“I told you,” I say, stilling to let him adjust. “The metal hits your prostate differently. Are you okay?”
“More than okay,” he breathes. “Move. Please.”
I begin to thrust slowly, watching his face transform with each movement. The piercing drags against his inner walls, making him arch and moan beneath me.
“Can you feel it?” I ask, my voice strained with the effort of going slow. “The way the metal moves inside you?”
“Yes,” he gasps. “It’s… Fuck, Thatcher, it’s perfect.”
I gradually pick up the pace, knowing how the addedfriction and pressure heighten everything. His cock is hard again between us, leaking steadily as I hit that spot inside him over and over.
“You feel so good,” I pant, my control starting to slip. “So tight and perfect around me.”
Pierce’s legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper. “Harder,” he demands. “I can take it.”
I give him what he wants, my thrusts becoming more forceful. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mixed with our breathless moans and gasps.
“I’m close,” I warn, feeling my orgasm building. “Pierce, I’m?—”
“Come inside me,” he commands, his voice wrecked. “I want to feel you.”
The words push me over the edge. With a cry of his name, I bury myself deep and let go, filling him with pulse after pulse of release. The piercing amplifies every sensation, making my orgasm feel endless.
Pierce comes again, his second orgasm not as strong, but from the look on his face, it feels just as good.
We collapse together, breathing hard, my softening cock still buried inside him.
“That was…” Pierce starts, then trails off, apparently lost for words.
“Different?” I suggest, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.
“Perfect,” he corrects, his arms tightening around me. “Absolutely fucking perfect.”
20
PIERCE
The New Yorkoffice of Van Stern Enterprises occupies three floors of a glass tower in Midtown, all clean lines and modern furniture. From this height, Central Park spreads below us like a green oasis in the concrete jungle.
Paul Brand greets us in the lobby with the kind of enthusiasm that immediately puts people at ease. A skill I’ve never mastered but find myself envying.
“Dellcourt! Good to finally meet in person.” His handshake is firm, genuine.
“Please call me Pierce.”
“And you must be Thatcher. Great to finally meet you too.”
Thatcher’s face lights up with recognition and pleasure. “Mr. Brand! It’s so good to meet you in person.”
“Your efficiency on that budget discrepancy call a few weeks ago saved me hours of work.” Brand’s smile widens. “I’ve been telling everyone here about the miracle worker in the main office.”
I remember that day. Thatcher fielding calls while Roberto dealt with my cookie-compromised drawer,somehow managing multiple crises with his usual chaotic grace. What I hadn’t realized was how much of an impression he’d made on Brand.
“You were incredibly helpful. You knew what you needed, and that always makes my job easier,” Thatcher says warmly. “I’m glad we could sort it out quickly.”
“More than quickly—efficiently. And speaking of efficiency…” Brand gestures toward the elevator. “Diego, come meet Thatcher!”
A young man with perfectly styled hair and an infectious grin bounds over, immediately pulling Thatcher into a hug that makes me inexplicably tense.
