by Eva Ashwood
I sit back down and poke at my food, taking a few bites but not really tasting any of it.
Several minutes later, Sloan shoves his plate away and finishes his water. He doesn’t make eye contact with me for the rest of the meal, and when the waiter comes over to offer dessert, we both decline in unison.
“Just bring me the check,” Sloan says, and it’s civil, but just barely.
If the waiter thinks it’s a strange departure from how he acted before, he doesn’t say anything. Instead he nods and hurries off, coming back just a bit later with the black check book and dropping it off.
We don’t really talk again.
Sloan pays, we get up and leave, and I know it’s going to be a very awkward ride back to the house.
15
The car ride back to the guys’ house is as quiet as the one to the restaurant, but it’s a heavier silence this time. Neither of us even so much as look at each other, and Sloan seems to shift between being sad and being pissed off every five seconds. I can feel the tension filling the car, but there’s nothing sexual or flirty about it.
This is just fucking uncomfortable.
We get back to the house and head inside, and I debate with myself about what to do now. I know I should try to fix whatever it is that happened. Maybe try to seduce him so some progress gets made, and maybe he’ll tell me some things I can use.
But I don’t know if I can. With the others, it’s so much easier because I can still hold out hope that they don’t know what happened. That they had nothing to do with it.
With Sloan? I saw him pull the fucking trigger.
And even if it might help me on my path to vengeance, I’m not sure I’m physically capable of sleeping with his murderer, no matter how strong the chemistry between us is.
I turn to head upstairs, and Sloan follows me. When we reach the second floor, I expect him to slip past me to head to his own room, but he seems to be dragging his feet.
His demeanor is intense—not that that’s anything new. It’s usually intense, but this seems like that sadness from the car instead of the usual anger and surly rage he gives off most of the time.
I stop in front of my door, and he stops too, coming to stand in front of me. He doesn’t speak for a long moment. He just stares at me, unreadable thoughts churning behind his eyes.
I look back at him, not sure what else to do. When he reaches a hand up to stroke his fingers down my cheek, I don’t pull away, even though my pulse picks up.
“Maybe if we’d met in other circumstances,” he murmurs, half sounding like he’s talking to himself. “Maybe things could have been different. I don’t know. But I think something amazing could have happened between us.”
I want to tell him to fuck off, that there’s no way that would ever have happened, but he’s right, and I hate it. I would have totally fallen for him if things were different. If he hadn’t done what he did, and I didn’t know what he was capable of.
He’s exactly my type at his core. A little intense, handsome as fuck, capable and confident. Even the fact that he’s strong-willed and stubborn would’ve appealed to me under the right circumstances. I would have been crazy about him.
I’m not even sure what to say in response to his words, so I just step back, putting some distance between us. Sloan gazes at me for a moment longer, then turns and heads to his room, closing the door with a firm click.
I sigh and go into my own room, standing there with my back against the door, still feeling the phantom touch of his hand on my cheek. Whenever he gets gentle like that, it’s so strange, and even stranger is how it makes me yearn for him even more.
Strange and stupid.
Giving myself a little shake, I push away from the door.
I take the dress off and leave it in a pile on the floor. I half want to kick it under the bed so I don’t have to see it or think about the date anymore, but I don’t. I’ll pick it up in the morning.
My pajamas feel like a blessing when I pull them on, the tank top and shorts well-worn and comforting. It’s late enough that going to bed isn’t that weird, so I do, pulling the covers up around me and bundling myself into a little cocoon.
Of course I can’t sleep.
I lie there, trying to shut my brain off, trying to think of nothing, but it doesn’t work. Every time I close my eyes, I see things I don’t want to see, and my mind is racing in a constant loop, making me feel restless.
After about two hours of this, I give up, flinging the covers back with a grumble and getting to my feet.
The house sounds quiet from upstairs, so I creep out of my room and head for the stairs, going down to the living room to turn on the TV. I slouch low on the couch and turn the volume way down so it doesn’t wake anyone up, falling back on my old habit of watching infomercials and random late night ad spots to calm my brain down.
A little while later, I hear a creak on the stairs, and Levi comes in and sits down next to me.
He’s shirtless, and all he has on are a pair of low-slung sweats that show off his body well.
He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. This silence between us is a hell of a lot more comfortable than what I felt with Sloan at the end of the night, and I just stay settled in, watching a bubbly blonde woman demonstrate how even a sharp knife can’t scratch the nonstick pan she’s trying to sell.
Levi pulls his phone out and scrolls through it for a bit, and I glance at him, watching the colors from the screen flash across his face.
The infomercial shifts to two men claiming the benefits of indoor grilling for a live studio audience, and eventually Levi sets his phone down on the coffee table and looks at me.
“So,” he says quietly, breaking the silence for the first time. “How was your date?”
There’s no real way to answer that question without getting into a bunch of stuff I’m really not ready to get into, so I just shrug.
“Not gonna lie.” He catches my gaze, looking at me with a flash of something possessive in his eyes. “I kinda wanted to punch Sloan in the face when I saw you two leave together.”
