Guts & Glory: Mercy (In the Shadows Security Book 1)

by Jeanne St. James

  Oh no, he was aware. His spine snapped straight, his dark head lifted and every muscle in his body went tight.

  He became a statue. She didn’t even think he was breathing. Nothing on him moved. Not his ribcage. Not his hands. Nothing. He was frozen in place.

  His skin was warm and still damp as her trembling fingers traced one thick scar, then the next, then the next.

  Another.

  And one more.

  Finally, the last one she could see, which was close to the waistband of his shorts.

  They were white and, for the most part, raised but smooth, so they weren’t fresh. They happened years ago. All of them close to the same length, the same width.

  The same weapon.

  The same hand had held that weapon.

  The weapon being the same knife that sliced open his face?

  How had he survived this many stab wounds?

  She finally released a shaky breath and when that breath swept over his skin, he jerked.

  A strangled, “Rissa,” filled the air around them.

  She ignored it and, from the small of his back, worked her way back up, smoothing, touching, experiencing each one of those scars again.

  Each one. Six that she could see.

  Six times he’d been stabbed. From behind.

  Someone tried to kill him. Extinguish his life.

  Remove him from the earth.

  Why? Had he been a threat? Was it self-defense? What had he done to deserve something so violent?

  What caused someone to cut open his face?

  Where had this man been? What had he done? Why had he even been in that type of situation?

  She lingered on the one on his back nearest his heart. The one that could have been instantly fatal.

  She was jerked out of her thoughts when he spun on her and grabbed her wrist in a hold so tight, she cried out in surprise.

  His silver-gray eyes were no longer icy. Not unless ice seared. No, something else flickered behind them. Blistering, blazing, but barely restrained.

  “Rissa,” came from deep within his chest, almost like a lion huffing.

  Goosebumps exploded over every inch of her skin. Her nipples puckered so hard, the ache from them shot through her and landed in her core.

  “Parris.” Did her lips move? Did that come from her? Why would she feel the need to correct him at this very moment?

  “Rissa to me,” he growled, dropping his head low.

  Now his eyes held a new look. Dangerous, unrestrained. Similar to that lion he sounded like, only now she had become his prey.

  His target.

  So maybe this wasn’t the best time to argue about his use of her name.

  Right now, he was on the edge of something.

  It could go either way. Something disturbing and violent, or...

  If she pushed him the wrong way things could end up badly for her.

  “Mercy.” His name caught in her throat. But she needed to talk to him, see where his head was at. She cleared her throat. “Mercy—”

  “Two ways to shut you up. Both ways, I could lose my bonus and possibly my life.”

  A shudder swept through her.

  “One will definitely suck for you. The other...”

  The hand not gripping her wrist like a vise curled around her throat.

  She should be very scared.

  Very, very scared.

  Especially when those long, strong fingers began to squeeze.

  Chapter Five

  His eyes narrowed as hers widened and her mouth opened, a puff of air escaping.

  She should be scared, very scared, but there was no fear behind those baby blues.

  None.

  Her pulse raced wildly under his thumb and when a groan slid up her throat, he felt the vibration against his palm.

  Yeah, there were two ways to shut her up. From talking, at least.

  With a tight grip on both her neck and wrist, he bumped her backwards using his body. One step, two steps, and with the third, her ass hit the center island. Now she was trapped.

  Now he had complete control of her, had her pinned in place.

  His eyes raked over her lipstick-free lips, ones he imagined stretched around his cock when he jacked off this morning. Then they slid down to her heaving chest. The elastic fabric of her snug pink camisole did nothing to hide how hard those tips were. So puckered that he could even see the outline of her areolas. Her nipples were substantial in size, perfect for his mouth.

  There wasn’t anything delicate about this woman.

  She was unbreakable.

  She was the type who could take a pounding and would ask for more. That was the kind of woman he liked. One who wasn’t afraid to mess up her hair or break a nail when things got a little rough.

