Pierced(35)

He chuckles behind me as I spin around, trying to hide my embarrassment and get a grip on my libido. He puts a wine glass down next to my hand, and I mutter a sheepish, “Thanks,” before turning back to the stove.

“What can I do to help? Do these peppers need chopping?” Now, that I wasn’t expecting: Lucian offering to help with dinner. Personally, I am all for throwing the whole meal in the trash and begging him to fuck me against the stainless steel appliances, but nowhere in the word ‘housekeeper’ does it spell slut, so I keep those thoughts to myself.

“Er…yes, that would be great. I’m making shrimp pasta, so I’m going to sauté those in olive oil before mixing them with the shrimp.” I continue explaining the entire meal to him before I realize I am rambling. He listens to me attentively, although I’m sure he couldn’t give a crap as to how long shrimp cook before they are ready.

We have just settled at the bar on our stools, and I’m taking my first bite when he asks as casually as you would mention the weather, “Do you have a vibrator?” My fork clatters back into my plate as I look at him in disbelief. He takes a moment to chew and swallow before looking at me. “What? It’s a simple question.” I have no idea how the man can continue calmly eating while asking me such a personal question. My first inclination is to tell him to shove it… unless he is open to equal sharing.

“If I answer your question, will you answer one for me?”

With no hesitation, he says, “Within reason, yes.” I have no idea if my question is considered reasonable, but if he doesn’t answer it, I won’t answer any other questions he might have.

Picking up my fork, I spear a piece of penne pasta before answering. “Yes, I do.” He shows no surprise at my answer, and I quickly ask my own. “Have you slept with Monique?”

“Yes,” he answers as he pops a shrimp in his mouth. I’m not sure what surprises me more, that he has slept with Cruella or that he admitted it. Really, I already knew the answer before I asked; Monique is too possessive of him without there being more involvement, even though he seems to feel nothing for her in return. “How long were you with the guy you slept with?”

Ugh, why did I agree to this little question-and-answer session, and why does he care about my sexual history? It’s obviously nowhere near as busy as his. I debate shutting it down, but dammit, I want to know more about him, and I have a feeling this is the easiest way to go about it. He already knows I don’t have much experience, so it’s not like I am revealing shocking facts. Somehow, it is still embarrassing to admit. “It just happened one time.” It appears I now have his undivided attention. You would think I have just admitted to having two vaginas. Clearing my throat, I add, “It’s my turn again. How many times have you slept with Monique?” Shit, why do I keep harping on that? Wasn’t knowing he slept with her enough? Do I need details? Yes, it appears I do.

He raises his glass, taking a drink of the wine before answering. “Just the once and before you ask, it was one time too many. Monique is very…aggressive, which is fine in bed, but I quickly grew tired of her palming my cock every time our paths cross. I started to get the feeling she’d bite the fucking thing off if necessary to get what she wanted.” He surprises me by trailing a finger over my lips. “Please feel free to palm, lick, or suck me anytime you want, anywhere you want, sweet Lia.” I don’t need a lot of sexual experience to suspect I could come right where I sit, with no clitoral stimulation. Sexy, casual Lucian is deadly, and I want to puddle at his feet in a needy heap. “I believe it’s my turn now,” he says as he removes his hand to continue eating. “Why was it just the once? You’re a beautiful, sexy, responsive woman. Did he not take care of you?”

Closing my eyes briefly, I wonder why I’ve let this continue. This is going to be a humiliating admission. “I…it was my first time, so it was uncomfortable and over pretty quickly. He thought something was wrong with me…when he saw my back.” It was Lucian’s turn to drop his fork. He appears angry as he stares at me.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Did that bastard say something to you?”

Tracing my fingers over the granite of the countertop, I say, “He acted like I was some kind of freak. He…left and then told his friends I had something. Jake, my roommate’s boyfriend, was so angry; he knew what had happened to me from Rose.” Lucian’s chair scrapes back, and he is at my side. I continue to look down, mortified that someone as perfect as Lucian would know of my shame.