Mercy
LILA
Those hands, working hands, hands that fix fences and rope steers and have been broken and put back together countless times, now gently close around my waist and turn me in one motion.
Slade could move me anywhere he wanted. Handle me any way he chose. The man is built with pure power and solid muscle, but he’s touching me like I’m something he’s terrified of breaking. Like I’m the most valuable thing those hands have ever been trusted with.
But the look in his eyes. The hunger. The dark, almost aggressive desire in them.
What happens when he stops holding himself back?
I start to turn again, wanting to touch him, but he pins my hands to the tile.
“Hands on the wall, sweetheart.” His mouth moves against my neck. “I’ve been waiting too long for this to rush it.”
I keep my palms on the wall.
The sound of water clattering upon the stone fills my ears. The steam is so thick I can almost taste the eucalyptus sprig I hung for him off the shower head. The heat of him at my back contrasts with the cold stone beneath my hands.
Both his hands slide to my hips, pulling my body back against his with surprising tenderness, like he’s choosing to touch me delicately against the grain of everything his body is telling him to do. His cock juts into my lower back as he bends his head to kiss my temple.
“How long?” he says quietly against my skin.
I turn my head slightly. “What?”
“How long have you been wanting this?”
My breath catches. “From the first day we met.”
A long exhale against my neck. His hands tighten on my hips for just a second.
“Me too,” he says.
His hands skim slowly down my sides, over my hips, fingers sliding along the curve of my inner thigh. My breathing goes shallow.
“So dirty, sweetheart,” he murmurs. His lips brush the words into the curve of my neck. “Let me clean you up.”
His hands slide back up. Slow. Over my stomach, my ribs, and then his palms cup my breasts through the pale pink lace. His hard cock bumps against my lower back.
It’s hot and steaming inside the shower, but my nipples are already hard. Both his big hands slide around to cup my breasts and I bite back a whimper. His thumbs roll over my nipples, pinching and caressing until they’re deep pink and I’m panting desperately for him.
His other hand slides from my breast down my stomach, all the way to my pussy. With his middle finger, he rubs my clit in slow easy passes, making my knees go soft. His arm tightens as he holds me up effortlessly, all thatstrength keeping me on my feet while he slowly unravels me.
Then I turn in his arms. I can’t help it. I need to see his face, I need to get my hands on him. I need to kiss him.
We’re chest to chest with the water running over both of us and I’m kissing him back hard and deep and he makes a sound low in his chest that I feel more than hear.
My fingers find his hair. Thick and wet and dark, and I grip it and pull him closer. His groan vibrates against my lips.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispers. “You make me crazy.”
And then his hands cup my face and he steps forward, pushing me until my back meets the tile. The kiss is deep and hard and thorough, his lips moving against mine with the focused intensity he brings to everything, his tongue sliding against mine, his hands tilting my head exactly where he wants it.
The water runs over both of us and the steam rises and I feel his heartbeat against my sternum, fast and hard, matching mine.
I grab his shoulders.
“Lila.” My name in his mouth between kisses, rough and low and reverent all at once.
