Mercy (Salacious Players Club, #4)(55)

I wish I could say the thoughts in my head were as pure and controlled as hers probably are when she’s in this role. She wants to use me. What I want when I stare at her like this, with power so visceral it scares me…is to degrade her.

I can’t explain why, but I see this perfect, beautiful thing and I want to ruin it. Immediately, I feel sick with myself.

“I can’t do this, Maggie.” I stroke her hair away from her face. “You don’t want me to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” she whispers, but she has no idea. She thinks I’m something I’m not. The faith she has in me is unearned, and it’s infuriating to watch. Maggie deserves better than this—better than me. Why on earth would she trust me so blindly? “Mercy, remember? Same rules apply. I’m yours, and I’ll do whatever you want. If it’s too much, I have my safe word.”

“Whatever I want?”

She looks like heaven—if heaven was a filthy sin. With that, she nods.

Something in me snaps and I let myself go, running my hands into her hair, gripping it hard at the scalp as I press her head down until she’s on all fours, her face just inches away from the floor. She lets out a gentle yelp as I feel something carnal and potent creep its way down my spine.

“Are you sure this is what you want? You want a taste of what I really like, Maggie?”

“Yes,” she murmurs, her lips near the floor.

“Because I want to make you feel like a dirty slut. I want to ruin you. I’m not like you. I don’t just want to use you, Maggie. I want to hurt you while I do it.”

“I can take it,” she replies, not even a hitch in her breath as she says it. What the fuck is this woman doing to me?

As I drag her face up toward my cock, I stop seeing Maggie. When I growl at her to take it out, I see a nameless, faceless woman I don’t care about. And the vision is so convincing that when I pry open her lips with my dick, it snuffs out all of those feelings of attachment and hope I was feeling for her before. She gags loudly as I stuff my cock down her throat, fucking her mouth with her hair still in my tight clutches.

I’m free, liberated to do whatever I want, finally letting this monster run the show.

It should feel good. And my cock certainly isn’t complaining as I hit the back of her throat with each thrust, saliva dripping from her open mouth. But it’s bittersweet. Like I’m seeing myself for the first time, and I hate it even more than I thought I would.

When I pull her mouth off my cock, she gags, and I watch tears stream down her face.

I want to stop, but then I hear her words again—I can take it. Suddenly, I want to see just how much she can take.

If she wanted to call mercy she could now, but she doesn’t. Instead, she grips my thighs in her hands and stares up at me with red eyes and an expectant expression.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” I mutter through clenched teeth.

With tears still pouring, she nods. “Yes, sir.”

I grip her hair tighter. “Don’t call me that.”

When her mouth falls open from the pain, I let that primal, evil part of me take over again, and I spit right down her throat. She flinches but barely reacts.

And I know she probably wants to draw this out a little longer, but I can’t help myself. I need to fuck her now. Or maybe I just need to get to the end of this because as much as a part of me is enjoying it, the rest of me hates it.

Dragging her across the floor, I take her to the plush rug in the middle of her living room. Seeing her crawl under my control is intoxicating. Without emotion, I deposit her on all fours as I fall onto my knees behind her.

“You want to be my slut? Well, here you go,” I growl as I rip her panties down her thighs and shove my cock into her wet heat. She lets out a scream as her fingers clutch the rug, holding her in place against my relentless pounding.

My mind is blank. I’m not thinking—just feeling. Nothing but filth and shame.

Her hips are pinched in my grasp as I thrust hard, and it’s so loud, it drowns out the sound of my grunts and her moans. I’m lost to the motion, and I should be coming soon, but I feel no closer to my climax.

Reaching down, I wrap my hand around her throat and drag her upward, so I can fuck her harder, but with each pounding thrust, I feel something breaking inside me. The hard, unfeeling monster currently behind the wheel is growing weaker.

She lets out a scream, and I watch her skin break out in goosebumps, shivering from the top of her spine to the base. When I finally come, it’s unsatisfying and followed up quickly by a crippling sensation of shame and regret.

Then, my quiet brain suddenly wakes up, drowning out the evil emotions coursing through me.

You don’t see what I see.

Those words replay in my head, the look on her face as she gazed up at me, touching my face as she uttered them accompanying the memory. Then I see her tears, gagging as I spit in her mouth, degrading her and treating her like something disgusting after she was so kind to me.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

My hand drops from her throat, and I nearly stop breathing.

“Mercy.”

In a rush, I pull out. “Mercy. I’m calling mercy,” I stammer as I fall to my ass, leaning back against the couch. My fingers dig into my hair as I let my head hang forward.

Without another word, she’s there, pulling my face up and putting hers within inches of my own.