Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set

by Lashell Collins

“Slide out this way, baby,” I instruct Sam. The car is a safe distance from the wall of the garage but, I don’t want to risk Sam opening the door too wide and dinging her. Sam does as she’s told and slides out the driver’s side door after me, carrying the bag with the glass picture frames, and I take her hand, leading her out the side door of the garage and locking it behind us.

  “You didn’t cover her up,” Samantha says, her voice full of curiosity, and I smile at her observation.

  “That’s because I plan to wipe her down later,” I tell her. “I don’t like to cover her up dusty.” Sam looks at me wide eyed and I think she’s trying to decide if I’m joking or not. Finally, she giggles at me. “You making fun of me, Miss Colby?” I ask her with a grin.

  “No,” she says, trying to stifle her amusement. Only she can’t stop giggling and I can’t take my eyes off of her. I know that I’m staring at her with the goofiest grin on my face but, I can’t help it. She is so damned adorable! I reach out and weave my fingers through her hair, gently pulling her to me, and kiss her passionately for a moment. Then I take her hand again and lead her to the house.

  I unlock the side door and open it for her, allowing her to enter ahead of me. As I close the door behind us, I get a ripple of butterflies wondering what she’s going to think of it. She sits her purse and the bag with the picture frames down on the kitchen table and looks around at the small kitchen and then back at me.

  I take a deep breath and swallow nervously. “Would you like something to drink?” I ask her.

  “Sure,” she smiles at me.

  “I’ve got water or beer,” I tell her as I move toward the fridge. “Milk? I could make some coffee if you’d like.”

  “Water’s fine,” she smiles again, and I reach into the fridge and pull us out two bottles of water, handing one to her.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She opens her water and takes a sip. Then I watch anxiously as she turns and walks slowly out of the kitchen and into the living room. I follow after her, my anxiety growing by the second. Why am I so nervous about this?

  I watch as she slowly takes in the second hand, tan colored, fabric couch and the dirt brown recliner. The only two pieces of furniture in my living room besides the cheap wooden coffee table. And it’s a far cry from the plush white leather sofas and the marble tables at her place. The large, unruly stacks of Guitar Player and Car Craft magazines sitting on the floor against the wall don’t help.

  “Wow. How many guitars do you have?” she asks softly, and I notice that she’s looking to the corner of the room where my gear is set up.

  “Just those three,” I tell her, motioning toward them. She walks slowly over to them, where each one is sitting in its own stand near my Marshall amp. I watch as she lightly runs her finger down the side of the fretboard of my Joe Perry Signature Les Paul.

  “This looks like you,” she says softly, a small smile playing on her delicious lips.

  “Looks like me?” I ask with a raised eyebrow, and she nods as her smile gets bigger and she blushes slightly.

  “Mysterious, dark and sexy,” she says, glancing up at me through her long eyelashes, “and dangerous.”

  I blink at that last word and frown a little. “You think I’m dangerous?” I ask her, feeling exposed somehow.

  “Only to my heart,” she responds without hesitation. And then she blushes profusely, turning away as if she’s embarrassed. And my own heart is suddenly pounding. What did she mean by that? I don’t get the chance to dwell on it as she attempts to cover her embarrassment with a question. “What kind of guitar is this?” she asks nervously.

  “It’s a Gibson Les Paul,” I tell her, my voice sounding husky for some reason.

  “And this one?” she asks, pointing to the next one.

  “The same.” I don’t understand the confusion I’m feeling, or her sudden discomfort. And how am I a danger to her heart? Maybe in the same way that she’s a danger to yours, Pierce. And with that thought, my heart rate kicks into overdrive. Fuck. What is this woman doing to me?

  “This is not the same as the others,” she says quietly, lightly touching the last guitar.

  “That’s a steel string acoustic guitar,” I tell her.

  “Oh.” She still seems nervous and she stands with her back to me, as if she’s studying the instruments, but I know that she just can’t bring herself to look at me and I don’t understand why.

  I sit my unopened bottle of water down on the table and take a step toward her, placing my hands on her waist. Slowly, I move her hair to the side, sweeping it over her right shoulder, and plant a soft kiss on her neck. She gasps lightly. “Why are you nervous, Samantha?” I whisper into her ear.

