Pierce Me: Satisfied by the Bad Boy

by Simone Sowood

  I smile and nod, my eyebrows raised.

  “Eloise, I need the bathroom. Come with me.” Without waiting for my response, Sophie takes my hand and pulls me away.

  “Gabe, do you mind?”

  “Go ahead, I’ll get us some beers,” he says, and turns away from the table.

  The washroom is at the back of the bar, and I follow Sophie down the row of wooden tables. She throws open the door, and we step into the cramped, dated space. At least it’s clean.

  “What are you doing with him here? Shouldn’t you two be in a bedroom somewhere?”

  “He insisted on having dinner first.”

  “That’s nice of him.”

  “I just want to get this over with.”

  “So tell him that.”

  “I have. He said I’m not ready yet. That I’m not relaxed enough.”

  Sophie bursts out laughing, her cackle echoing around the small space.

  “What’s so funny?” I demand.

  “He’s probably right. You’re so tense all the time. This is probably why you’ve never had an orgasm before.” She pushes the words out between her chuckles.

  My cheeks turn red with fury, and I fight the urge to slap her.

  “Shut up.”

  Sophie runs her fingers through my hair, and says, “You look amazing. You should wear your hair down more often.”

  “I used that hair curler thing you bought me for Christmas.”

  “Like three years ago? It’s about time you used it.”

  I snarl my lip at her. I take a step back, and say, “You smell like the dead.”

  “Very funny. I had a shower.”

  “Might want to try some perfume as well.”

  “Anyway,” Sophie says in a more serious tone, “that man is sex on legs. Send him my way when you’re finished with him.”

  “You don’t think he’s too rough looking?”

  “That’s his appeal, duh. I want him next.”

  “I think Marcy’s next in line after me.”

  “Screw Marcy, I’m your sister, I get priority.”

  The idea of Gabe with either of them upsets me. For some reason I feel protective of him, and don’t want either of them to go near him.

  “I found him, find your own man.”

  “At least have him take his shirt off for us, so my friends and I can study his muscles. Purely for medical research, of course.”

  “No way. I just told you, he’s mine.”

  She grins, and says, “So this is more than sex?”

  “God, no. Look at him, how could I ever bring him home to Mom and Dad?”

  “Especially now they know he’s a client. But who cares, you’re in this for the sex, remember?”

  “Trust me, I haven’t forgotten. But I don’t know when that’s going to happen. I thought dinner would be it, but here we are, in a bar.”

  “What’s he like to hang around with?”

  Without hesitating, I say, “Lots of fun, actually.”

  “So chill out and relax. Stop worrying about it so much and enjoy yourself.”

  “But I can’t, I just want to get it over with.”

  “Do I have to start quoting you research from my human sexuality class? Get rid of that attitude and relax and enjoy your time with him.”

  My gut is telling me she’s right. I’m having a good time with Gabe. I should stop worrying so much about the way tonight is going to end.

  “I should get back out there, he’s probably wondering what happened to me.”

  Turning, I open the washroom door and go in search of Gabe. He’s sitting alone, at a table as far away from Sophie’s table as possible in the small space.

  “Sorry, sisters.” I say, shrugging.

  I sit across from him. Two beers in frosty glasses are already on the table.

  “That one’s yours.”

  “Thanks.”

  Gabe lifts the other glass and says, “Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” I say, clinking my glass against his.

  “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to sit with your sister and her friends or not.”

  “No way. I have no desire to sit with them.”

  “That’s good. That must mean your sister approved of me.”

  “Do you care?”

  “Only if her disapproval would scare you off me.”

  “Well I’m still sitting here, aren’t I?”

  “I know, I’m enjoying the view.”

  My face turns red, and I say, “You can stop that now, you’ve already got me tonight.”

  “Maybe it’s not just about tonight.”

  Unsure how to respond, I lift my glass and take a long sip. I’d only ever thought about tonight, what I thought was a one-time offer to solve my problem.

  It never occurred to me that he’d want to do it again. Or even that I might want to do it again. I guess I was thinking that he’d teach me how to have an orgasm, and after that I’d be able to do it myself.

  Assuming, of course, that he actually can live up to his own hype.

  My mind starts to spin. What am I doing here? How did I end up on a date with the promise of a first orgasm? Is it actually going to happen?

  I hear Sophie and her friends explode in laughter, their noise crashing through the quiet of the bar. I glance over at them, and her eyes catch mine.

  I realize I’m doing exactly what I promised her I wouldn’t. I have to relax and stop overthinking things. Live in the moment, like I promised her.

  Gabe finishes his drink, and sets the glass on the table.

  “Another beer?” he asks.

  “Actually, I was going to suggest we go to a different bar.”

  “Music to my ears.”

  Abandoning the rest of my beer, I stand. Gabe stands, and takes my hand. As we walk to the door, I look over at Sophie. She gives me the thumbs up and laughs. I give her the finger.

  Back in Gabe’s truck, I say, “I feel like we’re playing musical chairs tonight.”

  “Maybe next time we should stay in.”

  I push the thought of a next time out of my head. Sophie would be proud.

