“That’s a good girl,” he purrs, as he punishes me with pleasure. I come again with a white hot, supernova blast.
CHAPTER 5
I’m pretty sure I passed out, because when I come to, I’m cradled in Piers’s arms. The water’s off, and he’s sitting on the bench, holding me in his lap. My mouth is lax, and I close it quickly so I don’t drool.
I let him dry me off. He fusses over me, rubbing a small towel over my scalp. “Your hair.”
“It’s unmanageable.”
“Like you.” He presses a kiss to my temple and rubs the towel over my chest. I don’t know if it’s on purpose, but the movement teases my nipples. My pussy gives a sad little pulse. It feels empty.
“You didn’t fuck me.” The whiskey and the orgasms removed my filter. I can’t keep my thoughts from tumbling out of my mouth if I tried. I’m exposed, swathed in fluffy white towels, but still naked in his lap.
“I will.” Another kiss and he lifts me in his arms. “All in due time.”
He sets me on the bed. “Get dressed. Unless you want me to help you?”
“I can dress myself.” I scramble to catch the towel before it falls and press it to my chest, covering my bare boobs. I’m feeling very vulnerable right now.
And Piers looks like he always has. Fierce and in control.
For a moment, his expression softens. “Don’t try to fight this, Wellesley. There’s nowhere to run. I’m going to get you fed and sobered up, and then we’re going to talk.”
“What are we going to talk about?”
“That night, for starters. Get dressed. I’m going to get some food. What are you in the mood to eat?”
He turns around, and I can’t look anywhere but his black briefs. I’ve never seen him in anything less than a suit. And now all those pretty muscles are on display, and his cock is tenting the sodden fabric.
“Wellesley? Are you craving anything to eat?”
“Pastrami,” I say, before thinking. Once I register what I’ve said, my eyes go wide, but it’s too late to take it back.
“Noted.” He smirks.
“I meant to say meat. You know, protein. Can’t get enough protein. It’s good for you.” I’m babbling. I shut my mouth and give him a thumbs up. It doesn’t seem enough, so I put up a second thumb. Double thumbs!
He shakes his head. “Just how much did you have to drink?”
I don’t have to answer because he exits after asking that question, closing the door behind him.
I could run. But where would I go? I’m trapped in this mansion. My hair would freeze before I took two steps outside.
Even if I did try to run, he’s made it clear he’ll chase me.
Shiver.Suddenly, I have a whole new index of fantasies to be filed underPrimal Piers.
By the time Piers returns, not only am I dressed, but I’m swathed in the thickest, ugliest sweater I brought.
He walks in, carrying the entire Nantucket pie on a marble cake pedestal. Bare-chested, in loose gray pajama pants, he’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Beyond every fantasy.
This is Saturday morning Piers. Lazy holiday Piers. He looks so good, I ache.
He’s still Piers, though, so his gaze sharpens when he catches sight of me in my oversized fleece sweater monstrosity. It’s holiday-themed and covered in kitten heads. The kittens are wearing Santa hats, because Christmas.
Piers glowers at the kittens like he’s just learned they committed hate crimes. “What are you wearing?”
“Like it?” I raise my arms, which are draped in fabric that extends six inches past my fingertips. I could fit a whole other one of me under here, plus the cake stand. Which is good, because it’ll hide my food baby after I eat that entire pie. “It’s a HoodZou. You don’t know what a HoodZou is?”