I lift my eyebrows, a bit surprised. He’s admitting he was jealous, which isn’t something he often does, although I can read it in his face from time to time. He’s seen me flirting with Rory, knows Sloan and I have had encounters, but this is the first time he’s ever really said anything about it.
That intense look is still there, burning in his dark eyes and making me shiver. It’s different from Sloan’s intensity by a mile. This isn’t surly anger or pent-up rage. It’s want. And maybe something else too.
It’s definitely more than most people reserve for a casual hookup, which is what I’ve been trying to pretend the two of us are, and it makes a lot of different emotions crash around inside me.
It’s too late to be thinking about any of this. I should be sleeping. I shouldn’t be trying to figure out how I feel about Levi, especially knowing I shouldn’t be feeling anything at all other than anger and resentment for whatever part he’s played in the mess that got me here in the first place.
But I can’t deny that my head is a mess all over again, and my heart is beating faster, making me even more unsure of what I’m doing and what I want.
Rather than sorting through emotions I really don’t want to think about, I choose to focus on the one I understand, the one that seems safer by comparison to the others and much, much less complicated.
Desire.
I lean over and kiss him, pressing my mouth to his with no hesitation. Levi makes a soft noise in response, and I feel him smile against my lips as he pulls me closer.
My hands go to his chest, bracing myself as I lean into him, letting him take the kiss deeper with his teeth and tongue, urging me to part my lips for him. I do, and when he slides his tongue against mine, tempting and teasing all at once, I moan softly.
I try to keep it down, because the last thing I want is to wake up one of the others and have them come down and see this. Still, there’s a
thrill in making out with Levi in such an open space, where anyone could see if they came down the stairs, and it kicks my heart rate up another notch.
My pulse ratchets up again when he hauls me even closer, and I end up just climbing into his lap, straddling him easily.
His hands slide up and down my back and then cup my ass, giving it a firm squeeze. I shiver against him, reaching down between our bodies to find his cock, already half hard for me.
He’s not wearing anything under the sweats, and the curve of his dick presses against the soft material, giving me an easy line to follow with my fingers as I touch him.
I trace the hard length through the fabric for a bit, listening to the hitch in Levi’s breathing when I do.
The heat builds between us as he trails his kisses down my neck, leaving them hot and open-mouthed until he finds my pulse point and lingers there for a second. I half wonder if he’s going to leave marks behind, and in the moment, I don’t care.
Rory and Sloan might have something to say about it later, but they’re not here, and my mind is fixed firmly on Levi and what he’s doing.
My hand works its way into his sweats, and I find the hot hardness of his cock and wrap my fingers around it, stroking him slowly while my hips roll forward.
I can already feel myself getting wet for him, the tension building higher and higher.
He reaches up and yanks down the neck of my tank top, stretching out the neck of it and exposing my bare tits to the air. My nipples immediately get harder, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt how turned on I am.
Levi groans softly at the sight, then ducks his head, letting the line of kisses continue from my neck down to my collarbone and then lower, finding the peak of one sensitive nipple.
“Please,” I murmur, pressing even closer. “Fuck, Levi.”
He huffs warm breath against my tits and then traces the circle of my nipple with his tongue, teasing at the point of it. My own fingers go tighter around his cock, and I start pumping him a bit faster, as if giving him something that feels good will make him make me feel good, too.
I’m not wrong, apparently. He curses mutedly and then bites my nipple hard enough that it makes me jump and sends a pulse of pure desire down to my pussy.
“You like that?” he whispers, glancing up at me.
I nod, and it’s almost frantic.
A smirk crosses his face, illuminated by the TV behind us, and he peppers kisses over my tits, alternating between his soft lips and the rough edge of his teeth until I’m gasping for breath and soaking my shorts.
I keep my hand where it is, but I grind harder against him, seeking out friction for my clit. The layers of our bottoms are all that separate us, and it’s too much to really feel him. I want his cock in me, and I whine softly, trying to get that point across.
“You want it,” he says. “I can tell how fucking wet you are.”
“You’re—fuck—” My words cut off when he pinches my nipple, stealing my breath for a second. “You’re one to talk. You’re hard enough to drill a hole through a wall right now.”
“Yeah, because I want you too,” he shoots back. It’s an admission and a challenge all in one, and I wind my fingers into his hair to drag him back up into another breathless kiss.
Our bodies work together, and we grind against each other, the living room quiet other than the sound of the TV and our harsh breathing.
It’s so much easier to give in to this than to get lost in my head. Any softer feelings that might or might not exist can be shoved aside in favor of chasing pleasure and giving in to the call of that desire.
It doesn’t take long before the grinding isn’t enough. I need more. I need to feel all of him. To have him inside me.
I scramble off of his lap quickly and shove my shorts and panties down over my hips, letting them drop down to the floor in a heap.
Levi takes the cue and works his sweats off, leaving him naked, his cock jutting out proudly.
Before I can straddle him again and take that length into my aching core, Levi grabs my hips and pulls me closer, but not down into his lap. Instead, his eyes are locked on the wet mess of my pussy, and he licks his lips again, but this time like someone who’s about to dive into a feast.
