Lace & Lead

She instinctively pushed up and with a soul-deep sigh, he sank into her. The sting that came as he claimed her virginity was short lived, unimportant as he moved inside her. The thick muscles of his back flexed under her hands.

He felt too good. She was going to shatter apart because of him.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he demanded.

Unsure why, she followed his command and was surprised when he rolled over. He remained deep inside her as she straddled him and, as she watched his face, she understood what he was trying to give her.

It didn’t take her long to figure out what she wanted. Peirce watched in fascination as she moved above him, her brown hair drifting over her shoulders, brushing his bare chest when she leaned down and rolled her hips back.

He could feel her tightening around him, knew from the change in her breathing that she was nearly there. He ran his hands up her sides, cupping her breasts, then sliding down her back to press her against him.

“Yes!” she whimpered and moved down with more force.

His toes were tingling, his chest prickling. Any second he’d lose control. He tried desperately to recall the diagrams of Stallion engines, Eagle rotors, Brumby transmissions, taking inventory of the supplies in his garage but each time he tried to focus, his concentration was blown apart by one of her moans, by his desperate need to follow whatever breathy plea she directed at him.

The orgasm was crawling its way up his spine, bowing his body up off the bed. He managed to take one more choked gasp of air and—

Emma gave a wordless scream and clenched down on him so hard he saw stars.

He spasmed, every muscle tightening, his own shout joining hers. When she finally collapsed on him, he could only manage a dazed, “Gods, Emma...” before losing his command of intelligible speech.

Her back was damp from perspiration as he trailed his hand down her spine, groaning softly as her hips and thighs flexed from the motion.

“Is it...is it always like that?” she finally whispered.

“No.” He still couldn’t feel his legs.

She picked her head up off his chest and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the worried look on her face. He brushed a piece of hair from her cheek and let his fingers linger, tracing her cheekbone, the bow of her lips.

“Best. Fucking. Sex. Ever,” he swore solemnly.

Her smile was so huge her eyes crinkled and she buried her face against the crook of his neck.

He let his fingers trail over her hair, content to hear the rhythmic beat of her heart against his own. For the first time since Callie’s death, he was happy.

She shifted so she was looking down at him again. She was nibbling the inside of her lower lip and looke

d wary, but curious. “Peirce?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we do that again?”

He chuckled and threw an arm over his eyes. “Gods, I’ve created a monster.”

“It felt good—” she began protesting, her hand travelling south, but he cut her off by drawing her hand up so he could nip at her fingertips. Safe from her eager exploration, he gave her another kiss, deeper, hotter, than before.

“It’s going to feel better,” he promised.

“I’m not sure it could...”

A short time later though, she’d changed her mind.

The pounding on his front door woke him. He was up, gun in hand, crouched in preparation before Emma had time to adjust to the disappearance of his body.

“Peirce?” she mumbled in confusion.

“Shh,” he warned.