Page 24 of No Mistakes (No Mercy #2)

MANDY

I stare at him, my body forgetting how to breathe.

He said it. He fucking said it.

I love you.

His words hang in the air between us, the tension building like wildfire. His voice was raw, broken, like it hadn’t been used in a decade because it hadn’t. Not for anyone. But he chose to use it for me.

My heart’s pounding so loud I can barely focus on the sounds around me. The world’s gone quiet except for the frantic thunder in my chest.

I step closer to him, needing to reduce the distance between us as much as possible.

“Say it again,” I whisper, my voice shaking as I cup his jaw in my hands, searching his eyes, praying it wasn’t a fluke. “ Please .”

He doesn’t need to repeat. I see it in his eyes, the way his lips tilt up at the side. I know I’m being selfish in this moment, but fuck, who wouldn’t be? He leans in slowly, his lips brushing mine.

“I love you .”

The second he finishes the sentence, I crash into him, our mouths colliding while our tongues clash against each other as if they’re in their own battle. My hands find their way to his hair, my fingers gripping it to hold him in place.

The kiss isn’t soft, it’s not sweet. It’s messy, hot, and frantic.

I taste every second we spent pretending we didn’t want this. Every time he looked at me like I hung the damn moon and stayed silent. Every time I fantasised about how his hands would feel wrapped around my throat.

It’s as if he could read my mind when he moves, grabbing the back of my neck with one hand, the other slipping around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest as he walks us backwards, my back colliding with a pillar.

His lips are still on mine, but he’s in control now.

Taking what he wants. Like he’s been starving for it.

He breaks the kiss long enough to look down at me, his thumb stroking over my cheek.

“You want this?” he rasps, voice barely audible. The heat between us is unbearable now.

“I want you,” I whisper. I don’t mean it lightly, but what I really meant was,

‘ I want you to ruin me. I want you to take everything I’ve been holding back and fucking destroy it.’

Ant’s chest rises, then falls in a sharp exhale. His eyes flare with a hunger that matches mine, and he steps forward, grabbing my hand, tugging me toward the entrance with urgency I’ve only dreamed of. He doesn’t kiss me again while we walk. This man is on a mission, and that mission is us.

We reach my room in record time, the number 106 staring at us next to a crumpled note taped to the door.

Don’t wait up. I’ll be back later - E x

I barely have time to think about Eva because Ant’s already swiping the keycard, unlocking the door. He pulls me in behind him, kicking the door shut before pressing me back into the wall like he can’t wait another second.

His hands are in my hair within seconds, then on my hips, sliding up under my top as I breathe out a gasp. “Ant-”

He lifts me, rough and perfect, and places me on the edge of the dresser like I weigh nothing, like he’s starving and I’m the first thing he’s allowed to taste.

His mouth crashes to mine, and I kiss him back just as desperately. My thighs tighten against his waist, locking him in place. I feel him, all of him, as he stands hard and thick between us. I moan into his mouth like I’m about to cum just from the pressure alone.

He pulls back long enough to rip my top over my head. I reach for his shirt, tugging it off, revealing inked skin and tight muscle. My eyes drop to his mouth, still swollen from kissing me. My gaze travels lower and lower, all the way to the bulge in his jeans.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “You’ve been holding back on me.”

A smirk appears on his face, a dark, crooked smile.

His hand wraps around my throat, pinning my head in place as he leans in close, his lips brushing my ear.

“Look at me.”

My thighs clench. His voice is so broken, so raw, but he still speaks. For me.

He bites down on my neck hard enough to leave a mark, and I cry out, my nails digging into his back as he steps away to rid himself of his jeans, and that’s when I see it.

My breath catches, and I’m pretty fucking sure my eyes widen at the sight.

He’s big, thick, and hard, the size never-ending, and oh my god.

He’s fucking pierced .

A small silver barbell gleams at the head of his cock, and my whole body clenches in anticipation.

“Holy fuck,” I mutter, eyes locked on it. “That’s-”

“Does it scare you?” he rasps, worry tinted in his words.

“Are you kidding?” I lick my lips. “I want to see it. Taste it. I want to feel everything. ”

He groans like I’ve undone him, his fingers instantly hooking in the waistband of my shorts and yanking them down along with my panties until I’m bare.

He lines himself up, waiting for me to object, to push him away, but I don’t.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he growls before slamming into me forcefully.

I scream. Not in pain, but relief. Like finally, finally , I’m where I’m meant to be.

The cool metal of his piercing rubs against my inner walls in the most sinful way, making me jolt as he pushes further inside.

“Oh my god,” I cry out, nails digging into his back. “I can feel it-fuck-I can feel all of it.”