  “Who was that guy at the first restaurant anyway?”

  “Marshall. He owns Hell in a Needle. And is an asshole.”

  “So he’s a business rival.”

  “One who doesn’t keep things professional. I didn’t want him to cause a scene.”

  We drive in silence while I contemplate the concept of someone causing a scene. The idea is foreign to me and I can’t imagine my father ever being in the situation where someone he knows might make trouble.

  “I know a place just around the corner, it’s even got a pool table. Have you ever played pool?”

  I stifle my smile and decide not to tell Gabe that I grew up with one in our game room. Sophie and I spent half our childhood playing, and still play almost every weekend.

  “No, never. But it sounds fun.”

  Gabe

  The bar is almost empty. I don’t care, I’m just glad to get out of that other place. One Hutchinson is all I can take, and that’s only because it’s Eloise. When Eloise said her sister was there, I nearly walked away and went home. All I could think of was my father, drunk, ranting about how he wanted them all to die. But the memory of the way Eloise responded to my touch forced its way to the front of my mind and made me stay.

  I order a Coke for me, Diet Coke for Eloise.

  “No beer?” she asks.

  “We’re both going to want to be sober tonight,” I say and wink.

  Holding the drinks in one hand, I hook my other arm around Eloise and we weave through the tables to get to the pool table.

  It might be my imagination, but she finally seems to be relaxing. I only hope she’s having as much fun as I am.

  The fact that she clams up any time I mention a next time hasn’t been lost on me. I trust any hang-ups she has about me will be forgotten after I get off her clothes. And I trust I’ll forget my hang-ups about the Hutchinsons after
I make her quiver and moan.

  I’m not even sure why I need there to be a next time so badly. Half my brain is telling me to fuck her and walk away. The other half is jumping up and down the way I did in grade school. I was determined to make her mine then, and feel the same way now. As long as I can suppress the part of me that is warning me off getting involved with a Hutchinson.

  The pool table is in a back room and separated from the rest of the bar by saloon doors. I can’t help picturing Eloise bent over it, her skirt flicked up and me pounding into her from behind.

  But I have to stick to the plan.

  I feed the coins into the table, releasing the balls. Eloise listens carefully as I explain the rules while I set up the table. When I finish setting up the balls, I glance up at her.

  Even though I’ve been with her all evening, she makes my breath stop. She’s beautiful.

  Her lips are parted, and I can’t help thinking about how soft they were when I kissed her earlier. I clear my throat and turn away from the table.

  “This is a cue.” I take a cue from the rack on the wall, and hold it out to her.

  Eloise takes it from me, and examines it clinically. I move behind her, and take her hands in mine. I slide her right hand toward the back of the cue, and lay the top of the cue on the base of her left thumb.

  “You rest it in the base of your thumb and slide it back and forth with your right hand.”

  With my body pressed up against hers, I lean her over the table and move the cue back and forth a few times, letting her get the feel of it.

  Not wanting away from her, I keep on moving the cue.

  “I think I get the picture,” she says.

  “Just making sure.”

  Eloise throws her head back in a silent laugh, exposing her long neck. My mouth is close, and I long to sink my teeth into it. My dick twitches and I step away before it turns into a full-on erection.

  “I’ll break,” I say.

  I blast the white ball down the table, and the colored balls scatter and bounce over the green felt.

  “Your turn. Aim at any ball you want.”

  “I think I need your help.”

  Willing my dick to behave, I position myself behind her. I hold her hand again, showing her how to guide the cue.

  “Got it?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure, maybe a few more.”

  Fuck. Having her this close to me is impossible. No man can resist this kind of temptation.

  “Ready to take your shot? It doesn’t matter if you miss.”

  “I think I’m ready. Which ball do I aim at?”

  “Any of them except the black, but this yellow solid looks like the easiest shot.”

  Eloise looks at me, fighting a grin. Her eyes twinkle and I can’t figure out what’s up with her.

  She sets her hand on the table and takes aim. With confidence, she snaps her arm back, and hits the white ball with her cue. The ball smacks into the yellow ball, which rolls down the table and into the corner pocket.

  “You sure hit that ball with force for someone who’s never played before.” She’s obviously played before.

  “Must be my teacher. What I do now, do I keep going?”

  “The table’s yours.”

  “Can you show me how to hold the cue again?”

  “Are you sure you need my help?”

  Eloise steps closer to me, and rests her hand on my chest. She looks straight into my eyes, and says, “I definitely need your help. That’s why I’m here, remember?”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  She turns, and holds the cue out in front of her. I position myself behind her, leaving a gap so she doesn’t notice my hard cock.

  “Like this, nice and smooth.”

  “Nice and smooth,” she repeats, leaning her head back to mine, her hair catching in my stubble.

  Unable to see this ending the way I’d planned, I step away from her. I take a drink of my Coke, wishing I’d ordered some Jack to go with it.

  Eloise takes aim and sinks the blue ball in the side pocket. Without looking at me, she threads the white ball between two stripes and sinks the green ball.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I say, laughing.

  “Like I said, you’re a real good teacher.”

