Page 31 of No Mistakes (No Mercy #2)
MANDY
After dinner was put away and the table was cleaned, we gathered around it with all the information we had spread across it.
The whiteboard didn’t join us on our journey, which meant we had to pull Ant’s laptop out and rewrite everything on paper.
Gunnar’s handwriting is an actual war crime. I mean it with love, but it looks like a toddler tried to play Pictionary with a spider. Still, the information we need is there. Names, addresses, drop hints, debts owed. Places we need to visit. People we’ll need to watch.
Carter’s hunched over the table, sorting through a pile of printouts that Ant gathered on his search.
I could watch him for hours as he accesses bank accounts, burner phones, CCTV cameras of people’s homes…
he was amazing. Is amazing. I can’t take my eyes off him as he types away silently, his eyes flicking between screens and scribbled notes like his brain runs on a faster frequency than the rest of us.
Axel stands with his arms crossed, shoulder pressed to the doorframe, his face unreadable.
He hasn’t said much since dinner, but I know he’s listening.
Eva sits opposite me, spinning a pen between her fingers with that half-bored, half-pissed off expression that usually means she’s waiting for someone to say something stupid so she can tear them apart.
“From all this information, it looks like our best bet will be to hit the bakery on Webster Avenue. Benny still runs that location, and he is a talker.” Carter says, finally. “He might be able to give us a better idea of who is doing what these days.”
I glance at Eva. She glances at me. The same thought passing between us both.
“We’ll do it,” I say.
Carter looks up. “Do what?”
“Surveillance, questioning… Whatever needs to be done.” Eva says, "Mandy and I. We said we’re going to do it, so we will.”
Ant pauses his typing while Axel’s head tips slightly.
His face set in stone as if there is an internal battle going on inside of his mind.
His gaze is set on Eva, the odd twitch from his jaw visible.
Gunnar looks like he’s waiting for someone to object just so he can be entertained, and Flynn is sitting in his chair looking amused.
Carter frowns. “It’s not just sneaking around. You have to be careful. One wrong move and-”
“And we’re not stupid,” I cut in. “We know what’s at stake. We’ve been doing this sort of work for years. We wouldn’t offer if we couldn’t handle it.”
There’s a beat of silence, like everyone’s recalibrating.
Eva leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “You need people who can get close without raising alarms. Who can talk their way into a backroom or walk into a shop without setting off panic buttons.”
“People who don’t have the Ashford name branded across their face,” I add.
Carter rubs the back of his neck, but he nods. “Alright. But no hero shit. You run into trouble, you fall back.”
Axel pushes off the doorframe, stepping closer. “Take Gunnar with you for backup. He’ll stay outside, keep a lookout.”
Gunnar perks up at the news. “Am I the muscle? Finally . I was starting to feel under-appreciated.”
“You’re not the muscle,” Flynn says dryly, flicking through some papers. “You’re just tall.”
Eva scoffs under her breath.
Ant clicks something on his laptop, turning the screen towards us before playing a message.
“Here’s the layout of the block. Bakery’s here, ” He points as the computer speaks, “But the alleyway behind gives a decent sight-line to the back entrance. And there’s a liquor store two doors down you can duck into if you need cover. ”
I nod, absorbing every word. The angle, the risks, the layers he’s already mapped out. He’s always three steps ahead, and it should be enough. But it’s not.
Because he didn’t say it out loud, and I hate that it hurt this much. That I miss something as simple as the sound of his voice.
It’s pathetic. How much I crave it. That low, gravelled tone, the way it settles in my chest when it’s meant just for me. The way he makes words feel heavier somehow. Realer. Safer.
But he’s silent now, and I know there’s a reason. There has to be.
I just don’t know what kind of reason keeps a man like Ant quiet. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to wait in the dark forever, hoping he’ll eventually let me in. I can only hope and pray that he does.
Carter drops his papers on the table, causing me to flinch from the sudden sound.
“We leave tomorrow morning,” He says. “Dress casual. We will give you guns only if you wear something that will hide them properly. No wild west, cowboy shit.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I grin.
