by Sylvie Kaye
"Why?” With her palms resting on his chest, she licked at her lips, her pink tongue wet and glistening.
"Because I fancy you that way, Mercy.” Not giving her a chance to question him further, he trapped her hands against him and sealed his lips to hers. He explored the warm, wet inside of her mouth with his tongue until she was breathless with desire.
Reaching around behind her, he untied the apron at her waist and her nape. When he edged away, the material slithered down between their bodies, landing on the dusty tips of his boots and her pink toenails. Her bare feet, her naked flesh, and the heat from her body engulfed his senses. She palpitated with female sensuality.
Even as his heart sighed at the sight and smell of her, his dick hardened with need and passion. His seed surged to the head of his cock, eager to lay wet claim to her in the most primitive, age-old way. He throbbed to be inside her, making love to her.
"We can't fool around,” she demanded, flicking at the metal snap to his jeans. “You have to leave within the hour to meet ... whoever.” She didn't sound like she cared who he was seeing afterward. Her concentration was centered on her busy fingers.
With a quick zip, the metal teeth gave way, and she hurried to work his penis free. He stayed her hand with his. “Slow down, babe. We've got enough time to do this right."
"Once we're naked on the bed, we can slow to a crawl if you like.” She kissed his lips and chin and jaw while shimmying his pants down over his hips.
He indulged her by heeling off his boots and stripping off his shirt. Her frenzied hands wriggled his jeans down and shucked them aside. With a thump, his back hit the door when she grabbed his shaft in her smooth, delicate palm and stroked him. Up and down, up and down. She added her second hand and more pressure to pump his sensitive flesh to its fullest arousal. He groaned, and the back of his head banged against the wooden door as he gave himself over to her administrations.
Salacious jolts licked at his nerves, all converging at the crown of his dick. He groaned. This wasn't going the way he'd expected. He wanted gentle and tender. He wanted to make love to her, worship her body, inside and out. She was going after flat-out sexual satisfaction, as always.
"Let's try that bed crawl, you mentioned,” he mumbled through strained vocal chords. It took a lot of willpower to stick to his guns, break her loose from his erection, and hold her away by her bare shoulders. Her skin felt satiny next to his callused hands and so irresistible. His fingers twitched beneath the effort.
When she nodded her assent, he slid his palms down her arms to encircle her wrists. With a nudge of his hips against hers, he backed her over to the bed. Her eyes glittered with passion as his hard-on throbbed against her inner thigh with each step. She was so easy to read. So sexy. So tempting. So achingly sweet.
In one easy push, he tumbled her onto the mattress. Holding her open arms out to him, she curved her mouth into an inviting smile. Her lips were moist and enticing. Sexual anticipation fired her eyes, their heat drawing him in. He wanted to lose himself in her eyes. Her mouth. Her body. Her heart.
He shifted onto the bed and straddled her legs with his thighs. He let the heaviness of his cock settle between her thighs, the tip resting at the downy entrance of her slit. With a faint whimper, she attempted to spread her legs but to no avail.
Propped on his forearms, he gazed at her face. Her blonde hair sprawled onto the dark coverlet, shimmering in the waning light slashing in through the window blinds. He pecked kisses onto her eyelids as they fluttered shut. He grazed the corners of her mouth, teasing her, before he sucked the sound of a sigh from her lips.
Cupping the back of her head in his hand, he made love to her mouth, kissing and sipping at her lips, dipping his tongue into the warm, wet flesh. By the time he broke away, his breath came in ragged gasps while her hips ground against his, restlessly. He slid a moist trail downward. With a gentle tug of his teeth, he drew the smooth skin at her throat into his mouth. She purred and stretched, bowing into the love bite, receptive to his touch.
He licked at the base of her throat where her pulse pounded, rapid and aroused. With the tip of his tongue, he traced lower to her breasts and swirled slow circles around her tightening nipples. She tasted of salt and spice and sauce. He smiled, and her skin shivered where he broke contact. Digging her fingers into his hair, she urged him to continue the foreplay.
