A Dance Macabre (Perverse City #1)

50. Wolfgang

50

WOLFGANG

A fter the opera, I take Mercy to Vainglory Tower. She doesn’t say much as I lead her up to my private quarters. It’s as if her unspoken apology is taking so much space inside her mouth that she doesn’t have room for anything else.

Her gaze sweeps the rooms we walk past, furtive glances here and there. She’s visited the Tower before, but never my private quarters. Finally, we enter the Hall of Mirrors.

The hall is full of candles. I had my servants light them before we arrived, the countless flames flickering and bouncing from one reflecting glass to the other, while still leaving some corners cast in shadows.

“A room full of mirrors,” Mercy muses softly, “I should have known.”

I smile. “It’s my favorite place to play the violin,” I answer while I pick up a black box from the bench where my instrument is kept. I had my assistant leave it here for me earlier today just for this.

Mercy, still donned in glorious red, turns to meet my gaze.

“Don’t you miss it?” she asks with genuine concern.

Warmth spills across my chest and I nod. “I do … sometimes.” My steps echo as I approach her. “I’ve had more pressing matters on my mind as of late — here,” I say, offering her the box.

At first, she stays poised, fingers clasped near her waist, looking down at it. “What is it?” Her eyes lift up, watching me through her long eyelashes.

“A gift,” I answer plainly, giving the box a small rattle signaling her to take it.

“But—”

“Just open it.”

She bites her bottom lip but finally takes it. Carefully removing the lid, her face falls when she peers inside.

I chuckle darkly at her expression, feeling quite smug.

“If you don’t want to waste both of our time, I suggest you don’t protest and put it on,” I say with a wide arrogant grin.

Her eyes narrow in defiance. “Why?”

I casually shrug as if there’s anything casual about this. “Since you won’t use your words—” I puff out a small chuckle. “I’m offering you a way to make it up to me.”

Her stony face shouldn’t look so adorable while a storm brews behind her eyes. “And the other item?”

I fall serious. “To give me full control, my ruin, is to trust me.”

She stays silent as if deliberating her options, her throat working around a hard swallow.

Then, without saying a word, she turns around, and my heart sinks thinking she’s about to walk away from me. Instead, she doesn’t move, and giddiness bubbles up through my body and limbs when I realize she’s waiting for me.

I begin to unpin her hair, letting her long black strands cascade down her back and shoulders. When I’m done, I circle to face her and pick the first item from the box that Mercy is still clutching to her chest. My heart is slamming against my ribcage, the implications of what I’m holding in my hands sending me down into the very depths of my carnal need for Mercy.

“Open your mouth,” I order.

She hesitates, her gaze darkening.

But finally, her mouth falls open.

Carefully, I place the ball gag between her teeth, two gold chains attaching it to leather straps, clasping them tightly at the base of her neck.

I can’t help the lecherous grin forming on my lips when I step back to look at Mercy. Her mouth is wide around the silicone ball, the chains digging slightly into her cheeks. A satisfied shiver skates down my spine.

My grin widens, and she huffs loudly through her nose. Ignoring her miffed complaints, I take the box out of her hands and place it on the floor next to us.

I snap my fingers as I straighten back up. “Gloves off.”

She rolls her eyes but does as I say, petulantly pulling them off with a dainty index finger and thumb before dropping them at her feet. My grin is now glued to my face and, with a teasing lift of the eyebrow, I signal her to spin back around with a twirl of my finger.

When she’s facing away, I delicately sweep her hair off her shoulder and press a lingering kiss to her nape near the leather strap while I tug on the zipper of her dress, slowly revealing the Crèvecoeur sigil tattoo. When the dress gathers at her feet, she steps out, now standing in only a thong and her black stilettos.

I watch her gaze dip as I crouch on one knee, pulling her thong down and over the dagger on her thigh. Then, I slowly take off her heels, one foot at a time as I keep my gaze lifted and locked with hers.

Before standing back up, I remove the final item from the box. Without her heels, Mercy is a few inches shorter than me, and I take full advantage, looking down my nose at her while I let the leather harness hang from my finger.

“Put it on.”

I could very well do it for her, but the satisfaction of seeing Mercy willingly put herself into this harness without putting up a fight is a memory I will keep burned into my mind forever.

She takes it from my hand with a forceful tug, stepping into both thigh straps and pulling it up to her hips. Wrapping the other strap around her waist, she ties the small buckle with impatient tugs while she flays me with her glare.

My smile only widens.

I circle her like a wolf stalking a lamb.

Taking her arms, I pull them to her back and slip her wrists into the leather cuffs chained to the harness at the base of her hips. The chains are long enough that she has some mobility, but only a few inches on either side.

