Merrick
He’d smashed every glass in the cupboard and put his fist through the wall.
Not his finest accomplishment, but it gave him a physical release for the guilt and frustration eating through him like acid. How the fuck did doing the right thing feel so much like he was on the wrong side of a slippery slope?
Christ, he shared women regularly without a shred of any of these conflicting emotions. It was one of his favorite pastimes.
But this woman is supposed to be yours , the irritating voice in his head mocked.
The urge to destroy more inanimate objects was strong. He wanted to break everything within reach, raze the cabin to the ground, tear out his fucking heart and stomp on it until there was nothing left but bloody dust beneath his heel.
Beneath it all was the powerful sense of betrayal.
He stayed in the kitchen, unable to listen to the sound of his woman being fucked by another man in their bed. Even as he cleaned up the mess he’d made, his body braced for a scream, a high cry, a fucking sign this nightmare was over with so he could take a damn breath.
It was the first time in his life he could ever remember being so damn conflicted.
Fuck, it was too early for a drink.
Hell, he didn’t know what to do with himself. What did the spare wheel do for his woman when she lost her virginity? It felt weird to be on this side of the equation; he was more used to being the one who strung up a willing submissive for a flogging before returning her back to her Dom for aftercare than the other way around, and he didn’t like it.
When the sound of hard, desperate sobs came from the bedroom, his head whipped up and around. Hurrying to the door, he heard strange, plaintive cries of Merk interspersed between heartbreaking hiccups of breath.
He met Fordham in the hallway, his gaze immediately falling to the blanketed figure in his friend’s arms. He saw Tamsyn’s dark head, how she hid her face in Ford’s neck as that mournful chant of Merk continued.
“What the hell happened?” he demanded.
Blue eyes met his directly. “She’s made it perfectly clear I’m not the one she needs. You tried to do the right thing for her, Merrick, but this isn’t it. As soon as I put my weight on her, she started trying to say your name and hasn’t stopped.”
Merrick blinked. Was that what Merk was supposed to be? He was shocked enough that she was making a discernible word, but knowing it was his name? It slayed him.
He stepped forward, reaching for her, and relaxed for the first time since their argument in the bathroom when she twisted in Fordham’s arms to lean toward him like a toddler desperate for her daddy.
“I’m sorry, little owl,” he said when she was safely in his hold. “I’m so sorry.”
“Merk. Merk.” Her tear-dampened cheek pressed against his as she went limp on a shuddering exhale. Fresh tears rolled into his beard.
“Appreciate you trying,” Merrick said quietly to Fordham.
Naked and unconcerned, he just scratched an itch on the back of his neck. “I think you’re going to have to just bite the bullet and give her what she wants, Merrick. Good intentions and big dick aside, you’ve got yourself one hell of a woman. Don’t throw her away.”
“That isn’t what I was doing.”
“I know. In your position, I’d probably consider doing the same.” Ford jerked his thumb toward the bedroom. “I’ll get dressed and leave you two alone. Mind if I offer some friendly advice?”
Merrick supposed he owed him that, at the very least. “Sure.”
“Don’t keep her waiting. When you have a woman, a potential sub, with the devotion and loyalty she’s shown you tonight, don’t keep her waiting for anything.” Sadness flickering in his eyes, Ford reached out and brushed a knuckle over Tamsyn’s cheek. “Good effort, sweetheart. You were very brave.”
With a nod to Merrick, he turned and sauntered back into the bedroom, confidence in every step.
Tightening his arms, Merrick swayed from side to side as her sobs gradually became sniffles and whimpers. He hadn’t touched her for an hour, yet it seemed like weeks since his hands were on her, his mouth stealing kisses from her silent lips.
Not so silent now, he corrected himself. She might not be talking in full, cohesive sentences, but Merk was a definite improvement from squeaks and grunts, however adorable he found them.
Somehow, the swaying turned into a slow dance. Closing his eyes, he moved in a circle to a rhythm that wasn’t really music in his head, but the beat of their hearts. He heard the front door close quietly, grateful to be alone again with his little owl.
“Merk,” Tamsyn whispered, her tone content. She eased back, brushing her lips over his cheek, his eyebrow, his nose. Soft, seductive kisses that tore his resolve to shreds.
“You found your voice, darlin’.”
She shrugged as if to say, some of it . With a visibly concerted effort, she said, “Mer-rick, pl-ease.”
Christ, her vocal chords sounded as though they’d been chewed on; Tamsyn grimaced like the words were clawing their way from her throat.
He didn’t have to ask what she wanted. He didn’t have the heart to deny her, not when her voice cracked in the middle of each word. More to the point, he couldn’t say no when it was exactly what he wanted as well.
