No Mercy: A Darker Continuation

by Bane, Lucian

  When she got to the point of shoes, she stared at the ugly black Crocs she’d been wearing. It was the only thing Miss Liberty allowed the three little handicaps to wear. Except Mercy was in a dress, the guys weren’t. She found black socks at least to blend her feet to the shoes.

  Plus the dress covered her feet. She’d just have to keep it that way. Mercy remembered Liberty’s spiked everybody look at me, like me, fuck me heels and wanted to spit.

  God, what was she doing? She was going to a damn party, not a competition. And she wanted to look pretty. Nothing wrong with that fucking crap, my God!

  ****

  Liberty had agreed gladly to the change of plans—not liking the idea of pissing Mercy off. As Sade inspected the freezer supplies, he wondered if Mercy decided to stay and read his journal. The look on her face when he’d walked back in and caught her reading said she was extremely affected. And not in an entirely negative way. Her arousal screamed to him, begging him to answer it. And what did she think of him now that she was reading? He suddenly wished he’d not written so crassly and direct. He’d written with everything he was, his heart and mind, and a hard cock. And the former was expressed with the latter.

  “I was thinking I’d sit in the kitchen and let you take the wheelchair to Bo so he can get around.”

  Sade turned and froze at finding Mercy there. His eyes locked on the halter top and the milky skin between the strips of material. Holy. Fuck. His dick grew rock hard as he searched the material for her nipples the second his mind told him no bra. He finally looked at her face. She’d… done something.

  “I cut my hair,” she helped, pointing to her eyes.

  “Wow,” he gasped. “Fucking beautiful.”

  She pffed and looked down, the silver earrings dangling. He was suddenly so elated that they had changed their plans to letting them be together. The idea of being anywhere but glued to her side made him unstable.

  She eyed him and his nipples and cock tingled with the memory of his own body piercings that he’d quit wearing years ago but now… he suddenly wanted to impress her. “You look nice,” she muttered.

  He refused to wear a suit like Bo and settled for black slacks and matching dress shirt untucked. But seeing her pretty smile and pink cheeks made him glad he’d crammed himself into the stuffy outfit.

  “You’re staring,” she muttered, looking down.

  “Sorry. You’re just…”

  “It was a bit big. I don’t have enough at the top… lord, shut up Mercy,” she muttered.

  He made his way over to her on the crutches, and she looked up, that fear in her gaze knotting his stomach and making him unsure. “Can I help you into the chair?”

  “I can… kinda walk, I’m not entirely cripple.” She raised her feet, showing her black Crocs. “You like my dress shoes? I’m all matching.”

  He smiled. “I do actually. I need to get me some like that.”

  She giggled, looking at his, glad he had them on.

  “Just let me help you.” She looked up at him, maybe hearing the need saturating his tone. “Please. Keep the doc happy.”

  “I doubt she’d be happy with you carrying…” She rolled her eyes then. “Okay.”

  Sade thought about how to do that now, setting the crutches against the island. “I’m going to put one hand behind your knees and the other behind your back. Put your arm around my neck.”

  “Okay,” she mumbled, wrapping his neck tight as he got into position.

  Sade stifled the orgasmic moan at finally feeling her. “Fuck you smell edible,” he gasped, barely biting his tongue on I want to eat you right here, right now, on the table. He made the transference, not wanting it to end.

  He grabbed his crutches and backed away before he put his lips on her. He’d devour her if he did. “I’ll bring Bo the chair and be right back.”

  She nodded, not meeting his gaze, telling him the little non-incident shook her. This was going to be slow fucking going. But a very big part of him loved slow and tormenting.

  He made his way into the wheelchair and placed the crutches along his shoulder and between his feet.

  “You got it?” she asked.

  Her concern made him smile. “Yeah, we’re quite a party. Three cripples, one wheelchair and a pair of crutches.”

  “I could walk the crutches behind you.”

  “And you could ride me on the way back?”