  He jammed a knee between her thighs, holding her in place as he released her throat and her wrist before wedging his hands behind her to grab generous handfuls of her ass. So much to grab, so soft. He wanted to bury himself there, too. His mouth, his fingers. His cock.

  He lifted her up and slid her ass onto the counter, hooked his fingers into the waistband of her PJ’s and heard them tear as he yanked them down her hips, over her thighs and off her bare feet.

  Surprisingly, she wore plain peach cotton panties instead of some expensive, lacy ones. He wanted to shove his nose against the darker center, where it was damp and clinging to plump lips barely contained within the fabric.

  “Mercy.” His name came out on a hitched breath.

  She should be scared.

  She wasn’t.

  And he liked that.

  Her hands were planted on the counter behind her and she leaned back, offering herself with a groan.

  She belonged to someone else, but at that moment, he didn’t give a fuck.

  His cock was hard, throbbing, as his fingers slid over the breadth of her hips, over the tuck of her waist, along her sides, skimming the heavy curves of her tits.

  She was now panting, her head falling back. He reached up, yanked the elastic band out of her hair, the thick, light brown strands falling loosely, pooling on the counter beneath her head. He slipped her glasses from her face, brushed a thumb over her plump bottom lip, her warm, damp breath beating against his fingers. His fingertips traced her feminine jawline, down her throat once more. He didn’t pause there. Though he wanted to.

  He kept going. Over the hollow of her throat, a very vulnerable spot. A place where he could easily crush her windpipe with a well-placed two-finger jab. He curled both hands to either side of her neck, stroking his thumbs up and down her pulse points before sliding them over her shoulders, slipping his fingers under the straining spaghetti-thin straps of her top and snapping them both at the same time with a jerk.

  Her sharp intake of breath made him lift his eyes to her unfocused ones. Her makeup-free face was flush, her lips parted. He took advantage of that, leaning over, crushing his mouth to hers, capturing her moan, finding her tongue, forcing her to submit to him with just a kiss.

  He worked the cami down, over the swell of her tits until the fabric was gathered at her waist like a belt. He deepened the kiss as his fingers explored the fullness, the weight, the heaviness of the tits he wanted to get lost in. Both palms brushed over the diamond-hard tips, invoking another moan he captured and kept for himself.

  Using his thumbs and forefingers he plucked, twisted and pulled. Her back arched, her tongue tangling even more frantically with his. He couldn’t wait, so he broke the kiss and sucked one nipple into his mouth, not being gentle. Showing her who he was, what he was.

  He was not going to woo her. He was not going to whisper sweet nothings in her ear. He was not going to be gentle.

  He was going to fuck her. Deep. Hard. Fast. Until they both came. Both collapsed.

  That’s what he’d give her.

  No flowers. No chocolate. No breakfast in bed.

  He scraped his teeth over the taut nipple and her whole body flexed as he did so.

 
; A low growl escaped him as he did the same to the other one before moving down her belly, nipping at her flesh as she quivered beneath him.

  Fuck yes, she liked it.

  She hadn’t said no yet. She hadn’t tried to push him away. She wanted exactly what he was giving her.

  She made a little sound of complaint when he released her tits and grabbed both her wrists, pulling her hands free from the counter, forcing her to recline on the granite counter top. Her legs automatically circled his waist. Slipping his hands between them, he found her panties and ripped them apart with a jerk so hard, her whole body shifted.

  His fingers found her hot, slick, and open. She ground down against them as he inserted two inside her, finding her ready and willing.

  So fucking wet.

  He wanted to taste her, suck on one plump, juicy fold then the other. But he didn’t have the patience to wait.

  Shoving his shorts down and tucking the elastic waistband under his heavy, aching sac, he freed himself, sliding the head of his cock along her slick slit. Her hips lifted slightly, enough to encourage him to take that next step.

