Chapter 155. A Very Steamy Bath III
Chapter 155: 155. A Very Steamy Bath III
Maisie
Mercer’s nostrils flared and his hand was in my hair, wrenching me forward until his lips hovered close to mine. For a moment, he did nothing but breathe in the same air as me.
And I did nothing but breathe him in.
And then, we collided.
My whole body seized from the force of it. It felt like a burn, a brand, like the first touch after years of sensory deprivation.
I wanted to touch him.
I wanted to claw at him, bite him, taste his skin with my lips. The wanting was so vast it felt like it might split me open.
My hands found his hair. His hands found my face, both palms cradling my jaw, and then I was making a desperate sound that was both a sob and a growl.
There was no finesse to it. Just raw hunger. Teeth and tongue, nails and fangs. His lower lip split against my fang and the taste of his blood touched my tongue.
He kissed me harder and I bit him again, just to hear the pleased grunt that vibrated in his throat.
His hands slid down my neck, my shoulders, the wet slope of my breasts, mapping me out with urgency. "Fuck, I forgot how soft you are here—" he squeezed my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers, sucking, flicking, nipping, scraping and sucking again in a maddening rhythm until I was arching and moaning against his lips. "—and here." He brought his other hand down hard on the curve of my ass and I yelped.
He sucked the sound into his mouth and rasped against me "Tell me you like me best."
"Earn it," I hissed, fisting my hand in his hair and yanking his head back so I could press my mouth to his pulse point and suck.
Hard enough to leave a mark, hard enough that he groaned and bucked under me.
The sound lit the fire between us like gasoline.
Mercer surged forward, arms banding around my waist, and then he was lifting me, turning us both, and my back hit the cold slope of the tub.
He loomed over me, dripping, his hair plastered to his forehead, his cock hard against my inner thigh.
I looked down. Looked at it.
He was so hard, the head was flushed dark and I could make out just how many veins ran up the sides of his shaft. Enough to make my mouth water. I’d never quite been as fascinated by a cock like I was Mercer’s.
It curved slightly to the left and I knew it was a terrible time to remember Regina, but she’d once said in the passing that the curved ones worked best.
Though, I didn’t understand it at the time, I thought I was about to.
Mercer spread my legs. His voice dropped to a register I barely recognized. "Put your hands on the edge of the tub. And hold on."
The command slid into me and settled deep inside me. I did it. My fingers curled around the porcelain edge, knuckles whitening. Mercer watched me, tracking the movement, and something flickered across his face. Male pride, maybe. Satisfaction.
"Lift your hips for me." I did. "Very good. Spread your thighs wider. I want to look at you."
My insides clenched. His voice was just as good as sex. I swore if he kept talking like that, I was going to start leaking.
Okay. Maybe I already was.
I splayed my legs wider, one hooked over the rim of the tub, the other bent curved around his back. I didn’t think I could go any wider than that.
I watched his face as he looked at me.
My breasts rose and fell with my breathing, nipples hard and aching. I could feel his gaze like a physical thing, tracking down my body, the hollow of my throat, the curve of my ribs, the soft dent of my waist, the tiny wet curls between my thighs.
I felt exposed. Vulnerable. But I also felt seen.
"You have no idea what you look like right now... flushed, wet, eyes glassy, needy and so damn lovely, you wreck me," he said with such reverence, I thought he looked awestruck.
"I love how flushed you get. Here." He touched my sternum. "And here." His fingers drifted lower, tracing the crease where my thigh met my hip. "And here." His thumb brushed my clit, hypersensitive, and my hip bucked.
"Mercer, please."
Then he was sinking down, his shoulders pushing my thighs further apart, and his mouth found me.
He licked up the center of my heat in one broad stroke, parting my lips with his tongue, and I cried out so loud the sound echoed off the tile walls.
He did it again, slower this time. The tip of his tongue traced the rim of my entrance, then dipped inside, thrusting into me shallow and wet and obscene.
I’d forgotten how cruel his mouth could be. I’d forgotten exactly how much I loved his tongue inside me.
"Oh—Oh god—Mercer."
"Too much?"
"No. Yes. I don’t know. Please don’t stop."
He answered by sealing his lips around my clit and sucking.
My hips bucked. Every nerve ending fired in overdrive. I could feel the shape of his mouth, the heat of his exhale against my folds, the faint scrape of stubble against my inner thigh.
He worked me with the kind of intensity he’d always brought to everything. Brutal. Relentless. His tongue wrote letters I couldn’t read. My clit throbbed under his attention, swollen and aching.
An animal groan vibrated against my core and he plunged two fingers inside me as he devoured me.
My back arched off the tub. He crooked his fingers forward, finding a spot that made colors burst behind my eyelids, and his mouth returned to my clit, and I was gasping, grinding, making sounds I had no control over.
The wet noise of his fingers pumping in and out of me filled the air.
"I’m going to make you come so fucking much, I’ll walk around smelling like your pussy for weeks," he said, the words vibrating against my flesh.
Goddess, but that filthy mouth of his.