His hand had slid between my breasts, down my belly, and his fingers shoved into the top of my jeans when he stated, “No one fucks with you, Cher. Not ever. But they sure as fuck do not show at your door and fuck with you.”

Without my permission, my eyes fell to his mouth as I whispered in agreement, “No one fucks with me.”

He undid the button on my jeans.

I drew in a soft, audible breath.

“Baby,” he called.

My eyes drifted up to his the exact moment his hand shoved inside my jeans then my panties and his middle finger hit my clit.

Oh yes, Merry was claiming.

My lips parted, a gust of breath whispering through as my eyes floated closed.

He pressed his middle finger back, gliding it through the slick folds, murmuring, “So damned wet, barely touched you.”

I tried to open my eyes but only got the lids up halfway before his finger moved again to my clit and started rolling.

Good.

So, so good.

“Oh God,” I breathed.

“Gave you time, Cherie. You needed it,” he whispered, his finger working magic. “You texting me sayin’ you’re sorry you fucked us up, tellin’ me you want us unfucked, tellin’ me you want to take a chance with me, that mean you done takin’ that time?”

I hadn’t intended to text.

I didn’t even know if I did text.

But I couldn’t think of that with what he was doing to me.

All I could do was confirm, “I’m done takin’ that time.”

He slid his finger back and filled me.

I bit my lip, my teeth gliding along the flesh as I pushed against his hold on my wrists so I could touch him while he was touching me.

“Be a good girl, baby,” he urged, and my lids lifted a centimeter as a whimper escaped me.

He did a slow circle inside me.

“You gonna be a good girl, Cherie?”

“Yes,” I panted.

He changed the rotation and shared, “Good girls get good things.”

I wanted good things generally, but specifically, right in that moment, I wanted them from Merry.

“Merry, need more, baby,” I whispered.

“How do you get what you need?”

He’d taught me that in bed when we were drunk but delicious fucking.

I tried to focus on him and gave him what I was taught. “Please, Merry.”

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, sliding his finger out and going back to my clit, giving me what I needed.

My hips jerked, pressed, working with him as I moaned, “Yes.”

“Just so we’re clear, good girls get good things, Cher. Bad girls get punished.”

I was so going to be bad with Merry.

But right then, I was so far gone, I had to stick with good.

“Harder, Merry,” I breathed.

“How you get that?”

“Please,” I pleaded.

His mouth brushed mine. Then his tongue slid across my lower lip. I went for more and he pulled away, but he rolled harder with his finger, so I pressed my head to the wall.