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Each bite is a blast of fire straight to my clit. He has me wet and hot and aching. My pussy throbs with need. I want…I want him.
He shifts up to my throat, licking my skin to the earlobe. A sudden scream slips from my lips when his fingers graze the bare, swollen flesh of my pussy. He thumbs my clit as his fingers slip down over my seam, like a soothing balm that pushes my temperature sky high.
Mercer’s mouth claims mine in another vicious kiss as his fingers plunge into me. Then as he starts to fuck me with them, his mouth returns to my breasts, continuing the biting and sucking that drives me insane.
Pleasure builds deep in my core. Everything in me spirals straight down into that knot of ecstasy so close to unraveling, lodged right between my legs. Mercer’s mouth on my breasts only heightens the sensations.
Oh my God...I need— I’m so close?—
The orgasm builds and builds and I moan louder, gasp out nonsensical words that plea for release. I’m teetering on the edge and?—
Mercer pulls his hand out of my quivering pussy and lifts his head to look at me.
“No…” I gasp out the word. “You almost had me coming?—”
“Pollyanna.” He straightens up, grasps my hair, and pulls against him. “You don’t fucking talk back. You don’t fucking question. You just do as I say. Give me what I want. You’re here to please me, not the other way around. Remember the rules.”
He lets me go. I stand in front of him, shaking, soaked in humiliation and anger. A dull edge of the receding almost orgasm sits heavy in my limbs.
Mercer looks perfectly normal, like he didn’t just make mefall apart under the command of his tongue and fingers. He’s calm, distant. Argh! A total asshole.
Only the huge erection that pushes at his jeans is a dead giveaway that he’s affected, too.
He studies me. “Very good.” He pulls my bra back down, almost in place but not quite. He wants me uncomfortable, the bastard. Then he zips my jeans but doesn’t snap the button. A corner of my T-shirt is caught a little high on my hip, and a piece of the cotton is snagged by the edge of my bra. I can feel it like a ridge.
“You look,” he says. “Fucked. Like I skull-fucked you.”
I start to pull the shirt free, but he stops me with a look.
“Please.” I say it. “Sir?”
He comes in and feathers his mouth over mine and then up to my ear. “Go home, just like that. Do not fix anything.”
Seriously? He issuchan asshole. “Do not pass go?”
“Nope. And you no longer get to come without my permission. So no touching yourself. If you disobey me, you’ll regret it. I’ll beat that pretty ass of yours purple, to the point you’re begging for release. So. Don’t. I want you to be out of your mind with the need, the want, and the frustrations.”
I trail him to the elevator. Why does he have this hold on me? Why can’t I break free of it? I’d like to blame it on the blackmail, but if I’m being honest with myself, I know it’s got nothing to do with Elise or Jaxson or this job. It’s him. That separate thing that speaks to me and makes me obey him, even when I don’t want to. The thing that makes me want to get down on my knees and please him even though I also want him to suffer.
Mercer presses the down button. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. “I’ll be in touch. Now go.”
I run into that elevator and stab the close door button over and over like I just escaped hell.
NINE
mercer
By Saturday night,I can’t get Ivy out of my head. I spent the day planning and plotting when to make my next move with her.
By now, she has all the things I sent her, and I bet my left nut she’s going to resent every last one. Fuck, I wouldn’t be shocked if she’s been researching BDSM, kink, and D/s, trying to figure out the “why” behind her feeling compelled—beyond my not-so-veiled threats about Elise—to call me Sir.
I’m sure she’ll be researching Broken Angel and O-Ring, too.
Not that she’s going to find a thing on either.
Nothing beyond the typical description of exclusive sex clubs where people play with other kink-minded people in a safe environment.
So I’m not surprised when the phone starts to vibrate on my desk on the third floor of my triplex. I’m doing actual work here in my office, fighting the itch to go down to SoHo to Obsidian Nights, as the submissive basements have been dubbed by those of us who are members of the exclusive and highly illegal club.
