Page 75 of Tabitha

TABITHA

Icup my breast, pluck at the tight nipple, loving the way Pierce watches like he can’t look away. Being near him, smelling his fresh evergreen scent, has my fingers itching to reach out and touch him, but I resist. His icy blue eyes aren’t cold as they sweep across my body, but burn as he watches my hand like he can’t look away.

I feel powerful.

Beautiful.

And bold enough to trail my hand down my body and slip it between my legs. At the first stroke of my clit, my head falls back on a moan, and I shift my hips as pleasure bleeds through my veins. I watch him from under my lashes, noting the way his muscles stand out as he holds himself back from touching me.

Feeling emboldened, I slip one finger between my folds and sink it deep. A rumbling groan tears from him, his eyes flashing almost feral, and my hips tilt as I stroke myself. I’ve masturbated before just to ease the tension. While pleasurable, it’s nothing compared to having Pierce watch me do it.

I pull my hand free, yanking his shirt open and baring him to my gaze, buttons flying like little bullets as they ping across the room. I trail my wet fingers down his chest, only stopping when I reach the waistband of his pants. When he doesn’t move, I slowly release my grip from his hair, then lower my other hand to my knee, trailing my fingers up the inside of my thigh.

I bite my bottom lip, observing him from under my lashes. His muscles are coiled tight, and a delicious shiver goes through me, my core clenching at the thought of seeing him break. I tap one finger against the button of his jeans and whisper, “Show me how you stroke yourself.”

He doesn’t waste a second to obey. He unbuttons his jeans and lowers his zipper slowly, hissing out a breath when his cock springs free.

He’s even bigger and thicker up close, his jeans keeping part of his cock trapped. Most cocks look angry and unattractive, but his looks so silky smooth that my fingers itch to touch.

Especially when he grabs his dick and gives it a long, hard stroke.

My fingers find my clit, and I circle it, strumming it in time with his movements. It’s not long before my hips roll with each stoke. I cup my breast and toy with my nipple while he runs his hand over the top of his cock, slowly spreading the pre cum down its length.

Moments later, we’re stroking ourselves in time with each other, and I imagine that it’s his touch. My orgasm sneaks up on me, and I almost whimper at the empty feeling at my core. I slip two fingers inside, but it does little to appease the ache.

Pierce releases his cock, and it springs free between us. Before I can protest, he grabs my hips, dragging me close, the heat of his erection hot against my core. We both groan, and he immediately begins guiding my hips until I’m grinding against his naked cock.

The protest dies on my lips as the pleasure builds. I grab his shoulders, my toes barely touching the ground as I continue to ride him. He cants his hips, the angle hitting my clit just right, and I see stars.

I tip my head back, mindless when his mouth latches onto my breast so hard that the pleasure and pain sends me over the edge. He yanks off my towel, sinking his hands in my hair as he continues to move me until I ride out my orgasm.

His cock pulses between my legs, his own release splashing against my stomach. Letting go of my breast with a pop, he drags me against his chest. He buries his head against the crook of my neck, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

I sigh, then slip out of his hold, avoiding his gaze. When I reach for the towel he tossed on the floor, he takes it from me and uses it to clean me up, seemingly absorbed in the task. “You’re still not sure if you trust me.”

I blow out a heavy breath at his comment.

Because he’s right.

I shrug and give him what I can. “I was raised not to trust anyone. Learning how to rely on someone else is hard. I trust you more than most. I trust that you won’t try to slice my throat or stab me the moment I turn my back. I trust that you’d come after me if I ran into trouble. I trust you enough that I no longer suspect the food or drinks you bring me are poisoned. I trust you enough to allow you to touch me.” Feeling suddenly awkward, I head toward the sink and soap up the towel, washing away his release. “I’m sorry, but if you’re looking for more, I—”

“Tabitha.” My head snaps up, and Pierce appears over my shoulder in the mirror, his expression both fierce and intimidating. “It’s enough.”

He presses a kiss to my shoulder, never lowering his gaze from mine. “I love you enough for the both of us. I have faith you’ll eventually see that I’m worthy, and I have the patience to wait. It’s enough.” Then a wicked smile crosses his face. “In the meantime, I’ll just have to convince you I deserve more than your affections. I’ll earn a piece of your heart.”

Tightness wraps around my chest, a residual ache swelling until it actually hurts, and I realize the foreign emotion is hope.

Hope has always led to disappointment in the past.

So I stopped believing.

I became a realist.

Yet Pierce has me questioning why hope is such a bad idea. Yes, it’s a risk, one that could crush my soul, but Pierce makes me think it’s worth it.

Because if he’s wrong, I will gut him myself.

He boldly strips out of the rest of his clothes, and I’m helpless to do anything but watch the gorgeous flex and pull of his muscles as he turns and steps into the shower. With him out of my sight, my head clears a little, and I dress, concealing my weapons beneath my loose T-shirt and jeans. No fucking way am I leaving this house without being armed to the teeth, not while my dad roams free.

---