The Merciless (h.s.)

Chapter Sixteen

Harry

The electrifying sounds of the city as late as three in the morning will never cease to annoy me. Car horns roar, tires screech against dirty pavement, ear-splitting police sirens blare as far as a few burroughs away while the crescent moon cascades a white glow on the back of my neck. I can even hear the crickets chirping from the fire escape window and the rats squeaking from deep in the sewers.

Half of my muscles are unspeakably sore and my spine is stiffer than my dick from sitting in this goddamn stool for I'm not even sure how long now. An hour? Maybe two? I haven't allowed myself to move an inch, even making sure my breathing is shallow enough so that she doesn't even have the slightest chance of hearing me. If this shitty dining chair creaks or even a drop of my sweat pellets to the floor, I'm sure this fucking lunatic woman would snap her pretty little neck right to face me immediately. Then, she'll start blabbering out the stupidest questions to have ever been conjured.

I told this fucking girl that if I found her anywhere other than my goddamn couch that the consequences would be more than astronomical. Yet, she still miraculously found a way to discover the grey area within my orders.

There Arabella lies, cuddled up against the legs of my expensive leather sofa, her fingers curled against her steadily beating heart and her bony knees tucked into the crease between her abdomen and thighs, almost like a fetus. My ribs couldn't fathom the soreness that hers must be bearing right now, sleeping crookedly on her side dead against my hardwood floor. No pillows, no cushion, just a poor excuse of a blanket and a dream.

I can already practically craft the instant probing on my own as my eyes are locked onto to Bella's frozen side profile. I don't even need to hear her excruciating voice or see her thin brows furrowed together so tight that she has a blatant indent in the center of her forehead to know what she would say to me. Bella is that predictable.

What are you doing, Harry?

Sitting in my dining room, I would tell her. I would be purposely evasive, and she would hate it.

What time is it?

It's four in the morning, I would let her know.

You're just sitting there? At four in the morning?

Yes, I would reply shortly.

Why?

And then, I would have to take a deep breath in order to scrape up any will power I would have left to not stomp right over to her and just shut her up myself. Every time this girl is curious, crystal blue orbs pierce into my soul through thick long eyelashes that bat like butterfly wings. That innocently confused look always has a way of shoving me right against the edge I've been tight-lining too long, or straight-lining my hot blood right to the core of my dick.

After locking myself into my bedroom, it only took me all of ten minutes to rub a few out. My cock was ferociously disappointed to be greeted by my hand instead of literally any part of Bella's body- fuck... it could have been her belly button or her ear for all I fucking care. Any slight inch of her would have felt better than my stupid calloused hand, but I had to get those loads out of me quickly. If my dick was controlling my brain for another second, the things I would be doing to her right this second would be borderline disturbing.

If Bella had said those magic words, the ones that fulfill this unquenchable thirst I have for her deep inside of me, I would have kept sucking on her supple tits until her nipples could remember nothing but the tip of my tongue. I wouldn't have been able to help but push her silky legs open and lick up the sweet trail of her submission to me. My eyes would gaze up through my lashes just to get the smallest glimpse of her beauty stricken face twisted with pleasure she's never felt before, all because of me.