Pierced (Lucian & Lia 1)

“My, um, roommate and her boyfriend were…busy on the couch. I thought I would just meet you outside.” My face colors at his look of surprise. My big mouth and me. Couldn’t I have volunteered a little less information?

He recovers quickly, giving me the smirk I’ve become accustomed to. “Not much of a voyeur, huh? Pity.”

With my best serious look, I say, “Oh, you like to watch? If we’re quiet, we can slip back in. They should be to the good part by now.” Where did that come from? The things he brings out in me are unexpected, to say the least.

He pulls me into his arms, laughing softly against my hair. “I’d much rather taste you than watch them.” With those words, his lips descend onto mine, and I’m drowning in all things Lucian Quinn. The kiss is brief, but when it ends, I’m hanging onto his waist for support. He loosens my hands and helps me into the car. Once again, I’m seated entirely too close to his large frame for comfort. His hand on my bare leg keeps me firmly in place. “I like the dress,” he murmurs. “You are beautiful, as always.”

“Thanks, I borrowed it from Rose. I pretty much exhausted my options this week. I’m not usually this social.” Cringing, I wonder why I feel the need again to divulge this much information.

Lucian sounds genuinely upset when he says, “I’m sorry, Lia, I should have thought of that. I guess I assumed you kept clothing on hand for your…job.”

I cover his hand with mine saying, “Normally, I’m fine. I’ve never been out with the same person three times within a week, though.” I’ve already admitted to being a poor, college student, so I don’t see the need to lie to him. If anything, it should drive home the fact that I need my job. He is quiet after my admission. I ponder removing my hand from the top of his, but I enjoy the feel of his skin against my palm too much to deprive myself. It seems unlikely that Lucian will continue to pursue me for long, so I vow to enjoy the moment while it lasts. Too few things in my life have given me pleasure, and I find myself wanting to grab onto the feeling regardless of the cost.

A short while later, the car comes to a smooth halt in one of the outlying areas of Asheville that I recognize. The tree-lined sidewalk connects to an array of stores and restaurants. I’m surprised Lucian has picked such a busy area for dinner; I pictured somewhere quiet and elegant, such as Valentino’s from last night. This area has more of a college-town air, far better suited to me than to him.

As if he knows what I’m thinking, he pulls me closer as we leave the car and says, “A friend of mine owns an Italian restaurant here. I have a place close so when I stay there, I tend to end up here.”

I turn to him, surprised. “You live here?”

“Among other places,” he adds. “I have an apartment at the office, one here, and a house near Biltmore Village. The apartment at the office serves a purpose when it’s late and I’m too tired to go anywhere else. I bought the apartment here back when they first started development because I enjoy the area and the house…was my childhood home.”

Curious, I ask, “Do your parents still live there?”

“No, they died when I was young. The house was left to me with a trust for maintenance. The apartment here is my preference and where I spend most of my spare time.”

He steers me toward a brick building on the corner and holds the door open for me to precede him in. Without waiting to be seated, he leads me to a quiet booth in the corner. Other than the opening, it’s completely private on the remaining sides. I slide into the middle and he follows suit, sitting in close proximity. A server appears almost immediately, and Lucian orders a bottle of wine. I barely have time to look around when I feel his hand on my thigh. I gape as my dress slowly inches up. “Luc…what?”

“Shhh, if I can’t taste you now, I want to feel you.” My core floods at his words and his intention. “Spread your legs for me baby,” he whispers against my ear. With no thought of denying him, I inch my legs apart and gasp as the cool air hits the damp fabric of my panties. With no preliminaries, he is at my apex, pulling the lace at my leg aside. My breath stalls as he plunges his finger into my wetness. I turn my face into his neck and moan. He strokes my clit as he asks, “Are you this wet because you want my cock, Lia? Do you need to be fucked?” His finger stills as if awaiting my reply.

“Yes,” I breathe.

“Yes, what, baby?”

“I need you,” I whimper, “to…fuck me.” Oh, God, I can’t believe I’ve actually said that to him. At this point, though, I’d confess to anything if it meant his finger would start moving again. When it does, I want to weep with relief.

I am completely focused on the tension building inside me when the waiter suddenly appears at the end of the table. I jump in my seat, but Lucian is the picture of innocence. Unseen, he lazily removes his hand from my panties and takes the proffered wine glass. I almost die in horror when he runs the finger he has just removed from my sex against the rim of the glass before taking a drink. He licks his lip appreciatively. “That’s perfect, Jeffrey, an exquisite vintage.” The server beams his approval before filling both of our glasses. I shouldn’t be this turned on by the fact that Lucian has just spread my juices on his glass and licked them off in front of our server…but I am.

Lucian orders for us both and I anxiously wait for the waiter to leave so Lucian’s hand will return to me. Lucian, however, keeps his hands on the table, and if not for the flush still staining his cheekbones, I would think I had imagined the whole thing. “What are your plans after graduation?” he asks, surprising me. It’s suddenly clear that I’m to be left frustrated again tonight. My palm itches as I fight the urge to smack his arrogant face. It will be a cold day in Hell before he sees how much he is getting to me. I may be uncomfortably aroused, but I’m not battling a hard cock, as he no doubt is; sometimes it pays to be a woman.

I take a sip of my wine, finding it cool and refreshing. I have little experience with anything other than a bottle of Arbor Mist, but I don’t doubt this is expensive. As a general rule of thumb, if the waiter needs your approval to fill a glass, it probably has a hefty price tag. I match his neutral tone as I say, “I would like an entry-level position as a business analyst. I hope to find a company that supports continuing education so I may continue my schooling in the evening and obtain a Master’s Degree.”