No! Why are we stopping? Sitting up and pulling the sheet over my breasts, I turn and look at him. He’s lying on his back with an arm placed over his eyes. “Why are we stopping?” I ask him, feeling hurt. “Is it … is it a turn off for you? The fact that I’m … a virgin?”
He chuckles slightly and then lowers his arm to look at me. He reaches up and caresses my face once more, saying, “No, Samantha. The fact that you are a virgin is not a turn off.” He chuckles again and mumbles, “Just the opposite actually.”
Oh? “Then I don’t understand,” I say quietly.
He sighs again and is quiet for a few moments. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself. Then he sits up abruptly and looks me in the eye. “Samantha,” he begins hesitantly, “I didn’t stop because of you. I stopped because of me.” His gaze is intense as he looks at me, his bright blue eyes clouded like a coming storm, and he seems troubled somehow. I say nothing as I wait for him to explain. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, running a hand through his hair. Then he says, “In light of this new … information, Samantha, there is something you need to know about me before we go any further.”
What a strange thing to say. My imagination is swiftly running away with me; the possibilities could be endless. And he seems agitated, as if he’s really worried about whatever it is he’s going to tell me.
“Samantha,” he hesitates again, running both his hands through his hair this time. And he’s having trouble looking me in the eye. Oh, shit. Whatever it is, I don’t think this is going to be good. He swallows and licks his beautiful lips, distracting me for a second. “I don’t do relationships,” he says bluntly. And then he looks at me apologetically. “I have never had a girlfriend, Sam. I don’t date. I don’t have … relationships.”
I am speechless. What the hell does that mean? What am I supposed to say to that? I look at him with bewilderment, waiting for him to continue because I just don’t know what to say.
He sighs again and says, “Samantha, I have one-night stands. I have random, meaningless, one-time sexual encounters. Nothing more.”
I don’t understand. “Why?” I ask softly, feeling more than a little confused.
“Because that’s all I’m interested in,” he says emphatically. Only his eyes say something different and I don’t know what to think. “Or at least … it was. But there is something about you, Samantha.” His eyes are burning into mine and his intensity overpowers me. “I want you so badly. More than I have ever wanted anyone before. But I don’t know what will happen in the morning. If we have sex tonight, I don’t know how I’ll feel the morning after, and I don’t want to hurt you by not sticking around.”
I am floored. Only-one night stands? Never had a relationship? Why? Something about me? What does he mean by that? That he’s interested in more than just a one night stand with me? There are so many questions and he’s not offering any answers. What am I supposed to think?
“So, now that you know,” he says quietly, “the decision is yours, Samantha. If you still want to continue, baby, I will gladly continue. But if you want to stop now, and keep our relationship strictly professional, I understand and I will abide by that. I’ll even take myself off this case if you want.”
I blink at his words. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to think. Do I want to do this now, given all that he’s told me? Will I be just another one-night stand to him? Do I want that? No. Of course not. But I want him. And he said he wants me too. More than he’s ever wanted anyone. He said there is something about me. What does that mean? Something different? Something different than the other girls he’s been with? Something that might make him want more than just random, meaningless sex with me?
Oh, this is going to drive me crazy. I sit staring into eyes as deep as oceans and he is watching me closely, studying my face, trying to read me. And he looks worried. Why would he be worried if he only wanted a one-night stand? Why did he wait for me in the museum parking lot tonight? Would he have done something so sweet and thoughtful for someone he only wanted a meaningless, one-time sexual encounter with? That doesn’t make any sense, does it?
Slowly, I lean forward and softly press my lips to his. I look up into his confused blue gaze and kiss him again. He responds, letting his tongue play sensually with mine for a few seconds. Then he pulls back and looks at me, his eyes asking a silent question.
