Mercy
LILA
Those hands, working hands, hands that fix fences and rope steers and have been broken and put back together countless times, now gently close around my waist and turn me in one motion.
Slade could move me anywhere he wanted. Handle me any way he chose. The man is built with pure power and solid muscle, but he’s touching me like I’m something he’s terrified of breaking. Like I’m the most valuable thing those hands have ever been trusted with.
But the look in his eyes. The hunger. The dark, almost aggressive desire in them.
What happens when he stops holding himself back?
I start to turn again, wanting to touch him, but he pins my hands to the tile.
“Hands on the wall, sweetheart.” His mouth moves against my neck. “I’ve been waiting too long for this to rush it.”
I keep my palms on the wall.
The sound of water clattering upon the stone fills my ears. The steam is so thick I can almost taste the eucalyptus sprig I hung for him off the shower head. The heat of him at my back contrasts with the cold stone beneath my hands.
Both his hands slide to my hips, pulling my body back against his with surprising tenderness, like he’s choosing to touch me delicately against the grain of everything his body is telling him to do. His cock juts into my lower back as he bends his head to kiss my temple.
“How long?” he says quietly against my skin.
I turn my head slightly. “What?”
“How long have you been wanting this?”
My breath catches. “From the first day we met.”
A long exhale against my neck. His hands tighten on my hips for just a second.
“Me too,” he says.
His hands skim slowly down my sides, over my hips, fingers sliding along the curve of my inner thigh. My breathing goes shallow.
“So dirty, sweetheart,” he murmurs. His lips brush the words into the curve of my neck. “Let me clean you up.”
His hands slide back up. Slow. Over my stomach, my ribs, and then his palms cup my breasts through the pale pink lace. His hard cock bumps against my lower back.
It’s hot and steaming inside the shower, but my nipples are already hard. Both his big hands slide around to cup my breasts and I bite back a whimper. His thumbs roll over my nipples, pinching and caressing until they’re deep pink and I’m panting desperately for him.
His other hand slides from my breast down my stomach, all the way to my pussy. With his middle finger, he rubs my clit in slow easy passes, making my knees go soft. His arm tightens as he holds me up effortlessly, all that strength keeping me on my feet while he slowly unravels me.
Then I turn in his arms. I can’t help it. I need to see his face, I need to get my hands on him. I need to kiss him.
We’re chest to chest with the water running over both of us and I’m kissing him back hard and deep and he makes a sound low in his chest that I feel more than hear.
My fingers find his hair. Thick and wet and dark, and I grip it and pull him closer. His groan vibrates against my lips.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispers. “You make me crazy.”
And then his hands cup my face and he steps forward, pushing me until my back meets the tile.
The kiss is deep and hard and thorough, his lips moving against mine with the focused intensity he brings to everything, his tongue sliding against mine, his hands tilting my head exactly where he wants it.
The water runs over both of us and the steam rises and I feel his heartbeat against my sternum, fast and hard, matching mine.
I grab his shoulders.
“Lila.” My name in his mouth between kisses, rough and low and reverent all at once.
His mouth moves from mine to my jaw. My throat.
He drags his lips down my collarbone. The curve of my shoulder.
Lower still, his teeth grazing the swell of my breast, his lips following the path his teeth made before kissing back up again.
He finds a spot just below my collarbone and sucks, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure directly to my clit.
“Please,” I breathe.
I don’t even know what I’m asking for. Everything. All of it. Him.
We lock eyes. His are dark and focused, every muscle in his body taut, that careful control completely gone.
This is Slade Rhodes with nothing stopping him, no hesitation or apology. Just pure animal hunger, every iota of his considerable intensity trained on me.
He wraps a hand around his cock and strokes, his eyes on mine the whole time. Something about the dark lust in his eyes, the way he can’t keep his eyes off me while he touches himself, makes my legs feel shaky.
He kisses me again, hot and hard, before sinking to his knees. His eyes and hands roam over my body almost worshipfully before he meets my gaze.
Holding eye contact, he lifts my ankle onto his shoulder, his thumb pressing briefly against the joint like he’s checking it’s still okay. It touches my heart that even now, even in the heat of the moment, he’s checking to make sure I’m okay.
The position spreads me completely open. I feel the cool press of the tile against my back, the heat of the steaming water, and his breath, warm and close, not touching my skin yet.
Water runs down Slade’s face, down his perfect body. His dick is erect and flushed a deep red as he strokes it while his gaze roams over me. The raw desire in his eyes sends heat flooding through me.
