Mercy (Salacious Players Club, #4)(44)

I want to send her over the edge, so when Caitlin finishes her story, lifting her drink to her lips, I reach out and brush her hair out of her face, turning on the charm with my eyes. She pauses, gazing up at my face as she bites her bottom lip.

“Want to get out of here? Go for a walk or something?” she asks.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Maggie moving across the yard in a fury toward the house, and as she disappears through the door, I turn back toward Caitlin.

“I’m sorry. Will you excuse me?”

I don’t even bother waiting for her response before I’m rushing after Maggie. The house is quiet when I close the door behind me, and I bolt through the kitchen toward the bathroom. Before I even get a chance to look for her, I feel a tight grip around my forearm, as I’m being hauled into the bathroom, the door slamming behind me.

She presses her hand against my chest and shoves me against the wall. She’s pissed and it gives me a strange sense of satisfaction knowing I got her attention.

“Who was that?”

“What?” I ask.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Charlie’s cousin. She remembered me,” I whisper.

Her hand is firm against my chest and in the private space, I’m desperate to touch her. One kiss, one touch, or anything I can get. We only have a minute before we have to go back to the party or risk being found together, which makes this moment even more charged.

“What does she want, Beau?”

I lean in, desperate to kiss her.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” I reply, trying to pull her closer. “Why? Are you jealous, ma’am?”

She shoves me harder against the wall and attacks my lips with hers. It’s the exact response I was hoping for. I devour her kiss in this quiet stolen moment, hungry for her touch. It’s not long enough because her hand travels upward, encircling my neck as she shoves me back again.

“I am not jealous because nothing will happen with her,” she says possessively, and I grin down at her.

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply.

“You’re mine, Beau Grant. Do you hear me?” She’s leaning in, about to press her mouth to mine again.

I bring her closer, feeling her breath against my lips as I reply, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Now kiss me again.” She gasps before our mouths are fused, and I’m licking my way in until our tongues are tangled and we’re both left panting and hungry for more. Seeing me talking to someone else was apparently the trigger to getting her to finally break her calm composure, and I love it.

“Can we get out of here, please?” I ask as our mouths finally part.

“Yes,” she whispers. Then with a tight grip on my scalp, she painfully tilts my head back, and I wince. “Do not talk to her again. Meet me out front in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, okay,” I mutter, and she tugs harder.

I suck in a breath through my teeth as she presses her lips to my neck. “Try that again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I stammer with a smile.

But she doesn’t let go. Instead, she creeps up on her toes, her mouth next to my ear. “I think I like hurting you, Beau.”

Even though my head is screaming in pain and I can’t move my neck, I manage to smile anyway. “So take me home and hurt me some more.”

“Oh, I’m going to do something else to you.”

A door closes somewhere in the house, and we break apart in a rush. She adjusts her clothes as she leaves me standing there, and I’m left with an aching hard-on as she quickly whispers, “Fifteen minutes.”





Rule #20: Rules are made to be broken.





Maggie





I won’t get the sight of him reaching out and touching her out of my head anytime soon. And I definitely won’t forget the way it made me feel.

She was beautiful. Young. Fit.

And he was flirting with her.

Whether he knew it or not, that smile of his is more powerful than he realizes. With one lopsided grin, Beau can make a woman forget her own name. Forget she has a boyfriend. Or convictions.

Pure, unfiltered Beau eye contact is potent.

And, for a moment, as I stood with Garrett and Mia, I considered that this was the end of us—whatever that means. I made it very clear that we were exclusive, but if someone younger and prettier catches his eye and he wants out, then it’s over. Why would he want to come home with me when she so clearly gave him fuck me eyes for fifteen minutes straight?

But he’s not walking through her front door right now—he’s walking through mine.

And he has no idea what he’s in for.

The electricity between us is palpable. And my emotions are warring between heady lust and brutal jealousy. I want to hurt him and fuck his brains out at the same time. I have every intention of making this both bliss and agony.

Once we’re inside, he reaches for me, but I place a firm hand on his chest, stopping him. I feel his heart racing under my palm.

“Go up to my bedroom and wait for me in position. I want you naked by the time I come up there.”

There's a subtle twitch in his lips as he fights the urge to smile. Instead, he tilts his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

I watch from the foyer as he jogs excitedly up the stairs, and I shove away that stupid tender feeling that creeps up whenever I’m around him. Once he’s gone, I go into the bathroom and do some quick freshening up. Really, I just want to give him enough time to get in position. For some reason, it just feels easier to get into the Domme mindset when he’s already submissive. If we had fumbled up the stairs in the same frenzy we felt at the party, I’m afraid I would have never gained control.