He fucks me hard on the dresser, each thrust making the wood groan beneath us, his hand still wrapped around my throat, forehead pressed to mine.

“You feel that?” he whispers, “That’s what you do to me.”

My nails rake down his back harder, creating a picture of this moment against his skin.

“Harder,” I breathe out between thrusts. “Don’t. Stop.”

He bites my lip, then my shoulder, bruising me with his mouth. I feel the dresser shift under us, drawers banging open, but I don’t care.

I feel my legs shake, my body telling me I’m close, but he pulls out suddenly, causing me to whimper.

He lifts me into his arms, carrying me to the bed like I’m nothing but his to toss around and devour. He throws me onto the mattress, flipping me over.

“Hands on the headboard,” he demands. “Don’t let go.”

I obey.

I fucking obey every word.

He slides back in, deeper from this angle, and I cry out as my eyes roll back. His hand grips my hip, slapping my ass hard once, then twice. I arch back into him, desperate for more. His pace is brutal, fucking perfect.

“I should’ve done this the first night I met you,” he rasps. “Should’ve claimed you then.”

“You just did,” I pant. “Fucking claim me again.”

He moans deep, slamming into me again and again until I’m shaking, moaning his name as my orgasm rips through me. But he doesn’t stop.

He pulls me up, dragging my back against his chest, one hand on my throat, turning my head towards him as the other finds its way between my thighs, teasing my clit with slow, precise circles that make my legs weak.

“ Look at me when you cum.”

And I do.

I shatter with his name on my lips, and his eyes locked on mine like I’m the only thing in the world.

Once I’m completely ruined, trembled and breathless, he releases inside me with a hoarse groan, burying his face in my neck like he can’t stand to let go.

We stay like that for a moment, both of us unable to move as his cock twitches against my walls.

I push my head back, leaning into his shoulder, letting out a shaky laugh.

“I told you this is war.”

The first thing I register when I open my eyes, is the weight.

Not the blankets or the lingering ache between my thighs. Not even the dull throb of my hips that tells me last night wasn’t a dream. No, the weight I feel is solid, warm, grounding.

Ant’s arm is slung around my waist, his hand curved over my stomach like it belongs there. Like I belong to him.

I blink against the lights bleeding through the thin motel curtains from the parking lot, noticing it’s still dark. The room smells like sex, sweat, and him.

I touch my lips, feeling them still swollen. My throat sore from moaning his name, and my thighs? Ruined . And I’ve never felt better.

Ant’s chest presses against my back, steady and calm. I can feel every breath he takes like we’re synced. I don’t move, waiting for any indication that he might be awake.

Our bodies are linked; his body curved to fit with mine as his leg wraps around my own.

God.

I breathe out slowly, trying not to wake him, wanting to savour this moment before we go back to the shit storm that waits outside the room.

He didn’t just wreck me last night, he rebuilt me.

With every rough thrust, every demand, every time he told me to look at him when I came undone around that damn piercing.

I wasn’t falling apart. I was being put together.

I glance down and smile at his hand to see his thumb brushing against my skin like his body hasn’t gotten the message that we stopped.

I turn my head slightly towards him, keeping my voice quiet. “You awake?”

Silence.

Then, a low, gravelly hum appears in my ear. His voice, wrecked with sleep. “Mhm.”

His hand shifts, fingers spreading across my stomach. He pulls me closer, pressing his nose into the back of my neck, breathing me in.

“You okay?” he rasps, words cracking slightly.

I smile. “Better than okay.”

He kisses the curve of my shoulder softly. Nothing like the way he fucked me last night, and somehow, that makes it worse. Because I feel it. All of it. The sex, the fire, the things we don’t know how to say, it’s all there in his touch.

“I meant it, you know,” I whisper, tracing over his fingers with my own.

His lips pause against my skin, “Meant what?”

“That I want you.”

His arm tightens. His silence loud, but not empty.

It’s heavy with meaning. He’s never been a man of many words.

But the way he holds me now? That says more than any vow ever could.

I twist around slowly in his arms, facing him.

His hair’s a mess. His eyes are half shut, sleepy and dark.

And still so fucking beautiful it hurts.

He brushes a strand of hair out of my face, mouthing the words, mine .

I nod, “Yours.”

His lips curve into the smallest smile, but it’s real. He pulls me in and kisses me, slow this time. No urgency. Just heat and promises. I press my forehead to his, whispering what’s already carved into my bones.

“I think I’m falling for you, Ant.”

He locks eyes with mine, searching them for something before speaking. His words coming out rough, soft, breaking.

“I already fell.”