by Lucy King
He splayed his hand over her abdomen and Mercy gasped, her muscles there tensing, quivering, as her hands clutched uselessly at the leather surface of the desk. And then he moved his hand down, over her, his fingers slipping through her soft curls, sliding over her heated flesh, and then into her, so deep and sure that she groaned and her back bowed off the desk.
While his fingers continued to do wicked, indescribable, heavenly things to her he leaned over her, set his mouth to the spot just behind her ear that only moments before had had her writhing and panting and did so again.
She closed her eyes and yielded to the sensations pouring through her – pleasure, frustration, tension, desperation and deep, deep desire – so great that she was only dimly aware of him moving, easing his fingers out of her and replacing them with his mouth, and then she couldn’t think at all.
As he used his lips and tongue on her all she could do was tremble, spread her legs wider apart and clamp both hands to the back of his head. She couldn’t even writhe because he was holding her so firmly in place.
“Dios, Seb,” she moaned and it sounded like a plea, like she’d lost her mind, which wasn’t surprising because she had.
Beneath his continued, relentless, ruthless assault on her she could feel the tension inside her growing, could feel the need for release clawing away at her, and it was so unbearable. She needed it to stop. She wanted it to carry on for ever.
“Please,” she groaned hoarsely, and then just when she didn’t think she could stand it any longer, just when she was about to beg again, in earnest this time, he pressed harder, sucked harder, and that was it. Her orgasm hit with the force of a tidal wave and she shattered, gasping, crying out, coming hard against his tongue and his mouth, and quaking beneath his hands.
It took her a minute or two to drift back to earth, and by the time she did Seb had moved up her and was kissing her, hard and rough and perfect.
“I like it when you beg,” he muttered against her mouth.
“I like tasting myself on you,” she said, her head still spinning and her heart still racing. “I’d like to return the favor.”
“Another time.”
Another time. That was encouraging. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“You do that. Right now, though, I really need to be inside you.”
Desire zinged through her all over again, ridding her of the trembles, the weakness, the lethargy, and as Seb lifted himself off her she pushed herself up and crossed her legs at the ankles trapping him between her thighs as she started tearing at his shirt. She tried to keep it civil but her hands were shaking and buttons would keep popping all over the place.
In the end, though, the result was the same and a moment later she’d slipped his shirt off, along with his jacket and was skimming her hands over his chest and then it was his turn to shiver, tense, gasp. She pressed hot, wet kisses to his skin, lingering over another scar from the accident that cut diagonally across his shoulder and then the pucker of an old bullet wound that lay just above his heart and about which she didn’t want to think about too much.
“Take off your dress,” he said, his voice rough with tightly leashed restraint.
Breaking away she gripped the hem of her dress, lifted it over her head and dropped it.
“Bra,” he ordered, and that came off too.
He pushed her back down again and for a moment just looked at her, his gaze roaming over her hungrily, needily. “Beautiful,” he muttered, then kicked off his shoes and divested himself of the rest of his clothing. And when the moment she’d been waiting for arrived and his cock sprang free, Mercy bit her lip, because she could remember with aching clarity how good he felt inside her and she wanted it again, now.
Seb reached for his wallet and pulled out a condom. He ripped the packet open, rolled it on, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth and Mercy thought he’d never understand how much pleasure it gave her to know that she had this effect on him. She watched him and licked her lips and he caught the movement, his eyes darkening and his mouth unsmiling, which made her shiver even more.
He leaned down over her and as the familiar heat and power of him enveloped her, she closed her eyes. He kissed her mouth, her jaw, her neck. He took one of her breasts in his hand. Cupped it, rubbed his thumb over her nipple until it was hard and aching, then took it in his mouth. By the time he turned his attention to her other breast and did the same she was one quivering mass of sensation and all she could do was run her hands over his shoulders, his back, down his spine, into his butt, pull him closer, tilt her pelvis and grind it against his to show him what she wanted and how much.
But he seemed content to make her wait while he took his sweet, sweet time. He lavished attention over every inch of her, kissing, caressing, torturing her so slowly she thought she might die. And only when she was whimpering and panting and pleading incoherently for him to release her from her torment did he lift her knees, hold them apart and thrust into her, hard and steady and right up to the hilt.
And that was it for Mercy. She was so ready, so primed, that the fullness of him inside her, the sheer glorious feel of him, sent her straight over the edge into a shattering climax that had her moaning, and shaking and clenching around him as if she never wanted to let him go.
But still Seb wasn’t done with her it seemed. He waited until she stilled, watching her, his eyes dark and glittering, then bent over her, planting his hands either side of her, the muscles of his arms straining with the effort of keeping his weight off her – although she wouldn’t have minded if he hadn’t – and began to move.
Slowly. Surely. Devastatingly and mind-blowingly, because, oh Lord, she could feel the stirrings of pleasure all over again and how was that possible? How could her body stand it?