His fingers dig roughly into the skin of my hips, and he dips his head to lick a hot line right along the seam of my sex, making me gasp out loud.
“Should’ve known you’d be fucking delicious,” he mutters, and then frees one hand to spread my pussy open.
The first touch of his mouth to my clit has me shuddering out a sigh and rocking forward to seek out more of it. He holds me open and lets his tongue go delving, flicking and fluttering over my clit before moving away from it to find the edges of my pussy and teasing there.
My legs shake a little, and I brace myself against the edge of the couch, letting my fingers thread through his hair to have something to hold on to.
Levi hums approvingly as he presses his tongue into me—just a bit of pressure to start with, almost like a reward for being good.
I let my eyes drift shut for a second, just focusing on trying to breathe while he works me, licking and lapping at my pussy like he’s never tasted anything better.
His groans are soft, definitely not loud enough to echo up the stairs and wake up one of the other guys, but they resonate through me, adding to the sensations. Each touch of his tongue just makes me feel hotter all over, and the little vibrations from his sounds ratchet up the desire even more.
I find myself grinding against his face a little, using my hold on his hair for leverage, and it takes me a second to realize the little whining sounds are coming from my own mouth.
It just feels so good to let go. To not worry about the millions of things swirling around in my head. All I’m focused on is the way his tongue keeps pressing into me, giving me exactly what I need one minute before taking it away and teasing at my clit the next. The electric pleasure shooting through me is so much better than grief or stress or anger, and I lean into it, one hand coming up to play with my own tits.
I pinch and tease at my nipples, head tipped back while Levi decides to set up camp right at my clit. The point of his tongue circles it aimlessly for a second or two, and each time it gets close enough that I can really feel it, there’s a spark, and I nearly jump.
He flicks his tongue over the sensitive bud one, two times, and I whimper his name on an exhale.
“Levi. Stop being a fucking tease.”
His laugh is lost in my wetness, but I feel it all the same. It’s too late at night for teasing, and it’s clear he agrees because he doesn’t make me wait much longer. Instead he presses his tongue to my clit, massaging it almost, and the wave of desire that sparks has me tightening my fingers in his hair and pushing my hips forward to seek out more.
“Please,” I gasp, trying to keep quiet, but I can feel the heat rising inside me. It feels so fucking good, and I’m right there on the edge, so close to tipping over it and coming in a rush.
And then Levi backs off a bit, keeping me on the knife’s edge. He chuckles again and nuzzles at my pussy for a second, not stopping enough that I lose that thread of pleasure, but just enough that I cool off a little.
When he goes back to flicking his tongue along my clit, it feels even more intense than it did before.
I’m so close, and I breathe that out for Levi, grinding against him as much as I can, hips rutting almost desperately.
“Please,” I chant, trying to keep my voice down but needing him to feel the urgency in my words. “Levi, fucking come on.”
His mouth is too busy to respond, but he hums agreeably and then seals his lips over my clit and sucks. My eyes nearly roll back into my head, the surge of sensation is so fucking strong.
My knees threaten to buckle, but Levi holds on to me while I hold on to him, and I shake through my orgasm, fighting for breath while I bite my lip hard to keep from screaming.
It’s one of those good ones that rolls into af
tershocks and takes a while to fade away. Before I can even catch my breath, Levi’s spinning me around and pulling me down into his lap, his chest to my back.
He holds his cock with one hand and guides it into me, so I end up sitting on it. I’m so wet that it slides in easy as hell, and just the first press of his shaft inside my pulsing walls adds to the aftershocks I’m still feeling, making me squirm and writhe in his lap.
Levi wraps an arm around my waist and pulls my back to his chest, peppering kisses along my bare shoulder while I catch my breath.
“You’re so wet,” he mutters, voice deep and thick in my ear. “Goddamn, Mercy.”
“It’s your fault,” I manage to shoot back, even though I know I sound more desperate and turned on than annoyed.
He laughs again, and it’s such a heavy sound. It slides over my body like warm water, and I have to close my eyes for a second and focus on breathing.
Levi is just so much. He’s so casually sexy, and I have his cock spearing me open, just sitting in his lap in the living room where anyone could come down and see. The thought of it makes me move in place, rolling my hips in a little circle that has his cock rubbing right up against the perfect spot inside me.
“Fuck,” I moan on a shaky exhale.
“That’s the plan,” Levi responds, then he does something with his hips that has me lifting my hand to bite down on my palm so I don’t make too much noise.
I spread my legs wider, letting them drape over the outsides of his as I start moving, riding his dick slowly. The calloused palms of his hands trace down over my sides, and he holds on to my hips, dipping his head forward to rest his forehead between my shoulder blades.
“Just like that,” he whispers. “Yeah. Fuck, you’re so good. You feel so good.”
He’s one to talk, when his cock is thick and hot and filling me up just the way I like, but I don’t have the breath to tell him that. Instead I just moan in answer and work my hips faster, making sure each time I sink all the way down, the head of his cock rubs right where I want it to.