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I can’t help it. I let out a whimper as he thrusts his fingers deeper into me all while working my clit. I squeeze my fingers into the depths of the plush sofa as my hips begin to buck toward him, urging him on despite myself. I’m already losing the battle. “No!” I hiss out, but the word is lost as my body is wracked with sensation, pulsing out from my core. I bite down on my lips as he gives one final thrust of his fingers, hitting a part of me I didn’t even know existed. The sweet secret he found pushes me over the edge and I cry out, in tandem with the woman on the TV.
“Say my name,” Mercier demands. My brain is full of fog and his words are the only thing I can process in the newfound sensation. “Mercier.”
“Nolan. Say Nolan.”
“Nolan,” I repeat in a breathless whisper. I’ve never felt so addled, so ashamed and so exhilarated in my whole life. My head flops back on the back of the sofa as he pulls his fingers from me.
“Such a good girl, Sinful. See what you can do?”
I didn’t do anything. It was him. It was all him. I stand from the sofa and feel my way across the room, not trusting my senses to get me there without guiding myself. I close the door and stand behind it, blocking it so that he can’t come in.
My body feels like it’s been shattered, splintered into a million pieces, and I’ve never felt so aware of it. What other parts of me are there that I don’t know about? What secrets does my body hide that men I hate have the key to?
When he doesn’t come to my room, I fling myself on the bed and will sleep to come. I’ve lost a battle that Nolan didn’t know he was fighting and if I’m not careful, I’m going to lose the war. Tonight I’m getting out of here. Tonight I run away.
21
NIX
The sense of anticipation is overwhelming as Dacre and I ride up the elevator to his parents' apartment. There’s been no word from Mercier since our phone call, which is suspicious in itself. I know him well enough to know that having someone go through his shit will fuck him up like nothing else. So it’s a surprise to find him watching TV when we walk through the door. Mercier doesn’t watch TV. He can’t sit still long enough to enjoy anything and trying to watch anything longer than twenty minutes with him is a nightmare. Despite never watching a single movie, he knows every fact about every actor and actress and insists on telling us all about them, thus spoiling anything we do watch with him.
“Where is she?” I grind out, expecting the worst. The air stinks of food, though I can’t see any signs of a meal.
“She went to bed. What are you doing here? I thought you’d washed your hands of her.” I hear the accusation in his voice.
I stride through the apartment to the kitchen area and sit on one of the barstools. I’m irritable and I don’t know why. “I didn’t wash my hands of her. I needed to think. Besides, we don’t have anywhere else to live now so you’ve lost your master suite privileges. Dacre’s taking the room back.”
His face crumbles as he takes in my words. He’s off the sofa faster than a cheetah after a wildebeest. “They turfed us out today? They aren’t letting us stay until we fucking graduate?”
“My father’s a dickhead,” Dacre states before heading into his parents’ bedroom.
“What the fuck!” Mercier runs his hands over his bristled head. He’s never been a pretty boy like Dacre, but now he looks damn well scary. He doesn’t blow up often. But when he does, it’s a sight to behold.
“Don’t worry, we put all your shit in storage. We didn’t even see the fucking huge array of sex toys and weird shit you have in there. Hell, it’s no wonder you carry such a big bag around with you when you go to bitches’ houses.”
I hear a snort from the bedroom and I try to control my own lips. “I mean, you think you know a guy?”
His face twists into frown. “Ha, fucking ha. Just cos you’re vanilla as fuck in the sack doesn’t mean we all are.” I know I’m getting to him, but after all the ribbing he usually dishes out, it’s nice to have the show on the other foot for once.
“I always knew you were a kinky bitch, but my eyes watered when they brought out a giant black dong.”
Dacre doesn’t even hide the fact he’s laughing now, and it’s getting harder to keep a straight face. “Now tell me, is that for the ladies, or is it for you?” It feels good to laugh after such an unbelievable shitty week. I need the relief. Mercier looks like it’s anything but relief as he spins on the spot, another weird thing he likes to do when he doesn’t know what else to do with himself. Crazy fucker.
He sidles up to me and I know I’m going to get an earful. “Your pretty princess in there. She’s a fucking virgin.”
The laughter dies in my throat. “What the fuck? How do you know that?”
Mercier folds his arms in front of him. “Let’s just say, she was tight as fuck when I fingered her pussy this evening. I’ll bet all the ransom money we get that she’s never taken a cock.”
I roar, ready to lunge at him, but Dacre runs out of the bedroom and stops, creating a barrier between us.
“Whatever you are about to say or do, think about the big picture here,” he says, giving me a steely glare of warning.
Anger percolates through my veins, but he’s right. If Mercier says she’s a virgin, then at least that means he hasn’t fucked her. At least with nothing but his fingers. I take a step back to show I’m not going to punch anyone, no matter how tightly coiled my fists. “She’s not a virgin. So she’s got a tight pussy. Doesn’t mean anything.”
Mercier just shrugs, like he knows everything. I regret leaving her alone with him. With Dacre too. I got us into this mess. I should have ridden it out.
Dacre sighs. “It doesn’t matter if she’s a virgin or if she’s fucked half of Manhattan...”
