Pierced (Lucian & Lia 1)

All reason has left me; I am aware only of the needs of my body and the driving force to reach completion. I feel every inch of his cock as it powers in and out of my pussy. If someone yelled fire right now, I’d gladly go up in flames; I’m too caught up in all things Lucian. I hear someone moaning loudly and realize in surprise that it’s me. “Please, Luc…oh, God, please!” I say, begging for release. I feel his hand against my clit, rubbing roughly, and that’s all it takes. I shatter again and again as he continues to fuck me. My spasms against his cock finally push him over the edge, and I feel him jerk, grunting as if in pain.

“Lia…baby, fuck!” He pulls out and rolls next to me. The ragged sounds of our breathing fill the room. I’m completely blown away by what just happened. My sexual encounter with Jackson doesn’t even rate on the scale of sex with Lucian. To me, it’s the difference between being with a boy versus a man. Through the haze of my afterglow, I wonder what comes next. Sex without love seems complicated. Will he leave now? I want to curl into his arms, but I am unsure of his reaction to that. I didn’t have to make decisions last time since Jackson left after discovering my scar. I’m grateful my back has been to Lucian the entire time, and I vow to keep it that way. I don’t want to see the same distaste in his eyes I saw in Jackson’s. Lucian makes the decision for me as he stands and stumbles toward what I assume is the bathroom. I giggle as he opens the closet door instead. He looks toward me, a smile forming on his lips as I point toward the other door. I hear the sound of running water and a few moments later, he is back. He looks at me uncertainly, and I decide to throw caution to the wind.

“Stay, please,” I say, hoping I don’t sound as clingy as I feel. He looks torn for a moment before walking back to the bed and settling in beside me. I wrap my body around his with my head on his chest. I purr like a kitten as his hand settles on my back, stroking up and down. “That was amazing,” I admit. “Was it…good for you?” Oh, crap, why did I ask him that? My lack of self-confidence couldn’t be more obvious.

His hand stills for a moment before resuming its path over my hip. “Yes, it was. I hope I wasn’t too rough with you.”

“No, I…liked it.” Talk about the understatement of the year; I want nothing more than for him to take me again, right this second.

“How long since you’ve been with a man?” I wonder what his obsession is with that. Was it so obvious that I lack experience? Shit, of course it was to someone like him.

“It was last year,” I admit, hoping it’s the end of the conversation.

“And before that?” he probes. I stiffen, knowing he is not going to let it go. Maybe he should have worried about my level of experience before he slept with me.

“He was my first and only.” There, are you happy now? I feel the urge to ask. It would serve him right if I started questioning his sexual conquests.

He sounds surprised as he asks, “Why? You’re a beautiful woman, Lia; I’m sure there have been a lot of opportunities.”

“Not any I was interested in. Between work and school, I really haven’t had the time or inclination for a social life. Jackson was friends with my roommate’s boyfriend, so he was just there. It was a mistake, and I moved on.” Humiliation will do that for you in a hurry.

I assume we are finished discussing my pitiful love life when he asks, “Did he hurt you?”

Stiffening, my mind automatically goes to my stepfather before I realize he is talking about Jackson. “Not physically,” I answer honestly. Jackson’s scars had been of a different variety.

His warmth wraps around me as I snuggle deeper into him. I have no idea if I will see him again after this, so I want to revel in the moment. All too soon, drowsiness takes over, and I find myself dozing, lulled into sleep by the sound of his heartbeat against my ear. “Sleep, baby,” I hear faintly and then I am drifting away.

How long I had been asleep, I have no idea. The room is dark, but someone near is choking. The gurgling sounds fill my ears as I frantically push the webs of sleep away and grope for an answer in the darkness. Someone thrashes next to me as I jump from the bed, rushing to turn on a lamp to light the darkness.

Lucian is on his back, his body twisting as if in agony. His hands are holding his neck and gasping sounds escape from his throat. Oh, dear God, he is choking, but on what? Rushing toward him, I put my hands over his on his neck. “Luc,” I whisper, not wanting to startle him further. He continues to wither as if in great pain, so I shake him lightly. “Lucian. Wake up, you’re scaring the hell out of me!” Just as I decide to call 911 in case he is having some sort of seizure, he bolts upright in bed, looking around wildly. I stroke his arm, trying to soothe him. ‘It’s okay, it’s me…Lia.” His other hand rubs against his throat, but the gurgling sound has stopped. I’m weak with relief that he appears to be unhurt. As suddenly as he jumped up, he sinks back down to the bed, forcing me to move aside as he lowers his head in his hands, taking deep breaths. Sitting beside him, I hesitate before starting to rub his back in slow, soothing circles.

“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely. “That…hasn’t happened in a long time. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

I continue to rub his back, trying to digest his words. That this has happened to him before is obvious. I wonder if this has anything to do with the scar on his neck, but I’m not brave enough to ask. “No, I was just worried about you. Would you like a glass of water?” He looks so young and vulnerable sitting here with his shoulders slumped forward that I feel something in my heart twinge. I don’t think this is some random bad dream for him. Someone hurt this man badly, and I find myself wanting to protect him, which is absurd. Just because I live with past traumas doesn’t mean everyone does. He pulls away mentally before he does physically. I see the shutters going down and the walls going up; I’m an expert at this behavior, so it’s easy for me to recognize.

“I’m fine, Lia; it was just a dream.” He makes a point of looking at the clock, which shows it’s just after midnight. He gives me a quick kiss before standing. “I really need to go, though. I have some emails to return before morning.” Instinctively, I grab my shirt from the floor, keeping my back turned away from him until I am covered. At this point, I don’t think either of us could handle any more upset tonight, and I’m in no shape to answer questions. I want him to stay, but I know he won’t; he needs space and this I understand too well to try to stop him.