Page 42 of Merciless Wager
“Then maybe I should just tell it like it is.”
“Which is?” she asked while moistening her lip once more.
God, I want to sink between them.
“That you were put on my radar to serve a purpose, and no other reason. What we have here is going to end soon. You’ll be with the man who’ll claim you as his own, and your life will completely and truly belong to him in every way.”
Tears pricked her eyelids, but she closed her eyes to push them back and was successful for the most part. “You once said we’re alike in more ways than one, and that your mother madethe ultimate sacrifice much like mine did. What did you mean by that?”
A brief recollection of the first night came rushing back. She was right. I had said something, but I didn’t want to talk about it any more now than I did back then. A quick glance downward at her gaze proved to be my downfall because I finally sighed.
“My mother was just a teenager when I was born and had tried to provide for me, but she realized that she couldn’t. When I was a year old, she reached out to my great-grandfather. She thought she was providing me a better life by handing me off to someone who had the resources to raise a child that she didn’t.”
“And your father. What did he think about all of that?”
“My father died before I was born. He never even knew of my existence.”
She reached up and stroked my cheek with her soft hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your pity.”
“It’s not pity. It’s called empathy, Zarren.”
“I don’t like it,” I said to her.
“Was your life with your great-grandfather a good one?” she asked several seconds later.
I chuckled at that. “It was great,” I lied.
“You’re full of shit, Zarren. Quit blowing smoke up my ass. I?—”
“I’d rather stick my cock up your ass, Bellezza.”
“Of course you would, but we’re talking about your great-grandfather.”
“No, we’re not,” I said, and before I could try to flip her over, she turned in my arms and was now straddling me.
“I want to hear about him.”
“Why?”
“Because he raised you. Isn’t that enough of a reason?”
What my great- grandfather did could more aptly be described as torture, but she didn’t need to know that. As I wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, I drew her close. When just a hairsbreadth away from me, I thrust my tongue out to trace her quivering lips.
“Just so you know, you can’t distract me by kissing me,” she pointed out.
“Wanna bet,” I said as I continued to lazily trail my tongue across her mouth. Pulling her even closer, my lips were now nearly plastered to hers. Before I could close the distance, she pushed at my chest and managed to widen the gap.
Her hand came down on my cheek once more, and I nearly groaned. “Those hands of yours belong tied to my headboard.”
“You told me that if I hit you, I could get something off of my chest,” she reminded me.
“Then by all means...”
“Why do you hate me so much?”
If you only knew, Bellezza. I should hate you, but I don’t. I can’t.
