Part 42 (1/2)
He pulls away without replying.
”What is this, some kind of honor thing?” I ask angrily. ”If a girl gets drunk it's no longer a challenge?”
He shrugs, pours the contents of the second gla.s.s over the balcony. ”Let's go.”
I don't know where it comes from. It just explodes out of me. ”You p.u.s.s.y! You're all talk.”
Something changes in him. He drops the bottle and champagne gla.s.ses. I watch as the neck of one of them breaks against the tiled floor.
Pierce steps toward me, grabs my hands and pins them above my head, and lifts me into the gla.s.s window, presses his body right up on mine.
His face is in mine, eyes boring into mine, lips hovering millimeters away. ”Is this what you want?” he says, and he kisses me hard, forces his tongue into my mouth. It's rough.
”Is it?” he asks, tearing his lips from mine. He presses his hips into me, and I feel his hardness. ”Like this?” he pushes, taking my lips again, biting me until it hurts. I feel his hard c.o.c.k against my pubic bone.
I don't know how to respond. My heart is beating furiously. I want to say both 'yes' and 'no'.
”Well?” he asks, and his hand goes to my jaw. He rubs a thumb along my lower lip. He pulls it down, leans in and takes it in between his lips and sucks on it.
This time I kiss him back, but he pulls away again, and I let out a mewl of frustration.
”You want your first time to be like this?”
The world drowns away. I can't hear anything but a dull whine. It's like a bomb has just gone off.
”What?” I whisper.
”Do you,” he says, s.p.a.cing out the words. He bucks his hips again. This time his hardness. .h.i.ts my c.l.i.t, and even through my jeans, the sudden sensation pulls a small sound from my throat, a jolt from my body. ”Want your first time to be like this?”
My voice is scratchy now. ”Who says it's my first time?”
”Christ,” he whispers, letting go of my hands and letting me down onto the ground. He shows his back to me, leans over the balcony.
Again, I find myself feeling undone, unraveled, bared. Why is he doing this to me? An anger starts to bubble. I'm embarra.s.sed.
He turns around, and he takes my hand. ”Pen.”
”What?” I say, looking away.
He brings himself close, and again I can smell him. I want to fall into his arms.
”I want to be with you,” he says. ”G.o.d, I'd f.u.c.k you straight through to lunch.” There's a flicker of his lips, an almost-smile. ”But not like this. I'm not into this.”
”Not into what?” I say. ”You think it's no longer a conquest if the girl is drunk, ain't that right? Your ego needs me to be sober.”
”Drunk girls are a sloppy lay.” He shrugs. ”It wouldn't be worth my time.”
”f.u.c.k you, Pierce.”
”Time to go, Pen.”
”I don't need you to parent me.”
”Parenting you,” he says, ”Is the last thing I'll ever do. But you're still going home.”
”Why?”
”Because I'm going home.”
”So? I'll stay here!”
”We close in thirty minutes.”
”Then I'll stay the thirty minutes.”
”With who? Do what? Go back down to the club?”
I don't reply. That's exactly what I don't want to do.
He coils an arm around my waist and pulls me forward. ”We're going.”
Chapter Eleven.
My head hurts. I'm hung over, and I can't believe I got that drunk last night. We only shared a bottle of champagne. Though, in retrospect, I had most of it.
But even more, I can't believe I let Pierce kiss me, and touch me... humiliate me.
The woman before me clears her throat. Tina Azume. She's way more intimidating than she looks on her website. Her face is all sharp angles, and her black eyes tunnel hard into my own. She's studying me. I haven't seen her smile yet. From the way she looks, I wonder if she's ever smiled before.
It's definitely not what I expected. Then again, I don't know what I was expecting from one of the best tattoo artists in the world.
”You got your visiting artist visa?” she asks me. Her thin lips barely move as she speaks. Her voice is monotone, uninterested, unenthused.
Already, my stomach is crunching up tight. Already, I'm worrying that I'm not going to get this apprentices.h.i.+p placement, that I will have come all the way out here for nothing!
My confidence falls out from under me. Why should I get it? Who is to say I'm better than the dozens of other people who have surely already interviewed for this position?
Oh G.o.d! I'm starting to panic.
I take a deep breath, calm my nerves. I've got to get through the interview. I can't let my nerves show.
I clear my throat, and tell Ms. Azume, ”I can't yet, as I need a current tattoo artist to vouch for me.”
She purses her lips. They are a dull pink, but even so manage to stand out against her chalky-white complexion. ”I'm unfamiliar with the visa requirements for visitors. How long does it last?”