But it was possible and her body could stand it very well because within moments she was wrapping her legs around his waist, lifting one hand above her head to cling on to the far edge of the desk and keep her steady as she moved and the other to hold on to him.
He lowered himself further, onto his elbows instead of his palms. Kissed her wildly as he continued moving in and out of her, increasingly harder and faster until she was unravelling all over again, only this time so was he.
With a great groan, Seb thrust into her one last time and stayed there, pulsing into her over and over, before collapsing on top of her.
Mercy could feel his breath on her neck, harsh and ragged. Could feel his heart thundering against hers. God. He’d promised her more and that was what she’d gotten. A lot more. She felt limp. Boneless. Wrung out like a wet rag, and about as capable of forming a sentence. And while, sure, it was a bit undignified to be splayed out like this on top of his desk, she’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.
Chapter Six
‡
It was only once his heart rate and his breathing had gone back to something approaching normal that Seb could gather the strength to lift himself off Mercy.
How could he ever have thought this wasn’t a good idea? he thought, stumbling slightly as he turned away from her to deal with the condom and then reach for his trousers. He must have been mad. It was the best idea in the world. Forget wondering whether sex between them was going to be as good as before. It had been way better. Better than any other sex he’d had, come to think of it, although frankly, since her, since that night, nothing had come anywhere near close.
Fastening his button and doing up his zipper Seb watched Mercy lever herself up and held out a hand to help her off his desk, but she brushed it away, eased herself off and began hunting around for her own clothes.
How was he ever going to be able to work here again? he wondered, staring at the space she’d just vacated. Would there ever come a time when he wouldn’t remember this? Her? It didn’t seem likely. Not after that. She’d been so damn hot. He’d slid his fingers into her and found her so ready for him he’d nearly come on the spot.
But he’d made himself wait. Taken her to the very edge of reas
on before he’d allowed himself the pleasure he’d so badly wanted. And he’d been right. It had been fine. He might have wanted to bury himself inside her the minute she’d lain back like that, and then pound away until he’d slaked his lust – and he could have done that, Mercy wouldn’t have complained – but he hadn’t. He’d stayed in control. He’d been one hundred percent in the driving seat and that was where he’d remain. All he had to do was dictate terms.
“So. Just sex, huh?” he said, picking up his shirt, taking one look at it and tossing it in the bin.
Mercy, flushed, dishevelled, beautiful and now, disappointingly, dressed, nodded. “Well, that was the idea. Although there’s nothing ‘just’ about it, really, is there?”
“No, there isn’t.” Seb headed to the cupboard for a fresh shirt and pulled it on. “So here’s what I suggest,” he said, looking at her as he did up the buttons. “No dates. No gazing over candles, holding hands or long meaningful conversations.” He didn’t want any of that, particularly the last. Mercy already knew way too much about him and he had little interest in knowing anything more about her. And he didn’t date. What was the point?
Mercy slung her bag over her shoulder, and gave him a level look back. “Agreed,” she said with a nod. “Why waste our time?”
“Are you likely to ever want that?” Because she did seem the romantic type, despite the ‘just sex’ proposal.
“Not right now and certainly not from you.”
No. Right. Excellent. The faint horror in her voice was a good thing. A very good thing.
“Are you?” she asked.
Seb stifled a shudder. He hadn’t so far, thank God, largely because he took great pains to avoid it. He saw no reason why that would change. “Absolutely not.”
“Good.”
“And no psychoanalyzing me, Mercedes.”
“I’ll try to keep it to a minimum.” She paused. Frowned. Bit her lip that ten minutes ago he’d been feasting on. “What about Zelda?”
Seb snapped back. “She doesn’t need to know.”
“I’m not keeping another secret from her, Seb. And that’s a deal breaker, I’m afraid.”
He took in the jut of her chin and the flash of her eyes and was once more struck by both her loyalty to her friends and the strength of her principles. Not something he was inclined to try and suppress, even if he had thought he’d succeed. “Fair enough,” he said. “But do you need to shout it from the rooftops?”
Her chin lowered a fraction. “I guess not.”
“I suggest we keep it to weekends,” he said, because there was his work, her classes and, more pressingly right now, his need to be back in charge after that minor concession regarding his sister.
“For how long?”
“Until one of us or both of us wants to stop.”
“Works for me.”
“Then it looks like we have a deal,” he said, his blood heating already in anticipation of the day after tomorrow.
“It looks like we do,” said Mercy with a blinding smile that made him suddenly want to reconsider the whole ‘weekend only’ thing.
He held out his hand to shake on it, but she ignored it and instead reached up and gave him a kiss that left him reeling.
“And now, Seb,” she said, stepping back, her eyes dark and shining, “seeing as how it’s not a weekend, and I have classes tomorrow, now you can call me that cab.”
*
Lying sprawled face down on her bed five weeks later with her eyes closed and feeling so lethargic she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to move again, Mercy thought that this just sex arrangement was working out really rather beautifully.
