A Night Of Mercy Read online

  Thankfully, Boyd doesn’t force me to talk anymore about it and we go our separate ways. At last, I can go home in peace. That is until I get to reception and find Blair waiting for me. Jesus, this day is wreaking havoc on my blood pressure.

  She has the nerve to look indignant, glaring at me with her manicured hands on her hips. “Did you really tell your secretary not to let me in anymore?”

  “Yes,” I say, walking past her without a backwards glance.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to see you.” I push the elevator call button, and slip out my phone to text Mercy that I’m on my way home. To my annoyance, Blair still hasn’t gone away.

  She puts a hand on my shoulder. “C’mon. We’re friends. Don’t be like this.”

  “We were friends,” I correct, shoving off her touch. “Until you broke into my apartment like a lunatic.”

  The elevator arrives, I get on, putting a hand up to stop her when she tries to do the same. “You can take the next one.”

  I look away, not wanting to see the hurt on her face when the doors slip closed. Blair was a good friend once, but if she can’t respect my boundaries I can’t allow her to be a part of my life. Oh sure, I could attempt to let the whole thing go. I could agree to keep things civil, making it clear in no uncertain terms that I want nothing more than friendship from her.

  Thing is though, I’ve tried that before. Several times. She’s always agreeable at first, insisting that she’s totally fine with just being friends. Next thing I know; she starts blurring the lines again. Showing up at my office, unannounced. Getting a little too handsy at social functions. In the past, I’ve avoided putting my foot down for fear of dealing with the fall out. But not anymore. Now that I’m with Mercy, I have no room in my life for people who can’t respect my commitment to her.

  When I finally get home, Mercy’s not on the couch where I left her. Instead I find her in our bedroom, tucked under the sheets. My chest fills with warmth at just the sight of her, and I move towards her without even thinking, itching to kiss her. Just as I lean down, she shifts a bit, causing the blanket to slip, revealing her bare shoulder.

  I freeze, cursing under my breath. The little minx is in my bed naked. This is obviously her latest strategy for jumping my bones before the end of the six-week ban on strenuous activity. The horrible thing is, I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to resist this. And yet I don’t have a choice. As much as I want Mercy— so bad I’m almost shaking with it— I can’t let myself hurt her. Just thinking about her in pain makes my stomach twist. Back at the hospital, I almost had to leave the room when they were examining her. They kept poking and prodding at her side, making her cry out in pain each time. I knew they were just doing their jobs, but I didn’t care. It was all I could do not to punch the damn doctors in the face.

  “Oh, hi,” Mercy says, blinking up at me. “When did you get back?”

  She sits up a bit, moving so that the blanket falls further, exposing her breasts. The pink tips of her nipples stand out against the creamy white of her skin and my mind goes completely blank.

  “Uh. Yeah,” I say, my eyes glued to her chest. Blinking, I shake my head. “Wait what?”

  “You seem distracted.” Smirking at me, she twirls a lock of silky brown hair around her finger. “Got something on your mind?”

  “This isn’t gonna work,” I tell her, though my words lack conviction. My cock is painfully hard, throbbing like a pulse within the confines of my dress pants.

  “What are you talking about?” Her brow furrows adorably, the blanket shifting more to reveal the smooth flat of her stomach.

  Okay. Fuck. What is “strenuous physical activity” anyway? I mean, we’re just talking about a little sex. It’s not like I’m challenging her to a one-on-one basketball game.

  But then I remember how it always is between us in bed. Wild, desperate and frantic. A little too hard, a little too rough, neither of us able to get enough. Christ. Maybe I can just...

  “Please, Parker,” she whispers, looking up at me with those big blue eyes that own my soul. “I need you.”

  Cursing under my breath, I lean forward, taking her mouth with mine. She sighs sweetly, opening to me, tangling her tongue with mine, cupping my cheek in one of her hands. Breaking off the kiss, I pull the blankets all the way back, revealing her perfect naked body.

  “Lie back,” I demand gruffly, gently repositioning her so that she’s lying parallel with the head board, her feet dangling off the edge of the bed. Looming over her, I let my eyes run over every lush curve, every inch of pretty pink skin.

