Mercy (Salacious Players Club, #4)(56)

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

She invades my space, settling my face against her shoulder as she drowns out all the thoughts in my head with her touch.

“Talk to me. What happened?” she whispers.

“What do you mean what happened? Aren’t you disgusted by me?” I gape at her in shock.

“No,” she replies, stroking my cheek, “I actually liked seeing you take control like that.”

I scoff. “Well, I didn’t. I don’t feel good about myself right now…if you couldn’t tell.”

“Why? If I gave you consent to do it, then why do you feel so bad?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I wish I knew.”

She lifts my face and gazes into my eyes. “Beau, you have some warped perceptions about sex. The shame you feel isn’t your fault. Someone else put that there.”

I can’t pinpoint in the moment if it was my mother talking shit about my dad for so long that I believed her lies or if it was society brainwashing me into believing that sex came with a side order of shame, but Maggie’s right, and I’m seeing it now for the first time. My perception is warped.

“You don’t have to feel bad about degrading me if that’s what gets you off,” she says with a shrug. “I got off on it too.”

“You did?”

With a wicked-looking half-smile, she nods. “Could you not tell how wet I was?”

“I don’t want to do that again. I just want you to be in control.”

“Okay, I will. But I think you need to do that more often, until you learn to stop feeling so bad about it.”

“I wanted to hurt you, Maggie. I wanted to treat you like garbage.” I say this to her like it’s common sense how wrong it is, but her facial expression doesn’t look convinced.

“Are you saying there’s something wrong with me if I get off on being treated like garbage?”

My brow furrows, and I try to ignore how turned on that makes me, knowing how aroused she was by that. On the bright side, some of that shame I was just drowning in has started to fade away. “Nothing makes sense anymore.”

“Tell me about it,” she replies, stroking my hair out of my face.

Then, without warning, everything bubbles to the top, like I’ve just opened a wound that won’t stop bleeding. “I’m not supposed to show emotion or anger. I’m expected to just accept shit I don’t like. I accepted my parents splitting. I accepted when my dad started dating my ex-girlfriend. And now I have to accept them getting married. On the outside, I let them believe I was okay, but I still feel so…”

She nestles closer, touching my shoulder and leaning against my arm as she listens. I can feel her encouraging me to continue.

“I’m still fucking angry.” The moment those words are out, it feels like a weight is lifted from my chest. I think I’ve been holding that in longer than I realized.

She kisses my cheek. “It’s okay to be angry, Beau. What matters is how you let that anger out. You need an outlet, or at the very least, someone to talk to.”

I focus on her touch, the calming movement of her hand over the skin of my arm.

“And you know you’re safe with me.”

Exhaustion washes over me, like I’ve just run an emotional marathon. But I’m not just tired, I’m also refreshed in a weird way, like I’ve just put down something I’ve been carrying for a long time.

“Beau, you got royally fucked by life,” she says, and I let a laugh slip through as I lift my eyes to gaze at her. “We all do, but usually when you get royally fucked, you’re supposed to get a little aftercare, too.”

A smile creeps across my face as I stare at her. Every day I see her, something changes in my perception. I’ve stopped just seeing her as my dad’s friend or a Domme, but with every passing moment, I see her as something far more intimate and familiar. I see her as mine.

Suddenly, she stands, pulling me up by the hand. “Now, come on. It just so happens that aftercare is my favorite part.”

I know this is the part where I just get to hold her, touch her, talk to her, and treat her like I know she’s supposed to be treated. And even after everything I just did, she’s right. It is my favorite part too.





Rule #24: Beating up jerks won’t make anything better.





Beau





Hey loser. D&D tonight?





I read the incoming text through one half-opened eye before looking at the time. It’s almost noon. Maggie and I were up until three in the morning, and I feel like I have a hangover after that heavy conversation.

God, why did I admit all of that about not feeling good enough?

Next to me, Maggie is sleeping soundly, looking adorable with her messy brown hair covering half her face. She sleeps with her lips slightly parted, and I really want to kiss them. But I don’t.

Instead, I toss my phone on the nightstand and peel back the blanket covering Maggie’s body. She flinches when the cool air touches her breasts, but doesn’t fully wake up. When I pull the blankets lower, revealing her naked body, I lick my lips and feel a twitch in my quickly growing cock.

I press my lips to her bare stomach, and she flinches again. Trailing my mouth upward, I find her nipple with my tongue and lap hungrily as it starts to form a tight bud.