Reality was just a hard pill to swallow.
“You know what’s gonna happen, little owl. Remember what I said?”
Wariness flickered in her eyes, illuminating the green flecks scattered through the tawny brown. Oh yes, she remembered the dire warning he’d given her—her solemn nod told him she’d taken heed of it, yet it didn’t deter her.
“After tonight, you’re mine. All of you. Mine to love and cherish, to protect with my last breath.” He ran his nose along her jaw, pleased with her soft gasp. “Mine to tie up and fuck, to bruise and torment, until it’s time to kiss it all better. All fucking mine , Tamsyn. Are you ready for that?”
The delicate muscles in her throat strained as she croaked out, “Y-Yes.”
Merrick discovered he was impatient to hear her talk, now she’d teased him with that pretty voice. Single, halting words wouldn’t satisfy him for long; he craved the full force of her, to listen to her voice in all its glory and hear the inflections of her mood.
His feet were already in motion, carrying them both to the point of no return. He kicked the bedroom door shut behind them before lowering her to stand in front of him. A quick tug on the blanket and she was unveiled, the most beautiful and priceless piece of art he’d ever seen.
Dark hair tumbled to her shoulders, still damp from her dunking in the bath. She hadn’t brushed the silky strands, so they curled and tangled together around her lean face, accentuating the roundness of her eyes, highlighting the color.
If anyone asked him what he loved most about her, the answer would forever be her eyes.
She was pale, barely a hint of blush in her cheeks.
That was going to change in short order, once he distracted her from those pesky nerves. There was a perpetual vein of anxiety trickling through her, never quite silent, and he was adept in reading the signs now.
Her breasts were fuller than they’d been a month ago, those perfect nipples crinkling into tight, pink buds under the heat of his gaze. He had a set of clamps in mind to compliment them when the time was right.
She was trying to control her breathing, he noted, without much success. Her chest jerked with each unsteady inhale, and every exhale huffed through her nose. She was skilled at putting on a brave face, but in actuality, the facade covered nothing.
His little owl was an open book, a naked statue, a masterpiece beneath spotlights.
There wasn’t much she could hide from him.
Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and then her mouth. Slowly, sweetly, setting the tone for what was probably about to be the best and worst night of his life combined.
“Lay down, darlin’.”
Tamsyn’s gaze immediately shot to the bed where the covers were rumpled, her robe discarded in a puddle of fabric on the carpet. She shifted uneasily, obviously not keen on returning there tonight.
Taking her hand, Merrick led her the few steps across the room to the fireplace. It didn’t escape his notice how clammy her palm was, how tightly her fingers clutched his. “We don’t have to do this tonight, little owl. You need to be sure.”
While her busy brain kicked into gear, he bent and roused the dying embers with the poker until they glowed red, then tossed half a dozen logs on top.
The sheepskin rug under his feet was certainly soft enough to act as a makeshift bed, he mused, running his foot over the fluffy fibers. It would cushion her, protect her skin from carpet burns.
As flames began to flicker around the wood, he straightened. “Take a minute, Tamsyn. I need to get a few things. Make sure this is the right time for you—there’s no rush. Tonight, tomorrow, a month from now… I’ll still be here.”
He felt her eyes following him as he crossed over to the bed to grab a couple of pillows. Opening the drawer in the bedside table, he grabbed a few condoms from his private stash of Trojan Magnum XLs and the bottle of Sliquid Silver silicone lube he preferred.
When he turned around, Tamsyn waited for him on the rug, her body flickering in the light of the flames. She was stiff and uneasy, her thighs pressed together, her arms by her sides; she resembled a virginal sacrifice on some satanic cult’s altar, waiting for a demon to rise and consume her.
He kept his eyes on her as he walked over, dropping to one knee by her side. The condoms and lube he set out of her sight before gently lifting her head with one hand and sliding the pillows under her with the other. “Are you my good girl, darlin’?”
Her mouth opened, but she’d lost her voice again. She nodded instead.
“Yeah, you are. I’m gonna tease you, Tamsyn. Gonna wind you up tight and set you off like a rocket, over and over, until you’re flying high. Need you loose and limp and pliant.” Merrick palmed her breast, fondling the warm flesh, tweaking her nipple so it grew tighter, redder. “When it’s time, remember to breathe. Relax and let me in. You can cry, you can scream, you can come. Do whatever feels natural to you, yeah?”
She swallowed audibly.
Unfastening his jeans, he shoved them down to his thighs before sitting and removing them. In an easy move, he stretched out alongside her, resting his hand on her quivering stomach. Rubbing slow circles over the tight muscles, he propped his head on his fist to watch her face. “Did Fordham get to touch this perfect pussy, little owl?”