  His dick was right there. Another inch and he’d be inside her. But she belonged to another. A powerful man with a lot of money.

  She didn’t belong to him.

  He had no right to do what he wanted to do. He shouldn’t even be thinking about it. He shouldn’t be considering it.

  This could change everything.

  He curled over her and growled in her ear, “You belong to Paranzino.”

  “No,” she breathed, her head thrashing back and forth. Her hands wrapped around his bare shoulders, her nails digging in.

  He liked it. The pain. The discomfort. The sharp reminder that he was alive. “Yes.”

  She arched her back again, her hard nipples pressing into his chest. “No. Michael... Michael is gay. I... I don’t belong to him. I don’t belong to anyone.”

  Michael is gay.

  I don’t belong to him.

  With a grunt, he thrust his hips forward and slid deep inside her. No resistance from her or her body. The slickness, the heat, the tightness surrounding him, making him grunt again in her ear.

  I don’t belong to anyone...

  Now you fucking do.

  Her head slammed back into the counter and she cried out as she clenched tightly around him, drawing him deeper, encouraging him to fuck her harder.

  Her hips rocked against him and he couldn’t get deep enough.

  Not fucking deep enough.

  He lifted himself up, so he could watch her tits sway heavily with each thrust of his hips. He curled his fingers around the front of her neck once more.

  His fingers flexed and squeezed, released and curled. His other hand found the soft skin of her inner thigh, and he dug his fingers into her flesh, spreading her wide, encouraging her to pull her legs back even more. To give him everything she could.

  Every powerful pump pushed the air from her lungs and, along with it, a groan. Her fingers shifted from his shoulders, down his chest, her nails raking along his skin.

  Her hand dropped to where they were joined, and his pace hitched when he felt her touch him there. But it was only for a brief second before her own fingers pressed on her clit and began to work it.

  He didn’t know where to watch first. Her pleasuring herself, making her clench tighter around him. Her tits sliding back and forth, begging for his mouth. Or those lips of hers, open, releasing an endless stream of groans, moans and gasps.

  Or maybe her blue eyes, which were not closed, no. They were watching everything happening between them. This was not a fantasy for her. She knew exactly who was inside her.

  Fucking a scarred freak wasn’t on her bucket list unlike most of the other women he’d been with in the past few years. With her career, she dealt with men like him every damn day.

  She recognized how dangerous he could be. He had seen it in her eyes. It didn’t scare her. She didn’t see him as an oddity. She didn’t fuck him out of curiosity.

  He uncurled his fingers from her neck and after tracing his thumb around her lips, dipped it inside. The tip of her tongue played along it for a few seconds before she sucked it hard, then bit it even harder.

  His hips stuttered once more at that. The bite, the suck, the pure ecstasy on her face as she played orally with his digit. He hooked his thumb inside and yanked her mouth open wide, growling, “I’m going to come in your cunt this time, in that mouth next time.”

  Her pussy rippled around him at his words and a loud rush of air escaped her.

  He was right. Fucking her shut her up.

  And was much more pleasant than strangling her.

  “Hold on,” he growled, and wrapping his arms around her back, hauled her up, making sure she stayed seated deep on his dick. He carried her the few feet to the nearest wall and pressed her against it. Holding her up with his hands, he bent his knees and powered up into her over and over, hitting the end of her each time.

  For once he wanted to hear her say something, but she was remaining too quiet. He only heard their ragged breathing in his ears, those invisible words driving him on, but he wanted more.

  Then he heard it. The cry. Along with the tightening of her muscles around him as an orgasm ripped through her.

  He gritted his teeth and digging deep, slammed her even harder, expecting the drywall behind her to give way, to crack with the force. Somehow it miraculously held.

  Grabbing her hips, he lifted her off him, dropped her feet to the floor and spun her to face the wall before sliding inside her from behind.

