Page 35

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

AMbrOSE

F or a moment, all I can do is stare down at Mercy, her body throbbing with heat in the graveyard grass. Her eyes gleam, still damp with tears, but she writhes her hips against me, slow and distracted, like she’s not even aware she’s doing it.

She forgives me.

“Say it again,” I order, because I’m still not sure I believe what I heard.

Mercy looks right at me.

“I forgive you,” she whispers again, her voice breathless.

It’s all I need to hear. I wrench her arms overhead, pinning her down so I can kiss her like I’m going to consume her. She moans against me, jerking her hips up, and I kiss down to bite at her neck. Her breasts spill out of the top of her dress, and I bury my nose between them, breathing in the confused melange of scents—her fear, her lust, her grief, her doubt, all of it. All those things that make her human.

“Don’t fucking move,” I growl, pulling myself up to kneeling .

She doesn’t, my perfect human. She even keeps her hands overhead.

I slide my hand into my pocket to pull out my switchblade and snap it open, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. Mercy’s eyes widen. Her fear spikes. God, I’ll never get tired of that.

“I promised I wouldn’t hurt you,” I tell her, sliding the blade between her panties and her skin. “But I also promised to fuck you.”

“You can just take them off!”

“Don’t sass me.” I jerk the knife up, slicing the fabric in half. Mercy moans, and I slice open the other side of her panties, revealing her wet pussy to the warm night air. Then I flip the knife and slide the cool metal handle up against her folds.

Mercy gasps and jerks beneath me. “Is that?—”

“It’s the handle.” I move it in a slow circle, making her moan and squirm. “And you need to hold still. I don’t want you cutting yourself.”

Then I slide the handle inside her and draw my hand away to admire the slim silver blade jutting out of her perfect cunt.

“Did you—” She tries to sit up, but I gently press her back down, shaking my head.

“I told you not to move.” Then I stand up so I can admire her fully—her gorgeous spread legs, her trembling chest. She watches me, eyes wide with fright and lust, as I slowly unbuckle my fly and pull out my cock. I wish I’d brought some rope with me, something to tie her down. But I hadn’t remotely expected her to want to fuck me again.

We’ll just have to make do with the threat of punishment.

“You’ll stay exactly as you are,” I order, lazily stroking my cock as I talk. “If you move in a way I tell you not to, you’ll be punished, do you understand?”

“P-punished how?” Her fear and excitement twist around us.

I trail my eyes over her body, lingering on the knife blade between her legs. God, that’s an image I’m going to remember for a long, long time. My dick jumps against my palm.

“I won’t let you come, for one,” I tell her. “And I’ll probably do worse. Now open that pretty mouth of yours.”

She does as I ask, showing me her pink tongue.

“I love it when you obey.” I straddle her chest, positioning my cockhead in line with her waiting mouth. Her tongue laps at the precum already beading up there, and I wrap her hair in my hands and pull her head up so I can slide my cock over her tongue. “Now, listen carefully, humanita. You’re going to be my fucktoy. Do exactly as I say, and you can come. Disobey…”

Her eyes widen above my cock.

“Well, like I said—I’ll punish you.”

I thrust myself into her mouth, making her moan. She squirms beneath me, but I slap her cheek lightly in warning. “Don’t move,” I remind her. “You have a knife in your cunt.”

Mercy groans and flutters her eyes closed. I start to fuck her mouth, dropping my head back, rolling my hips against her face. I’m sure she expected me to fuck her pussy, the two of us locked in a missionary position and surrounded by the dead. But I want her to never forget what I am. I want her to know I’m not going to hold back with her. That I’m not going to change.

I thrust a little harder, and Mercy, bless her, drags her mouth even further open, like she’s desperate to accommodate me. I can feel her body rippling beneath me, hips rocking, and I chuckle as I fuck her sweet mouth. “Don’t forget what’s inside you, Mercy.”

She makes a muffled noise, her eyes rolling back.

“You like how it feels, humanita?” I hold her in place by the hair, still fucking her throat, which is impossibly wet. Impossibly warm. “My dick in your mouth and my knife your pussy?”

The way she shudders against me is all the answer I need.

“That’s what I thought.” I drop her head and lean forward so I’m on all fours as I slide my cock in and out of her mouth. Mercy moans around me, and the vibrations are incredible, a seismic rippling that nearly pushes me to the edge.

But then she jerks and makes a kind of yelping sound in the back of her throat. I smell her blood.

With a groan, I pull my cock out of her mouth, her spit trailing after it. “Mercy, Mercy,” I chide, crawling forward so my dick trails along her face. “Did you cut yourself?”

“No,” she says, somewhat defensively.

“No, sir .” I miss that, her calling me sir. “And you’re lying.”

I stand up, dusting the dirt off my knees, and walk over to inspect her legs. Sure enough, a thin dark trickle of blood slides along her thighs. I sniff the air, breathing it in.

“Look what we have here,” I purr, swiping my finger through her blood. I keep my gaze fixed on hers as I slide my bloody finger into my mouth to have a taste.

Fuck, she tastes divine . She tastes like the roasted oysters I used to eat as a boy, spritzed with lime and dusted with chili powder. I drop down between her legs and lick the cut, drawing more of her decadent blood into my mouth.

Mercy gasps and squirms and the knife blade presses against my cheek. I jerk away from her, hot blood trickling down my face.

Mercy stares at me, trembling. I wonder what I look like to her right now, blood on my face and my lips.

“This is what I am, humanita.” I reach up and smear my blood onto my fingers. “I like the taste of blood. Your blood especially.”

Then I slide my bloody fingers into her mouth.

“Do you like the taste of my blood? Hmmm?”

