Page 52 of Merciless

“What’s really going on?” He tilts his head, looking unbothered about being in a position like this.

“N-nothing.”

His eyebrow rises. “Liar.”

“Elijah,” I whisper, “should you be over me like this?”

A smile creeps onto his face, and he rakes his gaze over my body, leaving a trail of goosebumps and fire on my skin. He lifts his head and meets my eyes again. “This is quite the position.”

I nod. My clit throbs, and I squeeze my legs around his waist.

Elijah’s lips part on a quiet sigh. “But you don’t hate it. Naughty girl.”

My gaze drops to his mouth, and I stare, longing to kiss him.

It’s so messed up that I’m having these thoughts about him. That we’re even like this right now. But I can’t stop myself as I lean up and press my lips to his in a chaste kiss. When he doesn’t move, I drop my head onto the pillow and turn my cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Elijah releases my hand, pinches my chin between his index finger and thumb, then turns my head.

“What—”

My words die as his mouth covers mine. He steals kisses from me, each one lasting longer than the previous.

My mind blanks.

Elijah’s tongue flicks against my lips, demanding that I open for him. I can’t help but give in, and I don’t feel a single ounce of guilt as our tongues tangle together.

He kisses just as he acts—ruthless, controlled, and every bit sinful. He steals every breath and breathes back into me.

Elijah lowers himself until his hips meet mine, and he rocks against my center. His fingers tighten and hold me in place as he moves like he’s fucking me.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispers between kisses.

I let a shaky breath into his mouth. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s find out, then.” His kisses turn feverish, his teeth nipping my bottom lip before he soothes the sting with his tongue.

His thrusts push me deeper into the mattress and bump me backward. He swallows my gasp and catches any sounds I make in his mouth. Something hard and big grinds against my core, and I don’t have to think too long about it to know what it is.

Elijah is just as turned on by this as I am.

The friction isn’t enough to make me come, but it’s enough to cloud my head and blind me to reason.

Am I hallucinating? I have to be. Or maybe I’m dreaming and this is some fucked-up way for me to cope with everything that’s happening.

I turn my head, baring my throat to him. He kisses the corner of my mouth and drops down until his chest presses against mine. I squeeze his hands and arch my back, loving and hating how good this feels.

It’s freeing.

He doesn’t know it, but this validates my weird attraction to him. I shouldn’t like him like this, but Elijah must feel the same way.

He smiles against the corner of my lips, and he releases one hand to slide his palm down my arm and between us to cup my breast. “We’re already running late, birdie.”

I wince as his fingers dig into the bruises the masked man left behind. His whispered words are like a bucket of cold water dropping over my head, clearing the lustful haze he put me under.

What the hell am I doing?