The Enemy in My Bed by L.K. Shaw
Chapter 27
Mila
Pierce’s words terrify me.Because if he isn’t going to hide, then that means I can’t either. It wouldn’t be fair to keep my armor up if he shows his vulnerability. God, the mere thought of tearing down the walls I’ve built makes my heart race and my belly churn.
He shifts me in his arms and turns out the light before carrying me down the hallway toward the bedroom. My mind flashes back to what happened the last time we were in here, and I can’t help but stiffen. He’s not Maksim. Pierce comes to a complete stop.
“Is everything all right?” he asks.
I can’t make out his features in the near darkness, but there’s tension in his frame. If I say no, my gut tells me that he’ll accept it. Before today, I’m not sure that would have been the case. I force myself to relax and palm his cheek. “Yes, I think it is, actually.”
Only a few of Pierce’s long strides later we enter my bedroom. Moonlight filters through the open blinds, shining brightly onto the maroon satin comforter. The fabric reflects the light making a mirage appear. He pulls back the covering, washing away the image, and lays me on the bed. The lamp on the nightstand flicks on, casting an eery glow across Pierce’s face. The tattoo on his throat, the one that reminded me of Death in the beginning, is just another beautiful piece of him.
He grabs a condom from his wallet and sets it on the nightstand. I breathe a little easier at the sight of it. Then, he slowly undresses, dragging his shirt up and over his head. I take in every sinewy muscle and the ink covering it. The designs are a work art. I feel tiny compared to him.
Pierce moves to his pants, and I swallow, my eyes watching everything. At last, he’s completely naked. He stands entirely at ease while I study every inch of his body from the tattoos along his right arm and onto his chest to the various scars that pepper his skin. My gaze drops to his thick, semi-hard cock with its purplish head and, god, that single vein running its entire length makes my mouth go dry. I raise my eyes to his.
Even though I’m the one wearing all the clothes, I feel vulnerable with the way he stares down at me, as though he’s stripped everything away. I can’t hide from him. I’m not sure I want to any longer. I hadn’t been able to answer Francesca’s question outside, but looking up at him and with the intensity in which he watches me, the answer comes without hesitation. Could I love Pierce? Yes. Without a doubt.
Following his example, I peel off my own shirt and toss it to the floor, then I wiggle out of my shorts and panties until I’m as naked as him. I scoot over and make room for him beside me. It’s all the invitation he needs, because the second he slides into the bed, his mouth claims mine.
Pierce is so much bigger than me, I should feel crowded, but instead I feel safe. Protected. As though nothing could ever hurt me. His tongue begs entrance, and I let him in. He sweeps through my mouth, tasting every bit of it. I grab on to him for fear of floating away on the wave of pleasure washing over me. His hair is soft beneath my fingertips.
The kiss deepens and the warmth of his calloused hands lingers along my skin. I shiver.
“Are you cold?” Pierce murmurs against my lips.
“No,” I whisper back.
He raises his head and locks gazes with me. “Did you like how I touched you, then?” he asks with a satisfied smirk.
“Yes.” As though he doesn’t already know I did.
His hand roams, caressing my face, neck, and one arm leaving tiny prickles everywhere he goes. My nipples ache and harden as though begging for attention. Pierce answers their plea. A gentle fingertip traces around the outer edge of the pebbled tip. I arch up into his caress. I’ve always been self-conscious about their size, but the adoration in his eyes sweeps away any insecurities I have.
Pierce’s hot mouth closes over the tip, and a gasp spills from me. He plays my body, dragging pleasure from my core. I want to give him as much as he’s giving me. Pushing against his chest, he pulls back, the air cool across the wetness surrounding my breast, and gazes down at me with those darkened eyes full of heat.
“Can I touch you?” I ask.
“Anywhere you’d like.”
I give another gentle shove, and he rolls onto his back, folding his hands behind his head and opening himself up to my gaze. His biceps flex and my fingers itch to explore. Feeling bold, I rise up to my knees, trying to ignore my nakedness. The first place my fingertips trace is his lips. They’re perfectly matched in fullness, both plump, pink, and damp.
Next, I travel across his chest, taking care not to touch the crown tattoo. Instead, I focus on the splash of colors on his right side. Blues, greens, reds, and yellows make up the various designs including another skull on the underside of his arm, this one with bright teal eyes. I want to ask about the meaning behind each one, but that’s a conversation for another time.
My fingers linger over random scars here and there. They speak of the violent life this man leads. But it also speaks of his strength. His endurance. I continue my exploration, including counting each indentation marking his abs, the furrows deep and severe. There’s distinct v-shaped lines on each side of his hips that point inward, as though directing wandering gazes to where treasures lie.
“You’re perfect.” The compliment slips from my lips before I can stop it, and I gaze down shyly.
My cheeks flush at how I must sound. Pierce’s rusty chuckle rumbles through me.
“I hardly think so,” he says, but I swear he wears a matching pink in his cheeks as well.
Feeling bold, I straddle his thighs putting his cock as the center of attention. I ache to rub myself against the sleek line of it, but instead I wrap my hand around it and gently stroke up and down, slow and easy. He rumbles out a groan, and his muscles ripple, as though he’s barely maintaining control. It makes me feel powerful. Something I’ve never felt before.
“I’ve never been in control before,” I say absently. “I mean, I know I’m not really the one in control here, but it feels like it. Like I actually have a say-so in what happens. I’m the one doing, instead of the one having things done to me.” I take my eyes off Pierce’s cock and meet his gaze. “That probably doesn’t make any sense, but it’s how I feel.”
He slides his hands out from beneath his head and cradles my hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I understand what you’re trying to say. You’re the one leading this. Whatever you want to do, go ahead. You make all the decisions.”