For now, he resisted. “I love the way you feel and taste.” He rested his chin on her solar plexus and stared into her smoky gaze, branding her beauty onto his mind. For later, when she was gone.
"Taste more,” she coaxed, her nails grazing his scalp as she directed him back down on her.
"I aim to.” He went willingly.
With a slight pull, he sucked one rigid nipple into his mouth. Letting it loose, he allowed the cool air to tantalize the turgid bud before heating it with his moist, hot mouth again. And again. He restrained from his natural impulse to pluck and roll the nub between his teeth while she writhed in her eagerness. He wanted tonight to be memorable. Different in every way from the lusty encounters of their past evenings.
She arced into him, hissing and demanding, “Harder."
His need to make love to her, instead of fucking her this side of brainless, stopped him. His urgency for tenderness became more desirable than getting his rocks off. Probably because he'd had less of it.
He drew her other nipple into his mouth with care, bridling his inclination to grate the swollen bud with his teeth and gratify her groans. Instead, he titillated her senses with gentleness, indulging his hunger for love and caring, giving it instead of receiving it.
After lapping with feathery strokes and tantalizing her beaded rosette with TLC, with a last, delicate pull, he stretched her nipple out long, before releasing it.
She squealed, “Don't stop,” and stroked him behind the ears, encouraging him to suckle more.
He shook his head. Her fingers grasped at his ears, attempting to halt the negative motion. He chuckled. “If I don't move on, I won't have enough time to kiss you all over. And I plan to kiss you all over."
Her eyes glazed over, intrigued. She released him and dropped her hands to her sides, limp and compliant.
After kissing the delectable flesh on the inside of her breasts, he moved on. He traced his tongue over her stomach and tickled her belly button and hipbones. She squirmed, attempting to spread her thighs, but still trapped by his.
"Can I do something for you?” he taunted, knowing he'd do just about anything she wanted.
"While you're down that way...” she cooed, gripping the sheets.
"I plan on getting around to it. I'm going to make love to every inch of your body,” he promised.
With a satisfied sigh, she grasped for the nightstand before relaxing her limbs. She wilted into the mattress, trusting him to keep his word.
He liked that.
Liked it a lot.
He knelt between her legs, nudging them open and wide. “Nice curls,” he murmured, trickling his fingers through the dark blonde hair on her mound, which was wet and shimmery with her cream.
"They're natural,” she croaked, lifting her hips into his touch, her stomach muscles quivering.
He withdrew his hand and draped her thighs over his shoulders. He blew on her clit, and her body jerked closer to his mouth. Her impatience excited him, but he kept his control. With light movements of his tongue, he lapped at the opening to her pussy. She bucked her hips in immediate response. Pressing on her stomach, he stimulated her clit with his thumb while his tongue flicked into her vaginal folds. With a soft touch he licked her until she cried out.
"Spence.” Her voice sounded ragged.
Moving his thumb aside, he took her clit into his mouth and sucked gently, the taste of her musky, slick, and his for the taking. His.
Normally, he didn't endorse the exchange of body fluids, but Mercy was different. He wanted her juices in his mouth, and the trust that came along with that particular desire. He wante
d to taste her as she came and have her taste him.
His breath caught. Hell, but he had it bad.
"Spence,” she called his name again. This time more urgent and frustrated.
"Babe, I can make you come this way."
"I need to feel you inside of me."
He didn't want her needy, he wanted her loving. So he snaked his way back up her body. Bracing his arms alongside her head, he kissed her, tender and long before taking her in his arms.
On a breathless sigh, she said, “Here.” She opened her palm to reveal a condom packet.
Glancing toward the nightstand, he noticed a handful of foil squares. Now he knew what she'd grappled for earlier, and it wasn't any proclamations of love.
He sheathed himself and started over. He kissed her for the pure pleasure of it. Over and over, until her breath came in gasps and his cock was too hard and heavy to ignore.
