Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Mercy
Cisco’s feral grin is the last thing I see before he flips me onto my stomach.
My head spins, half from the orgasm and half from the ache of being kept on edge for hours. The damn plug is still in me, a deep, throbbing ache of fullness.
“Up on your elbows and knees, piccola.” He swats my bottom.
I try, God, I do, but my limbs are jelly. “Can’t.”
“You have until I’m undressed to get into position.”
“Yes, boss,” I moan, blissed out, and lazily lift my head.
The mirror reflects Cisco’s profile, silhouetted at the open window.
He strips off his trousers, and I can’t look away.
Maybe it’s just my heightened hormones, but everything about him tonight is just so damn hot.
As his briefs come off, his cock springs out, long and hard.
He catches me staring, and a smug knowing smirk lifts his fuckable lips. When he walks away to fold his trousers, the neat freak that he is, I roll for a better view of his naked buttocks. Jesus-fuck, it’s also tattooed. My pussy clenches, and I have to bite down on my lower lip to hide the moan.
How on earth did the Vatican invite this sinful man to become a priest? Just look at him. He’s the sexiest, most dangerous-looking man I’ve ever met. Surely they knew he’d have parishioners falling over themselves to get to him for communion.
That was probably the point.
And he has no clue how appealing he is, which makes me want him even more.
After removing a small bottle of something from his folded trousers, he neatly deposits them on a chair. Approaching the bed from the base, his lazy eyes drift over my body, and he gives his erection a slow pump, dragging the head through his fist.
My mouth waters at the sight. His forearm is thick and veined, inked down to that fuckable ring finger stamped with a cross. I’ve fantasized for weeks about watching that finger disappear inside me.
“You like the view?” His muted voice slides through the dark.
“Why don’t you look and see for yourself?”
He strolls back to the window side, where my legs fall, and the moonlight is stronger.
His facial features blur a little in the shadows, but I see his scowl when he realizes I’m not in the position he wanted.
But he doesn’t complain. He moves me into the position he wanted—on all fours.
I lower onto my elbows, arch my back, and present myself to him, watching his reaction in the mirror and trying not to whimper at the plug moving deeper.
“Sì, like this.” Cisco’s voice deepens and grows rough. “Look how wet you are, piccola. You ache for this, don’t you?” He pumps his length. “For me, not that plastic.”
I smirk over my shoulder. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous of inanimate objects.”
His growl is beastly. “Cute?”
I’m still feeling so lazy, light, and happy. And I’m too mesmerized by his lips moving as he talks. That’s my only excuse for my next words slipping out.
“Maybe I’m wet, my love, because you give good head.”
My eyes widen, lungs seize, and I look down at the sheets. I wait for it—an excuse, a resistance to the L-word. The more the word settles in me, the more right it feels.
Love. I love him.
I lift my gaze defiantly to look at his reflection. He steps forward, out of the darkest shadows, and reveals eyes blazing, filled with desire. When our gazes lock in the mirror, I let my eyes simmer in return, never wavering.
“Dio, Mercy.” His voice cracks with lust. “You keep looking at me like that, saying things like that, and I’m going to forget all my promises.”
I pout. “Not the one about two more orgasms, I hope.”
The mattress dips as he kneels on the bed behind me and I shuffle forward.
“You’re insatiable.”
The awe in his tone makes my pulse skip. He notices I’m no longer quite in position. Of course, he does.
“Back on your elbows and knees, piccola.”
“Oops.” I bite my hand to stop my smile.
“Do you want to be punished?” His voice is so quiet, it drives me wild.
“I want to be fucked.”
His hands clamp my hips, yanking me up and back to him so fast that blood rushes to my head and I gasp.
With quick, brutal action, he arranges me exactly the way he wants.
Two seconds later, I feel him fumbling with the plug, and jolt as it clicks on.
Vibrations pulse into me, stealing my breath and making my limbs almost buckle.
“Fuck that feels good,” I groan out.
“Not yet.”
I’m so hypersensitive I feel every pulse in my bones. Can’t stop writhing, grinding back for his touch, desperate and debased.
“Hurry up,” I demand.
“Look at the mess you make for me,” he mutters, lining up behind me.
The first glide of his cock’s blunt head along my seam pulls a ragged moan from my throat. He drags his tip through my slick flesh, teasing me everywhere before notching at my entrance. Then he’s pushing in with short, controlled thrusts.
“Ah, fuck—” I choke out, clutching the sheets. He’s thicker than I realized. No wonder my jaw aches, and my throat is scratchy.
“You have no idea what you do to me.” His confession comes out strained, one large hand lovingly sliding over my cheek and squeezing. “You’re going to be the death of me, Mercy.”