  He glanced back, happy to see her smiling.

  “Piggyback,” she muttered.

  He was thinking more of her riding his cock but yeah. “See you in a bit.”

  “Take your time.”

  He was glad she was unable to go anywhere. Once he returned, he stood the crutches next to the snack bar and sat across from her. “So, I was thinking we could do hamburgers and French fries?”

  She smiled at that, making his heart speed up. “What, is that too American? Too simple?” She was so fucking beautiful when she smiled and the brief warmth of it suddenly drove him to have more.

  “You’re staring again.”

  “I am. Maybe I’m waiting for your answer.”

  She blushed and looked down, making him feel guilty. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

  “What will I need?”

  “Two more hands to start. How do you plan to do this on crutches?”

  He cocked his jaw and squinted at her. “Good point. I wasn’t thinking of that.”

  “We have pizza? That’s easy.”

  “Tons. Boxes and boxes of it in the walk in freezer.”

  “There’s a walk-in freezer?”

  He pointed at a silver door next to the fridge.

  “I thought that was the pantry!”

  “Nope.”

  “Wow, this place is like…”

  “The Batcave?”

  She giggled a little with a twinkle in her eyes, making his heart skip a beat.

  “Why do you do that,” she whined.

  “What?”

  She looked around. “Keep staring at me. I feel weird, like you see something out of place.”

  “That’s not it.”

  “I don’t even want to know.”

  “You don’t? Good, I didn’t want to tell you.”

  She raised brows at him, a slight smile on her lips. “I think I might be rebellious.”

  “You are.” More excitement made him grin before it slowly faded. “So… how far did you get into my little journal?”

  Her eyes widened briefly before she looked right. “Not too far. The tattoo parlor.”

  “Hm. Now I’m embarrassed.”

  “You should be. You should be ashamed in fact.”

  “I should, yes. I mean I am.”

  Her gaze slowly meandered back to him. “And you’re a terrible liar.”

  “I am, yes,” he laughed. “It’s hard for me to feel bad about one of the best memories I have.”

  “Oh my God, stop,” she muttered, stroking a hand across her brow.

  “It’s true.”

  “No doubt, I’m not saying it isn’t, it’s just pathetic that you would enjoy something like that so much.”

  “Pathetic!” He put a hand on his chest. “Seriously, where did you stop? Exactly?”

  “Bo shows up. It’s like reading a soap opera.”

  “And you can’t wait to keep reading?”

  “I dread what’s coming.”

  He bit his tongue on so many things, feeling like he needed to choose his words carefully. This was it. He was positioning. “You like music?”

  She widened her eyes and pursed her pretty lips a little. “I think? Do I?”

  “Yes, you do. I have some planned that I know you like. To hopefully help with your…” He pointed to his head.

  “Right. Good.” She nodded before narrowing her gaze. “Is that what you’re wearing? To the party?”

  He looked down. “I was, why?”

  “Oh, nothing, you look fine.”

  He grinned. “I do?”

  “I
mean it’s not a ball or anything.”

  “Well, you look so fucking hot in that.”

  She lowered her head and it made his dick hard. “Um. Ok. Don’t know why thank you is so hard. Was I always bad at accepting compliments?”

  He gave a slow smile, loving talking about her. “Maybe.”

  “So what do we have to drink in this place?”

  “Would you like a cocktail?”

  “Uh.” Her brows furrowed and she shook her head. “I’m drawing a blank. What is that?”

  “A mixed drink.” He gave a small grin with the grimace she gave.

  “Am I a drinker? I mean I don’t want to if I can’t handle it.”

  “Are you still taking any meds?”

  “Just Ibuprofen when I need it.”

  His licked his lower lip as the sudden idea hit him. “You should be fine.” She could stand a little help loosening her mental straps. He’d just make sure she didn’t go too far.

  “You sure?”

  He gave her a small smile and wink. “You can trust me, Angel.”