  “Please,” she begs, shivering.

  Reaching out, I graze a thumb over her nipple, smiling at her gasp. “Poor thing.”

  I spend a few more minutes running my hands over her, relishing in the satin-like feel of her flesh. Finally, I drop to my knees, gently pulling her closer to the edge of the bed.

  “Here are my rules,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee. “If anything starts to hurt, you tell me. Immediately. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she agrees, breathlessly.

  “You have to lie very still.” I press a kiss a little higher on her thigh, calmly, like I’m not drooling for the chance to taste her again. “If you start to move too much, I’ll stop. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  As much as I want to, I can’t dive in and devour her like I have in the past. No, this time has to be slow and gentle. Slowly, I hitch one of her knees on my shoulder, dipping my head down, trying not to go crazy over how sweet she smells.

  When I finally press my mouth against her, I groan, loudly, nearly coming in my damn pants. Reminding myself to go slow, I take her apart a little bit at a time, driving her to the edge with an easy leisure, like a late summer drive through the country.

  “Oh, fuck,” she cries, rolling her hips up against my mouth.

  Immediately, I stop, peering up at her. “No moving.”

  “I know I’m sorry!” She reaches down to tug on my hair. “Please don’t stop.”

  Normally, I love it when she tugs on my hair. But right now, I really need her to lie as still as possible. For my peace of mind, if nothing else. Taking her hand out of my hair, I pin it to the bed before getting back to the task at hand.

  I swear to God; I could do this for hours. The only thing sweeter than the taste of Mercy on my tongue, is the sound of her moans, her breathy cries of need. I can’t give her the powerful release that she wants. When Mercy comes hard, she arches her back and thrashes around, completely losing herself in the pleasure. Since I can’t risk hurting her, I give her a slower, gentler release. Building her up slow, like the swell of a wave. Letting her fall back down soft, like a feather, floating in the breeze.

  “Oh my god,” she sobs, crying in relief as she comes, her body trembling softly.

  Leaning forward, I bracket her sides with my arms, pressing a kiss to her stomach. “How was that?”

  “Perfect,” she hums dreamily.

  Chuckling, I kiss her one more time before getting to my feet.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I just need to grab a quick shower,” I say, jerking my shirt off and tossing it away. I need to calm down before I lose my mind and fuck her senseless against the wall. Jesus, how can I even think about doing something like that? Knowing it would hurt her?

  Grumbling to myself, I finish getting undressed and head to the bathroom where I turn on the water. Once I’m standing under the spray, I don’t even think about it before I’m fisting my cock, eager for relief.

  I’m halfway there when the shower door slides open. Cool hands press against my back. “Need any help with that?”

  “Mercy,” I growl spinning around, catching her wandering hands in mine. “Stop.”

  “What?” She arches a brow. “You ran off before I could return the favor.”

  “That is not happening,” I say, adamant. Receiving oral is one thing, but giving takes a bit more
effort. As much as I want her pretty little mouth on me, I would literally never get over it if she hurt herself while sucking me off.

  She frowns, her lower lip protruding. “But I want to make you feel good.”

  Groaning, I lean in, drop my forehead against hers.

  “Maybe I could… you know...” She shifts on her feet. “Help things along?

  My eyes nearly bug out of my head. “Yeah?”

  Biting her lip, she nods. Guides my hand down, urging me to fist my cock.

  “Fuck,” I growl, taking her mouth in a savage kiss as I jack myself off.

  She moves her mouth to my neck, kissing a trail up to my ear.

  “I want you inside me so bad,” she whispers. “What are you gonna do once you can have me again? Tell me.”

  “Jesus.” My teeth dig into the skin at her shoulder. “Gonna spread you out across my bed. Kiss you all over and lick you till you're begging for it. Gonna fuck you all night long, sweet girl.”

  Thanks to Mercy’s hands on me, not to mention her naughty little words in my ear, it takes only minutes for me to finish myself off.

  “How was that?” she asks, grinning against my lips.