I watch him a moment longer, gauging his sincerity. His expression is open, his eyes clear of any emotion except arousal. Once again, boldness overcomes me, and I reach over to the nightstand and pluck the condom from it. My hands are shaking so hard it takes me two tries to tear open the foil.
Pierce covers my hands with his. I jerk my eyes up to meet his. “Take a breath,” he says, and inhales deeply. I follow with one of my own. He breathes out and I do the same. Another breath in together and out together. He slowly lets me go and gives me a nod of encouragement. With far less trembling, I manage to slide the latex over his length.
“Touch me. Please?” I ask.
“Where?”
I take Pierce’s hand and place it on my breast. He doesn’t need any further encouragement. Both his hands palm my breasts, kneading them. His thumbs brush across my nipples, sending pleasure along a string attached directly to my center.
It’s as though that’s the cue my body needed. My hips rock against his, and I slide my pussy along the long line of his cock. Pierce is like the maestro that directs the orchestra. My body is the instrument, and while I think I’m the one playing it, that’s not the case at all.
Slickness coats the condom and I roll my pelvis harder, trying to deepen the connection and increase the friction. Up and down I glide while he continues plucking at my nipples. I place my palms on his stomach and use the leverage to move faster. There’s so much power contained in his body. A tiny shiver ripples down my back. Even from the beginning, Pierce could have hurt me far more than he had. He could have been just like Maksim. It’s over. Stop thinking about the past.
“Look at me, Mila,” he commands.
Instinctively, I obey. His eyes are as warm and kind as they’ve ever been. Pierce looks at up me with an emotion I’m afraid to name. Because I think it mirrors the same one I feel when I look at him. I’m not ready to acknowledge it yet. Is he?
“In here, in this room, there are only the two of us. No one else is allowed. Understand?”
It terrifies me how well he can read me, like he knows what I’m thinking. I nod, and I’m afraid I’ve ruined the mood. Pierce’s hands slide from my breasts to my hips and he encourages me to take back control.
I rock a couple more times, but it’s not enough. My hips raise, and the head of his cock lines up with my entrance. Slowly, I lower myself on to him. His whole body goes tight and he sucks in a breath. He stretches me wide and goes deeper inside me until finally our pelvises touch and he’s fully embedded. I take a few deep breaths and relax causing me to sink down even a little bit further.
There’s a twinge of pain from how far inside me the length of his cock reaches, but it mingles with the pleasure. As soon as my body’s adjusted to his size, I move, mimicking the rocking motion I’d done earlier. His hands on my hips guide me, but I set the pace. Slow, at first, then faster. I do a little swivel, and we both moan. The pleasure is intense. More than I’ve ever experienced.
My breasts bounce with each movement, and I feel sexy. Powerful. In control. I shift angles so my clit rubs against his pelvis and the added sensation makes me gasp and move that much faster, desperate to chase the orgasm that’s building. Little by little, the tension increases. My clit tingles. It’s almost there, but I can’t quite reach it.
“Help me,” I plead.
Pierce slips his hand between us and fingers the swollen nub. It’s enough to push me over the edge and my whole body shudders with its release. I throw my head back and ride out the cresting wave, while beneath me, he thrusts upward a few times and groans out his own orgasm.
Spent, I collapse onto his sweat-slicked chest. I lie there for a moment and then shiver again, this time from the cold. Pierce grabs the covers and pulls them over us, wrapping his arms around me. We’ll both have to move soon, but I’m not quite ready to.
I sigh against him and he tightens his hold like a great big bear hug. “I could get used to this,” I say.
“What’s that? Great sex?”
A snort escapes. “That, too. But I meant this. It’s been a while since someone has just held me tight. I didn’t realize how nice a hug could feel.”
“I’m happy to offer my hugging services anytime you’d like,” he replies with complete sincerity. And just like that, the final piece of armor guarding my heart shatters. My breath catches and my pulse races.
Pierce tips my chin up. “Are you okay?”
My smile is shaky, but I somehow manage it. “I’m good.”
He studies me with those eyes of his that seem to see everything. I hold his gaze and wait for him to question me further, but he simply releases his hold. I lay my head back on his chest. We remain like that until Pierce runs his fingers through my hair.
“I should probably clean up,” he says, but I can tell he’s reluctant.
He’s right, though. I roll to my side while he gets out of the bed and disappears into the bathroom. He’s only gone a minute before he returns and crawls into the bed on his side to face me. My gaze travels to his arm, and I reach out to trace the blue-eyed skull tattoo as well as the giant dragon’s eye that decorate it.
“Do these have any special meaning?” I ask.
He glances down at himself. “The eye is for all-seeing. I’ve always had a skill for seeing things other can’t. Sensing things others can’t. Feeling things others can’t,” he says. “I don’t know how. Just some kind of intuition, I guess. The skull is for the death I bring to our enemies. All of the skulls represent death and destruction to those who harm me or mine.”
“What about this one?” I point to, but don’t touch, the delicate looking crown on his chest. I haven’t forgotten his reaction the last time I tried.
Pierce folds his hand over mine and lays it on top of the insignia inked into his skin. His gaze doesn’t leave my face. “This is the Brooklyn King’s crest. It signifies the brotherhood of, and loyalty to, the organization and all its members. It’s the blood we shed to be initiated into the syndicate. It’s a mark of our honor.”
No wonder he hadn’t wanted me to touch it. I’m Russian, and no doubt, I’d taint it. The fact he’s letting my hand rest over it is a telling gesture. More so than any words he might utter. “It’s beautiful,” I say.
A comfortable silence settles between us. Pierce is relaxed, his finger tracing up and down my arm in a soothing gesture. My eyes are heavy, yet I can’t manage to close them. There are so many things I want to tell him. Instead, I remain quiet, and for the first time ever, just let myself…be.
