Page 8 of Entangled By You
Rough fingers grip tightly to my hips, and a deep, sleepy growl fills the room. My eyes fly open, and my gaze locks on his. It’s still dark, but the whites around his blown pupils tell me he’s laser-focused on my body on top of his. He doesn’t seem surprised in the least. In fact, his lips tip at the corner.
“What do you think you’re doing, Princess?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? Taking what I need.”
“I don’t think that’s what you need, baby.”
In a blur, he rolls us and flips me over, shoving my face into the mattress, pulling my hips up to the perfect angle. His T-shirt slides up my back, exposing every inch of me to him.
“You.”Thrust. “Think.”Thrust. “You can fuck me.”
His hand comes down hard against my ass, and I cry out.
“Oh, you like that, huh? You pussy’s gripping me so tight right now, Lexi. It’s almost like it knows.”
“Knows what?” I pant out, loving every second of this side of him.
“That you’re fucking mine now.”
The oxygen leaves my lungs, and my blood runs cold. The fuck did he just say? My brain and my body are back to fighting each other, because even in this state of overwhelming shock, my orgasm still crashes into me without warning like a goddamn freight train. Pierce follows as he shudders and pulses inside me.
I didn’t even stop to think about a condom. I need to book a trip to the health clinic asap. He’s in a motorcycle club. You know how many women he probably sleeps with on the regular? What was I thinking? I need to get out of here. The downward spiral takes control, and I don’t notice Pierce moving until water starts to run in the bathroom.
That’s my queue. I bound from the bed, finding my skirt and boots to pull on, forgoing my panties and tiny top. My purse sits on the dresser by the door, and I snag it on my hasty exit. I’m not waiting for Pierce to reemerge and make this worse. I’m out of here!
WHAT WET DREAMS ARE MADE OF
PIERCE
Damn,this motherfucker is heavier than he looks. I heft his weight up again, throwing a glare at Chops, who’s got this guy’s feet, and by the looks of it, none of the actual weight.
“Could you fucking help?” I bark at him, and his eyes narrow before I feel the load lighten.
That’s what I thought.
I’ve never had to work with the other guys on jobs like this, but Branson’s not here anymore, and shit has to get done one way or another. Just another daily reminder that he’s gone and I’m still here.
“Where’s he going?”
“Down to Silas’s room, he’s got some questions for this son of bitch.”
Said asshole groans, and his eyes move behind his lids. The alcohol in his system is finally wearing off, and I give myself a pat on the back at my timing. The stairs groan under the weight of all three of us, and my shoulders bounce off the walls as we waddle slowly, step by step, to the bottom.
“Just drop him, I’ve got it from here,” I tell him when we’re outside Si’s special torture room.
I kick my heavy boot into the door a few times, knowing this place is basically soundproof but hoping he’s already waiting on the other side. I luck out when the door opens, not ten seconds later.
“Special delivery,” I deadpan.
“That didn’t take long,” he says, leaning against the cracked door and looking down at the semi-unconscious man at our feet.
“Well, he was passed out drunk on his couch when we got there. The worst part was getting him in and out of the van. Bastard’s heavier than he looks. You need a hand getting him inside?”
“Nah, I got it from here. Thanks, man. Oh, and thanks for taking care of Lex the other night. Though I’m shocked you were able to get her home so easily.”
“She practically ran out of this place,” I joke, but leave out the fact that it was after I woke up to her wrapped around my cock for the first time in years. Something I never thought would happen again. “Anyway, text me when you’re ready to hand over duties. I’ll be out.”
He nods, and I leave him to work.