Flynn scoffs from behind us, “Fun gets you killed.”
He’s not wrong. But neither of us is walking into this looking for fun. We’re walking into this because we can.
It’s time the boys stopped seeing us as passengers on this ride. We’re not backup singers in their mafia band. We’re here to take the lead when we need to.
The room is quiet except for the sound of fabric slipping across my skin. I shimmy the skirt up my thighs, adjusting the waistband before turning to the mirror, wearing only a skirt and a pair of black panties.
The skirt sits nicely, just above my knees. Not too short, but it will get me the attention needed for today’s mission. We only have four more days left before the meeting, and we need every bit of information that we can.
I reach across the bed for my bra when I hear the door creak. My head snapped towards the sound. I take a few steps forward, hiding behind the edge of the wall that leads to the door.
Ant steps through but freezes halfway through the door, his hand still on the knob.
His dark eyes lock on me like I’m a fucking weapon aimed straight for him.
He doesn’t say anything, just stands there, jaw clenched as I step around the corner fully.
His eyes trail my bare chest down the curve of my waist to the skirt that barely covers me.
The door clicks shut behind him as he takes a step closer.
“Are you just gonna stand there and stare?” I ask, my voice soft but laced with heat from the sight of him alone. “Or are you going to come in?”
His breath hitches as he takes me in, his eyes never leaving me.
I step towards him slowly, watching the way his throat works, the way his hands curl into fists at his sides. “Why haven’t you spoken?” I ask quietly. “Not even to me.”
His eyes flick to mine, and he swallows hard, lips parting slightly before closing his mouth again like the words hurt to hold.
“Ant,” I whisper, eyes searching his. “Talk to me.”
“I can’t. Not yet.” He says, his voice raw.
My chest tightens. Because I hear it. The pain in those words. The restraint. The guilt. Whatever this silence is, it’s not apathy. It’s punishment. For something he hasn’t told me yet.
My hand brushes his chest, flat against his heartbeat as I feel his pulse quicken beneath my palm. “Then don’t talk,” I breathe. “Just kiss me.”
And then he’s on me.
He steps forward, pushing me back against the mirrored wardrobe next to us. His mouth claims mine with a hunger that nearly steals my breath. His hands are frantic, not rough, not rushed, but desperate. Like he’s been holding this in for too long, and now that he has me, he doesn’t want to let go.
His tongue slides against mine, tasting, teasing, demanding. And God, I give in.
His hands cup my waist, sliding up my ribs, brushing under the curve of my breasts. He pauses, pulling back just enough to look at me in front of him, and I watch as his dark, hooded eyes drink all of me in.
He slowly runs his thumbs over my nipples, brushing back and forth until they harden beneath his touch, and I gasp from the sensation. The sound pleasing him as he leans down, taking one into his mouth.
My head hits the mirror with a soft thud, and I moan, threading my fingers through his hair as he sucks gently, tongue flicking across the sensitive skin before switching to the other, leaving one breast glistening in the light.
“ Fuck, ” I whisper.
His hands spread across my back as he lowers himself to the floor, mouth never leaving my skin.
He trails kisses lower, down my stomach and along the waistband of my skirt, his breath warm and ragged. He lifts my leg, placing it over his shoulder, spreading me wider as he looks up at me like I’m something holy.
His fingers glide between my thighs, cupping me through the lace.
“Already wet,” he mutters, voice low and wrecked. “Jesus, Mandy.”
I can’t even answer, not when he pushes the soaked fabric aside and groans at the sight of me. He leans in, slow at first, teasing with light kisses just above where I need him, his nose brushing my skin.
“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he growls. “How many fucking nights I couldn’t sleep, just imagining the taste of you against my lips?”
I whimper, hips twitching towards his mouth, but he pulls back, holding me still with one arm hooked under my thigh, making me stay exactly where he wants me.
“Be patient,” he says, dark amusement in his voice. “I’m not rushing this.”
His tongue flicks out, soft at first, barely there while he licks a slow, delicate stripe from the bottom of my pussy to the top. He circles my clit with just the tip of his tongue, slow and devastating, and my head pushes further against the mirror with a moan.
