Page 86 of Heart Over Heels

Regripping his shoulders, I pushed up, dragging him out almost to the tip before settling back down. He moved smoothly inside me as I repeated the motion, rising and falling along the length of his cock.

“Tell me I’m a good girl,” I breathed as I thrust in a steady rhythm.

“You are,” he said hoarsely. “Such a good girl.”

“A pretty girl.”

His lips parted, eyes flicking down to where our bodies met before finding my face again. “So pretty, Darby,” he whispered.

“Am Iyourpretty girl?” The thought made my belly swoop, as did Mercer’s quick, helpless nod in response.

“Yes,” he said, voice trembling. “You are.”

“Say it.”

It was greedy to ask, but thatwasmy vice, after all. For as long as I could remember, I’d wanted more than I should have. And I wanted this now. The approval Mercer had given from the moment we met. The adoration I saw as he looked at me with eyes wide and expression open.

“You’re my pretty girl,” he murmured.

I thought the affirmation would scratch an itch, but instead it created one. The antsy feeling made me clench, milking Mercer’s cock and wrenching a gasp from him.

Locking my elbows, I picked up the pace, driving down until he filled the deepest part of me. Then his cockhead struck the spot that made my toes curl, and words tumbled out between breaths.

“I want you to fuck the pretty out of me. Can you do that, Mercy baby? Make me dirty.”

That was familiar territory. I was better at being a demon whore or a dick-hungry bitch than anyone’s anything. Degradation got men off. They liked it when I fit into the shapeof their fantasy. Something illicit, forbidden, a sin they could dominate then dispose of.

I’d asked Mercer for that, and I wasn’t sure he understood when he answered, “I can.”

I bore down on him again.

“That’s right,” I purred. “Big, strong soldier wrecking my cunt with your thick cock. You’re almost too much for me to take.”

He groaned.

We moved together, skin slapping and slicking with sweat. My thighs flexed around him, cinching in every time he pegged my prostate.

Mercer’s hand slid down my back, and his fingers hooked around the base of my tail. I bucked upright, spine arching as a charge like electricity crackled through me. He gripped and stroked, and I leaned into it as hard as I could, eyelids fluttering.

“Sensitive,” I told him, almost a reprimand, while everything in me begged him not to stop.

“Oh really?” He grinned, almost impish, and ran the ring of his hand over the leathery skin.

I whimpered, losing momentum as pleasure and overstimulation collided, confusing my sense of direction. For a moment, I just sat there, impaled on his cock and shaking while sensations crashed and mingled.

Mercer didn’t let the stillness last. He kept rubbing, fingers tracing down my tail, and when I froze, he moved—bucking up into me and knocking loose a pitiful cry.

“Where else are you sensitive?” His crown bumped my prostate as he stroked down my tail, and I hiccupped through a gasp.

“My-my tits,” I stammered.

He smiled, simultaneously smug and lust drunk. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

His palm splayed, then he pushed me forward, sitting up at the same time and stirring his length inside me. I whimpered as his mouth found my chest. He flicked his tongue across the pearl that dangled from my right nipple, then he moved to the left, teasing one and then the other until I broke out in goosebumps.

The new angle had me grinding harder and whining as my cock leaked precum onto Mercer’s stomach. He had me folded up and held tight, his arms around me and his legs bent behind me, turning his body into a throne fit for a queen.

He licked and nipped at my chest, and my tail looped through the air like a ribbon in the wind. I was barely contained, fingertips pressing bruises into his shoulders as I tried to hold on. My job wasn’t done until he was, but it was getting hard to remember who was supposed to be in control.