Page 24 of Professional Liar
Eight
Katherine
My father’schauvinist pig of a lawyer would be the first on the chopping block. He intended to turn my simple inheritance into a spectacle. He insisted Bianca marry, too, before either of us received a penny. My own attorney pointed out the separate clauses related to mine and Bianca’s money. It didn’t matter if Bianca got her fortune. The second I received mine, she wouldn’t need anything. I hoped Bianca wasn’t worrying her school days away thinking about it.
I sat in the back of Pierce’s car, wrapped inside his leather coat, letting the scent of him cradle away the stress. Paperwork and bureaucracy were my least favorite things about our enterprise.
The car pulled up outside Pierce’s house. It was almost dinner time, and my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten anything all day. Holt, as the driver introduced himself that morning, opened the door, and I stepped out. I let him deal with my bags while I headed straight for the front door. A guard I didn’t recognize sat on a chair outside. When he caught sight of me, he shoved a bundle of black in his back pocket and opened the door. Poor kid, everyone knew about Pierce and the knitting he used to train his men.
I entered Pierce’s house—our house now, I supposed—to the scent of red sauce wafting from the kitchen. My stomach clenched, and I dropped my belongings on the table next to the door. Pierce poked his head around the corner and smiled. My chest loosened, and I took a deep breath at the sight of him. God, I’d been away from him for mere hours, and I hadn’t even realized I missed him so much, it ached.
I went into the kitchen to catch Pierce at the stove stirring a large pot. “What on Earth are you doing?”
He gestured at the burner. “What does it look like?”
I watched him for a second, scanning his features for anything different. After being away from me for a few hours, maybe he changed his mind and wanted to chuck me out to the curb. I’d long been aware I wasn’t an easy person to deal with.
He placed a wooden spoon on the countertop. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Nothing mattered in that second but touching him. As if the very cells in my body depended on his skin for survival. I took one step forward, and he met me in the middle, anchoring my face in his hands as I pushed up on my tip toes to reach his mouth.
He tasted like rich red sauce and wine. I couldn’t get my tongue deep enough in his mouth, and he couldn’t keep his hands in one place. Starting from my face, scratching his short nails along my neck, down my waist, to my ass. Until he lifted me up and I was still tracking the edges of his tongue with mine. It was heat and fire and the burn I craved every time I kiss someone.
I could never figure out if we were so drawn to each other because of some chemical makeup, or if a deeper bond ensured neither of us would be happy elsewhere.
My fingers curled around the base of his skull, and I held on tight while he walked me to the counter. It took less than a second for him to sit me down on the edge, pop the button on my jeans, and angle his hand into my panties. I broke the kiss with a gasp, and his dark eyes focused on my lips.
“I don’t think this is sanitary,” I said in a pant.
He dragged a nail across my clit, and I jumped in his hold. “I don’t think I give a fuck.”
From the years of experience, he knew exactly how to bring me to the edge and hold me there until I writhed in his arms. “Ask me for it.”
I ground forward, trying to get the last few seconds of friction I need. “What?”
He speared his free hand into my hair and pulled tight, arching my neck backward. It was uncomfortable and demeaning and so damn hot. “Ask me to let you come. Ask me nicely, Baby Girl, and I’ll give it to you.”
These were the games we play. Not dominance and submission, but command and concede.
I swallowed the retort building as my nerve endings screamed for release. “Pierce, please, make me come.”
He jerked my hair tighter and slipped his middle finger inside me. Then he used his thumb to work my clit. I broke open between heartbeats and rode his hand until the cloud in my brain receded.
Gently, he released my hair first and slowly wound me down, before removing his hand from my pants.
I smiled at him softly until he licked his fingers one by one like a cat with a fresh batch of nip. The haze surged back, and I grabbed for his belt buckle.
He stopped my hands. “Sorry, Baby Girl. We don’t have enough time for what I want to do to you right now. For dessert, I promise.”
He kissed me and washed his hands. I hopped off the counter and tried to arrange myself to look like a woman who did not just have an orgasm next to a sauce pot.
A guard knocked gently on the glass patio door and then entered. I stopped and stared at Gerry, one of the few guards I knew by name. “Hello, Ms. Katherine,” he said.
I wanted to check if my fly was zipped, but I just tugged my shirt down instead. “Hi, Gerry. You can call me Kat, if you want.”
He nodded sharply and slid the door closed with a snap. I pointed toward the kitchen and hunted down my phone while they talked. I’d always known who Pierce was. As a member of the same circles, I’d see him at functions or special events. I hadn’t had much interaction with his day-to-day though. And I never learned what the infamous Wild Dogs were known for around town. Something I should probably find out now.
I scrolled through my phone and stopped at a text from Bianca.