“Please, continue,” I whisper, holding his gaze. I don’t have to ask him twice. He grabs my head, his fingers threading in my hair as he kisses me passionately. Hungrily. I moan into his mouth and my hands find him, tentatively exploring his chest and his back. He feels so good beneath my hands. Before I am aware of it, he has me on my back again and his hands roam over my body, gently caressing and squeezing as they explore. His mouth latches onto one nipple while his fingers gently squeeze and tease the other. The smoldering embers of desire that had cooled during his confession ignite spontaneously, and I am on fire. He keeps up the exquisite torture on my breasts, he just doesn’t stop and my body squirms and bows beneath him and I begin to whimper.
The sound seems to spur something within him. He groans in response and he begins to move with an urgency I can’t explain. He hungrily kisses a short trail from my breasts down to my navel and then he rears up into a kneeling position and I watch, captivated, as he rolls a condom over his impressive length. My breath hitches and I can feel my blood singing in my veins. He positions himself at the opening of my sex and looks up into my eyes.
“You can still change your mind,” he whispers, panting slightly and searching my eyes.
“Please, don’t stop,” I whisper.
He groans softly at my words, and firmly but gently pushes into me. I gasp, my wide eyes never leaving his and I clutch his arms. His breathing is harsh as he gazes at me. Slowly, he pulls back until he’s almost left me, then he surges forward again, this time venturing further into me and I cry out as I feel the small bite of pain deep inside me. He freezes and studies me. “Sam?”
“Please, don’t stop,” I repeat with a whimper.
He groans again and repeats the motion, slowly pulling back and surging forward again, filling me completely. I cry out once again, but the feeling is difficult to describe. It is somewhat painful, but also … good. Pleasurable. Incredibly pleasurable. Oh!
Shifting onto his elbows, he brings his full weight down on top of me and his face is just inches from mine. “You are so tight, baby,” he whispers, kissing my lips softly. “You feel so good.”
I moan loudly, his words spurring my desire. He begins to really move then, in and out, long, delicious strokes, setting up a purposeful, insistent rhythm and my hips begin to move in response. “Joshua,” I call out, my voice soft and strained as a thin sheen of sweat begins to form on my brow. I meet his thrusts and he increases his speed, pounding into me fiercely. Our ragged breaths mingling with our grunts and moans as our bodies writhe against one another. I can feel myself building, the pressure increasing. My legs begin to stiffen and my insides start to quiver. Oh, my God! This is different from the first time. Bigger. Bolder.
“Oh, baby,” he grunts as he pumps into me. “Ah! Come with me, Sam.”
But I am already exploding beneath him and his words are like dropping a match onto gasoline. I blaze and shatter into a million tiny pieces, calling his name and losing all coherent thought as he drills furiously into me and then stills. He collapses on top of me and I can feel the full weight of him as I try fruitlessly to catch my breath. We are both panting and I can feel his harsh breath on my skin as his face is buried in my neck. Holy fucking cow! That was amazing!
He raises up suddenly and looks at me. “Am I crushing you?” he asks quietly. He is still inside me and I am still trembling with aftershocks. Wow.
“I don’t mind,” I whisper honestly and he smiles at me. That heart-stopping, beautiful smile of his. Wow! I remember the first time I saw that smile while I was still in the hospital. He leans in as if to kiss me but he doesn�
��t. Instead he simply runs his nose along mine. And then he lets his lips lightly graze my face. The sensation tickles lightly and it makes me shudder more. He kisses me deeply then, letting his tongue slowly explore my mouth. He looks into my eyes for a long moment and then he moves, pulling out of me and moving to the other side of the bed. He removes his condom and lets it drop to the floor and lays back against the pillows.
As I watch him, he lifts his right arm and places it behind his head. Then he turns and pierces me with those eyes. “Come here.” His deep voice is soft and commanding and I don’t hesitate. I scoot over to him and he wraps his arm around me, allowing me to rest my head on his chest. He softly kisses the top of my head. “Are you okay?” he asks me softly.
I nod, loving the feel of his hard muscle and the tickle of his baby fine chest hair beneath my cheek. My fingers begin lightly running through that chest hair.
“Sam, look at me,” he commands softly and I raise my head to look into his eyes. He is studying my face intently. “Did I hurt you?” he asks softly, and I see real concern in his eyes.
