Page 18 of No Mistakes (No Mercy #2)
ANT
I don’t make it far as I go straight to my room at the end of the hall, slamming the door shut behind me, twisting the lock. My pulse sounds like a goddamn war drum in my ears, throbbing all the way down to the ache behind my joggers.
The second I’m alone, I don’t wait to get comfy.
I need a release, and I need it now . My body burns, and I yank my hoodie off before grabbing my joggers, pushing them down along with my boxers until they’re pooling around my ankles.
The moment my cock is free, I groan from the pleasure, because I’m already aching. Aching for her .
I lean against the door, my fist wrapping around the base. I slowly brush the cool metal at the tip. The piercing catches against my palm, the sensation punching air from my lungs.
She did this to me, and fuck , I wish it were her hands wrapped around me.
I see her the second I close my eyes, her flushed cheeks, those parted lips, the heat burning in her gaze when I touched her through her shorts like I owned her.
She let me, she begged me to touch her.
My hips rock up into my hand as I stroke, slower than I want to, dragging this out like it’s a punishment.
The glint of metal rolls beneath my grip, sending sparks straight up my spine.
I imagine Mandy’s tongue tracing over it.
Her mouth stretched wide around me, that little moan she gave echoing in my ears, wishing I could feel the vibration of it.
Fuck .
I pump harder, thumb swiping over the piercing as I picture her on her back, legs spread wide, ruined and trembling because I made her cum, not with my fingers, but with my mouth, my cock, me .
I’d wreck her. God knows how fucking badly I want to.
I want to tie her wrists to my headboard and take my time.
I want to chain her to the floor and make her see what she does to me before pleasuring her.
I want to watch her break, watch her beg.
Make her scream my fucking name until it’s the only thing she remembers.
She thinks she teased me? No. She unleashed something inside of me. Something that can no longer be locked away.
I stroke faster, my hips bucking into my fist as I imagine it's her pretty, filthy mouth. The cool bite of the metal at the tip drives me over the edge, that sharp friction, that sting of need- fuckkkk.
My body jerks as I cum with a growl, hot and thick over myself and the door, my breath panting. I slow down my movements, still thrusting into my hand as my release rolls through me like a goddamn explosion.
My head drops forward, my jaw loose as the last release leaves my body. My legs nearly give out as I shove off the door, every muscle tight, every breath ragged.
I run a hand over my abs, which are now smeared in sweat and my release. I stare at the mess like a fucking lunatic, but I don’t care. I’d wear it with pride if it meant I could keep this feeling a second longer.
This isn’t just lust any more. This is an addiction.
She is my addiction.
She’s everywhere. Under my skin. Behind my ribs. Coursing through my veins like a drug, I’ll never quit.
If she knew what she did to me, what the little moan, those trembling thighs, that sharp inhale when I rubbed her just right… She wouldn’t be able to look me in the eye. Or maybe she would. Maybe she’ll lean in close, whisper filth in my ear, and tell me exactly what she wants next time.
Fuck , I want there to be a next time.
But I’m not going to beg. Not until she begs first.
The shower is cold by the time I drag myself out. I hardly slept by the time I finished thinking of Mandy. I look at the clock sitting on the bedside table to see that it’s just past 7 am.
I don’t bother with a shave, instead I just pull on my boxers, black cargo pants and my fitted white tee.
By the time I make it downstairs, the house is quiet, too quiet. But the scent of fresh coffee, and something citrus hits me the second I enter the kitchen, to see she’s already there.
She’s perched on the edge of the kitchen island, one leg crossed over the other, laptop open in front of her, and a mug in hand. Her hair’s up, messy and sexy, like she rolled straight out of bed and didn’t care who noticed.
But I do. I notice everything when it comes to her.
Her eyes flick up when she senses me. That sharp, unreadable look pierces straight through me. She doesn’t blush or smirk. Last night is no doubt etched into both our minds, carved into the space between us like a scar that still stings.
She knows what she did to me, she’s opened a door that can never be closed, and she’s just welcomed the devil himself.
I grab a mug and pour myself a black coffee before leaning on the island. Her fingers fly over the keyboard like she’s avoiding me on purpose, but her foot is bouncing.
“Morning,” She says finally, her voice too casual as if she’s practised until the early morning.
I nod once, taking a sip of my coffee as my eyes roam her body.
Flynn enters the kitchen, quickly followed by Axel. Voices echo as plans start forming again. But it doesn’t matter. Because all I can think about is the way her body arched into mine, the way she bit her lip when I rubbed her through the material like she’d burn for it.
“We have a lot of work to do today.” Axel announces while pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“Coffee first.” Flynn yawns, dragging a hand through his hair like it might wake him up. He steps behind Axel, snatching his steaming mug without hesitation. He doesn’t make it far when Axel turns around, smacking him across the back of the head. “Make your own, asshole.”
Flynn grins, nursing the mug like a lifeline. “You wouldn’t have poured it so perfectly if you didn’t secretly want me to steal it.”
“You’re delusional,” Axel says, rolling his eyes.
“Sleep-deprived, same thing.”
Mandy doesn’t laugh, but I see the way her lips twitch at their interaction.
I set my mug down a little too hard, and her eyes glance up, meeting mine. We hold contact just for a second, but enough to make my blood throb, and my fingers itch to bend her over the kitchen island.
“Hello, Earth to Ant,” Flynn shouts, waving a hand in front of my face. “You look like you’re planning someone’s murder or someone’s orgasm. Either way, blink if you need help.”
I swat his hand away without looking at him. Mandy breaks the stare first, shifting in her seat like her skin’s suddenly too tight. She tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, but I don’t miss the way she crosses her legs tighter under the table.
Axel clears his throat, commanding the room.
“Vegas. Let's focus.” He pauses, scanning each of us until he’s sure we’re all listening.
“The meet is less than a week away at the Bellagio. Until we get further intel, we assume the place is wired. That’s the elevators, lobbies, and even hallways. Eyes everywhere.”
“Security?” Mandy asks, her tone steady. The complete opposite to how she was a few hours ago, when she almost came apart in my hands.
Carter walks in, towel slung over his shoulders, damp hair curling at the ends. “Private detail. Ex-military types dressed as Bellagio staff. Bartenders, janitors, and maintenance. They’ll be checking invites, not faces. If you’re not on the list, you don’t get in.”
Mandy crosses her arms, leaning against the island. “Then how do we get on the list?”
Before anyone answers, the kitchen door swings open.
Gunnar steps through, followed by Eva. She’s laughing at something he says, bright and unguarded in a way that makes Axel’s entire posture snap to attention as something sharp flashes across his face as he watches them closely. “Nice of you to finally join us.”
Eva’s smile drops the second their eyes meet. She halts mid-step, and Gunnar instinctively peels away from her, crossing to the far side of the room without another word.
Axel doesn’t look away, keeping his eyes trained on Eva, “We leave for Chicago within the hour,” he states, addressing the room but still staring at her. “We need to be ready before we hit Vegas. Pack your bags. Get your shit together.”
“Why are we going to Chicago first?” Mandy asks, ignoring the tension surrounding us.
Axel finally shifts his gaze, eyes flicking to her. “We’re going home,” he says. “Back to Ashford Manor.”