Taming Pierce

01

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R E E C E
01 | a bride in my car

"Have you ever been in love?"

The sugary sweet voice belongs to the woman currently skating a sharp pink-painted fingernail down my bare chest. She has her head with tawny locks of hair resting against my chest, hearing the beats of my heart which are in a pattern of solace, having sought comfort in the warmth of her skin.

The nicotine from the cigarette swirls in my mouth before I part my lips, releasing a waft of white smoke toward the ceiling of her one-bedroom apartment above a cafeteria downstairs.

"No," my answer is formed in a hollow tone, chasing the smoke away from my lips.

The woman tilts her head, grey eyes finding my chin. She is the prettiest of all the women I have entertained, thinking that I could move on from her — from the one that has my heart in her fist while she remains unbothered by my existence, finding her peace in a home with Ryan.

"That's a lie," Melanie comments. "You're thirty-three. You must have been in love once."

"Love is a name given to an intense need to let go of your ownership to belong to someone else. I consider myself above minuscule human connections," I tell her, stating a false claim flatly.

She is a good fuck. I don't wish for her to be anything more.

"I don't believe that. You're lying." She pushes herself from my body, the comforter sliding down her body, a full tit coming into view with its skin marked red by my teeth. "You can tell me the truth. I'm good with keeping secrets."

"You really wanna know?"

"Can't I? You're a fascinating man. We have slept together more times than I can count now. I deserve to know something about you."

"I know nothing about you."

I pull out the cigarette stick from my mouth, brushing it off on the ashtray kept above her nightstand. I rise from my lying position, the heavy feeling in my chest just as evident as it was two years ago while I plant my feet on the hardwood floor, grabbing for my pair of discarded jeans.

"Another lie. You're getting good with this, stranger," Melanie says.

I find her with her knees pulled to her chest, her arms over it as she watches me wear my jeans. I pull the zipper, my cock having grown flaccid the moment she started getting personal.

"I was in love once. I still am," I confess, the biting memory not being of a livening nature to me.

"Who's she? Someone special?" Melanie's eyes shimmer with curiosity that is devoid of any hint of jealousy.

She is a young woman of twenty-four. We first met each other when I visited the cafeteria she works at. We had a good time and I didn't even have to tell her my name to get her to sleep with me. She was only interested in my cock and I let her have it in exchange for her delicious pussy.

I have tried my best to dismiss the fact that she is a brunette too. Just like the rest of them.

Just like her.

"I did and now she's my brother's wife."

"Ouch!" Melanie bites down on the inside of her cheek at my response, a flash of guilt appearing in her pupils. "I touched a sore spot there. Sorry."

"Are you?" I mutter under my breath, reaching for my shirt which dangles on a corner of her bed.

When I first came here, she didn't have a bed at all. I bought it for her not only because I wanted to do something good but also to have something to bend her over for when I slammed into her from behind.