I’m so turned on I could probably come from just the way he’s looking at me.
But then he bends his head forward and licks my pussy, and yeah—that’s the thing that’s going to make me come.
“Oh God,” I breathe. My fingers grip his hair so tight it has to hurt and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even pause, just keeps his tongue swirling on my clit, pushing inside me, as the pleasure spirals quickly higher.
Sliding his fingers inside me, he pushes them in that slow curling motion.
He sucks my clit between his lips and I feel the orgasm start gathering power in my core.
The climax hits me in waves, long rolling ones that start deep and radiate outward, my legs shaking against his shoulders, his name coming out of my mouth over and over.
He presses one last kiss to my pussy.
Then he’s rising. Hands on my hips. Water running over both of us. His face level with mine and his eyes very dark and hungry and his lips slightly swollen. He looks at me for one long moment as his fingers curl into my hips.
“I’m not letting you go,” he says, low and fierce, like it slipped out before he could stop it.
Like he’s talking about more than his hands on my body.
I cup his face in both hands.
“Then don’t,” I say.
He lifts me effortlessly, like I weigh nothing. My legs wrap around him as my back presses into the tile.
He looks at me. “Still with me?”
“Yes.” My hands grip his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”
“I’m not stopping,” he says. “Not a chance.”
He lines himself up and I feel the blunt heat of him against me. I tighten my legs around him involuntarily. He exhales hard through his nose and his jaw goes tight.
He pushes in.
Slow. Just the first inch, and I inhale sharply at the stretch of him, the heat and fullness and the reality of him after months of wanting, and he stops.
“Okay?” he says.
“Beyond okay.” I press my hips toward him and kiss him.
Slow and steady, inch by inch, he pushes his cock inside me. His eyes flicker from my face down to where we’re joined, back and forth with that intense, deep focus.
I feel him everywhere, filling me completely, my body stretching around him and taking him and wanting more even as I gasp at the fullness of it.
And then his hips rock forward. One solid thrust. And he’s all the way in.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
“Yeah,” he says roughly. His forehead drops to mine. His chest is heaving. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”
Neither of us moves for a moment.
His gaze roams over my face and I watch him look at me the way I’ve caught him looking at me across the distance, like I’m something he can’t quite believe is real. Except now there’s no distance between us at all. We’re as close as two people can ever get.
He thrusts, shallow but enough to pull a soft whimper out of me before I can stop it, a small helpless sound that I feel in my face immediately, heat flooding my cheeks.
His eyes flare dark at the sound and his hands grip the backs of my thighs tighter, pulling me down onto him, seating me more completely, and I feel it in my stomach.
“Too much?” he says roughly.
“No.” I press my hips down against him. “Give me more.”
His breath hisses out. “You sure about that?”
“Please,” I say, watching his eyes go dark. “I want all of it. I want everything you’ve got.”
His jaw tightens. Something shifts in his expression, the last of the careful patience burning away, replaced by something darker and more urgent. His hands grip the backs of my thighs hard.
“You have any idea what it does to me,” he nearly growls, “when you say that.” He pulls back and rocks his hips forward as he thrusts. The wave of pleasure that moves through me steals my breath. “When you just—” Another thrust, deeper this time, and he makes a low sound. “Take it. Like that.”
His eyes drop to where he’s thrusting in and out of me and then back to my face.
“Like such a…” He thrusts. “Good.” Again. “Fucking.” Again. “Girl.”
My fingers dig into his shoulders with every thrust, finding purchase, holding on, my nails probably leaving marks and neither of us caring.
He’s so big, so much of him, so deep, and the pressure builds with every movement, that sweet overwhelming fullness that makes my eyes want to roll back. I moan against his shoulder.
“That’s it,” he says roughly. “Let me hear you.” His mouth finds my ear. “You’re taking me so well, baby.” His hands pull me down harder onto him and I gasp at the depth of it. “You like when I fill up your tight little cunt like this?”
“So much.” It comes out almost as a sob.
“Fuck.” His voice has dropped to something barely above a growl, rough and dark and satisfied.
His hand slides between us and his thumb finds my clit and presses in slow circles and I cry out.
“Feel how tight you are. Gripping me. So fucking hot and wet.” His lips brush my temple, incongruously tender against the filth of his words. “Perfect. I’ll never get enough.”
I only wish he meant it forever.
And then he picks up the pace, and I realize that I had no idea what my husband was capable of.