  She regarded him with a pointed glare. “You realize you look and sound like the big bad wolf right now?”

  He busted out laughing in light shock. “What? Not me, never.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “We will?”

  “If you were honest in your journal, I’ll find out.”

  “I was…extremely honest.”

  “Hmm.” She raised her brows, staring at her laced fingers on the snack bar.

  “Too bad you can’t use your feet, or you could dance with me.”

  She eyed him. “You can dance?”

  He nodded, watching her struggle to remember. “I don’t remember,” she mumbled.

  “It’ll come.”

  “I don’t remember even if I can dance.” She eyed him, her eyes reminding him of emerald jewels. “Can I?”

  He nodded again. “Very well.”

  “Really! Like… how?”

  “Oh my God.” He held his chest. “Some of the sexiest pop ballet I’ve ever seen.”

  Her jaw dropped with narrowed gaze. “How can I not remember something so major?”

  “You only danced once for me. And you had been out of practice for years.” He licked his lips, watching her dancing in his mind. “Best performance I’ve ever seen done in panties and a t-shirt.”

  She covered her face with both hands and the vulnerable gesture tempted things in him he’d not tasted in a while. “Jeez.” She flopped her hands on her lap and looked around. “Five forty-five. We should probably put the pizza on around six I think.”

  “I should probably say fuck it and give in.”

  “To what?” she asked, looking worried.

  “To walking up to you and kissing the fuck out of you.” His dick got so fucking hard at seeing it for the first time—desire with that fear. And the concoction was staggering.

  She fanned her face, not realizing she demonstrated he’d just made her hot. Dear God.

  “You’re hot baby?”

  “Oh my God, stop,” she whispered. “I’m not…used to that.”

  “Practice makes perfect.”

  “I bet Bo can use some help,” she said.

  He gave a deep sigh at seeing his fun was over. For now. “I think Liberty can handle him. But I’ll go double check,” he added at seeing she needed a moment. “You want to get comfortable on the couch and wait? Maybe read a good book?”

  Her pretty green eyes flashed with knowing and lit him up all over again.

  “No,” he said, “you definitely can’t read my book since it affects you so much.”

  She gave a light gasp. “Affects me,” she muttered, back to twisting her fingers on the counter before her. “Of course it does, it’s full of some weird man doing weird things.”

  “Yes, to you.”

  “Well I don’t even remember it, how do I know you’re not just making all that up?”

  He threw his head back and laughed then finally met her annoyed gaze. “I’m not that creative.”

  “Says you.”

  He nodded at her. “Okay, okay. I could be making it all up, being very creative. But why would I? What in the world would making all that up, do for you? Or me for that matter. I’m trying to help bring back your memory.”

  “Or maybe you’re making new ones? Maybe the old ones weren’t that great?”

  His smile slowly faded as he stared at her. “Don’t even say that. They were beyond great, they were fucking phenomenal.”

  She raised her brows. “Wow. I must’ve been awesome.”

  “You were. And are.”

  She straightened up and looked toward the living room. “Think I’m ready to get comfortable now.” She made moves to get off the stool.

  “What are you doing, you can’t walk.”

  “Oh come on,” she whispered, already hobbling slowly. “It’s not that bad,” she said, her words breathless with pain.

  Sade hurried as fast as he could to her with the crutches. “That’s far enough for you.”

  “Yes,” she gasped, hands trembling as she worked the crutches under her arms. “How come your feet are so much better than mine?”

  He shook his head, hobbling carefully to the couch after her, staring at her fucking bare back and ass. “I wouldn’t say so much better. Fuck, you look amazing in that.”

  “Oh, let me get to the couch, stop where you are and I’ll slide you the crutches!”

  “I’m halfway there.”

  She plopped down on the couch. “Here, here.” She slid the crutches along the glassy floor and Sade jumped to avoid the collision with his feet. A half roar of agony came with his palms hitting the cement floor, barely missing a face plant, all while Mercy squealed oh my God oh my God.

