her nearness. I adore her lighthearted mood. “Cramped. It’s what you do in your teen years when you can’t afford a hotel.”
She gives me a long look. “You sound like you’ve had a lot of experience.”
“When I was younger and in Europe. My spine still hasn’t recovered.”
She laughs. “Your back seems strong enough.”
Her hands skim my chest. Even through the thin layer of my shirt, I feel it like a pair of brands, stoking my need.
“Anyway, I figured it’d be cramped. That’s why we have a limo with all this space.”
“That’s true,” I say. She could tell me oxygen is really unicorn farts, and I’d agree. “A lot of space to maneuver.”
She straddles me, and I run my hands over her thighs encased in the fishnet stockings. They’ve been driving me crazy since the moment I laid eyes on them.
“Don’t you want to try it?” she says. “It’s your first time in a limo too, right?”
“Uh-huh,” I say to both. She could ask for the moon, and I’d pluck it for her.
“Besides, I prepped for the evening. It’d be a shame to have all that effort go to waste.”
She raises her hips, then lifts her dress upward slowly, inch by inch, showing me the fishnets that end at mid-thigh, held up by thin black garter-belt suspenders…and then…
All that bare skin between her legs.
Heat tightens my skin, and my pants feel too small. “You aren’t wearing any underwear.”
“Nope.” Placing her hands on my shoulders, she leans forward. “Like I said, I came prepared. The driver’s going to take the long route. Give us at least two hours.”
“It’d be wrong to not reward your foresight.” Wrong not to worship your body the way it deserves. I’m beyond moved by all that she’s done and planned. I can’t remember the last time somebody went through this sort of trouble. She called it treating me to “nice things.” Nice is too blah a word to describe the evening. This is one of the best evenings of my life.
I unzip her dress and push it carefully over her head, then on the floor. She’s watching me in nothing but a strapless bra and matching garter belt and stockings, her hands back on my shoulders and her knees spread.
Holy shit.
She unclasps the hooks on the bra and lets it join the dress. Her breasts are perfectly round and pert. I palm them. So soft. My nails scrape the hard tips. She whimpers.
I pull a nipple into my mouth, placing a hand at the small of her back. She groans and arches against my face, gripping my hair. Her ass rises higher in the air, and I glide my fingers along her folds.