Mercy moans, eyes fluttering, and licks the blood away. I draw my fingers out.

“Do you?” I say it more firmly. “Answer me, Mercy.”

“Yes,” she whispers .

I stare down at her, not quite believing it. She quivers with fear and shame and lust, and I push back her hair and then lean over to kiss her, slow and tender. But I’m not going to stay tender. She’s full of surprises, but I also need to know now if this is going to be too much for her.

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” I rasp in her ear. “Next to the grave of your dead friend?”

Mercy whimpers, turning her gaze to meet mine. I can see her considering the options, working through them one by one. It’s not that different from what I see in my victims’ eyes when I toy with them, when I make them think they have a chance at escape. The difference is, if Mercy says no, I’ll let her go.

I think.

“I’m waiting, humanita.” I read down and pinch the knife blade so I can pump the handle in and out of her, working it up against her G-spot. Mercy gasps and arches into it. “Answer me, or I’ll get you worked up without any release.”

Mercy bites her lips and stares at me, her hips rolling against the knife blade, her pupils flooded from lust. I’ve noticed that she’s hesitant to say what she wants.

Well, that’s an inclination I’ll fuck out of her.

I push the knife up, angling it so I can hit the spot I know she likes. Mercy jolts.

“Answer me,” I order, fucking her a little harder with the knife handle. “Right now. Do you want me to fuck you next to the grave of your dead friend?”

There are tears in her eyes. Heat in her cheeks. She nods.

“Say it, Mercy. Out loud.” I push the knife handle inside her pussy and wait.

“Y-yes,” she whimpers.

It’s a start.

“Good girl.” I drag the knife out of her. Mercy slumps back, breasts heaving against her low-cut dress, and I slam the blade into the ground next to her head, the handle glistening with her arousal. She tilts her head toward it, eyes glimmering, and I grab her chin and force her to look up at me again. “Eyes on me, humanita.”

Mercy softens beneath my touch, yielding to my command. “Yes, sir,” she whispers, spreading her legs a little wider in anticipation.

God, she’s a fucking treasure.

I press my cock against her pussy, stopping myself from slamming right into her the way I want to. I want to tease her some more, want her dripping wet and dying to be filled. I want her to beg. And I want to make sure she comes.

“How does that feel?” I ask, nudging my cockhead against her fluttering clit.

Mercy gasps and squirms. “G-good, sir.”

“Do you want more?” I rub my cock in little circles, gathering up her wetness so I can slick it against her clit.

She moans, digging her fingers down into the grave dirt.

“That’s not an answer.” I pull away, stroking myself, and Mercy whimpers.

“Please,” she says. “Please, Ambrose. I—I need…” Her voice trails off, and she drops her head, looking away. I force her gaze back on me again and hold her there, one hand around her jaw and the other on my dick.

“Need what?”

Mercy gnaws on her lower lip, her cheeks flushed. She doesn’t want to say it. Doesn’t want to ask for it. I think she’s been broken down by the church, by Reverend Gunner. Told she exists for his pleasure when he can’t even be bothered to make her his wife.

I don’t deny I’m a monster. But even I wouldn’t do that to a woman.

“What do you need from me, Mercy?” I grin, showing her my teeth, letting us be predator and prey for just a second. Then I nudge the tip of my cock into her pussy, making her squirm. “Is it this?”

She nods, and I pull my cock out and slap it against her clit, hard enough it hurts me as much as it shocks her. “Say it out loud. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to—“ Her eyes blaze through the night, and it takes every goddamn ounce of my willpower not to ravage her the way she wants. But I will hear her say it first. I will know she’s willing to fuck me no matter what I am.

“That’s it, humanita.” I tap her clit again, more lightly this time, a rapid-fire of quick short raps that have her lifting her hips to meet me. The scent of her arousal is so heavy on the night air that it reminds me of jasmine. It’s so heavy I think even a human man could smell it.

“You can do it, baby,” I say. “Tell me what you want me to do to you or I’ll jerk myself off on those gorgeous tits of yours without laying a finger on your needy little clit.” To prove it, I rise up on my knees and stroke myself a few times. “Say it, Mercy. Before I come all over?—”

“I want you to fuck me!” she screams, then slaps her hand over her mouth, like she’s so shocked she could say those words.

I grin and fall back over her, bracing myself on either side of her head, my cock lined up with her pussy. “Good girl,” I purr. “And where do you want me to fuck you?”

“Here,” she says in small voice.

“And where are we?” I nudge my cockhead into her cunt again. Mercy trembles.

“Next to Raul’s grave.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

“That’s right, pretty thing. But he won’t mind. He’s not here, is he? He’s up in Heaven.” I shove myself inside her with a single sharp thrust, and Mercy moans and arches up into me, her hands coming up to grip my biceps.

“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, he’s in Heaven.”

“You’re about to be in Heaven, too, humanita.” I roll my hips against her, angling it so the base of my cock slides up against her clit and my cock massages her G-spot. Mercy groans and rolls her eyes back. “The only Heaven you need.”

“That’s not—” she chokes out, but I give her a soft, gently slap on the side of her face and grab her chin to make her look at me.

“I’m the only Heaven you need.” I thrust into her, wrapping my fingers loosely around her throat. Not to choke her but to hold her down. To let her know I have the power here.

Her pussy spasms with a quake of pleasure. Mercy wraps her fingers around my wrists, her eyes boring into mine.

“Ambrose,” she whispers, rocking her hips against me, locking us in an undulating rhythm. “I think— I mean?—”

Her pussy contracts around my cock. She’s close.

Mercy stares at me, fingers tight around my wrist like she's holding onto a life preserver.

“I think you’re the only god I need,” she whispers?—

Right before she comes.