  “I’m sooooo sorry, the floor is slippery!”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he grunted, sitting for a moment.

  “You’re bleeding,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Mercy, just stay on the couch,” he said as she crawled in her black dress toward him.

  “I’m not even using my feet,” she huffed, sitting next to him and reaching toward his foot.

  He slapped her hand away. “I don’t think so.”

  “What?” she cried softly. “I’m just seeing.”

  “You use your eyes for that.”

  “I mean I wanted to see how bad, silly.”

  “Oh it’s fine, it’s perfect.”

  She sat with her legs straight out, hand over her mouth. “I am so sorry.”

  “Yeah, you said that already.”

  “Well I am, what else do you want me to say, how was I supposed to know the stupid thing would go flying?”

  “Thank you for listening to me.”

  She choked with light offense. “I was just trying to help.”

  “I know. Thank you. Really, I owe you.”

  She eyed him with worry now. “We’re good, no need.” She crawled and retrieved the runaway crutch and sat back down, handing it to him. “You need the wheelchair for a while. Bo and I can share the crutches.”

  “I just fucking brought it to him.”

  “Well you just earned it back.”

  “Good. Then I can offer you the same taxi service you gave him.”

  She went quiet and he eyed her before using the crutches to get up. Yeah, that’s right. Busted, baby.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay put.”

  She crawled her way back to the couch and climbed up, mumbling, “I’ll try not to fly off.”

  He grinned as he left, glad she still had her sense of humor.

  Chapter Fourteen

  At Bo’s door, Sade knocked softly.

  “Come in,” Bo yelled.

  “Stop moving before I slice you open,” Liberty ordered as Sade opened the door. “You’re not an ADD six-year-old.”

  “No, I’m an ADD twenty-four-year-old who can shave himself. Sade!” Bo cried, “Tell Scissor Hand sh
e’s being ridiculous, I don’t even need to shave!”

  “You need to shave, you’re starting to look like a drunk,” Liberty said.

  “No, that’s them stupid Crocs you have us all wearing, we all look like mental patients.”

  She aimed the razor at Bo. “And call me a name again, you get your jugular cut.” Now she aimed it at Sade. “I’m not risking him opening his cuts. Sorry, padre.”

  “But you’ll cut my jugular?”

  “Damn right I will.”

  “Don’t mind me,” Sade said. “I was just coming to leave the crutches. Decided to use the wheels.”

  Liberty’s hawk eyes flew to his feet, and he was glad he was standing on the evidence oozing in his socks. “Good. Finally acting like you have a lick of sense. We’ll be there as soon as Mr. Pretty Boy lets me finish.”

  “You just like touching me,” Bo mumbled while Liberty went back to work. “Look at her, see what I’m saying,” Bo angled only his eyes at Sade while she held the top of his head in her claw. “This is abuse.”

  She only smiled and suddenly Bo began to ow-ow-ow. “Now that’s abuse,” she muttered. “I can crush your skull if you get too pissy with me.”

  “See what I mean?” Bo gasped.

  “Crutches will be right here. You’re in good hands.”

  “Good hand!” Bo corrected. “There ain’t nothing good about her claw. Ow-ow, I’m sorry!”

  “Better be,” she said, smiling while carefully navigating his face.

  Sade shook his head with a grin and got himself into the chair. “We’ll see you two love birds at seven?”

  “Or sooner if he cooperates,” Liberty said. “Get the music ready. Guess I’ll be the only one dancing. Unless you know how to dance on your asses.” She laughed as he shut the door.

  Sade thought about that. He did know how to dance off his feet. He used to perform a lot of his dance moves on his knees, stomach and back, come to think of it. He might need to wait ‘til Liberty was too wasted to notice or care, he wasn’t going to do that in front of her. His public performance days were way the fuck over.

  Back in the living room, he found Mercy in the same place. “You want to help me put the pizza on? I’ll be your ride.” His cock jerked hard at imagining her in his lap.