  She was so fucking wet, he had to hesitate for a split second to keep from losing it. Jesus. He couldn’t remember being inside pussy this good in a long time.

  Maybe even never.

  He snagged both of her wrists in one hand, raised her arms up and pinned her restrained hands to the wall. He wrapped an arm around her chest, grabbing one of her tits, squeezing hard, finding the nipple and pulling even harder.

  She gasped and slammed her hips back into him. He shoved his mouth to her ear, growling, “Like that? Like to fuck hard?”

  Still, she said nothing.

  Fuck the words, he didn’t need words. He needed what she was giving him. Just soft grunts, moans and groans, along with the rapid pants escaping her.

  The wet heat tightening around him, milking him, driving him to the brink.

  “That’s it, squeeze me tight.”

  Her head tipped back, hit his shoulder hard, then fell forward, her body heaving. Her skin was almost as slick and hot as her pussy.

  The pressure in his balls was becoming unbearable. His cock twitched inside her. But he wanted to make her come once more. He needed to feel those strong ripples, he needed to hear the hitch of her breath as her body spasmed around him and spun out of control.

  Keeping her hands pinned, he released her tit, dropped his hand to her pussy and pinched her clit hard.

  “Ooooh fuuuck.”

  She liked it. The pain with the pleasure.

  “Do it again.”

  She ate that shit up. He complied, pinching her delicate clit, which he desperately wanted to get his mouth on. She shuddered around him, against him.

  “Yesss,” hissed from her as he felt the start of her next orgasm.

  “Yesss,” echoed through this head. Nudging her hair out of the way, he shoved his face into her neck, and nipped sharply along her skin until he reached her shoulder. With a low grunt he sank his teeth into her flesh as he came forcefully inside her.

  From a distance, he heard her cry out once more. On the edge of his consciousness he recognized that she came again just as fiercely at the same time he did. He released her wrists, released her clit, but kept a hold of her shoulder within his teeth as he struggled to catch his breath. His right palm smoothed up her belly slowly, the fingers of his left hand curling around the front of her throat. The pounding in her neck even faster than ever.

  He unlocked his jaws to r
elease her shoulder, slid his left hand even higher until he held her under her chin and pulled her head back, stretching her neck in an arch.

  Her breathing was rapid, ragged and loud.

  He could feel himself slipping out of her. Not his cock. No.

  His cum.

  He hadn’t used a condom. He’d broken his own strict rule.

  And he didn’t even fucking care. Not one bit.

  It was a discussion they should have, but most likely wouldn’t. Parris stood in the upstairs hall bathroom, naked in front of the sink, studying the teeth-marks left behind on her shoulder. The area was already starting to bruise, to turn various shades of colors. She tilted her head, lifted her fingers to it and prodded it with a wince.

  Then her pussy clenched in response and she smiled.

  Her hair was a wild mess, her cheeks still held color and her eyes were the brightest they’d been in a while.

  She had been coasting through life recently, which had consisted of work, work and more work. Occasionally she’d meet Michael and his husband for dinner.

  Her girlfriends had stopped calling and asking if she wanted to meet, go dancing, grab a bite to eat, or go see a movie.

  They got sick of Parris’s excuses.

  Since Londyn moved from Nevada to upstate New York a couple years ago, Parris spent a couple nights a week on the phone with her younger sister. They had always been close but became even tighter after their father died of a stroke ten years back. Then her mother went to sleep one night and never woke up. Parris swore it was from a broken heart since there was no other medical explanation than “heart failure.” Especially when her mother never had a heart condition prior.

  However, talking on the phone with Londyn wasn’t the same as living nearby.

  And besides her friends encouraging her to hit the dating scene before she was past her “prime,” Londyn encouraged it, too. Her sister had moved across the country for a man she’d met on the Internet. For now, that relationship worked. Whether it would last, Parris didn’t know. Either way, she just wanted her sister to be happy.

  And in turn, Londyn wanted Parris to have what she had.