  “Because I…,” She pauses, as if she’s looking for the right words, and I nuzzle her head, inhaling the scent of her hair. “I just say the wrong things to you sometimes,” she says softly.

  “Why was that the wrong thing to say, baby?” I ask her, my arms wrapping around her waist as I kiss her neck again.

  “It just was,” she whispers, her voice sounding as if she’s on the verge of tears. I continue to kiss a trail from her neck up to the spot behind her ear, and she shivers lightly. And as I take her earlobe into my mouth and begin to lightly suckle, I feel her body relax in my arms.

  “Would you like to see my bedroom, Samantha?” I whisper, my lips grazing her ear as I do.

  “Yes,” she pants softly and I smile, kissing her temple. Taking her by the hand, I turn and lead her out of the living room and down the short hall to my bedroom.

  My room is less than half the size of Samantha’s bedroom and it’s dominated by the queen-sized bed that takes up most of the small space. There are two small tables that sit on either side of the bed and just enough room left for the chest of drawers that stands in the corner.

  I waste no time once we reach the bedroom. I have wanted to do this all day long and right now, I don’t care whose room we’re in. I shrug out of the flannel shirt I’m wearing and pull my t-shirt off over my head. Reaching around to my back, I remove my gun from the belt holster and set it down on the table beside the bed. Then I reach for Sam, who’s still holding her bottle of water in her hand. I take the bottle and sit it on the table next to the gun and turn back to her. “Lift your arms,” I command her softly, and she immediately complies. I take hold of her t-shirt at the hem and slowly pull it up over her head, and watch as her hair falls down around her shoulders. She is so beautiful!

  Letting her shirt fall forgotten to the floor with my own, I lean down and kiss her hungrily, my hands running over her back and pulling her closer to me. I feel her hands in my hair, tugging slightly as she holds my mouth to hers. My hands venture down over her ass and I squeeze, feeling her perfectly formed backside through her tight jeans. Then, moving around to the front of those jeans, my fingers work to unclasp and unzip them. In no time at all, I have her stripped down to just her white lace panties and bra, and she is so damn sexy as I stand looking her over. But I must stare for a beat too long because she visibly blushes under the weight of my gaze.

  “You are so fucking sexy, Samantha,” I say honestly, wanting her to feel as desirable as she looks. She looks away, biting that bottom lip and I can’t stand it. I take her head in both of my hands and kiss her voraciously. I want her so badly. Reaching around to her back, I remove her bra slowly, letting my fingers trail across the soft skin of her shoulders and her arms. Then I pick her up, prompting her to wrap her legs around my waist, and walk towards the bed, laying her down across the side of it. I follow her down on top of the bed, my body covering hers and pressing her into the mattress.

  I feel her hands running slowly over my back and then they slip beneath my jeans and my briefs, and she moans as she squeezes my ass. I feel her hips buck forward, her pelvis stroking my denim-clad groin and she moans again at the friction she gets from the action. I give her what she wants, slowly pushing my groin into her again and again, feel
ing my erection straining against my pants, begging to be set free. And Sam moans louder with every thrust.

  “Oh, please, Josh,” she begs me, and her hands reach for my jeans, fumbling with the clasp. I stand abruptly, pulling off my jeans and briefs and rolling on a condom in ten seconds flat. Then I quickly dispense with her panties, pulling them down her legs and off, and fisting them in my hand. Pushing her knees up, I lower myself between her legs and enter her with one deep thrust and she screams in ecstasy. I don’t give her a chance to recover. I start to move quickly. Thrashing. Drilling into her again and again, and her moans of pleasure get louder and louder.

  Her cries of passion spur me on and I quicken my pace slightly, losing myself in her as my hand tightens around her balled-up panties still in my fist. She starts to scream my name as she wraps her legs around me tightly and her body begins to convulse. Her orgasm takes over and she flies apart beneath me as I explode deep inside her, calling her name as my body goes rigid. I collapse on top of her and bury my face in her neck.