It was everything she’d wanted. Everything she could have hoped for. Over the last however many Saturday afternoons and Sunday mornings she’d enough sex to make up for a lifetime of celibacy, not just five years of it, and it was proving to be the perfect antidote to all the studying she was doing.
Keen to get her work out of the way by her Saturday lunchtime appointment with Seb, she was more productive than she’d ever been. And come Sunday afternoon when they said goodbye and she turned her attention to the week ahead, she felt refreshed, invigorated and raring to go.
The sex itself was awesome. Way better than she remembered. Way better than she could have imagined. Seb had become kind of dominant in the bedroom, the shower, the kitchen and wherever else he had a mind to have her – more so than she remembered, come to think of it – but that was OK with her. More than OK actually. She’d been responsible for so many decisions over the years, both major and minor, that secretly it was lovely to be able to just lie back and be told what to do.
It was a winning situation all round and she was glad she’d had the courage to go for it. The girls, who’d squealed with glee when she’d told them about the weekend only arrangement the morning after that scorching encounter in Seb’s office, thought so too, and Mercy couldn’t have been more delighted.
OK, so conversation between her and Seb had been pretty much non-existent beyond pleasantries, the very barest of small talk and details of what they intended to do to each other, but that was fine with her. It was more or less what they agreed and she still considered it wise. Conversation, she knew, would lead to interest, which would lead to involvement, which would lead to entanglement and possibly hurt feelings, and no one wanted that.
So if she occasionally found herself having to bite her tongue to stop herself from asking him a question that was even the slightest bit personal, well, that was probably only to be expected seeing as how she was the conversational type and generally interested in people. It wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t need to know anything about him and vice versa. And she could live with it. After all, Seb seemed perfectly happy.
The main thing about this whole arrangement was to remain emotionally detached and she was achieving that. She’d compiled a whole range of scenarios designed to test her feelings towards him and every time they said goodbye she checked. So far, she’d passed with flying colors, and she fully intended to carry on doing so because she was enjoying herself far too much to jeopardize things.
Especially right this minute, what with the way Seb was lazily trailing his fingers up and down her spine, making her shiver and tingle and wonder whether she had the strength to turn over and provide him with an opportunity to make her submit once again to his delicious demands.
“So tell me something,” said Seb idly, his voice cutting through her thoughts before she could decide one way or another.
“What?” she murmured.
“Why the MBA?”
Mercy cracked open an eye and looked up at him. He was lying on his side next to her, propped up on his elbow and watching the play of his fingers over her skin. “Huh?”
“Why the MBA?”
“Yes, I got that,” she said a bit warily because where was he going with this departure from the norm? And what was he anyway – some kind of mind reader? “But why do you want to know?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You haven’t before.”
“So I do now.”
Hmm. “It’s a bit personal, don’t you think?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Is it?”
“I think so.”
“Seems a pretty innocuous question to me.”
Yes. Well. To her it seemed as innocuous as those clever fingers that were drifting so deliciously over her skin. “Do you realize that if I answer it’ll most likely lead to a conversation?”
“That was the general idea. Is that a problem?”
Mercy frowned. “I don’t know. Is it?”
“Well, we can’t exactly lie here in eternal silence, can we?”
Couldn’t they? It was working for her.
“And I don’t know about you, Mercy,” Seb continued, now feathering his fingers over her shoulder, “but I think we’ve pretty much exhausted the weather, our health and what takeout we’d like to order as topics of conversation. If this arrangement is go
ing to continue much longer – and I, for one, hope it does – at some point we’re going to have to converse about something, so why not now? And a simple question about what you’re doing is hardly a deep, meaningful discussion about hopes and dreams, is it?”
Wasn’t it? It seemed to her that it was precisely that, but maybe now she was the one overthinking things.
“So I think we can risk it,” he added. “I can, anyway.”
Well, when he put it like that… “All right,” she said, still a bit dazzled by the relief she felt that he wanted this thing they had to continue. “If you really want to know, I’m doing my MBA entirely and solely for me.”
“Really?”
“You sound surprised.”
“You don’t strike me as the selfish type.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The lengths you go to for your friends, for one thing.”
Mercy felt herself grow warm. “Yes, well, who doesn’t go to lengths for their friends?”
“Many people. Who stole that communion wine, Mercy?”
Huh? “My lips are sealed.”
“You see,” he murmured, with a faint smile that did something funny to her insides.
Hmm. Right. Well. Onwards to her MBA. “I don’t know if Zel told you,” said Mercy, folding her hands on the bed and resting her chin on them as she looked at him, “but after that episode at St. John’s I was hauled back to Argentina.”
“I think she did mention it at some point.”
“Every minute I wasn’t at high school I was put to work in the vineyard. Cleaning, harvesting, bottling. You name it, I did it.”
“Just like that? No complaints?”
If only. “Oh, I complained bitterly at first,” she said, remembering the many occasions she’d butted heads with her parents, especially her father. “But it didn’t make any difference and eventually I came to the conclusion that I might as well knuckle down and get on with it. I did everything my parents asked and more… I think I had something to prove.”