She blinked in surprise, a flush rising from her breasts to her cheeks.
“Don’t be embarrassed. Was he gentle?”
A tiny nod, a deeper flush.
“Good, I don’t need to break his fingers. Did you like him touching you?”
Tamsyn frowned, her lips twisting. Resting her hand on his forearm, she squeezed.
“Yeah, I know he wasn’t me. It’s not a bad thing to get used to being touched, darlin’. Some women, some submissives, find it exciting to be with another man while their Dom watches or even joins in.” He laughed when her eyes widened. “That’s a conversation for another day, I think. Did he put his fingers inside you?”
She shook her head adamantly.
“Were you wet?”
“N-No,” she whispered hoarsely.
God, her voice was sweet. When her stomach relaxed, he trailed his fingers back up to her breast, manipulating the other nipple into a hard, crimson peak. A quick tug, a firm roll of that bud between his fingertips, tilted her hips. “You’ll be wet for me, I promise. So wet, all that delicious cream is gonna let my fingers slide inside you. Gonna let me hear that voice some more, aren’t you, darlin’?”
“Merk.”
His grin flashed. “I’m gonna enjoy hearing you scream Merk to the rafters.”
Tamsyn froze, evidently thinking she’d done something wrong, then her bottom lip poked out in a pout. A second later, her face lit up as she giggled.
That’s what he was aiming for—eradicating her nerves and finding the fun.
Experimentally, he ran his hand down her side, across slender ribs warmed by the fire. A quick wiggle of his fingers along her skin told him she was extremely ticklish, sending her into a fit of crazy wriggling and twisting. Her laugh was deeper than he expected, huskier, as though the issues with her voice affected that as well.
While she tried to evade his ruthless attack, Merrick dipped his head, fastening his lips around the nearest nipple and sucking as his fingers continued to drive her insane.
“S-S-S-S—” Tamsyn hissed breathlessly between peals of laughter. “S-Stop!”
He nipped the bud between his teeth. “But I’m having so much fun, little owl.”
Her casted arm lifted helplessly for a truce, but he was feeling mischievous. “Tell me what you need, Tamsyn, and maybe I’ll think about it.”
She just laughed harder, squirming manically.
Merrick rolled on top of her, groaning under his breath when her body immediately rubbed and bucked against him. All it would take was a slight adjustment of his hips for his cock to align with her entrance, a hard thrust to seat him partly inside her.
Down, boy .
She felt so small and vulnerable beneath him, half his size and yet… his everything.
He licked up the side of her neck until her pulse throbbed against his tongue. Closing his mouth over the spot, he sucked lightly, his hands stilling so her laughter died away into a stunned moan.
If he heeded Violet’s advice, he just needed Tamsyn to come a half dozen times and he could claim her. Soft and sated was the key, but he guessed she’d be barely lucid by the time he wrung that sixth orgasm from her exhausted body.
She moaned again, her hands lifting to fist his hair, going so far as to tilt her head toward the fire so his mouth had better access to her neck. Inexperienced she might be, but she was learning how to express her needs.
Merrick shifted his weight onto his right leg, urging her to curl hers around his thigh. The small change in position gave him room to slip his hand between them, fingers petting her curls before he slid them down lower to circle the hot, tight hole he craved.
Dampness met his fingertips; he felt her flinch.
“It’s only me, darlin’. This sweet pussy’s gone shy on me, hasn’t she?” Lifting his head, he kissed her. Slow and soft at first, giving his hunger release inch by inch until he devoured her mouth like a starving man. He broke the kiss when her pelvis lifted, arching a brow at her. “Am I being too gentle for you, little owl?”
Brilliant color shot into her cheeks, staining the tips of her ears.
Okay, he could work with that. Quite easily, in fact.
He kissed her again, skipping the tenderness and going in for the kill. A fierce, bruising kiss that appealed to the beast inside him—and more importantly, to the sleeping sub hibernating inside her. He nipped her lower lip, tugging on it until she whimpered, and the dampness amplified into slick, wet heat.
Chuckling, pleased with the shocked look in her eyes, he nipped her again, relishing the pull of her hands in his hair. Someone had a sneaky hidden masochist streak rising to the surface, even if she didn’t understand it.
Working his way down her body, he balanced kisses with bites, setting his teeth on her flesh to leave a trail of faint indents in his wake. Soothing them with his tongue, teasing the sensitive areas he already knew and seeking out new ones.
Her ribs, the underside of her breasts.
An unexpected spot on her hip.