His mouth seals around me, tongue working in slow, precise strokes, switching between flicking, swirling, sucking until I’m trembling against the glass, my body losing all sense of control.
“Ant-”
He groans in response, the sound vibrating through me.
His fingers dip into my hips as he pulls me tighter against his mouth, tongue delving deeper, working me open like he’s trying to memorise every reaction I make.
Two fingers slide inside me, slow and thick, curling just right while his tongue stays relentless on my clit. My leg shakes over his shoulder, and I reach down, tangling my fingers in his hair, grinding against his face shamelessly.
“That’s it,” he growls against me. “Cum for me, trouble.”
That’s all it takes, and I cum hard, mouth open in a silent cry, the room spinning as he fucks me through it with his tongue and fingers, not stopping until I’m pulling at his hair, too sensitive to take more.
He pulls back, chin slick, eyes dark with hunger.
“You taste like fucking heaven,” he says, standing again, towering over me.
He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around him as he carries me over towards the window. He places me down, spinning me around so I’m facing the outside.
I brace myself against it, my chest still rising and falling in short, shallow breaths.
The garden sprawls far in the December air beyond the window, and I can see our reflection.
His reflection.
His frame is broad behind me, his jaw clenched, trousers already pushed down as his eyes stay locked on my ass like he’s going to ruin me all over again.
And I want him to.
Ant grips my hips and pulls me back into him, letting me feel the hard length of his cock through his boxers as he leans down, mouth grazing my ear.
“I should take my time,” he whispers, voice low and dark, sending shivers down my spine. “But I’ve been holding back for too long since I last had you.”
His hand wraps around both my wrists, pinning them above my head against the glass. His other hand slides between my legs again, fingers teasing as he spreads them apart.
I watch through the reflection as he removes his hand, pulling his boxers down, giving me the beautiful view of his cock, the piercing glinting from the light.
He reaches between my thighs, running a hand across my pussy, and I quickly look over my shoulder as he runs it over the length of his cock, preparing it for me.
I whimper from the sight alone, and he steps forward, my body feeling him instantly as he presses against my entrance.
He pushes inside me with one slow, brutal thrust, and I cry out, but he claps his hand over my mouth before the sound escapes too loudly.
“Quiet,” he growls in my ear, “You want them to hear you?”
I moan against his palm, eyes rolling back as he pulls out almost completely, before slamming back in again, harder.
“Mine,” he growls with the next thrust.
Again. “Mine.”
Each word is a claim, each thrust a dedication. His hips snap against mine, brutal and deep, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room.
I’m already shaking, gasping into his hand, completely under his control. One of his hands keeps my wrists pinned. The other on my mouth, keeping me quiet while he fucks me harder.
“Look at us.” He says, leaning in. I lift my head, catching our reflection. My cheeks are flushed, panting, legs spread, but my eyes flick to him behind me, teeth bared, eyes locked on mine like nothing in the world matters.
“You feel this?” He hisses, “No one else gets this. No one else touches what’s mine.”
He bites down on the back of my shoulder, his teeth dragging across my skin as his rhythm speeds up. My knees nearly give out, but he holds me up, keeping me in place between his chest and the window.
The glass fogs with each breath, while my nipples brush against the cold with every thrust, the sensitivity building all over again.
“You’re gonna cum for me again,” he mutters, voice ragged. “Right here, pressed up against the window like my perfect little fucktoy.”
I can’t stop it, my body clenches around him, pleasure surging back with brutal intensity. My moans are muffled against his palm, tears pricking the corners of my eyes as he pounds into me with everything he’s got, chasing his own release while keeping me locked down tight.
“God, Mandy…fuck…you’re mine ,” he snarls one last time, thrusting deep and holding, his body tensing behind me as he releases inside me with a groan.
We’re both breathless, still pressed against the glass. His hand finally drops from my mouth, and I gasp for air, still trembling, still pulsing as he stays inside me.
He doesn’t move, just holds me up with his arms as they stay wrapped around my middle from behind. His lips brushing the back of my neck as he kisses me softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up, trouble.”