Page 135 of Heart Over Heels

Darby

I wanted to say more, but my mouth wouldn’t shape the words.

Those kinds of confessions were far from professional. They tore down the wall between my head and my heart, and I wasn’t ready to be that vulnerable.

So I offered what I could.

Mercer swung off the motorcycle then helped me down. Before he could turn us toward the house, I fisted a hand in his shirt and dragged him in for a kiss. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I crushed my body against his, delaying the very thing I had asked for.

It wasn’t that I wanted to wait.

It was that I couldn’t bear to wait another second. Everything I couldn’t say, I showed, one swipe of my tongue and desperate brush of my hand at a time.

We stood there, touching, groping, and clinging. Mercer’s face buried in the curve of my neck, sucking heat into my skin until I was blissfully ablaze. His fingers crept up my spine until they cupped the back of my head, and I melted into him. Itfelt like falling—perfect, weightless release—so trusting it should have terrified me.

But it didn’t.

When I finally landed, it was on my back in Mercer’s bed with him above me, carefully removing my clothes.

I arched, offering the laces of my dress and the bow of the apron. With a tug of his hand, the corset’s firm squeeze around my ribs relented, and I exhaled a grateful breath. After a bit more maneuvering, I was stripped down to stockings and panties, the thin fabric tented by my leaking cock.

Mercer hovered over me on all fours while he drank me in, gaze sweeping my bare body with a hunger that made my skin prickle.

Then he sat back and tugged off his tank top. The gym shorts followed.

Bending in, he kissed across my chest, paying special attention to my nipples and the jewelry there. While he nibbled and licked, I moaned, my tail swishing across the comforter and doing all the squirming I couldn’t.

“I love these tits, baby,” he murmured while mouthing over me. “Such a beautiful girl.”

My heart stuttered and so did my breath. I clutched the back of his head, guiding him lower as he dotted kisses over my belly and licked lines across my skin.

By the time he reached my groin, I was twitching with need. Since I was his first male partner, I expected him to be skittish around certain areas and more comfortable with the anatomy that wasn’t so different between a woman and a man. One hot, wet hole was as good as another, after all.

Because of that, I had to bite back a yelp when his mouth closed over the head of my cock through the satin of my underwear. More sucking and the glide of his tongue had my hips bucking and my fingers twisting in his hair.

“Mercy, honey,” I groaned. “You don’t have to. I know dick isn’t everyone’s favorite flavor…”

He licked again, soaking the fabric until it clung to me. Then he flattened his palm on my stomach and looked up from where he was framed obscenely between my legs.

“I think you’re delicious,” he murmured.

“Liar,” I huffed despite the smile pulling at my cheeks.

Mercer smiled too, then went back to work, using his teeth to tug down the waistband of my panties and expose me to the air.

The shock of cold had me gasping before his lips closed around me, encompassing my length with ease.

Slowly, he licked around my crown then along the vein at the bottom of my shaft. He explored and savored while I lay back, my head spinning and body sparking with rare sensation.

My role in the bedroom had always been set at the bottom. Below. Beneath.

I was there to take what I was given and then see myself out.

Like I’d told Mercer, no one paid a prostitute to come, and they didn’t pay us to cum either.

Most of the time, I enjoyed myself. I was able to scavenge pleasure in the midst of an act that had long ago turned mechanical.

But it was unselfish, what Mercer did now. Giving to me like he knew how much had been taken. Like he would give me everything if he could.