Mercy

She could hear his footsteps. They were heavy and muffled but they were coming in her direction, closer and closer, until they stopped in front of her door.

Finally.

She lay languidly on the decrepit discolored mattress, lolling her head from side to side as she listened intently. There they were, the keys. Her eyes fixated on the brass doorknob as her breathing became heavier. She could feel the heat rise as her ears followed the insertion, twist, and click. Licking her bottom lip in anticipation, she white-knuckled the sparse sheets that were strewn on the makeshift bed.

She should have been afraid, others would be, but she was not. She was aroused.

The heavy, old, wooden door creaked open slowly. It was agony waiting. Her patience paid off and there he was—tall, big, and menacing. The shadow from the door hid most of his features. His physique was thick; as in built, but not muscular. Moonlight shone in through the tiny window of what she assumed was a basement, giving his eyes an eerie and foreboding quality. They had not left hers the minute he opened the door.

Her eyes caressed his face then traveled south to his neck, especially the vein that resided there and was pulsing at the moment. He was angry. She smirked at him.

Before she had time to react he bum-rushed her. She laughed as he threw himself on her and pinned her arms down while wrestling with her legs. Exhilaration was all she felt. Exhilaration and arousal.

A shiny blackness stared into her which soon became matte as she felt his power course through her. There was a week's worth of stubble on his strong jaw, at least she thought it was a week's worth. She had lost count while down here.

The stiffness of his dark jeans scraped against her leg enticing a moan to flee her mouth. She saw him smirk.

"You like that?" she asked him, breathless.

The matte shifted until, like a fog clearing, the shininess of his eyes returned. Silence. He smirked again. Gasping at the hidden danger ready to reveal itself, she froze as he leaned into her neck slowly, letting his breath send chills up her spine.

It was deliberate. She knew he never did anything by accident. The pace was torturous. As she waited for the inevitable, she thought of how much she ached to touch him. Any touch, anywhere. He didn't usually allow her to do that.

She felt his chest descend upon her breasts. Letting out a satisfied sigh she arched her back as much as he would allow. Before she got too far he let the whole of his body smash onto her, simultaneously releasing her of the ache of her arched back and the ache of forbidden touch.

The warmth of his body exalted her and their bodies matched except their legs. He was still struggling in vain to get between hers. Looking into his black sackcloth eyes through her lashes, she knew who was in power.

He drew back, towering over her. Silence. She could only see one eye now, the other having been hidden by a tress of raven feathers. It was in a fog. Her wrists started burning.

Something between a gasp and a choke forced itself from her mouth as he dove his face into her neck and sank his canines into the soft tissue there. The pressure was immense, the heat from his breath intoxicating, the pop of her skin deliciously obscene, and the tickle of blood fucking divine.

She threw her head back in ecstasy as he released her wrists. The roughness of one hand gripping her hip while the other held her throat was surreal for her. He wasn't allowing her to look at him as he moved one hand from her hip slowly up her stomach where he pressed his thumb in hard. She whimpered excitedly, barely able to contain her pleasure. He stopped abruptly. She let out a muted sigh and waited. After a moment's stillness he proceeded to caress her in an upward fashion, tickling her waist then teasing the under side of her breast with the tip of his fingers. A shudder escaped her as he cupped her breast still holding her neck, forcing her to look away.

Her breathing became rapid as her hands travelled to her mound. His hand left her breast immediately and grabbed her wrist with such force that it stung her. Wincing, she knew she'd done wrong. She closed her eyes and held her breath. A heavy and angry sigh filled her ears and signaled disappointment.

He gasped and grunted.

A devilish smile crept slowly across her face.

His grip on her neck and wrist loosened. He really should've grabbed both her wrists.

He flopped sideways on the ground next to her. She laid on her side facing him, still smiling, almost giggling. He was holding the side of his stomach where she had stabbed him. There wasn't much blood. What a disappointment, she thought. She reached out tentatively and touched the wound. The tips of her fingers barely got any blood. She frowned.

He grabbed her wrist and threw it away from himself as he used his other arm to prop himself up. She watched in wonder and continued disappointment, she hadn't stabbed him deep enough. She sighed as he got to his knees, gave her a dangerous stare, stood and left the room staggering out before she heard the lock click.

Hours later, she heard his footsteps. They were fast, steady, and purposeful. She was laying on the gross mattress upside down with her head hanging off the side watching the door. The lock clicked and it was flung open forcefully making it slam against the wall this time. He stood in the doorway staring at her intently. His eyes were that shiny black as he glowered at her accusingly.

"Yeah, I tried to kill you," she grinned evilly as her tongue slithered across her lower lip, "now come over here so I can try it again."

His shiny eyes transitioned to matte as she flipped herself over lightning fast, ready for him.