Have Mercy
1007 Words
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Chapter 10: Have Mercy
Jessie’s POV
She’s still glaring at me like she wants to claw my eyes out.
But her breathing?
It’s too fast.
Her pupils? Blown wide.
And that flush in her cheeks hasn’t gone down since I pulled her out of my closet.
So yeah, she’s mad.
But she’s turned on too.
And f**k if that isn’t my favorite combination.
I move toward her slowly, letting the silence stretch between us like a wire pulled tight. She doesn't back down, but her spine stiffens.
“You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” I murmur, voice low. Controlled. Dangerous.
She swallows hard but says nothing.
“I told you we weren’t done. I told you there would be consequences.” I reach for her chin, grip just firm enough to remind her who’s in charge. Her eyes flare with challenge.
“Jessie—”
“No.” I tighten my hold just slightly, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t get to talk yet. You’re still on punishment.”
Her lips part, a breath escapes, but she doesn’t pull away.
Good girl.
“You think mouthing off this morning erased what you did last night?” I tilt her face up, locking eyes. “You think hiding that mouth behind attitude makes me forget how it tasted moaning under my hand?”
She lets out the smallest whimper, her body betraying her with a shiver I definitely don’t miss.
“I should make you beg for it,” I growl. “Beg for mercy.”
Her eyes flash. “Then maybe I won’t.”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You already are, sweetheart. Your body’s doing the talking for you.”
She flinches—guilty, caught—and tries to twist away. I catch her wrist and spin her fast, pinning her back against the wall near my dresser. The impact is gentle, but her breath catches.
I press in, chest to chest, my hand sliding down her side, then gripping her thigh, hiking it up to my hip.
Her eyes widen, and I lean in, voice in her ear.
“You wanted to know what it means to be mine? This. This is what it means. It means I decide when you come, when you speak, and when I show mercy.”
A shaky breath escapes her. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe. But I’m the only one who can handle you.”
I grind against her slowly, deliberately, dragging a whimper from her throat.
“But first, rules,” I say darkly. “Because if I don’t set them now, I’ll ruin you.”
I lean back slightly, just enough to look her in the eye.
“Rule one. No drinking unless I’m there.”
She glares. “That’s—”
I raise a brow.
She huffs and clamps her mouth shut.
“Good girl,” I smirk. “Rule two. You don’t leave parties with anyone but me. Ever. I don’t care if it’s your best friend or your damn Uber driver—you wait for me.”
She’s still trying to process that when I press in again, voice rough and low.
“Rule three,” I whisper, brushing my lips against her jaw. “You don’t flirt, look at, or breathe near any other guy. If you do? I’ll find out. And I’ll remind you exactly who you belong to.”
Her breath is ragged now, chest rising and falling like she’s fighting a war inside herself.
And I haven’t even touched her properly yet.
“Break any of those rules,” I add, “and I won’t go easy on you next time. No warmup. No warning. Just me, teaching your body a lesson it won’t forget.”
I step back a few inches, letting her legs drop, her feet touch the floor again.
“Do we understand each other?”
She doesn’t speak.
I raise a brow again. “Cassandra.”
Her eyes meet mine, a spark of defiance still flickering there.
But her voice? Soft. Breathless. Wrecked.
“Yes, sir.”
That sound. That broken obedience wrapped in defiance. I could live off it.
I nod, slowly.
“Good,” I say. “Now. Get on the bed. You’re not off the hook yet.”
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Cassie’s POV
My legs are jelly as I stumble back toward the bed, every nerve screaming with the memory of his hands, his voice, that look in his eyes.
I should be furious. I am furious.
But underneath the anger, there’s something worse. Something shameful.
I liked it.
God help me—I liked the way he pinned me. The way he talked to me like I was his. Like he owned every inch of me and didn’t care who knew it.
And the worst part?
Part of me wants to belong to him.
Wants to know what it feels like to be broken open and put back together by those rough hands and cruel words.
This is wrong. So, so wrong.
But when I lie back on the bed, heart racing, throat dry, I don’t fight it.
I wait for him.
And I hate myself for how much I want what comes next.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to anchor the chaos boiling beneath my skin.
Everything about this feels like a violation—of my pride, my control, my sense of right and wrong.
But it also feels like the first time someone really saw me. Not the perfect grades. Not the good girl routine. Just… me. The messy, aching, insecure version I hide from the world.
And Jessie? He doesn't flinch from that girl. He commands her. He wants her.
It terrifies me.
Because if I give in, if I let myself fall into this—into him—I don’t know if I’ll ever claw my way back.
He’s too much.
Too rough.
Too possessive.
Too real.
And God help me…
I think I want him anyway.
- Writer
