Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Mercy
L ance's lips crash against mine.
The kiss is firm and commanding, and it feels so right that our tongues are tangling for several minutes before I dimly become aware that we've crossed a boundary-- and I don't want to go back.
"Lancer--" I reluctantly break my mouth away from his and gulp down air, trying to decide if I want to clear my head or not. "--you're kissing me."
Except, this time, it's me kissing him; insistently bringing our mouths back together and fitting my lips to his.
My hands are wrapped around his neck, hanging on for dear life and not about to let go.
"Fuck yeah, I am."
Lance steps impossibly closer to me, taking away the space that was left between us. I wobble on the heels I'm not used to wearing and fall back against the door behind me, taking Lance with me.
Now he's pressed against me, quickly adjusting his position to keep me from falling. With his knee pinning me on one side and his chest pressed to mine, I can feel his solid body against my much softer one.
His hands are big, and now one of them is gripping my hip roughly. Strong fingertips press into the back of my thigh, right under my ass, and pull me firmly against him.
I pretend not to notice the whimper that works its way out of my throat when I feel the steel-hard erection against my center.
"Tell me you want this, Mercy." Lance moves against me, grinding that thick rod against my mound, making me wish we didn't have the formal clothing blocking skin on skin contact. His voice is low, a gruff plea against my skin as he kisses along my throat.
While one hand continues to hold me in place against him, his other hand slides heavily up my side, palming my breast through the bodice of the gown all too briefly before circling my throat. Lance's thumb angles to push my chin upward, forcing me to meet his heated gaze.
"Do you want me, Mercy? Like this?"
His lips crush mine again and another hard press of his pelvis to mine makes it impossible to misinterpret his meaning.
The answer he swallows from me is a breathless, panting, desperate "hell yes."
We're too busy kissing again for me to get real words out, so I hope that running my hand between us and wrapping it around his hard cock through the thick fabric of his trousers is a clear enough answer.
The hand that was at my throat slips around to the back of my head. Lance's fingers slide through the carefully curled and pinned up-do that I practiced so many times to get it right for tonight. Bobby pins dislodge as Lance fists my hair and groans against my mouth.
This was already intense, but something about our unspoken agreement that we're on the same page here has things turning up a notch-- or seven.
There are way too many clothes involved for my liking, and Lance doesn't want to take his hands off my body so I can shove his jacket off his shoulders.
"Dammit, O'Leary, take this thing off." I curse at him as I wrestle his arms off me just long enough to send the fancy suit jacket tumbling to the floor.
"You too." Lance palms my breasts again with one hand over the satin bodice of my dress while his other hand fumbles with the tiny zipper that runs down the side under my arm.
"I'm not that easy." I giggle at his frustration when lowering the zipper doesn't send the whole thing falling to the floor.
"I know. I've been waiting for damn near twenty years now...how the fuck does this-- fuck it."
His patience with the hidden hook and eye closures sewn in above the zipper gives out and the body hangs loose on my torso after a quick tug.
"This is Singer's dress." I warn him, before he goes ripping through anything that I can't mend.
Lance slips his hand behind the loose fabric and shuts me right the fuck up-- well, except for the moaning.
All the foundation is built into the bodice of the dress itself, so there's nothing left to get in the way when his hand connects to my bare breast now.
My head falls back against the door that we're still employing for support. Whatever was left of my up-do gives up the ghost and my carefully curled hair falls around my shoulders and into my face.
"What twenty years?"
He said something back there, some joke about my not being easy, that he's been waiting... That was before his hand wrapped around my breath and he started teasing my nipple with firm little circles of his thumb until I'm ready to beg him to put his mouth on me as well.
Lance
A thousand thoughts crowd around the edge of my mind but I push them all back.
Nothing is going to stop me from taking this all the way.
Not with Mercy Jean moaning for me every time I touch her.
Not with how she's clawing at the tacks of my dress shirt and pulling my bow tie loose till she has her hands on my bare skin same as I do hers.
"I've wanted you since we were teenagers, Mercy Jean," I confess. "You're the first girl that ever gave me a hard-on and you've been the only girl I've ever wanted since."
Two hands land on either of my shoulders, pushing me away just as I was about to get my mouth on the tits I've been fantasizing about forever.
"What?"
Mercy's a vision right out of my best fantasies, looking flushed and undone with her fancy dress hanging loose off her curvy frame, her hair tangled around her face and shoulders, and her lips swollen and red from all the hard kissing we've been doing without a trace left of the shiny lipstick she had on earlier.
She doesn't look mad, she looks confused.
"You're my girl, Mers. The only one in the world for me."
"We're twenty-eight years old, O'Leary, when were you planning on fessing up about this?"
"Never."
My voice shakes more than I like, worried about the way this is headed.
"You never saw me the same way I saw you. I couldn't risk our friendship."
Mercy's sky blue eyes have taken on a duskier hue, and she studies me with them while she works her lower lips between her teeth.
"Then what are we doing now?" She asks.
I want to make a declaration, stake my claim, pull her back to me and kiss her again till she sees how right this is.
"You tell me, Mercy. If you want to take this further, I'll go as far as you're willing-- but I'm not gonna be able to go back again. I'm in love with you. I wanna marry you, put babies in you, grow old together bickering about which way the toilet paper's supposed to hang."
Something flickers in her eyes. My hands are resting on her hips and I feel my fingers tighten involuntarily in anticipation that what was looking to be the best day of my life might end up being the worst.
Then Mercy's hands grasp the open edges of my shirt and she pulls me to her fast and hard.
"Can't believe you wasted so much time," she scolds when she breaks a kiss that I was willing to die for. "Now we have to go to your stupid dinner."
"Fuck dinner."
If Mercy actually thinks we're still headed to that stupid banquet now, she's in for a shock.
Bending quickly enough to break her grip on my shirt, I manage to catch her up in my arms, dress and all.
It's a short trip to the bed, with Mercy giggling in my arms before I drop her on top of the quilted duvet and spare not one more second getting underneath the layers of silky, red material that are keeping me from tasting heaven.
Fabric rips as I hastily push her skirt up, trying like hell to take time to appreciate the curve of thick, creamy thighs as they come into view.
The dainty little shoe she never got to buckle on falls off Mercy's foot as she bends her knees and widens her legs to give me space between them.
A patch of red lace peaks at me from the juncture of her thighs as I move the dress up around her waist.
"Figured you for a cotton, boy shorts kinda girl," I chide, swallowing hard as she gives me a glimpse of the damp space between her legs.
"Guess it's been too long since you got a look at me in my underwear, then."
The idea that Mercy's been running around with lacy little thongs like this under her jeans for the last ten years scrambles my brain and makes my dick surge with need.
My heart races. My hands tremble as I gently place them against the soft skin inside her knees and savor the feel of her flesh as I move farther up her thighs.
I want to touch her everywhere, and I plan to, but right now, I narrow my focus to that patch of lace between her legs and dragging the elastic band over her plump ass and those lush thighs till it's out of the way with a nervous laugh and a kick of Mercy's foot.
Then all our laughter and joking ends.
Mercy's body moves with the deep breath she takes. Her fingers move against the skirt of her dress, pulling it even higher, and she lets her thighs fall open completely.
I want to tell her how fucking beautiful she is like this. I want to tell her how much I love her. I want to thank her for letting me see her like this.
But words refuse to form as I look down at Mercy's glistening pussy; swollen, wet, and open for me.
Hopefully I can show her everything I've feeling.