16. Piper #2
“Look at you, Christian.” I gesture vaguely at…
well, all of him. Because how the hell do you even begin to describe perfection?
“I’ve met Travis’s mom, and even though I can’t stand the woman, I’m not blind.
She’s like… unfairly gorgeous. All delicate, petite, blonde, and perfect.
Probably never said ‘fuck’ in her life.” The concern claws its way up my throat, not because I’m not confident in myself or my body, but because I’m the complete opposite of the only woman I know for sure he’s been with.
“Your point?” Christian levels me with a look like I’ve just said the dumbest shit he’s ever heard.
“I’m not exactly…” I wave at myself like it explains all the things I’m too chickenshit to say out loud. “I curse like a trucker, I’ve got curves for days, and I’m definitely not some tiny thing you can just toss around.”
His eyes go midnight dark, and something primal bleeds into his stare.
“You wanna test that theory? Because I’ll throw you around this room right now.
Show you exactly how easy it is to pin you against every surface until you’re nothing but a shaking, begging mess for me.
” I can’t tear my eyes away from him and the way his hands flex on the table like he’s fighting the urge to reach across and just take.
“Someone made you feel like that body of yours doesn’t deserve to be worshipped? ”
“Something like that.”
“Never again, you hear me? If you give yourself to me, Piper, I’ll make sure you never feel anything less than perfect again. I’ll show you over and over until you can’t even remember what it feels like to be unwanted.”
Every word hits exactly where it needs to. It’s like he’s already inside my head, answering questions I haven’t asked yet.
We fall into a comfortable silence as we finish the last of our meal, but the air between us is anything but peaceful. The longer we sit here, the more anxiety coils inside my stomach because I know without a doubt that Christian Crawford is going to be inside me tonight .
He’s done holding back, and God knows I’m not about to stop him. Not when I’ve been imagining this moment for months.
“Thank you, Christian. This was really nice.”
He holds my gaze across the table, eye-fucking the life out of me as he leans back in his chair like he’s just waiting for the signal to pounce.
“I’ll clean up.” I practically jump to my feet, grabbing his plate and mine before he can say a word. But his eyes are on me the entire time, burning a path down my spine as I carry the dishes to the sink.
I’m stacking plates, trying to keep my hands busy, when I feel the solid wall of his chest pressing against my back.He leans in close, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear, making my lashes flutter shut.
“Put your hands on the counter.”
I stop what I’m doing and place my palms down, arching slightly, and the deep, feral sound that rumbles out of him tells me exactly what that does to him.
His hands grip my waist, but they don’t settle for long.
He’s already exploring, running his fingers across my ribs and tracing just below my breasts.
It’s wild to me how quickly my body responds to him.
With other men, it’s always taken time, coaxing, and patience.
But with Christian, my body’s ready for him the second he touches me.
“God, I wanna strip you naked and fuck you against every surface in this house until you can’t see straight.”
“Then do it,” I fire back, and he lets out a possessive growl, his mouth lowering to my shoulder, his teeth scraping my skin before his large hands grip my waist again.
“Not fucking yet.”He cups my jaw, gently turning my face to his.
“Put the dishes down and get your ass back in your room. I want you to find the sluttiest pair of panties you own and get in my bed, because your first time coming on my cock is going to be where I can take my time with you, not bent over my kitchen counter like some quick, dirty fuck.”
His mouth trails along my jaw, teeth grazing my skin as his hand fists in my hair, tugging just enough to tip my face up and pull a soft whimper from my lips.
“I’m gonna make you come so goddamn hard you forget anyone else ever touched you. Until all you can think about, and all you can fucking feel, is me.”
He releases his hold, and I practically run up the stairs, sprinting down the hallway. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat, every beat a promise of what’s coming. Or more accurately, who’s coming because this cowboy’s about to wreck me, and I want every second of it.
I’ve never stripped so fast in my life. My hands tremble as I dig through my drawer for that impulse buy I never dared to wear.
