Part 33 (1/2)
”Oh? Didn't the doctor tell you to stay off your foot?”
”f.u.c.k the doctors.”
”What about your fractured rib? All the bruises on your body? The black one on your thigh?”
”It's not like you were worried about that last night.” He licks his lips. ”While you were screaming my name... scratching my back.”
The image of his hot, sweaty body pressed up against mine, his hips thrusting into me, flashes through my mind. I scowl at him.
”You're losing me, Pierce. I'm telling you, I've had it up to here. I'm ready to walk away.”
”No you're not,” he says, and he gets up off the chair. It creaks and cracks again. He's comes to me, closes the distance fast in just two hard strides.
I put my hands out, but he moves them aside, turns me around, and wraps me up from behind. He buries his nose into my neck and inhales.
”G.o.d, you smell s.e.xy.”
I feel a pang of self-consciousness. The last time I showered was yesterday morning, and we got very sweaty the night before. If only I hadn't overslept!
”Pierce...”
”Pen,” he says, and I don't fail to notice his right hand sidling ever lower over my belly.
”Pierce,” I hiss. ”Not here, not now!”
He takes my earlobe into his mouth, gives it a nibble. Gooseb.u.mps explode all over my body, and still his hand is creeping ever lower.
”Why not?” he asks. ”There's construction on the road. Traffic is bad. Tina won't be back for a while.”
”Tina walks,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. ”And she'll fire me if she catches us. This is unhygienic.”
”Well, you can be pretty dirty.” Before I can reply, he lowers his voice, and says: ”I need to taste you.”
”Pierce.”
”Right now. I'm going to make you come.”
Chapter Two.
”No,” I say, but I find myself wrapping my hands behind me, around his a.s.s. I squeeze, feeling firm, compact muscle.
He starts to plant soft kisses on the back of my neck. I can feel his warm breath, smell the leftover of a mint candy. It's intimate, heady, and a part of me hates myself for not stopping this right now, right this moment.
I crane my neck to the side, let him kiss me more, let my eyes fall shut.
”Why do you do this?” I ask.
He doesn't answer, but just keeps kissing me. I feel the dab of his tongue on my shoulder, then feel the press of his teeth.
”You smell so good,” he whispers. ”Get up on that chair.”
”We can't.”
”Why not?”
”Pierce...”
His finger dips beneath the elastic of my underwear. His huge hand is so warm, it leaves my skin aching and hot. Fingers thread through my pubic hair, and a ball of energy, pure longing, starts to grow in my gut.
”Really,” I say, half-heartedly trying to pry his hand out. ”Not here.” My voice is barely a whisper.
”You want it,” he tells me. He turns me slightly, makes me look at him. I stare into his light, ashy eyes. They're determined, full of l.u.s.t, full of wanting.
I go to shake my head, try to say 'no', but as I part my lips he claims them in his, and he kisses me with crus.h.i.+ng force. His tongue is in my mouth, and he's taking from me what he wants. His finger dips into my folds, and I moan softly at the fleeting hints of pleasure.
”You do want me,” he says as he breaks the kiss. He presses his forehead against my own, pulls his finger up to my c.l.i.t. It's already a hard stub. ”I can feel it.”
I open my mouth again, let him kiss me, let him bite my lower lip, let him send his tongue inside to dance with my own.
”Oh,” I breathe, turning in his arms, wrapping my own around his neck. He lifts me off the floor easily, pushes me up against the wall. Photographs of tattoos previously pinned to the corkboard scatter onto the floor. His arms aren't shaking, and his hands are groping my a.s.s.
The press of his bulge is against my inner thigh, and I look down his body to see it, prominent through his jeans. I send a hand down, cup him, feel his hardness, rigid as steel. Longing, l.u.s.t, it blooms inside me.
No, more like it booms inside me, a firework going off. Oh, G.o.d, I want to pull him out, wrap my fingers around him.
No! I can't believe I'm letting this happen. I can't believe I'm unraveling like this. At my place of work! This is so unprofessional.
That's when it clicks. He's no good for me. I'm supposed to be here trying to make a name for myself, trying to start my career as an artist, and I'm being derailed by him. He's already gotten me into enough trouble!
Jesus, we both almost lost our lives!
But f.u.c.k if he isn't s.e.xy. f.u.c.k if I don't want him, every inch of his hot-as-h.e.l.l body. f.u.c.k if he doesn't make me feel like the most beautiful, most desired girl on this planet, the way he devours me, plays me like an instrument. He knows my every b.u.t.ton, and he wants to push them all. He wants to pluck every single string.
Somehow, he knows how to uncage my desire. He only needs to draw me close to him, promise me the pleasure I know he's good for, to pick that lock.
I hate that, to him, I'm so seemingly easy to conquer. I hate that it seems like I have no defenses, no walls or barricades. He melts through them all, sees straight through me.
Why do I always let him get what he wants?
Pierce sets me down, spins me around, and holds my hips and pulls them into his own. I feel his hardness on my a.s.s, and his other hand goes to my breast and squeezes hard.
In a flash he's undoing the b.u.t.ton to my jeans, and he pulls down the zip before I can stop him, and his whole hand is inside my underwear, and I'm throwing my head back against his shoulder while he kisses the top of mine.
I feel his fingers slide down my s.e.x, and my whole body buzzes with antic.i.p.ation, a heady thrum, and I know in my heart that I'm ready to give in, to let him take from me every single thing he wants... right here and right now.