The Reality of Wright and Wrong Page 5

  Women amazed me. “So you’ve been talking to your best friend since you’ve been here, yet you haven’t told her about your fiancé or where you’re staying? What the hell have you guys talked about for an entire day?”

  Mercy shrugged and attempted to bite back a coy grin. Then she gave up, let the humor roll through her, and said, “Most of the time, we text stupid shit back and forth. Memes or funny things that happened to us or that we saw. Normally, I would’ve told her what happened Friday night, but I guess I wanted to process it first. Not to mention, I’ve been with you.”

  “Well, how about this?” I cracked a few eggs into the pan as I spoke. “We eat…whatever this will be, and then we get dressed for the day. I have to get downtown to find Joe and make sure he’s good for the week, and then I have to stop by the shop and catch up on the books—all of which you’re more than welcome to tag along for. Meanwhile, you answer texts and calls as they come in, while not dealing with the prick who’ll hopefully be sitting at the airport for half the day.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind me following you around?”

  “More than sure, babe.” Hell, I’d make up places to go if that meant I got to keep her around longer.

  5

  Mercy

  Silence drifted through the doorway like a dense fog, suffocating me. And if that wasn’t bad enough, nighttime cloaked the house, the darkness blinding me until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. Couldn’t think straight. I just prayed that Brogan hadn’t gone to sleep in the twenty minutes since saying goodnight.

  The distance between the room I stayed in and his wasn’t that much. But at night, in a pitch-black house—an unfamiliar house, at that—it seemed to be miles away. Every creak in the wood was a muted scream. A quiet confession that I didn’t belong. I was an intruder. And once I stood in front of his bedroom door, I contemplated turning around and making the long journey back to my bed.

  Except I couldn’t.

  Because I was weak and afraid, too tempted by the unwelcome darkness to unblock Jordan’s number or listen to the numerous voicemails he’d left on my cell. My heart ached, and I craved a distraction. Something tangible and real. Anything to get my mind off the lump in my throat and weight on my chest. I couldn’t be sure, but I had a feeling that Brogan wouldn’t turn me away—especially after he’d kissed me underneath the waterfall yesterday.

  I tapped on his door, light enough that he’d hear it if he was awake but wouldn’t alert him if he’d fallen asleep. And then I held my breath, unsure if I truly wanted him to answer or if I wanted to slip back into bed unnoticed.

  A few seconds later, when I hadn’t heard him respond, I put one foot behind the other. Only to freeze in place with a gasp when the door opened. Brogan stood in front of me, looming in the doorway like a da Vinci painting.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked without an ounce of sleep in his tone.

  The level of concern in his husky voice melted my panties and soothed my erratic heartbeat. But when he stepped toward me, bringing his face closer to mine, nothing eased my trepidation quite like the interest that flashed in his dark eyes. It swathed me in peace and coddled me, lulling me into a state of comfort and security as real as the air I breathed.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if you were awake or not.”

  “I’m awake, babe. What happened? Are you all right?”

  In one second, we went from standing at least a foot apart to his palms cradling my cheeks. His fingers stretched and splayed around the sides of my head and along my neck. He may have only touched my face, but I could feel him everywhere. As if he’d crawled into my chest and taken up residence.

  If I’d known what was best, I would’ve evicted him.

  Instead, I pressed my hands against his pecs and allowed the heat of his skin to subdue my doubt. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just couldn’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about…you know.”

  “Has anything changed? Have you talked to him?”

  I shook my head, hoping that would be enough of an answer for him.

  “Do you want to sit on the couch and watch a movie?”

  Again, I shook my head. This time, however, it wasn’t enough of an answer for me. I didn’t know what I wanted from Brogan, other than to make this ache go away. I needed the anxiety to vacate the pit of my stomach and the voices in my head, asking a thousand what-if questions, to quiet. Watching a movie on the couch should’ve been able to do all those things.

  But the thought of his mouth and hands consumed me.

  The way his lips had frozen time beneath his waterfall.

  His tongue against mine had eradicated all the evil in the world.

  He’d kissed me only one time, yet my heart had become a junkie. My soul craved him as if we’d somehow known each other in a past life, and the thought of losing him again was too much to bear. He might’ve only kissed me once, but there wasn’t a single part of me that believed he hadn’t touched every ounce of my being a thousand times over again.

  Throwing caution to the wind, I lifted myself onto my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his. He didn’t resist—not that I expected him to, but the fear was always there. He quickly dropped his hands to my hips and turned me to the side, pushing my back against the wall right outside of his room. And the instant I felt his erection along my lower stomach, I moaned into his mouth.

  The last thing I expected of him was to pull away. Yet he did. He broke the kiss and pressed his temple to mine, panting in my ear as though he’d just finished a marathon. “I’m not right for you, Mercy.”

  “Maybe I don’t want what’s right for me, Brogan.” I raked my nails down his abdomen and hooked my fingers into the waistband of his track pants. “Maybe, just this once—this one time, this one night—I want wrong. Right fucked me over. Now I want to fuck Wrong.”