“Only at first,” I answer truthfully, my eyes never leaving his. Then I smile slightly, softly blushing as I add, “But it got much better.”
He blinks at my response, then he grins at me and looks relieved, and he runs a hand lightly over the top of my head. I lower my head to his chest again and relish the feel of my body so close to his. We are silent for a long while and his hand plays gently in my hair. I wonder what he’s thinking but I refuse to ask. And I wonder again about his confession before he made love to me. What was all that about? Why doesn’t he have girlfriends? Why does he go from one random encounter to another? Who would want to live that way? It just doesn’t make any sense. The picture he painted for me with that confession is of a man who doesn’t care about anything or anyone. A man who is only out for what he can get. Who takes and never gives. That portrait doesn’t jibe with the incredibly caring, gentle, sweet man that he has shown me. I just don’t understand.
I feel his hand on my back and he runs his fingers lightly over my skin. I moan softly and his touch becomes more purposeful as his hand travels down to my backside. He lets it play softly over my behind, caressing and gently squeezing and I moan again. With his free hand, he cups my chin and lifts it, bringing my face up to meet his, and he kisses me deeply. He holds me tightly with his left arm, pulling me closer to him and I can feel his erection at my belly. Holy cow. Again! My heart rate spikes and my breathing quickens.
His hand travels from my face down to my breast and I moan again as he cups it and lightly squeezes, taking the now erect nipple between his fingers and teasing gently as he continues to kiss me passionately. I run my hands over his flesh and I marvel at the feel of him. His erection pokes at my belly and I gasp in surprise when he wraps both arms around me and moves suddenly, shifting me on top of him. With his legs, he parts mine so that they’re on either side of his.
“Sit up,” he commands softly.
I do as I’m told, using my hands to push against his chest and up into a sitting position. I am now straddling him as he leans back against the pillows. Oh boy! He reaches over to the bedside table and grabs another foil packet, ripping it open with his fingers. Again, I watch completely captivated as he works the latex down over himself. When he’s ready he reaches for me, his large hands clasping my waist, and he lifts me up. “Come here, baby,” he mumbles. I follow his direction compliantly as he positions me over his bulging erection and slowly lowers me down onto him.
The sensation is exquisite as I feel myself mold around him. It feels so much deeper than before and I know it’s because I’m sitting on top of him. And he takes full advantage of the position, holding me in place and rocking up into me. I cry out in ecstasy, pleasure radiating out from deep within me, and he repeats the motion. He stills then and looks at me. “You move now, Sam.” His voice is husky and sexy as he lets his hands slide down my thighs. “Move up and down. You can rock back and forth. However you want to, baby.”
Oh. I move? It’s a heady thought and more than a little bit daunting. But he is looking at me with such a carnal expression, and I want this. I want him. I can do this! Placing my hands flat on his chest, I begin to move up and down, slowly at first, unsure of myself. But my confidence is bolstered when he leans his head back, releasing a low, sexy groan of pleasure. I pick up the pace a little and I feel his hands on me, roaming over my body, caressing my flesh and massaging my breasts. I look at him and he is watching me with an intense, hooded gaze, his eyes traveling over me ravenously.
“You are so beautiful, Samantha,” he breathes.
I lower myself onto him, taking his entire length as deeply as I can. Oh, my God! The feeling is indescribable! So deep. So good. I begin to rock my pelvis back and forth and I moan at the wondrous feeling of him so deep inside me. “Joshua!” His name is a long, drawn out, strangled moan of pleasure.
He places his large hands around my waist to steady me, and he starts to move. He matches my rhythm with upward thrusts of his own and the feeling is mind blowing. I brace myself with my hands on his shoulders and look down into his beautiful, strained face. I feel my body building again and, throwing my head back, I cry out as my orgasm rips through me like lightening.
“Ah, fuck. Baby,” he cries as he thrusts into me sharply and then stills.
I collapse on top of him and he holds me tightly to his chest as we struggle to catch our breath. He kisses the top of my head. “Damn, that was good,” he breathes, his voice coming in choppy pants. “Hey.” He looks down at me, his hand caressing my face and lifting my chin. “How was that for you?” His eyes search mine questioningly.
