16. Kane #2
Mercy’s warm eyes widen. “You want to…” She trips over the word share , so I let go of her waist to grab Zane’s shirt.
I tug, delighted when he fails to catch himself and quite literally slams into her other side.
In all of two seconds, we’ve boxed Mercy between us, and lover boy across the table is livid.
“Get your hands off of her,” Sam hisses, slamming the heel of his shoe into my toes. He grinds down as hard as he’s grinding his teeth. “Or I will fucking kill you.”
I lift my hands so that they aren’t touching Mercy. “Alright, alright, let’s play nice.” Sliding a hand over the nape of Zane’s neck, I play with the ends of his hair and keep my drink in my other hand. “Satisfied, pretty boy?”
Zane stiffens again, but I work some of the tension out by deliberately kneading his muscles. Man’s tense as shit. He needs to fucking relax.
We all need to relax.
I snap my fingers and call the server over. “Another round for my friends. Mercy, baby, what do you want?” She orders a red wine while Zane chokes out a vodka tonic —fucking disgusting—and Sam gets a goddamn soda. I roll my fucking eyes. “Live a little, shit. ”
He crosses his arms over his chest, inadvertently showing off how tightly the fabric cling to his body. Yeah, the guy’s a linebacker, alright. Yummy. It’s no wonder Mercy likes him, because it sure as shit ain’t for his personality. “One of us should stay sober.”
“Couldn’t be me.” I take a hearty gulp of my gin. Weirdest fucking dinner date ever, but I kind of dig it.
Mercy’s quiet as a mouse, having some kind of telepathic conversation with Sam from across the table. They stare at each other without blinking, and then she tilts her head towards Zane. “I kicked him in the face, so we’re even.”
“You missed ,” Zane snorts, finally contributing to the group convo. “The only reason you got so banged up is because you fucking bit me.”
I snicker into my glass. “Kinky.”
Elbowing my ribs, Mercy huffs. “Don’t turn everything sexual!”
“Like there’s more to him than his dick.” The insult arrives faster than I expect, the malice in Sam’s eyes making it hurt.
Frowning, I lift my middle finger off my glass to point it at him. “Fuck you, Wright. There’s plenty more to me than my dick.”
Our drinks arrive, and we place our food order.
Silence falls over the table, and Mercy’s the one who breaks it with a tinkling little laugh that soothes some of the tension brewing between the four of us.
“If I’d known that asking you three on a date would be this bad, I never would have suggested it! ”
“Why did you suggest it?” Zane leans into my touch, and I eat that shit up, idly scratching his scalp. “And don’t say some bullshit about ‘getting to know us’ better.”
“But it’s true!” She wiggles like she’s trying to get some room but quickly gives up once it’s clear that neither Zane or I are moving. “Guys, can I have some space?”
“No,” we answer simultaneously. I meet Zane’s eyes and smile at how they soften just enough for me to know that he’s actually going to be okay.
That silent brooding shit gets old fast. But then I notice his shirt—some kind of billowy pillowcase thing I’ve never seen before—and laugh in his face. “Ha! What the fuck are you wearing?”
He blushes, a bright stripe of pink across his cheekbones. “I didn’t plan on going out! I had to improvise!”
Mercy links her arm through his and leans away from me to smile sweetly at him. “I think he looks dashing.”
This time, Sam and I exchange looks. What the fuck did we miss with these two?
“If I knew you liked it rough, sweetheart, we could have traded blows days ago.” Cheekily, I press my tongue into the pocket of my cheek until she gets the reference. “But there’s still time. My lap’s open.”
Sam looks between the three of us like he can’t believe this is happening. I’m likely to agree. Shit’s wild. Didn’t expect this in my wildest dreams.
But.
It makes the prospect of sharing even sweeter.
“I have a proposal,” I announce. Our food arrives in record time, cutting me off and making me wait while Mercy asks for red pepper flakes, Sam requests a steak knife for his chicken parm, and Zane gets another drink.