“There,” I say with a pleased sigh as if I’ve put the final touches on my masterpiece.

Leading her to the middle of the hall so that the mirrors surround us, I face her.

Drool has started to trickle down her chin, and my cock hardens at the sight. Splaying my palm over her chin, I squeeze her cheeks as I push her down.

“On your knees.”

She tries to resist again, her eyes hardening, cheeks flushed, and breathing hard. It gives me a sick thrill, lust burning me from the inside out. She only fights me for a split second, just long enough for me to savor it before she follows my order and drops down to the floor.

The refracted light of the candles dances over her pale skin, and I can’t control the dark chuckle that tumbles out of me, having Mercy at my feet like this.

“Eyes on the floor,” I command as I begin to circle her again, needing to take her in from all angles. I take off my suit jacket as I coo, “Look how sorry you look now.” My voice is wreaked with desire. “Sweet little whore repenting on her knees.”

She lets out a gargled noise through the ball gag, and my cock throbs with greed. “What pretty sounds you make when at my mercy,” I muse mockingly as I take off my shirt, throwing it in the same general direction as my jacket.

Dropping to my knees behind her, I pull her backward against my chest, my movements anything but delicate. “Watch me through the mirror,” I demand harshly.

Her eyes slide up, finding my gaze through the reflecting glass as I grind my hard shaft against her cuffed hands. Her chin is wet and glistening with spit, and I wipe my palm through it before sliding it down her neck and kneading her breasts passionately.

“Are you sorry now?” I ask, lustful disdain dripping from my voice. “Does it keep you awake at night to know you did this to me?” She whimpers as I give her nipple a hard pinch, her lips quivering around the silicone ball. “Sad little Mercy kills men for sport but can’t utter a singular meaningful apology.”

My cock aches but I ignore it. Shoving her forward without any forewarning, I hold on to her harness while her face settles on the ground, her ass lifted in the air.

Taking two of my fingers, I drag them clinically up her cunt. I tsk when I find her soaking wet.

“Filthy girl,” I spit as I slap one of her ass cheeks with the flat of my palm. The sting is almost as delicious as Mercy moaning through the ball gag. I give her another hard spank directly on the same reddening spot. “Is being treated like nothing but a common whore easier than apologizing?” I ask as I salivate at the keening sound she makes.

Smoothing a hand down her spine, I give her a small soothing hush before standing back up to remove the rest of my clothes. I keep my gaze fixed on her weeping cunt as if hypnotized and entranced—I might very well be—while taking my trousers, socks, and shoes off. Kneeling back down, I pull her by the criss-crossed straps over her ass and push my cock into her cuffed hands.

“You feel that, Mercy?” I growl next to her ear.

She moans, her eyes seeking mine through the mirror while her fingers curl around my hard shaft. I shunt my hips up, fucking her tightening grip, and smile like a madman, delirious in my obsession for her.

“You don’t even deserve my cock inside your cunt,” I push out through gritted teeth. “Maybe I should fuck your fists instead.” Curling my arm around her, I yank the strap of the ball gag, her head pulled backward onto my shoulder. My next words come out of a harsh whisper, “Paint my cum all over your perfect ass and leave you aching and sore.”

I listen to one more of her lovely, whimpering moans knowing full well I’m but seconds away from fucking her. Her sounds are so breathtaking to listen to that I almost accept her desperate gargled protests as an apology. Almost.

It nearly makes me wonder who has who tied up and leashed.

Pulling my cock from her grasp, I drag the head through her arousal, notching myself at her entrance, and then thrust deeply into her. I might as well be the one gagged with the sound I make when her cunt squeezes around me. I fuck her hard but slow, relishing the long drag of my cock and the tortured mewl when I push back deep into her.

I watch her in the mirror, never once glancing at my own reflection, a pink blush crawling over her cheeks and chest.

I study her.

Savor her.

Devour her.

And imagine both our sigils merging into one. Flames burning up the strings. Consuming. Transmuting.

With my free hand, I find her swollen clit and give it a slap, and she moans even louder, my other palm firmly around her chin and jaw. My fingers slip through her soaking arousal as I pleasure her with tight, circular motions, slapping her swollen clit once more. When I feel her climax is close, the flutters of her cunt pulsing around my cock, I release her face from my grip and hurriedly unclasp the ball gag, selfishly needing to hear her cry out without any obstruction.

And oh, is it perfect.

It fills the hall with divine melody and I am taken.

When my orgasm soon follows, and I pump her mindlessly full of me, I’m struck with a mind-splintering realization.

That I love Mercy more than anything in this damned world.

Even myself.