  “Why’d you do it to me, Eloise? What did I do to deserve this?” I’m joking, but I say it in a serious tone to be funny.

  Her brow furrows, and she stands straight, with a distant look in her eye. I wait for her to laugh, or respond, or anything, but she remains lost in thought.

  “I was just joking. I’m glad you know how to play, that makes things much more fun.”

  Falling back against the pool table, she says, “I just remembered something. You said that to me before. Exactly that. I’d totally forgotten.”

  “I did?” I ask, confused.

  “In seventh grade, right before you moved away. It’s all coming back to me now. You said it was all my fault that you had to move away. That everything was my fault.”

  “I don’t remember that.”

  But of course I remember it. I blamed Eloise for everything. She was my easiest target. The nearest Hutchinson to take out my anger on.

  “What was my fault?”

  “I don’t know. Who cares what I said when I was twelve. You probably splashed mud on my shoes or something.”

  Eloise quirks her eyebrow. “You cared about getting mud on your shoes?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know, maybe they were new.”

  “Why did you move away, anyway?”

  These are questions I don’t want to answer.

  “My parents split.” It’s half true, at least.

  “And you moved away because of that?”

  “We moved to Pittsburgh to be near my mother’s family. Any more questions before I start whooping your ass at this game?”

  To my relief, Eloise laughs, and says, “In your dreams.”

  She takes a tricky shot at the side pocket but hits one of my stripe balls first.

  “My turn,” I say, chalking my cue.

  I sink four stripes before missing a bank shot. We go back and forth, and are pretty evenly matched players. Amazing, considering I spent most of my teenage years in pool halls.

  In the end, Eloise wins the first game. We play three more, I win the next two and Eloise wins the last. The entire time we’re playing, we laugh and joke. She’s definitely loosened up from when I picked her up from her apartment.

  “That’s two each. Tiebreaker?” she asks.

  “Next time,” I say to see how she’ll react.

  She throws her head back chuckling, and says, “I’ll be prepared next time. You’ll be lucky to win one game.”

  Next time. That’s all I needed to hear. She’s mine, even before I bring her to her knees.

  I set my cue on the pool table and quickly move towards her. For the first time tonight, I don’t fight my desires.

  Planting my hands on the small of her back, I pull her tight against me.

  Eloise

  This is the moment I’ve been waiting for all night. Gabe’s muscular arms are wrapped around my waist, his hard dick digging unapologetically into me.

  My heart pounds, waiting to leave this bar. Waiting for him to take me home and rip my clothes off and throw me on my bed.

  “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been watching you bent over that table all night? Your juicy ass stuck out, begging to be grabbed?” he growls into my ear.

  The butterflies from earlier return from wherever they’ve been hiding, and fill my chest with their flutters.

  “I wasn’t stopping you.”

  “You were teasing me.” His voice is raw with want.

  Gabe releases his hold on my waist. Bringing his hands to my face, he cups my cheeks. For a moment we simply gaze into each other’s eyes. The intensity of his stare blasts straight into my core. I forget to breathe.

  Still under his spell, I’m caught off guard when he slides
his hands back, meshing his fingers into my hair. His action makes me gasp.

  Like an animal, he crushes his lips against mine. All the heat in the universe pools between my legs. My lips part and our tongues frantically attack each other.

  Without meaning to, I moan. He breaks our kiss. Gabe spins me and pushes me near the pool table.

  “I really appreciate your bare shoulders in this dress,” he says, kissing and nipping over them. “I love how they turn red whenever your cheeks do.”

  My hands clutch the bumper on the table. He sucks the fleshy base of my neck, which somehow connects straight to my pussy.

  Gabe runs his hand down my neck, over my back and the curve of my ass. His fingers reach the hem of my skirt and pull it up. He nudges my feet further apart and cups my mound.

  Grunting in approval, he says, “You soaked right through your panties.”

  I throw back my head and grind into his hand. This is crazy. We need to go back to my place. He runs his hand over my ass, and hooks his finger in the hem of my panties. I tense as he slides them down my thighs, all the way to my feet. He lifts my right foot, and tugs my panties over it.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, my voice breathy.

  “Making you feel good.”

  “We can’t. Not here.”

  “It’s fine. No one can see us,” he says, and pushes my chest onto the table.

  Before I can protest, his fingers move through my folds and find that same spot he had a hold of in his tattoo parlor. My knees buckle and my upper body flattens against the table as it holds me up.

  Forgetting where I am, I close my eyes and let the tingling fill me. He keeps rolling the spot behind my clit, just like he did before. Only this time it feels even better. Possibly because we both know where this is going, possibly because I’m not so freaked out. Even if I am laying face down on a pool table in the backroom of a bar.

  My arousal builds and I fight to silence my mind for wanting to stop doing this here in the bar.

  Wet trickles from my entrance and down my thighs. I could never stop him. Not when he’s making me feel like this.

  Still rolling his fingers, he lowers his body and kisses my ass cheeks. His teeth sink into my flesh, and my mind tries to protest that he’ll leave a mark. But it’s silenced by the pure, screaming lust that he’s creating.