  “Oh, baby,” I whisper, still panting as we both try to catch our breath. I kiss her temple and pull out of her, rolling over. Then I stand up and remove the condom, tossing it into the trash. Reaching down, I pull back the covers on the bed and Samantha moves, climbing between the sheets. When I slide in beside her, dropping her panties on the floor, she curls up in my arms, purring like a kitten, and I chuckle.

  “That’s a new sound,” I say softly.

  “Hmm?” It’s a question, and all she can seem to manage at the moment. I laugh some more.

  “Is that your contented sound, Miss Colby?” I ask with a smile.

  “Mmm, it’s my satisfied purr, Detective,” she says softly, and I chuckle again.

  “Oh, I do love satisfying you, Samantha,” I say quietly, kissing the top of her head. We lay for a while, quietly talking about nothing in particular and my hand plays in her hair as she lightly runs her fingers back and forth across my chest. And I think I even doze off for a short time. It feels so good lying with her, holding her in my arms. I’m not sure how much time passes but, I hear her soft, sweet voice pulling me from my catnap.

  “Josh, where’s your bathroom?” she asks softly.

  “At the end of the hall,” I mumble. Then I groan as she sits up and climbs out of the bed. “I guess I need to get up too before I really fall asleep. You make me weak, woman,” I tease her as she pulls on my discarded black t-shirt and giggles. She turns and leaves in search of the bathroom and I crawl out of the bed and pull on my jeans, not bothering to put my briefs back on. Removing the empty belt holster, I zip them up but leave the button undone and venture, barefoot, out to the living room. Grabbing the abandoned bottle of water, I open it up and take a swig. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I see that it’s going on six o’clock. Still a few hours before Sam and I need to get ready to head to The Slammer. I move over to my guitars and pick up the acoustic and take it back to the couch.

  Sitting down, I get comfortable, thinking about my nervousness when I first brought Sam in here, and I wonder idly what she thinks of my place. My bathroom is smaller than her walk-in closet. I sigh and push that thought away as I start to play, absentmindedly picking out “Fur Elise” – a tune I’ve been playing with recently. Classical isn’t my usual style, and it’s better played on a classical acoustic guitar but, I like Beethoven. And this is just something I mess around with for me, not for anyone else to hear. It’s not like I’m going to play this type of stuff at The Slammer anytime soon.

  I get through “Fur Elise” and start in on the “Moonlight Sonata,” still thinking about Samantha and wondering how this thing is going to play out. Am I just setting myself up for a hard tumble here or could she really be falling for me too? Admitting that you’re falling for her, Pierce? I smirk to myself. I don’t think there’s any denying it anymore. This woman has turned my world upside down. I feel things for her that I have never felt before in my life. Feelings that scare the shit out of me, and I have no clue what to do with them.

  I’m so engrossed in my thoughts and the music that I don’t notice Samantha standing in the entrance to the living room. When I finish with the sonata, she speaks. “Joshua.” Her voice is an astonished whisper and I glance up to see her gazing at me with wide, bright eyes. “That was beautiful,” she gushes as she moves over to sit beside me on the couch.

  I smile slightly at her words, shaking my head. “No, it wasn’t,” I tell her honestly. “I messed up more than a few times.”

  “Why are you being so modest, Josh?” she says looking me in the eye. “I am astounded! I had no idea that you were such an accomplished musician. You told me that you sometimes play classical music but I certainly wasn’t expecting the “Moonlight Sonata!” I love that piece; I have heard it played by some of the greatest symphonies and pianists in the world. But I’ve never heard it played on a guitar before. That was lovely!”

  Her words actually make me blush and I smile shyly at her, shaking my head. I feel very embarrassed all of a sudden, and I want to change the subject. “We should think about dinner,” I say, standing up and putting the guitar away. I turn back toward her and ask, “What sounds good? We can pick something up on the way back to your place.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me, Detective?” she says, tilting her head to one side. And she looks so freaking hot sitting there in my t-shirt and nothing else.

  “No,” I frown at her. “Of course not. But I’ve got to take you back to your place before we hit The Slammer so, I just thought, we’d get some food and head back there now.”

  “Or … I could just fix us something here,” she says, smiling sweetly at me.

  I sit back down on the couch beside her, smirking. “Baby, I’ve been eating at your place for the past week. If you can find any edible food still in my fridge, you are better than I thought.”