Her belly button.
The noises she made as his tongue rimmed that cute indentation were beautiful music.
By the time he reached the holy grail, her legs were voluntarily hooked over his shoulders, and his prize was weeping. She was perfect—plump labia, her clit peeking from under its hood, her slit beautifully blushed and glistening.
“Six is the magic number, Tamsyn. Do you want to keep count or should I?”
She watched him owlishly, her eyes round and slightly blurred. Her hands were still in his hair, but their grip was looser now. She gave him a little tap-tap on the scalp, then blew out a breath.
Merrick’s cock throbbed, thoroughly unimpressed with the game. It wanted inside her, where it was hot and tight, her muscles strangling it from root to tip.
Just like this, he thought, easing a finger into the narrow sheath. He groaned when she squeezed him, her juices silky and plentiful. He added another, feeling her quiver as her flesh stretched to accommodate the intrusion.
She responded well to his mouth, which he loved. He was a man who had no problem being on his knees, worshipping a pretty pussy, but when that pussy was his, all fucking his, the pleasure was tenfold.
After too many long, stressful days of convincing himself that he wasn’t the man who should do this, she was finally going to be his completely, consequences be damned.
To his delight, her first orgasm didn’t take long to sweep through her, a silent swell of pleasure squeezing his digits. Even though she apparently needed a little rough to get her engine purring, he was careful not to push her body’s limits too far, too fast.
That was coming soon enough.
“Give me another, Tamsyn,” he coaxed, lapping up the sweetness leaking around his pumping fingers. “The more you come, the quicker you get all of me.”
The muscles in her thighs trembled, her heels digging into his back. She tried to ride his fingers, her hips finding an awkward rhythm that wasn’t quite hitting the spot. Her quiet mewls of frustration did devilish things to his cock.
He worked his fingers in and out, scissoring and rotating them, carefully relieving that tightness he yearned to feel around the base of his shaft. Her pussy was a greedy little thing, sucking on his fingers, demanding more.
The pump of his hand grew steadily faster, kneading her G-spot until she clenched hard. Closing his mouth over her clit, he sucked firmly, pleased when her second orgasm erupted with a small, helpless cry. Without giving her respite, he kept it rolling into a third, pushing her hard for a fourth.
When her fingers lost their grip on his hair and her legs flopped uselessly off his shoulders, his generous well of patience dried up. She was wetter than she’d ever be—her pussy squelched with each thrust of his fingers, and her juices were soaking into his beard—and the only way he’d get her to relax any more was by knocking her out.
The fun, easy time was over.
Pressing his lips to her mound, Merrick savored this last precious moment of the present before they stepped into a new future. Before he stripped her of her innocence and helped rebuild her into a strong, confident, sexy as fuck siren.
Kissing a path up the middle of her body, he prowled over her, finally nuzzling the underside of her jaw. “Still got all your faculties, little owl?”
She hummed contentedly.
“Happy and relaxed?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He leaned on his right forearm, reaching for a condom. Ripping the packet open with his teeth, he pulled out the rubber and rolled it down his shaft with care. The slightest pressure in the wrong place and the night would go drastically awry.
The empty wrapper was tossed into the fire.
Slow and steady, he reminded himself. It was no different to any other time he slept with a woman who hadn’t played with him previously… fuck, who was he kidding?
It was completely different, and a hell of a lot more important on so many levels.
Using one hand, he managed to pump a few squirts of lube into his cupped fingers, liberally coating the condom. He wasn’t willing to take any risks with her and, as wet as she was, a little extra wouldn’t hurt.
“Tamsyn, look at me.”
Dazed, heavy lidded eyes drifted to meet his; she smiled as though she’d smoked half a pound of weed and was on her third rotation of flying around the planet. “Merk.”
“Hey, darlin’. You okay?”
She nodded, still beaming.
“My good girl,” he murmured, studying her eyes. “We’re gonna try something new now. Need you to keep on being my good girl and tell me if I go too far or I hurt you. Think you can do that?”
Her faculties were still in order, he noted gratefully. The dip in her smile and the awareness creeping through her high told him she was on the same page. They both knew what was coming next, only his knowledge was a lot more extensive than hers right now.
Lowering his weight more fully onto her, he guided his cock against her entrance, sliding one arm under her neck and curling the other around the pillow. “Eyes on me, little owl. Don’t look away, don’t close them. Keep them on me.”
There was more he wanted to say, but it was more for procrastination than anything. Delaying the inevitable only made it worse for her; the longer he waited, the faster her high would dissipate beneath the smothering fog of anxiety.
So instead of words, he used his body to do the talking instead.
*