While Mercy waits for no man before tucking into her pasta, I mull over how to phrase my idea… before deciding, fuck it.
“We should pop Mercy’s cherry together.”
Mercy herself moans, the sound going straight through my body from my heart to my balls. They draw up instinctively, and I spread my thighs for even the slightest relief. My dick’s on standby for another one of those.
She flushes the prettiest shade of deep red, matching the smudge of lipstick just below her bottom lip. “I, um, that wasn’t—it’s so good!” Her hand shakes as she lowers her fork.
To my complete surprise, Zane takes her fork from her and spears a penne noodle on the tip before lifting it to her lips. “Blow,” he instructs, staring just as intently as I am as Mercy obeys, puckering her lips and blowing gently.
A choked sound catches in Sam’s throat, and the three of us watch as she wraps her lips around her fork and pulls, closing her eyes the second the flavor hits her tongue. “Mmm.” She swallows and licks her lips. “I’ve never tried this before. It’s really good!”
“Neither have I, but I’m really enjoying it.”
Sam clenches his eyes shut and tilts his head down like he’s in prayer, but I’m not sure if he’s thanking God for this moment or condemning the devil for tempting him with it. His arm muscles twitch, and I have zero doubt that he’s just as turned on as I am.
“Mercy, baby…” Sam trails off, swallowing hard. “Did you hear what Reaper just said?”
“That he’s enjoying his food?”
My plate sits untouched in front of me.
“No, gorgeous.” I wipe off the sauce clinging to her lip with my thumb.
“I want to share you. With them.” I nod towards each man, knowing that they’re both unsure about it, but I think it’s a great fucking idea.
I’d rather we share her now than strangle each other—or her—when we don’t get our way.
None of us is getting our ideal scenario, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.
It could be fucking beautiful.
Her forehead crinkles. “Like, take turns or something? Create a schedule for dates?”
Shaking my head, I press my lips to her ear.
“I want to share your body with them, Siren.” I slip my hand between her thighs and spread them apart, gently teasing her soft skin.
“If you’re really good, we won’t make you wait.
” Someone grabs her knee and widens her stance, and within seconds, my knuckles brush another man’s.
I’m not sure if it’s Zane or Sam, but frankly, I don’t care either way.
My cock throbs with need, and I move Mercy’s hand off the table so that she can feel how eager I am.
I cup her palm over my length and groan.
Her eyes widen as I rub her hand over my crotch, but then her breath catches and she sinks into the seat, grabbing my cock with a whimper.
Someone’s helping make my point.
“I—I don’t know,” she murmurs, barely able to catch her breath. “What’s in it for me?” Her eyes flutter, and she pinches her plump bottom lip between her teeth. “ Ooh. ”
I arch my neck to peek into her lap. Her dress has shimmied up her thighs, and Zane’s rubbing her clit over her panties. Two more hands grip her knees tightly, forcing them open. Sam’s staring her down hard, the clench of his jaw making mine ache.
“Look at me, Mercy,” he rasps, his Adam’s apple bobbing on a swallow.
“You don’t have to do this.” He’s practically begging, but without any real heat to it.
It’s not convincing in the slightest. “We can go home right now. You and me. I’ll—” His voice catches.
“I’ll do whatever you want, Mercy, just say no.
” Softer, he adds, “Tell me that you don’t want them over me. Please.”
She stops rubbing my dick, and I nearly weep right alongside Sad Boy Sam.
“I want you to kiss me.”
My eyes meet Zane’s, and we both look up to find her staring directly at Sam. A wave of confidence washes over him, painting over the stupid puppy dog look, and he quickly stands. “Of course, baby, let’s go?—”
“No,” Mercy interrupts, smiling sweetly.
“I want you to kiss me here.” She taps her lips.
“And here.” Her neck. She trails her fingertips over her breasts before sliding them into her lap.
“And here. ” Patting the table like she’s waiting for one of us to move, she turns her smile on the rest of us.
“So who’s getting on their knees, gentlemen? ”