  She giggles at me. “I’ll just go have a look then,” she says. She leans in and kisses me quickly on the lips and I watch, admiring her shapely legs, as she heads over to the kitchen, opens the fridge and examines the contents. I can’t help but chuckle as she roots around in there and I see her pulling things out and piling them into her arms. Finally, she heads to the counter and I stand up and walk over to her, wearing a puzzled frown.

  She sets a loaf of bread on the counter, followed by a carton of eggs, Swiss cheese, deli-sliced ham and turkey and some butter. “Monte Cristos,” she says triumphantly.

  “Mountie what?” I ask, trying to hide my amusement, and she giggles at me again.

  “Monte Cristo sandwiches,” she says, still laughing at me. “It’s sort of like a grilled cheese only with ham and turkey. And you dip it in an egg batter and fry it. You never had one?” she asks, smiling at me.

  “Uh … no,” I say, looking over the ingredients she’s set on the counter.

  “Well, you’re gonna love it,” she exclaims, “they’re delicious!”

  “You’re delicious,” I mutter, grasping her chin and kissing her softly on the lips. She blushes slightly and bites her bottom lip. “Can I help?” I ask.

  “You can point me towards a skillet and a spatula,” she says.

  “Hmm.” I glance helplessly around my own kitchen. “I’m not sure I have a skillet or a spatula.”

  “Oh, my God,” she cries, laughing at me. “You are hopeless! Get out of here; I’ll fend for myself and call you when they’re done.”

  I can’t help laughing as she pushes on my chest, attempting to shoo me from the kitchen. But I grab her waist and pull her to me, kissing her passionately for a long moment. “I’ll be out in the garage,” I tell her quietly.

  “Dusting off the Charger?” she asks, smiling sweetly, and I know she’s making fun of me again.

  “Yes, dusting off the Charger, and covering her,” I respond with a smile. I kiss her forehead and move toward the door, smiling all the way to the garage.

  Once there, I grab a detail cloth from the shelf and begin to wipe
the Charger down. As I work, I think about Sam. I can’t believe that she is in my kitchen right now, cooking me dinner. And again, I worry about what she must think of my place. The entire house is easily less than half the size of the first floor of her apartment. Yet, she doesn’t seem to be the least bit uncomfortable here; she’s made herself right at home. I smile to myself thinking about it. And I wonder again if she’s feeling anything close to the terrifying emotions that are plaguing me. Is she falling for me? Does it bother her that we are from two completely different worlds – total opposite ends of the economic spectrum? Does she think about the fact that I will never make anything close to the kind of money that she’s worth? Does any of that matter to her at all?

  The longer I work the darker my thoughts become and I start to feel troubled. I wonder what her family will think of our relationship. If it even gets that far. I know that her cousin Megan will be with her tonight at the bar. Sam says that she and Megan are like sisters, and I can’t help but wonder what tonight will bring and what her cousin will think of us being together. Will she be supportive or will she try to make Sam come to her senses? And then there’s Lucas Colby. I’m sure he won’t be too happy once he finds out. And if Sam’s relationship with her mom is as bad as she lets on, I can only imagine what will happen there.

  My cellphone buzzes in my pocket and I reach to pull it out. It’s Samantha.

  “Sam? Everything okay?” I ask her.

  “Yes, everything’s fine,” she says brightly. “Dinner’s ready. Get your buns in here.”

  “I’ll be right in,” I tell her with a chuckle. I hang up and put the detailing cloth away and cover up the Charger. Then I head back into the house. Samantha is plating up our sandwiches when I enter the kitchen and they look amazing. I wrap my arms around her for a moment and kiss the top of her head. “I’m going to go wash my hands first,” I tell her.

  “Okay, hurry up,” she calls after me, and I smile at her bossiness.

  I enter the bathroom and turn on the hot water and start to wash the grime off my hands. As I’m rinsing off, I hear what sounds like Samantha yelping, as if she’s been startled by something. Or someone. My adrenaline spikes immediately and my mind instantly locates my gun – in the bedroom where I left it. Shit. “Sam?” I call out, turning off the water so that I can hear better. I dry my hands quickly and head for the kitchen.