“Like I need you inside me again,” he says, his voice rough with want. “That piercing… God, Thatcher, I can’t get enough of it. The way it hits…fuck…”
His honesty makes my cock twitch with interest. “Yeah?”
“I’ve never felt anything like it,” he continues, his hand wrapping around my cock. “I want you again. Want to go back home, still feeling every inch of you inside me.”
I don’t need to be asked twice.
This time is different from the first night at the hotel, slower, with more intent. Pierce guides me exactly where he wants me, his hands directing my movements as he takes me inside, knowing exactly how to angle his body for maximum sensation. When he comes, it’s with my name on his lips and his eyes locked on mine, and I follow immediately after, overwhelmed by how perfectly we fit together.
“Shower?” I suggest afterward, both of us sticky and satisfied.
“Yes, but we’ll need to make it quick so we can enjoy our last day in the city.”
The shower is anything but quick. Pierce’s hands map my body like he’s memorizing every detail, and I’m not stupid enough to stop him.
Unfortunately, he’s also a proper adult with self-control, so he abandons me to finish my shower alone.
“Shouldn’t you be frantically checking emails or practicing your boardroom scowl or something?” I ask, wrapping a towel around my waist when I come out.
“Today you’re my only appointment,” he says softly. “I ordered breakfast earlier. It should be here soon.”
As if summoned by his words, there’s a soft knock on the door. Pierce pulls on the hotel robe and answers, wheeling in a cart laden with covered dishes that smell like heaven.
“Room service breakfast,” he announces, starting to move plates to the small table. “Perfect-looking eggs, bacon, pastries, fresh fruit…”
My stomach rumbles at the sight of the spread, but I’m more interested in watching Pierce in the hotel robe, his hair still damp from the shower. “You know what I want more than coffee right now?”
He glances up from arranging plates. “What?”
“To ride your dick while you feed me breakfast.”
Pierce bursts out laughing, the sound bright and unguarded. “Be a good boy, eat all your breakfast, and I’ll see what I can do about the other thing.”
“Promises, promises,” I sing, but join him at the table for what looks to be potentially the best breakfast of my life.
“We should get ready,” Pierce says, stealing a piece of bacon from my plate.
Despite promises for post-breakfast activities, I can tell Pierce is eager to get out and show me the city. It’s a beautiful morning, and honestly, I should probably give my body a rest. Never in my life have I had such regular, amazing sex. It’s addictive.
As soon as I finish my last piece of egg and bacon, I get ready, and we pack quickly, leaving our bags with the concierge.
Pierce’s fingers lace through mine as we walk out onto the New York streets, the city already alive with energy. Yellow cabs weave through traffic while street vendors set up their carts, the smell of coffee and fresh bagels mixing with exhaust fumes. I’m coming to think this is a very New York thing.
“Where to?” I ask as we step onto the busy sidewalk.
Pierce considers for a moment, then smiles. “There’s a place I want to show you in Central Park.”
We walk north through Midtown, the streets growing less frantic as we move away from the business district.
We pass hot dog vendors and flower stands, street musicians setting up for the day, and tiny shops crammed between towering buildings. A man walks by with three dogs of completely different sizes, and all perfectly coordinated in their stride.
The entrance to Central Park appears ahead of us, and suddenly, we’re stepping from the concrete jungle into a green space that feels like a different world. The sounds oftraffic fade, replaced by bird songs and the distant laughter of children.
“I used to come here as a kid,” Pierce says softly, his hand warm in mine as he guides us away from the main path where tourists cluster around maps and guidebooks. “My mother would pack these elaborate picnics, and we’d spend hours just exploring.”
We follow a narrower trail that curves away from the main thoroughfare, Pierce leading with the confidence of someone who knows exactly where he’s going. The path winds through trees, their leaves catching the morning light like stained glass.
“There was this spot,” he continues, leading me around another bend in the path. “Perfect for watching boats on the lake, hidden enough that tourists rarely find it.”
