Chapter 30
“The Archer” - Taylor Swift
Maeve
My mouth has gone dry, every word in the English language disappearing from tongue and mind, just like that. Poof.
What if I told you I only dated blonds so I wouldn’t accidentally say your name while I was fucking them?
Pierce looks at me for the first time since stopping the car, as though he actually expects me to say something after dropping a bomb like that. His eyes catch the light from the pizzeria and do funny things to my chest.
I drop my gaze to my lap. That felt like an unspoken game of chicken, and I just lost. The silence swirls around us, thick and murky, threatening to suck me under, and god, there is nothing I hate more than silence.
“I’d say that’s insane,” I blurt out.
He coughs out a disbelieving laugh. “Insane.”
“Yes, insane.”
Shifting in his seat until he’s facing me, he lets the full weight of his attention fall on me. “Why would that be insane?”
“Because—”
Because I don’t know how to handle that.
“Because we can’t say things like that to each other,” I say in a rush.
He tilts his head to the side, considering me. “Why not?”
“Because we’re . . .” I gesture to the space between us. “Because we don’t like each other.”
“Mmm,” he says. “That’s not what you implied last night.”
“I—” The rest of my words dry up on my tongue.
As he leans closer, his voice lowers even further. “Last night you begged me to never stop playing with you. You said—and I quote—‘I will die if you stop.’”
I shoot him a glare, my face hot with embarrassment. “That was the sex talking. It doesn’t mean I like you. Or that you get to like me.”
Pierce grabs my thigh and jerks me closer to him. “You don’t decide what I get to do. If I say I’ve fantasized about you for years, then that’s the truth.”
I’m panting, my breath stolen by the intensity in his eyes and voice. “Have you?” I squeak out. “Fantasized about me?”
“Have I fantasized about you,” he mutters. Shaking his head, he sniffs a laugh. “Why do you think the sex is so good, hmm?”
It’s my turn to shake my head, speechless. How should I know? Sex was always mediocre for me before Pierce and I started hooking up.
“I have a list, you know,” he says, as if that explains anything.
“A list.”
His tongue darts out and licks his bottom lip. “A list of things I think you’ll like.”
I keep my eyes on him, but my mind is whirling at two hundred miles an hour. “Things I’ll like?” I’m pretty sure I know what he means, but this feels too significant not to verify. “What, like sex stuff?”
Nodding, he shifts and leans his elbow on the center console, putting us less than six inches apart. “Sex and other stuff.”
I lean back. “Other stuff? Like what?”
A tiny smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because that will ruin it.”
Trembling all over, my body feels like it’s being wracked by a fever. I’m both hot and cold and can’t stop shaking. “I need to see this list.”
He laughs and drapes a wrist over the steering wheel. “You’re not seeing the list.”
“This is all some twisted game to you, isn’t it?” I cross my arms over my chest and settle back into my seat. The shaking eases a little. “You’re just messing with my head.”
A heavy sigh heaves from his chest. “And what would be the point of that?”
Narrowing my eyes, I keep my gaze on him, searching for any sign that he’s playing me. There has to be more to this, even if I can’t see it. People don’t spill secrets like that unless they have ulterior motives. “I don’t know what goes on in that screwed-up head of yours,” I say.
Pierce exhales and leans his head back. “God, Maeve.”
“Is that what this is? Lies so that you can gain the upper hand?”
Several beats of loaded silence pass before he turns slowly. “Not everything is a game.”
“It is with us,” I shoot back.
His eyes cling to mine, bottomless in the dark car. “Not for me.”
He appears so . . . earnest, and I think that’s what bothers me the most. I’d be more comfortable if he just admitted he’s messing with me. Then I’d think up some way to get back at him, and everything would right itself again. But the look on his face—that’s not something I know how to handle.
Reaching out a hand, he brushes his fingers across my cheek. It causes me to start, even though he’s moving with the speed of molasses and my body is as familiar with his touch as it is with taking a shower.
