Who Needs A Bob When You Have A Pierce?
Note to self: If my words make her flush,
good luck getting me to shut up.
“ S o where do you think you came from?”
Pierce was lounging across from me on my bed, duvet barely covering his cock—that was still half-hard, somehow—twirling a lock of my hair around his fingers. He didn’t respond right away, so I waited, fingers drawing abstract patterns on the sheets between us.
After a moment, he paused his movements before looking directly at me. There was still an underlying current of carnal desire that hadn’t left him yet. It was like he was always ready to go.
“I don’t know, love. One minute I was listening to some of the filthiest things I’d ever heard—”
When my eyes narrowed, he paused and raised one hand in mock defense. “ No complaints here, darling.”
I smirked.
“And the next thing I knew, I was laying in bed with you. And I had a body. And this fucking cock .” His brows waggled as he palmed his stiffening length over the blanket.
I stifled a laugh but couldn’t help a small smile. His jokes needed some work.
Pierce grinned over at me, clearly pleased with himself, and I sobered. I supposed he wouldn’t really know what a joke was if all he’d ever listened to was my work calls. I certainly never joked with my clients. Not unless they wanted me to laugh at the size of their cock, which happened more often than you’d probably assume.
It’s not like I ever saw the actual cock, but it’s not like I needed to. If that was their kink, it didn’t matter what their size was. It was always too small.
“Do you . . . like having a body?”
“Sure, it feels way better fucking you with my tongue and fingers than it did when I was just a landline.”
My jaw dropped at the vulgar words, a blood rushing to my face. Jesus, he just came right out and said it.
“That was one time, Pierce.”
“I would’ve liked it to have been more,” he countered, leaning towards me until we shared breath. His fingers tangled between mine, twisting my wrist over and lifting it to kiss the back of my hand. His next words whispered over my hypersensitive skin: “I wish you would’ve used me to fuck yourself years ago. Sliding my firm head into your pretty fucking pussy, gushing over me like a waterfall as I plunged inside you, over and over until you clenched and pulsed around my plastic body. Almost makes me want to turn back into that damned phone.”
The image he painted was vivid and my skin flushed. Pierce held me captive me with his heated gaze .
“ Almost .”
Suddenly it felt like the AC had kicked off and my sheets were too hot. My lips parted as I gasped quietly, but he noticed anyway.
“Would you have fucked me until I broke? Would you have used my plastic frame like a live cock, giving yourself pleasure over and over with no regard for my needs?”
His hand gathered my hair at the nape of my neck and pulled it gently, tipping my face towards his. There was no escape.
Not that I wanted one .
His brown eyes twinkled with arousal, a peek behind the curtain showing me just how much he’d enjoy that. How my pleasure would be his pleasure, therefore my needs would be his needs.
Fuck, they just didn’t make men like this.
Or, I supposed not since AT the high pitch of my squeal could’ve rivaled a porn star. Pierce silenced me with a kiss, sloppily fucking my mouth with his tongue as he rode out his own orgasm, groaning against my lips as we came together.
Hot pulsing inside me sent a searing flash over my skin, the knowledge of his cum inside me too hot for me to handle. My head dropped back onto the pillow as Pierce collapsed half on top of me, before rolling us so I lay on his chest. I fought to catch my breath as I buried deeper into his hold.
“I take it back,” Pierce groaned as he shifted to get comfortable, wrapping an arm around my body. “That was way better than fucking you as a landline.”
A gentle kiss was pressed to my forehead, and I smiled numbly into his bare chest, too tired to respond.
My eyes fluttered shut as exhaustion drew me into its warm embrace. Or maybe that was Pierce . . .