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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

AMbrOSE

M ercy’s pussy is drenched with need, and when I slide into her, its walls flutter around me to welcome me home.

This cunt is going to be my fucking undoing.

“Oh my god!” she gasps out, her legs trembling. “Oh, it feels—you feel?—”

“Don’t move,” I warn her.

She drops her forehead against the floor, shoulders hitching. All I can see of her is her long, graceful back and the puddle of her blonde hair and, most deliciously, the wide curve of her ass as I pull my cock halfway out of her pussy just so I can drive it in again.

She makes a noise halfway between pleasure and pain. A noise I want to hear over and over again.

“Remember what I told you.” I start my thrusts off slow and teasing. Warming her up. “You’re going to come around my cock. Do you understand?”

She nods and moans wordlessly.

I tap her ass, lightly. “Use your words. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir! ”

Sir. Fuck, I didn’t even ask her to say that. It didn’t even occur to me. But when she let it slip earlier?—

It’s too damn bad she’s human. It really is.

“Good girl. Now relax while I fuck you.”

Mercy lets out a soft sigh and slumps lower against the floor, and I do exactly what I promised—driving my cock in and out of her soaking wet cunt, angling my hips so I’m massaging her G-spot with the underside of my dick. The animalistic yelps currently coming out of her mouth tell me I’m right on target.

“Does that feel good, Mercy?” I dig my fingers into her flesh.

“Yes!” she cries out. “Yes, oh yes oh yes oh?—”

Her words dissolve completely when I hunch myself around her so I can reach down and press my thumb against her clit. She jerks at that and gives a shriek of pleasure. It’s not quite as good as a shriek of fear, but I’ll take it.

“You’re going to come for me.” I speak into her spine, her skin beading with sweat in the damp air. “You’re going to come harder than you ever have before. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!” she shouts into the ground. I grab hold of her hair with my free hand and jerk her head up, holding her in place.

“Don’t move,” I growl, driving myself into her. “I’m about to show you God.”

Mercy whimpers. Her whole body is shaking, her muscles quivering. She’s close. I keep up my pace—my cock inside her pussy, my hand on her clit. Part of me wants to show her what I am when she comes. I want to dig my switchblade out and slam it into the thick flesh of her thighs and carve out a chunk of skin so I can taste the pleasure in her flesh. Then I’d let her taste me. Let her eat of my body for real.

The thought drags me dangerously close to orgasm, and I have to pull back, focusing on a blank spot on the wall. I wind my fingers up in Mercy’s hair, binding myself to her. It’s hurting her—I can hear it in the way her moans pitch a little higher. But I can also tell she likes it because the first sparks of her orgasm fire around my cock.

“Almost there, darling.” I pull harder on her hair, yanking her head back so her throat is exposed. I could split it open if I wanted. Bleed her all over these boxes and then lap the blood up like a dog.

I yank her hair a little harder, and she keens in pleasure.

“A-ambrose!” she cries out, voice cracking and shuddering. “Don’t stop. I?—”

She doesn’t have to say what she’s doing because I feel it, the fluttery, frantic contractions of her cunt around my cock. Mercy lets out a low, dark groan from deep in her throat, and it’s the sexiest goddamn sound I’ve ever heard. Better even than the scream I got out of her when she realized she was swimming with a corpse.

She jerks against me, spearing herself on my cock as she fucks her way through her orgasm. I don’t chide her for moving. I don’t want to; it feels too good, the way her pussy clamps down in desperation. I spread my fingers over the back of her neck and drop my head back and match her rhythm. My balls tighten up against my dick, everything ready to spill.

“You ready for me?” I rasp. “Ready for my cum?”

Mercy moans in response, dropping her head against the floor. I smack her ass. “Answer me!”

“Yes!” she cries. “Please!” That’s what pushes me over the edge—knowing she wants me to finish inside her, like my cum can wash away whatever dregs Reverend Gunner’s left behind. My whole body goes rigid and I roar as my orgasm tears through me, quaking up through my belly. I told her she was going to come harder than she ever has before—I promise I know I kept—but it seems she just did the same to me.

Depleted, I slump over her, covering her body with mine. I can barely think from the head rush, and it takes me a moment to realize I’m covering her neck with eager little kisses and licking away her salty sweat. Scraping my teeth against her skin, trying to bite at her. To eat her.

I jerk away before I do something I regret. Mercy lifts up, looking at me over her shoulder, her face flushed and her eyes glassy and adoring.

This was so stupid. She’s looking at me like she loves me.

I could end it. I could end her , which would be the easiest and cleanest thing to do. Cut her throat like I was imagining and carry her body back to my house in the desert and cut her body up into meat. I’ve got the files. Got what I came for.

The switchblade burns in my pocket.

Then she speaks, in a soft, throaty whisper?—

“Thank you.”

And I realize just how much I don’t want to kill her. Eat her, yes. Make her bleed, absolutely. But end her?

I couldn’t. I can’t.

Christ, I’m getting soft in my old age.

“Thank you,” she says again, and then she pulls away from me, our bodies finally separating. She crawls around and sits back on her heels, gazing at me through the mussed tangle of her hair. “I didn’t—I’ve never—” She glances away, shy, and it feels like my heart might burst with whatever it is I’m feeling for her. Affection, lust, I don’t know. “Thank you for showing me what it’s supposed to feel like.”

That nearly melts me on the spot. For the first time since I was a young man I almost wish I was human, not a Hunter, so I could drag her away from this shithole church. I know that’s what she wants from me. I can see it in her expression.

But she doesn’t want me . She doesn’t want the boogeyman. She wants the itinerant preacher, and that man doesn’t exist.

“You’re welcome.” I stand up and help her to her feet, too. She’s shaky, and I hold her hand to steady her. But she pulls away from me to gather up her clothes and get dressed. I watch her move through the shadows, and I realize I’m trying to memorize what she looks like.

It hits me, then, that I’m never going to see her again. And she has no fucking idea. Just like she has no fucking idea what I truly am.

Mercy twists around, trying to zip up her dress, and I step over and do it for her without thinking. That just earns me another shy glance over her shoulder and a quivering sense of normalcy. “Thanks,” she says in that small voice, and I can just tell that she’s imagining us doing this for the rest of our lives.

You don’t want me , I think, like I might be able to plant the idea in her head.

“Now what?” Mercy gathers up her mangled bra and tries to fold it down as small as possible. I pick up the file I came here for. It feels absurd, now.

“I’ll walk you back to your house,” I say.

She’s disappointed, even though she tries to hide it.

“I can take that, too.” I pluck the bra out of her hand. “Get rid of it for you.”

Her cheeks pinken, but there’s delight in her eyes. It’s killing me, knowing I’m about to break her heart into a thousand pieces. She’s gonna come by the cabin tomorrow and find me and the dogs gone. But I can’t say goodbye. It’ll invite too many questions, and I’ve fucked up enough in the last few days as it is.

So this is it. Me, Mercy, and a long walk through a quiet, terrified compound.