“Why won’t you lower your defenses?” He plucks at my bottom lip with his thumb, letting it spring back before pressing it again.
“I can’t,” I whisper, tears welling in my eyes out of nowhere. Blinking quickly, I pray they disappear before he notices.
“Not even for me?”
I consider what he’s asking, but the risk is too great.
Without a defense, there’s nothing stopping him from breaking me completely, until I’m as shattered as Humpty Dumpty, unable to ever be put back together.
Shaking my head, I sink my teeth into my lip.
“I can’t.” I’m sorry, I stop myself from adding just in time.
“I wish you could see that you’re safe with me.” His gaze focuses on my mouth, and for a second, I think he’s going to kiss me, but then he meets my eyes again. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I try to swallow the thick lump in my throat, but it won’t budge. “You will,” I say softly.
His gaze darkens. “What do I need to do in order for you to believe me?”
“I don’t—I don’t know.” The lump grows even bigger, nearly gagging me now.
“Do I need to fuck you hard and slow until you’re begging me to let you climax?”
Oh god, please no, but also yes.
“Do I need to take you right here, right now, to prove that you’re mine? Hike that dress up around your hips and feast on your pussy like a starving man?”
A tiny whimper escapes my lips, and he growls in response.
“Or maybe I’ll leave you like this, wet and swollen for me, so I can take you home and fuck you in ten new places.”
“Pierce,” I manage, breathless and trying desperately not to pant. My panties are already soaked through, and we’re still ten minutes from home.
He moves closer, until his stubble scratches my jaw. “If that’s the only way you’ll let me have you, I’ll take it.” Straightening in his seat, he adjusts the crotch of his pants, then puts the car into gear.
I stare at him, mouth agape. He’s just going to leave me like this?
But then his hand reaches across the console, and instead of settling on my thigh, it travels up beneath my dress. He mutters a quiet “fuck” when he reaches my drenched panties. “These are going home with me, too.”
As he pulls into traffic, he’s also pulling back the fabric of my underwear, giving himself access to me. I groan and let my head fall back against the seat as he slides two fingers inside.
“God, I will never get over how tight you are,” he says as we stop at a red light. “So ready to swallow my whole hand.” He turns his attention to my lap. “Pull up your dress so I can see what I’m doing to you.”
I’m more than happy to obey, because it means I get a front-row seat as well, if I can keep my eyes from rolling back in my head. Lifting myself up, I tug the fabric up to my waist, amazed and a little impressed that Pierce keeps pumping into me the whole time.
The light turns green, and he accelerates while keeping an eye on me. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs. “And all mine.”
Scooting down, I give him more room to explore. He takes it greedily, shoving a third finger in to join the other two. I moan as he fills me, then watch as he pulls them out, only to shove them back in a second later. My panties are blocking my view, so I reach down and shimmy them off.
“Good girl. Now you can watch me fuck you.” He drives responsibly on the road and recklessly into me, turning to cast a glance at me every few seconds, the streetlamps acting as spotlights for our show.
His fingers know exactly what I need, the best spots to hit, and how to curl to bring me to the brink of combustion.
Grabbing his forearm, I encourage him to go faster, deeper, harder. “More, Pierce. I need more.”
He complies, but the second I start to tighten around him, he slows down. “No fucking way,” he says. “You’re not climaxing until I can watch, too.”
I let out a frustrated cry and content myself with staring as he wrecks me on the front seat of his car.
He slows his movements down until his fingers are doing a sensual dance as they slide over, then between, my folds and finally—blessedly—slip back inside me.
Refusing to drive them in all the way, he only goes in a few inches, then pulls out and starts the whole process over.
The smell of my sex fills the car, combining with the scent of Pierce in a seductive way that has me drinking in huge lungfuls of it. Every time he draws back out, my moans punctuate the wet noises his fingers make. This man will be the death of me, I’m sure of it.
We finally turn onto my street, and I’ve never been so grateful to be home in my life. As soon as the car is in park, Pierce leans over and switches his hands. Sticking the fingers that were just inside me into his mouth, he moans as he sucks them clean.