The tags come off, the black lace goes on, and I remember exactly who I am and what I want Christian to feel when he sees me like this.
I want him to take one look at me and lose his mind.
I want him so goddamn desperate he forgets how to be gentle and just takes.
I can sense that his dominant side is prowling just beneath the surface, ready to unleash hell.
But I swear to god, I’m going to fuck this man so thoroughly he’ll never forget how we feel together.
“Sixty seconds before I drag you out of that bedroom and into mine, darlin’!” His voice carries from downstairs with a promise I feel all the way down to my toes.
I step out into the hall and make my way to his bedroom. It’s the first time I’ve set foot in here, and of course, it’s the epitome of masculine comfort. Wooden everything with warm beiges and cream tones that feel impossibly inviting, like it’s been made to lure me right into his bed.
Wearing only lace that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, I climb into his bed and slide on top of the sheets. I can’t help but laugh because, seriously—how the hell did we get here?
I’m sitting up, propped on one arm, angling my body just right because, yeah, I’ve got a belly pouch, but I know how to work it.
My hands support me on one arm, legs crossed casually, and I’m pretty proud of how the lingerie does its job.
The black lace pushes everything to exactly where it should be, accentuating my hips, tits, and ass in a way that will hopefully drive him crazy.
This isn’t about looking perfect. This is about looking like me. It’s about owning exactly who the hell I am and daring him not to fall to his knees over it .
Christian’s boots thud against the floor, each step drawing closer until my heart becomes a wrecking ball in my chest. I suck in a deep breath, trying to shove down the nerves dancing in my stomach because this is everything I’ve wanted, and now it’s finally happening.
His massive frame fills the entire entrance, and his shoulder is braced against the wood like he’s ready to tear down walls to get to me.
His arms are crossed across his chest, and his muscles are straining against his shirt in a way that makes my mouth go dry, but it’s his eyes that pin me in place.
My chest starts rising and falling faster, and when he smiles, I realize exactly what’s happening here.
He wants me to unravel. He wants to watch me come undone piece by piece.
This isn’t just about sex. This is about control.
It’s about watching me fall apart under his gaze, knowing he’s the one making it happen and that he can reduce me to a desperate, needy little slut with nothing more than a look.
He steps into the room, closing the door behind him with a finality that makes my pulse jackhammer. His boots hit the floor, one after the other, and then his hands reach for the hem of his T-shirt.
Holy hell, he really is all man.
Powerful shoulders frame his sculpted arms, and his chest is defined with just the right amount of muscle, dusted with fine hair that draws my eyes down to a delicious trail disappearing into denim.
He strides toward the bed like a man possessed, and when he reaches me, he traps me beneath him. He cradles my jaw, guiding my head back until I have no choice but to meet his stare.
“On your knees, darlin’.”
He sits back, and I obey, crawling up the bed until I’m right in front of him. But he doesn’t touch me. He just watches.
“Take my cock out.”
The buttons on his jeans feel impossibly small, and it takes everything I have to keep my hands steady as I work them open.
I grip the waistband of his black boxer briefs, and I drag the fabric down slowly over his hips, each inch revealing more of him until his dick springs free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening.
Jesus, he’s perfect.
The length of him, the obscene girth, and the way the thick head stands angry and aching—it’s like it’s practically begging to be inside me.
God help me, that’s going to feel so damn good.
He grabs my wrist and guides my hand straight to his cock.
“Feel how hard I am? That’s all you. That’s what you do to me.
And seeing you dressed up in this little scrap of lingerie?
” He lets out a low, ragged groan. “It’s taking everything in me not to thrust into your hand and fucking explode all over it. ”
He lets me touch him for a split second before his arm snakes around my waist and he pins me to the mattress. He’s caging me in, and as he looms over me, it’s like the rest of the world simply stops existing.
His fingers trail along the thin strap of my bra, sliding it down my shoulder with a slowness that makes my whole body tremble. Goose bumps erupt across my skin, and a shiver runs through me as his eyes follow the path of his touch.