  Not another word was spoken—not like there could’ve been with how fast Brogan claimed my mouth. He skirted his hands around my ass and down the backs of my thighs before lifting me off my feet. And within seconds, I was flat on his bed, my legs wrapped around his waist.

  His tongue danced with mine.

  My nails clawed at his shoulders.

  It was passion and need and unimaginable desire.

  Hot and desperate. Like he couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough, like I couldn’t get him close enough. I wanted to draw it out, make it last. But I was also impatient and needed it now. Fast. Hard. All of him, all over me. Inside and out.

  Even though the hint of moonlight through the blinds allowed me to see what he was doing, it wasn’t enough. I needed to see everything—his eyes, his expression, the pleasure and yearning on his face. For the first time in my life, I craved the whole experience. So when he flicked on the light next to the bed, I sighed with relief.

  Then I whimpered at the sight of his dick—more accurately, at the discovery of the barbell that penetrated the head, a silver ball on the top and bottom.

  And when he situated himself above me again, I moaned.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Mercy,” he whispered along my lips a split second before kissing me, swallowing my choked cries of urgency. His mouth on mine obliterated every last thought in my head. His warm hand on my bare hip sent electricity throughout my entire body. However, nothing compared to the way my chest constricted when he pulled away, just enough to look me in my eyes, and said, “I’ll show you wrong if you show me right.”

  Rather than attempt to speak—my voice wouldn’t have worked even if I tried—I nodded and dragged my legs up his sides until I dug my heels into his ass cheeks. I longed to feel him inside me, and without the ability to verbally express it, I had to show him.

  His hard length slid through my folds, slick with my arousal, except he didn’t give in to me. Instead, he held my stare with such intensity I could’ve come right then and there without any penetration. “Tell me this is what you want, Mercy.”

  Again, I nodded.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’
t enough for him. “With your words, babe. Tell me.”

  “I want you.” My voice, thick with lust, became caught in my throat so that my words came out croaked and broken. “I want this, Brogan. All of it. With you. Right now.”

  He didn’t waste a single second before pushing inside me. Filling me. Stretching me. Satisfying cravings I never knew I had while meeting every need I’d never admitted to him. In the end, he worshiped my body and owned my soul. He claimed my desires. Branded my heart and left his mark on every cell that was me. I lay naked beside him, spent and sated. Panting. Exhausted yet wide-awake. And in the comfort of his arms, I felt safe. Wanted. Needed.

  But most of all…I felt cherished.

  “Did these hurt?” I asked while carefully toying with the small barbell that went through one of his nipples. He had them both done, but with the way I was folded against his left side and partially draped over his chest, I could only pay attention to the one on the right.

  “Nah.” His fingers danced in circles along my shoulder while we talked. “Out of all my piercings, those were some of the less painful.”

  I figured his dick had been the most painful, but I wasn’t about to ask. Bringing that up would only remind me of how incredible it was to feel it on the inside, stroking the right spot as he brought me to the edge over and over again. Yeah, I couldn’t allow myself to get lost in those thoughts, or else I wouldn’t have been able to carry on a conversation that made any sense. “What’s worse…getting pierced or getting tattooed?”

  “Depends on where, I guess. There’s been a time or two I’ve had to take a break in the middle of getting a tattoo just to reset. There have also been plenty of times I’ve barely felt it. I have piercings that didn’t even make me flinch, some that have turned me on, and one that required a paper bag.” His soundless laughter rippled through his chest. “But no, these didn’t bother me.”

  “I’ve always wanted a tattoo.”

  “Yeah? I happen to know a guy who could do you up while you’re in town.”

  “How do I know you’re even any good?” I teased, fighting off my smirk even though he couldn’t see it anyhow.

  Brogan shifted toward me, rolling into me, and twisted our legs together. “Babe…I’m way better at that than I am at sex. Does that answer your question?”

  Holy hell. There was a chance my tired and weak body had just become ready for round two. Brogan Daniels was a god in bed, which could only mean his abilities with ink and skin had to be unmatched. However, I wasn’t ready to end the flirtatious banter just yet. “So I take it that means you’re only okay? Average? Middle of the road?”

  Heat consumed my neck a split second before he licked a path along my jaw. I assumed he was about to say something with the way he positioned himself, bringing his lips to my ear, but as soon as I relaxed into him, ready to hear whatever lingered on the tip of his tongue, he expertly and swiftly filled my swollen core with one finger. Just enough to remind me of how good a lover he had been.

  “That’s not what you were saying when I was buried inside you, Mercy.” His gruff voice stifled my gasp and drew out my moan. “I do believe you were begging for more. Did I hear that wrong? Or were you faking it?”

  I shook my head, praying he would never remove his hand from between my legs.

  “No what, Mercy? Which question are you saying no to? Tell me. I want to hear it.”

  “I wasn’t faking it.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He took his finger away, but before I could form the first grumble over the absence, he stuck it into his mouth, wrapped his full, delicious lips around the knuckle, and slowly dragged it back out, humming as he exaggerated the pop at the end. “Does this mean you’re going to let me tattoo you while you’re here?”

  “You can do whatever you want to me, baby.”