  Chuckling, I wrap my arms around her. “Perfect.”

  Downstairs, we decide to order pizza, huddling up in the media room to pick out a movie.

  “No,” she says firmly, shaking her head. “I’m not watching that again.”

  I glance mournfully at the TV where I’ve pulled up Fast and The Furious: 7. “But you fell asleep last time!”

  “I know; it was very much intentional. What about—”

  Voices echoing from down the hall catch our attention. “Sir, wait—”

  My uncle, Oliver Bolton bursts into the room, with Miles hot on his heels. Mercy and I both freeze, glancing at one another. Finally, I stand up, trying to appear casual.

  “There’s my favorite nephew!” Oliver laughs, pulling me in for a hug.

  Miles steps in, looking terribly flustered. “I’m sorry sir, I tried—”

  “It’s alright Miles,” I tell the valet, before turning my attention back to Oliver.

  He’s an absolute wreck. His hair is long and disheveled, his jaw covered with stubble. His clothes are wrinkled and worn, like he’s been wearing them for days. All signs that he’s coming down from a bender and he needs cash fast. At this point, I’ll give him whatever he wants. I don’t want him to upset Mercy. And even though his knowledge of how we met isn’t really a threat anymore, I don’t think either of us are in the mood to reminisce.

  “Let’s talk in my office,” I say, trying to urge him out of the room.

  “Woah hang on.” He stops me, his eyes locking on Mercy. “Who’s this?”

  Frantically, I look from her to Oliver. “I— she—”

  Ignoring me, Oliver goes around me, sits down on the couch next to her. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing.”

  Clenching my fists at my side, I step forward, intending to drag him away.

  “I’m Oliver Bolton.” He offers a hand. I freeze in place, watching the exchange. “What’s your name?”

  Dubious, Mercy glances at me, before shaking his hand. “Mercy Chase.”

  “My what a lovely name. And so unique.” He winks at her, nodding his head at me. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing hanging around my nephew?”

  She blushes. “Oh—Um—”

  He laughs. “I’m just messing with you sweetheart.”

  Standing up, he turns back to me. “So, listen. I got into a bit of a bind while I was in Vegas—”

  “How much, Oliver?”

  He smiles apologetically. “Twenty-five?”

  I have no idea what he could have done to cause twenty-five thousand dollars’ worth of damage, but I don’t care. I just want him gone, “Done. I’ll wire it in the morning.”

  “Thanks kid!” He slaps me on the shoulder, waves goodbye to Mercy. “It was nice meeting you.”

  “Um…” She stares after him. “You too?”

  After he’s gone, I drop down next to her on the couch, laughing my ass off.

  “Did he seriously not remember me?” she asks, looking amused.

  “Don’t take it personally.” I kiss her on the cheek. “He’s pretty much drank himself senile. I doubt he’d remember me if I didn’t give him money.”

  “Hmm.” She smirks. “Or maybe I’m just forgettable.”

  Shaking my head, I pull her close. “Not a chance.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Parker

  “No way. This is too much,” Mercy whispers. Smiling at her, I bring her hand to my lips for a quick kiss as the realtor continues to prattle on.

  “All in all, you’ve got 13,000 square feet,” she says, walking just ahead of us as she pokes at the screen of her tablet. “Seven bedrooms, eight bathrooms.”

  Mercy gapes up at me, eyes wide. “Did she just say seven bedrooms?”

  “You promised to keep an open mind.” I remind her as we approach the front door of the luxurious city mansion. It’s a great location, a mere stone’s throw from central park on 63rd Street, smack dab between Fifth and Madison.

  It’s a gleaming column of soft-red brick, slightly rounded in the center by curved windows. When we approach the giant black iron door, the realtor unlocks it by entering a code on a keypad connected to the doorknob. We step inside to a gorgeous foyer, gleaming with white marble accented in gold. I only half listen to the realtor as she prattle off the specs. There isn’t anything she can tell me about this house that I don’t already know.

  For weeks now, I’ve been borderline obsessed with this place. The moment I saw it I knew it was perfect. I can see a life for us here.

