Mercy (Salacious Players Club, #4)(77)

I get ready for the wedding at Maggie’s house to avoid my mother. She has nothing nice to say about today, and I’m tired of hearing about it. Standing in the kitchen, I scroll through my phone in my uncomfortable tux as I wait for Maggie to come down. We have to drive separately—again—but I don’t want to get there that much earlier than her.

When I hear her heels click against the stairs, I head toward the sound, staring down at my phone as I wander mindlessly through her house.

“I’m ready,” she announces, and I look up from my phone, frozen in place, gaping at her. She’s in a tight, black strapless gown. It hugs her hips and shows off the fullness of her tits. Instinctively, I lick my lips, biting the lower one as I think about peeling that dress off her later.

“God damn,” I mutter as I close the distance between us, wrapping my hands around her waist. She lets out a sweet giggle as my lips find her neck and I bury my face against her soft skin. She smells like perfume and shampoo.

“Don’t you dare mess up my hair or makeup,” she warns, without sounding all that serious.

“Oh, I want to mess it up.” My hands clench the satin as I drag it up her legs, but before I can reach beneath and find her ass, she shoves me away.

“Behave,” she scolds.

“I don’t want to,” I whine, reaching for her again.

Taking her hand in mine, I run my thumb over her knuckles, pressing my lips to each one. Seeing her dressed up like this is doing things to me. Like making me feel like her boyfriend instead of her sub. Something territorial creeps up my spine when I think about other men seeing her in this dress.

“I was thinking…” she says, biting her red-stained lip.

“Whatever you want, I’ll do it,” I reply.

“We could go to the club after the wedding.”

My eyes lift up to her face. “It’s not Masquerade night.”

“I know,” she replies. “But I could sneak you in.”

“And do what?” I ask, a little afraid she has plans to punish me again—not that I don’t enjoy the pain element of our relationship. I’d just rather not end the evening in tears and an emotional breakdown.

When she doesn’t answer, I study her expression, trying to understand. As she smiles, pulling me closer, realization dawns.

“You want to fuck me.”

I swallow, my cheeks starting to heat up.

“If you’re not ready—"

“I’m ready,” I say, cutting her off.

Her eyes light up with excitement. “Really?”

With our gazes locked, I nod. My hands travel across her jaw, grasping her by the back of the neck as I pull her mouth to mine. She clings to my arms as I take her lips in a fierce kiss. I can feel her lipstick smearing, and I love it. My cock twitches in my pants, so I grind it against her tight dress.

When we finally come up for air, panting together, she smiles. “I told you not to mess up my makeup.”

“I never listen.”

Pulling back, she laughs when she sees my lipstick-covered mouth. Then, she drags me upstairs and wipes my face clean with a soft wet cloth. The whole time I don’t say a word, even as I watch her fix her own, meticulously reapplying the red color. It’s sexy as fuck.

Call it reckless, but I am excited for tonight. Maybe I should think this through more, but at the end of the day, I trust her, and I’m more than willing to throw caution to the wind and put everything in her hands. I can’t get over how good that feels, letting her have control. Especially since she wants it. And not just during sex, but for my entire future.

The pressure of having to decide what to do with my life has just evaporated. All of that weight is just gone. Putting my trust in her is liberating.

“Ready?” she asks as she throws her red lipstick in her tiny purse.

With a deep sigh, I nod. “Lead the way.”





Rule #32: When an opportunity arises, don’t miss it.





Maggie





The entire day is a blur. The moment we get to the venue, it’s a frenzy of stand here, where’s the bouquet, fix my makeup, is the officiant ready, someone get Charlie a shot. I’m too busy running around being helpful that I hardly get a free moment to admire how handsome Beau looks in that tux.

I also notice for the first time just how much he looks like Emerson, especially as they wear the same tux and stand next to each other. That’s something I’m going to have to unpack later. I’ve certainly never been attracted to Emerson. He’s handsome, sure. But I never wanted to drag him into the bathroom and drop down to my knees for him like I do his son.

Geez, Maggie. Did you seriously just think that?

We’re standing in the staging area as Beau saunters toward me to stand by my side, giving me one of those private looks before putting out his elbow for me to wrap my arm through. The moment I can touch him, I’m comfortable.

I never understood the idea of your person until now. That one other person who can make you feel comfortable, at peace, loved, and appreciated all at the same time. This whole time I thought my friends were crazy, but now I get it. Charlie is Emerson’s person.

Beau is mine.

It feels as if we blink and we’re suddenly walking down the aisle to the string quartet playing at the back of the garden. After Hunter and Isabel make their way down, Beau and I walk casually together. People smile at us from their seats, and I do my best to keep myself composed. Oh, if they only knew.