  “Mmm…that could get dirty.”

  For the first time in my life, the idea of getting dirty with someone excited me.

  Stella had called several times over the last few days. Some of the calls I’d answered, others I’d sent to voicemail. To be fair, those were typically during moments when Brogan had me…incapacitated, if you will. But eventually, I knew I would have to tell her what was going on.

  Even if I wasn’t ready.

  “You’re starting to worry me, Mercy.” For Stella, that was a big deal. She smoked a lot of pot, so worrying wasn’t something she did often. “You never keep things from me for this long. You always tell me everything. But now, you’re at some guy’s house, having the best sex of your life days after giving your ring back to Jordan, and you won’t give me any details.”

  I wrapped the towel tighter around my body and sat on the side of the bed—my suitcase had remained in this room, though I hadn’t slept in here since Saturday night. “For the second time…I literally just stepped out of the shower. I haven’t even fully dried off yet. Can I call you back when I’m done?”

  “No. Getting dressed has never stopped you from talking to me before. Hell, you do it on FaceTime while you stand out of view of the camera. Why is this any different?” She wouldn’t give up until I gave her something.

  Brogan had left to run a couple of errands, and when he came back, we were supposed to get ready to hang out with a few of his friends. I had probably less than half an hour to get dressed and dry my hair. So, at this point, it was either be late or multitask like a mother.

  “Where do you want me to start, Stella?”

  “The sex. Duh. Always start with the sex, Mercy.”

  I pulled up a pair of panties and traced the violet outline of Brogan’s teeth on my inner thigh. A near perfect circle. The memory of that bitemark caused my body to flush, but that was nothing compared to the arousal I felt at the sight of the faded one on my hip. “Fucking unbelievable.”

  “So you’ve said. Details, hooker. I need details.”

  Closing my eyes, I vividly recalled all the ways Brogan had taken me over the last four days. He’d explored my body in all the rooms in his house. His hands and the pinch they could cause my skin as well as the soothing heat of his palms. His lips. His tongue. The silver rod through his shaft, just below the head, which served several different purposes for both of us.

  The thought of him left me wet and desperate.

  “Never mind, I don’t want to know. I swear, you sound like a cat in heat over there.”

  I laughed and pulled out a pair of shorts and a tank top. If I hadn’t gone naked so much this week, I would’ve been out of clothes. Thank God for a man with a healthy appetite for sex. “I do not. Shut up. I’m trying to get dressed and talk at the same time.”

  “Don’t lie. I get it…he’s a god in the bedroom. You can tell me all about that when you come home—which you are still doing, right? You’re not going to call me on Saturday and tell me you’ve decided to move in with the guy, are you?”

  After clasping my bra, I carefully adjusted the band to keep it from rubbing against the tattoo on my ribs. The one Brogan had put there the other day. Ever since telling him that I wanted one, he wouldn’t let it go until he had me in his chair, marking me with ink. I lightly ran my finger along the fancy letters covered in ointment. Save me and have me, fix me and I’m yours. I still wasn’t sure where the line came from, but there was something so unbelievably perfect about it that I doubted I’d ever be able to fully comprehend its meaning.

  “No. And maybe next time, smoke a bowl or something before you call. You’re too high-strung for me today.” It was a joke, and luckily for me, she knew it.

  She laughed and said, “Moving on. Have you heard from Jordan?”

  I rolled my eyes, oddly annoyed at the topic instead of upset by it, which was what I’d expected to still feel this soon after his betrayal. Heartbroken at the very least. Certainly not irritated and repulsed. I guess indifference was better than sorrow.

  “I can only see his voicemails, which I haven’t listened to. He sent me two emails, but I haven’t read those, either. If
he’s tried social media, I wouldn’t know. I’ve stayed off those on purpose. Completely signed out of them. Why…have you heard from him?”

  “He called a few times at the beginning of the week, but when I told him that he was wasting his breath, he finally got the hint and stopped. Apparently, your mom told him to give you a little space and you’d come around. She’s under the impression you’re having a case of cold feet.”

  I’d only called two people—three, if you counted my parents individually—to tell them I was okay, but that I needed them to ignore Jordan until I could explain everything next weekend. However, I didn’t tell my parents anything more than that, knowing they would repeat it all to Jordan the second he called. Worse, they would’ve called him the instant I hung up with them.

  It might’ve been fucked up, but I wasn’t ready to let him off the hook that easily.

  And while I hadn’t given Stella many of the specifics, I did assure her that my whereabouts were in my email inbox in the event something happened to me. That had only increased the number of texts and calls from her since. Then again, I couldn’t fault her for that. She knew I was with a guy in a town I was only vaguely familiar with—if she’d known just how far out in the boonies we were, she would’ve had a much bigger issue with the whole thing. I guess I should’ve been thankful she hadn’t gone to my apartment and retrieved my computer to get the information herself.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Stella with Brogan’s information when he’d given it to me. The reason I’d kept it to myself was because I wanted to hold on to this secret for a little while longer. It was the first bold, daring, and possibly dangerous thing I’d ever done, and I wasn’t ready to let anyone else in on it. Not even my best friend.