  A lot has changed in my world. Now that Mercy has secured temporary custody of her brother and sister, we’ve moved them to the best private school in Manhattan. We both agreed that it was past time for them to have a fresh start, after living so long in the shadows of a life that no longer existed. As for what happens when Mercy’s father comes back from rehab upstate, I don’t think either of us have a clue. But it’s safe to assume he’ll be coming to live with us and the kids for the foreseeable future.

  Which meant staying in my bachelor pad penthouse was no longer an option. Plus there's also the fact that I want children of my own someday. With Mercy. Not any time soon, of course. But somewhere down the line, after she’s had time to go to college and find her passion in life, whatever that may be. Of course, I didn’t mention that part to Mercy when I told her we needed to start looking for a new place.

  She’d agreed originally. I imagine she assumed we’d be getting something similar in size to my penthouse. But I want us to have something bigger. A place big enough for us to grow and live and love. A house where we can make babies together and have a blast getting old. And in my heart I know that this is the perfect place for us.

  Based on the look on Mercy’s face, though, I’ve still got some convincing to do. Her gorgeous face is completely devoid of color as she stares around at the space, mouth hanging open in stunned silence. And I really can’t blame her. It’s a lot to take in at first.

  Barbara Goodwin, our realtor, leads us from the foyer, through the reception gallery and into an enormous gourmet kitchen. White cabinets stand out in stark relief against black stone countertops and gleaming black marble floors. Barbara’s been working with my family for years. She’s a somewhat portly woman in her early sixties, with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. She looks like she should be baking apple pies and knitting sweaters for her grandchildren. Instead she’s one of the toughest real estate brokers in Manhattan. Talk about a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  “There are six floors, not including the rooftop patio and the basement,” she informs us, leading us into the breakfast room. It’s a cozy space, with an entire back wall taken up by windows that look out into the courtyard.

  “The basement, of course, includes a full work out area with an attached sauna and a forty-foot swimming po
ol.” Barbara then leads us back into the reception gallery where she shows us the elevator that can take us to any level of the house. For now, however, we take the stairs up to the next floor, in order for us to fully appreciate the intricate, vine-like design of the wrought-iron banister.

  We go from level to level, touring all the bedrooms, the formal dining room, the media room and the home office. Once we reach the rooftop patio, we take in the stunning view of Central Park.

  “What do you think?” I ask, pulling her into my side.

  She blows out a breath, pushing a few errant hairs out of her face. “It’s beautiful. Of course it’s beautiful. But it’s way too much! We don’t need all this space.”

  I nod, understanding her concern. She’s right, we don’t technically need this big house. But I want it. And she wants it too. I could see it in her eyes when we toured the gorgeous library on the fourth floor, with built-in shelves that took up every inch of wall space. I watched as she ran her fingers over the intricate wood carvings, could almost hear her thinking of all the books we could keep in there. She loves the place just as much as I do. If she didn’t, I’d walk away without looking back.

  The real problem is that she’s not quite used to just how much money I have. And I don’t blame her, it’s a big adjustment. She grew up in a middle class family, and now she’s moving in with a billionaire. So far, she’s been hesitant and resistant when I try to give her things. She says she doesn’t want to be spoiled, but frankly she’s just going to have to get over it. I’m going to spend my life treating her like a queen, no ifs ands or buts about it. I am willing to ease her into it though.

  Baby steps. Three weeks after she came home from the hospital, I came home with a ring, from Cartier. No, not that ring. At least not yet. She’s already had so much change recently, and I need to give her a chance to catch her breath. But I did want to give her something special, something that would be as precious to her as she is to me. I’d been in the store for a few minutes when I saw it. A gorgeous sapphire tennis bracelet that reminded me of her eyes. Later that night while she was sleeping I slipped it on to her wrist. The next morning she had tears in her eyes as she kissed me, thanking me with a sheepish smile. For the rest of the day, she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off it. Every time I looked at her, she was gazing down at the bracelet, tracing the gems with her fingers. Seeing her so happy made me feel ten feet tall.