He entered her with a slow, rhythmic rocking of his hips. Kissing her mouth, he inhaled her honeyed breath as she moaned.
She wrapped her ankles around his waist, squeezing him tight, and he sank in deep. She felt good. Right. Like she was his.
To the hilt she was, and he reveled in his possession of her.
He pumped in and out, slow and steady. He loved the feel of being inside her. Loved her silky skin gliding damp beneath his and the feel of her fingers and nails as she clung to him.
He relished the warmth of her breath as she panted and the fragrance of her body heat. She enveloped him. Her hot, wet core sucked him in and held him on the edge. Pulsing, throbbing need drove him on when he would've stayed as they were, sweaty, entwined, possessed.
But who possessed whom? His muscles jerked. His cock twitched. Did Mercy have him by the nuts—so to speak?
Yes. The instant the answer formed in his brain, he released. Tremors shook his body.
Fear or satisfaction?
A powerful spasm rocked him, twinged his muscles, drained his fluid.
I love you. He swallowed the words, the thought, the feeling welling up around his heart. Instead, he moaned her name, “Mercy."
Soon she shuddered in his arms, reaching her own peak of gratification. He let the wave of her orgasm subside before gathering her pliant body against his rough-planed one. She fit him too damn perfectly. His heart ached with the sweet irony of her leaving him at the end of the week.
But it was what they both wanted. Wasn't it?
He clenched his eyes shut and held his breath to break from her spell.
After a moment, he said the first unsentimental thing that came to his mind. “If we hurry, I can help load the dishwasher."
"Don't worry about cleaning up.” She pressed her soothing lips to his in a lingering kiss.
He pulled away from her just to make sure he was capable of doing so. With bravado, he asked, “Would you deny me the chance to play house?"
He forced a chuckle, but he wanted to do everything and anything with her from washing dishes to sexual acrobatics.
No, his brain shouted. He had other, more urgent demands. He had to keep his eye on his goal as Mark had so often reminded him. Playing house with Mercy here or anywhere else stood in the way of Spence's obligation to get Parker.
His breath halted. When had evening the score with Parker turned from a need into a duty?
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Twenty-four
"Sorry I couldn't make it yesterday, but my car petered out on the Kelly Parkway.” Google lifted his hands in a helpless gesture.
"Hey, shit happens.” Spence glanced up at the moonless sky and across at the river bank. All appeared dark and quiet.
"I intercepted an email to Parker. He isn't on his boat yet, but he's planning a ceremony aboard. No date or destination. I'm hoping for more details when he replies."
"Good job.” He surveyed the river again. The only life he detected was a bat swooping the water for insects. “Do you know who sent the email?"
"Not yet. But I'm working on it.” Google thumbed his glasses to his nose.
"How soon ‘til you find out?” He dug into his pocket to pay the informant off.
"I'll call as soon as I have it.” Google waved away the money. “I'll run a tab for you. We'll divvy up when it's over."
"Thanks.” Spence nodded to the man.
"Probably not important until Parker gets back in town, but I found out his house address. It's 8088 Windy Hill Lane."
Spence felt like he'd been punched in the gut. The street address was Mercy's uncle's house. What in the hell was going on? What was she—they up to?
Parker wasn't averse to using women for his dirty dealings. Was she really Parker's niece, or another bimbo who'd disappear after she did her damage, like the buckle bunnies Mark had picked up before his death?
Spence's mind reeled, but he managed to mumble, “Can you check if Parker has a niece?"
"I'll get right on it.” With a wave of his hand, Google scooted toward the path, leaving Spence to stew alone.
Looked like when he went back to Parker's house tonight he'd have to confront Mercy. Forget making love. What a fool he'd been.
Forget fucking her, too. He wasn't into payback sex. He had no intention of screwing her to bury his anger or seek revenge.
She had questions to answer. For one, where was Parker? And what was she to the snake, a relative or his paid hustler? Would she lie about her connection to him?