“You taste like heaven,” he says. “Now, let’s get you taken care of, baby.” After turning on the interior light so he can see better, he slips his free hand behind me, cupping my ass before finding his way to my seam. “Someday, I’m going to fuck this, too.”
The thought makes me release moisture into his other hand.
His chuckle is deep and sexy. “You like the sound of that, don’t you?”
I squirm as I try to find friction and relief.
“Patience, baby girl. I’ll make you come, don’t worry.” He spreads my folds wide. “Look what I do to you. Look how red you are for me.”
“Pierce, please,” I whisper, so turned on just by looking at myself. “I need you so bad right now.”
“Mmm, just the way I like you,” he says, bending over to drop a kiss on my lips. Then without warning, he plunges his fingers into me as far as they’ll go, keeping my ass locked in place with his other hand. Before I have time to recover, he’s driving them in again.
My head lolls back, my eyes closed. I’m so close now, I can taste it.
“Open your eyes and watch me fuck you,” he directs.
I blink them open and stare down at where his fingers are relentlessly pounding into me, my flesh pink and raw. Gasping, I clutch his arm tightly as the orgasm takes over.
“Keep your eyes open,” he says.
I do, watching as he continues fucking me through the last throes. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
When the final shudder subsides, he slowly withdraws his fingers. “Now, let’s go inside so I can take care of you the way I fantasize about.”
* * *
We have sex twice in the house—once just inside the door, because he says he can’t wait any longer, and once in the bedroom, because I’m exhausted. He rolls off me and heads to the bathroom to clean up.
I watch him go, that tight ass bouncing as he walks. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, raising my voice so he can hear me through the open door.
“Tell you what?”
Tugging the blankets closer to my chin, I burrow deeper into the bed. “That you wanted this.” My heart oddly feels warm, not unlike how my body feels beneath the duvet—cozy and safe.
There’s silence from the bathroom, and I think for a second that he didn’t hear me. Then his voice comes, low and measured. “Because I knew you didn’t see me like that.”
My heart pounds as I lie here, a million thoughts spinning through my mind and making it hard to settle on a single one. See him as a sex partner? Or something more?
Pierce walks back in before I can think of a response and climbs onto the bed. He leans down, presses a kiss to my forehead, then slides beneath the comforter.
“What are you doing?” I say, propping myself up on an elbow. “I’m too tired to go again.”
“Relax.” He tugs me down beside him. “I’m just going to sleep.” His arms snake around me, cushioning me against his chest. It doesn’t feel bad, just unusual.
“Sleep? What, here?” I crane my neck to look up at him.
He doesn’t even bother opening his eyes, just pulls me closer. “Mmm,” he murmurs into my hair. “Is that okay?”
Is it okay for him to spend the night? We’ve never slept together. In the three months we’ve been sneaking around, it’s only ever been sex. So why does he want to stay tonight? “I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I stammer.
“Why not? I promise I don’t snore.”
“Because—” I’m not sure how to put into words the trepidation I’m feeling. Sleepovers are for couples, and we’re not a couple. If he’s been thinking about me for a long time, what if there are feelings involved? “I just think it could get messy.”
He blinks his eyes open and looks at me. “We already made a mess. Don’t think it’s going to get worse than that.”
I flush, thinking of my wet sheets. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t, actually.” His hand moves up and down my back, the warmth from his palm seeping into my skin. “What are you so scared of?”
That I’ll start to trust you and you’ll ruin me.
“I just don’t want you thinking this is anything more than sex,” I say to his sculpted chest.
There’s the tiniest pause in his movements, but then he continues as though nothing’s happened. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he says quietly. “You don’t need to worry about anything. Just go to sleep.” Digging a hand into my hair, he buries my face against him.
My nose pressed up against his skin, I’m treated to the unadulterated scent of him. It’s like a direct line into my veins, making me heady with desire again. God, the man smells good. “Fine,” I mumble. “But only for tonight.”