Still unable to speak, I merely smile at him and his answering grin is so cute, I can’t help but giggle. He kisses my forehead and his arms tighten around me. “That’s okay,” he says with a chuckle. “You can tell me when your power of speech returns.” His words only make me giggle harder and soon, we are laughing together and holding on to each other tightly. And when our laughter subsides, he pulls out of me and removes his condom, dropping it to the floor with the first one. Then he reaches down and pulls the covers up over us and takes me into his arms, holding me closely. I snuggle up in his embrace, breathing in deep the musky, woodsy scent of him, and the last thought I remember having before being overtaken by sleep is, Oh, this feels so good.
Chapter Ten
Joshua
I wake slowly with the strangest feeling of contentment, and I realize that I’m still holding Samantha in my arms. She is sleeping soundly. What’s the expression? ‘Like a baby.’ We’re both lying on our left sides, spooning, and I can’t help myself … I nuzzle the back of her head, inhaling deeply the soft citrus scent of her hair. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. Then she turns over in my arms. She snuggles even closer to me, if that’s possible, her nose grazing my chest hair. And, God help me, it feels like a slice of heaven having her in my arms! Why have I avoided this all my life? You know why, Pierce. I push the thought away and tighten my arms around her tiny waist and hold her close.
“Joshua.” My name softly escapes her lips as if she’s dreaming, and it sounds … almost magical. I hate ‘Joshua,’ especially since only the old man ever called me that, and usually he made it sound like an epithet. But somehow, in her slumber, Samantha has made it sound almost sacred. The way it did when she said my name last night while we were making love. I smirk to myself. Making love. I have never made love before in my life. For me, there has only ever been fucking. But not last night. Last night was a whole new ball game for me. That was unlike anything I have ever experienced and I can truthfully say that it was the best sex of my life. And I don’t know if it’s because of the girl or because of where my head is at.
Where is your head at, Pierce? Hmm. Good question. My head has been all over the place lately. I can’t seem to concentrate on shit and all I can think about is Samantha and my old man and Lee Parson’s words.
; “You. Are. Not. Him.”
Yeah, maybe not. But I sure as hell got enough of his DNA. There’s no denying that I look just like the son of a bitch. My childhood pictures are like little carbon copies of his. Same dark brown, wavy hair. Same bright blue eyes. Same square jawline and chiseled features. And I learned early on that the similarities weren’t just skin deep. I’ve got his same short fuse, his hot tempered impulse to fix confrontations with my fists instead of my brain. Got me into a lot of scrapes on the schoolyard each year.
Not that I was a trouble maker. I wasn’t. But I could just never stand to watch bullies in action. To see some smaller kid get picked on or beaten up or humiliated. Nothing pissed me off faster. So each year, from elementary school on, I would spend a significant amount of time in the principal’s office for ending someone else’s fight. The only problem was, I would end those fights by beating the shit out of the bully, whether he was bigger than me or not. And although the principal usually sympathized with my cause, he couldn’t let my behavior go unpunished. So every time I was sent to the office for fighting, I would get my ass kicked at home once the old man found out. Didn’t stop my crusade though.
But those schoolyard brawls made me realize that I share the old man’s temper. And even though I never raised my hand to a girl back then, I’ve always known that I have the potential to do so. So I vowed to avoid any type of domestic entanglements with a girl. And now here I am, my body wrapped around this sweet, young thing that I cannot stop thinking about, and all I want is to lay right here with her forever. I take a deep breath and sigh as I cuddle up closer to her, feeling like I am playing with fire.
I stare down at her while she’s sleeping, studying her face. She is so damned pretty! Just the most beautiful girl I think I have ever seen. Her soft, full lips are parted slightly and her closed eyes are moving around. I think she really is dreaming, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s still dreaming of me. I smirk to myself because the thought instantly brings to mind more of Steven Tyler’s words of wisdom from one of the most beautiful songs ever recorded: Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing.”
Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set Page 13