Spence watched a bat pounce the water, diving on its prey while others hovered above in silence. He raked his hands through his hair and stared down into the inky water.
Since Mark's death, lies seemed to circle him like bats in the night.
* * * *
Mercy dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and hopped off her uncle's oversized sofa when she heard Spence's truck pull into the driveway. The hum of the engine had barely sputtered to a stop when she flung the front door open wide, letting in a blast of warm night air and the sweet scent of oleander.
"Spence.” She threw herself into his arms, glad he'd come back so soon. She hated that she missed him this much, that his welcoming arms felt so warm and secure.
"Hey, babe.” He leaned down to look into her teary eyes. Taking her bare shoulders in his strong hands, he kissed her mouth with a soft lingering kiss that, for no particular reason she could fathom, felt kind of sad and melancholy.
Like a final goodbye. But that was days away.
"How did your meeting go?” she hiccupped. His mouth tasted salty from her tears.
He didn't answer but asked, “Why are you crying?"
"Oh.” Feeling embarrassed, she forced a smile and crumpled the damp, shredded tissue in her hand. “I'm watching a very sad, very romantic movie.” She pointed toward the TV in the other room where a woman in a chiffon dress chattered about underarm deodorant. “There's a commercial break right now."
He thumbed a tear from her cheek, his touch gentle.
"I'm not sure how it will turn out,” she whispered, gazing into his dark brooding eyes.
"Let's have a look and hope for the best.” His voice sounded odd.
Taking his arm, she placed it around her waist and shut the door against the night and the heat. As they walked into the living room, her barefooted steps lightened.
He was hers for the evening. He'd come back to spend the whole night with her, into the morning. She intended to enjoy whatever time they had left for all its worth. She intended to take enough physical loving back with her to last a lifetime, in case she wasn't entitled to such an intense affair of the body again.
Body. Who was she kidding? Despite her best efforts and denials, her mind and heart seemed to go along with her body. She was having a difficult time separating them.
When Spence settled next to her on the cushy sofa, Mercy tucked her bare feet beneath the hem of her cotton sundress and cuddled into the shelter of his protective arm to enjoy the rest of the movie.
The power of his nearness, the strength of his viril
e body, the movement of his hard chest as he breathed, everything about the potent man distracted and aroused her.
He seemed untouched by her presence and totally immersed in the show. He didn't utter a word until another commercial. Then, studying her face and holding her captive with his somber eyes, he said, “Tell me about you. All I know is that you're from Pennsylvania and you're here on vacation."
Spence wasn't one for conversation. His intense gaze gave nothing away. She wanted to keep up a correspondence with him after she left, and this looked like the ideal starting place to make that happen. He needed someone who was into more than his hunky, handsome, but solemn exterior. And heaven help her, his well-being concerned her.
"Let's see.” She re-tucked her dress. “What might interest you about Lily Pond?” After a moment, she shook her head. “I don't suppose you golf."
"No."
She reached up and touched his cheek, but he pulled away.
"Don't stray from the subject."
Dropping her hand, she shrugged off his seriousness. Moistening her lips, she began, “I moved in with my mother for monetary reasons and because Lily Pond is so small the only apartments for rent are across the street from where we live, which sort of defeated the purpose anyway."
He chuckled. “Go on."
"I've dated two men over the course of the years. Neither relationship has been satisfying, as you know.” She snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm, yearning for the sizzling sensations he was able to wrest from her willing body.
She feathered her nails over his chest and abs, dipping down toward his fly, but he stilled her hand with his large one. When he released her hand, she missed the warmth and rough feel of his palm on her skin.
"You're straying again,” he cautioned. “Tell me about you and your uncle."
She rested her hand on his firm thigh, inches from her goal. After her bio, she'd have another go at his zipper.
"I've been thinking about a drastic career change. Something less isolated and more people oriented than a transcriptionist. Something in the financial field. I'm hoping my uncle will lend me the money for tuition and living expenses."