Each shallow thrust opens me more, every inch sinking him deeper until he’s seated, grinding his pelvic bone against the plug, the vibrations teasing my every nerve.
“Jesus—fuck—Cisco, slow down,” I gasp.
“This is slow.”
But then he draws out and slams in hard. The impact shoots sparks of pleasure through me. I claw at the sheets, clenching, desperate and delirious.
“Madonna.” His breathless moan is almost melancholy as he remains seated. “I forgot what this feels like . . .” He gasps. “Dio, I missed it.”
He drags out slowly but slams back in, hard enough to steal my breath, and holds. Savors. He does it again, and again, teasing me with his restrained pace.
“You know you’re mine now, sì?”
I hum. Nod.
“Cristo, Mercy—perfect—so wet—”
Each time he enters me, his gruff voice breaks a little more.
“Brava, pic—ah—just like—sss—so deep—”
I lift my gaze to the mirror and watch him lose himself.
“Never had it this good—porca miseria—look at you—”
Hands on my hips, muscles corded, and tendons pronounced, Cisco’s shadowed expression is blissfully agonized, hooded gaze locked on where he fills me. Brows lifted in the middle, jaw clenched hard, nostrils flared, sweat on his upper lip. He’s still holding back.
“Harder,” I demand.
“Dio.” He starts pistoning his hips faster. “I can’t say no to you like this.”
My sensitive body is already building toward another peak. The plug, the fullness, the control, the rhythm . . . it’s all too much, and I love it.
The sheets muffle my moan. “I’m going to come just like this—”
Each thrust increases the pace and punches sound out of me. Gasps, whimpers, grunts, and embarrassing high-pitched mewls as the tension coils tighter.
“Please,” I sob. “Yes, I need more—I’m almost—”
His grip drops to my thighs, fingers inadvertently digging in hard over my cilice wounds. Pain slices through me with his next impact, along with my orgasm, and I scream.
Wave after wave of euphoria floods my limbs, my lungs, my vision. The world narrows to nothing but white heat and trembling sensation. I ride it, grinding back on Cisco’s cock, groaning and delighting in the way I can still squeeze out more pleasure, making it last.
The timer finally dings.
Rude.
I can’t help but laugh, breathless and giddy when I realize what that means. “I came twice in nine minutes? Not nearly enough. But also, babe—fuck me, you know how to rock my world.”
Cisco is too still. His cock remains hard and unmoving inside me.
I glance over my shoulder, brush hair from my sweaty face, and find him rigid, muscles twitching, broad chest heaving with ragged breaths. He’s staring at his hands gripping my thighs.
“Babe?”
Wild eyes clash with mine, and he jerks out of me, stumbling back into the shadows shrouded by the curtains.
I scramble up to face him. “Hun, are you okay?”
“I can’t—”
“You can have a break if you need it. I’m not going anywhere.”
A feral sound rumbles from deep in his chest, and I clench. The sharp action triggers a new wave of aftershocks from the plug’s vibrations, and I curse. The battery is waning, but I’m done with it. I need something real.
“Take this plug out because I don’t think I can handle it anymore.”
“Mercy—”
“Please.”
The tone of my voice snaps something inside him. He grabs the bottle he removed from his trousers, unscrews the cap, and drizzles it over his shaft.
“You’re not taking a break?” I ask. “Wait, what is that?”
“Olive oil.” He slicks himself up, stark eyes locked on me. “From downstairs.”
I open my mouth to tease him, but he’s still in a mood and grumbling orders. “Stay on your back. I need to look at your face when I take your ass.”
He’s worried he’s too much for me. That’s what this is.
“Babe,” I say gently. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours now.”
“Then get comfortable, piccola,” he snarls through his teeth. “This will hurt.”
Such ego.
I scoff. It’s like he doesn’t know me at all, but he will.
That’s the whole point of me wanting this night to last. I need him to handle all of me, so I shuffle back to the pillows and collapse.
Cisco climbs onto the mattress and moves on his knees until he’s between my parted legs.
His gaze drops and goes nuclear. Black pupils blow out the brown iris. Oh yes, I like him this close.
“I’ve had anal plenty of times,” I remind him. “It won’t hurt.”
“You’ve not had it like this,” he counters, and pumps his fist over the glistening cock.
I don’t know why he’s jealous of my toys. None of them match his sheer length and girth. They’re close, but not the same. On second thought . . .
“Um. Maybe you could be right,” I admit, lifting my fingers to make a pinching gesture. “Just a little bit.”
“We will make it fit.” He says, more to himself than me, but he leans in and yanks the plug free.