Give Me a Chance (BYC #2)

15. Natalie

15

NATALIE

I just need to make it through this week. The project—I’m looking forward to, but spending time with Matt can only lead to more complications.

I’m a hit it and quit it kind of gal. I rarely want a repeat of a sexual encounter. But with Matt, my usual rules don’t apply. Even when I hate him, I’m hot for him. Even after the three times we had sex, I’m craving more.

It’s off the table, of course. Three times is already practically a relationship, and four times would only make it worse.

Too bad my libido didn’t get the note. The bitch is crazy about him. Even reading his project gets her going, especially remembering the last time we worked on it one on one.

The way he fucks is so unlike his everyday persona. It confuses me.

How can this appropriate, polite, according to others, nice man be a dirty talking, dominating lover? It’s not fair. Oh, and now he visits Connor and Rina’s sex club. Who is that man? And why do I care?

So, the goal for the week is simple. Survive without digging myself deeper into the complicated hole.

We’re starting the clinic in a school near the BYC. We’ll spend three days there and two days in a school on the other side of town. The school administration was kind enough to distribute our brochures with the application’s QR code and now there are only a few time slots available.

Matt is waiting for me when I arrive. I brought some coffee and cookies for our today’s clients, so he helps me take everything out of the car. The school’s principal meets us at the entrance.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hernandez. I’m Natalie Barnett, and this is Matt Anderson, from the BYC.” We both shake her hand. She’s a short woman in her fifties, but her pantsuit and ruthlessly tight bun give her an aura of authority.

“So glad to have you here. Our parents are thrilled with the clinic.”

“Glad to be here.” Matt says with a huge smile on his face.

“Right this way.” Mrs. Hernandez leads the way. The school is tidy and clean but there are wear and tear signs visible. Like condensation on the ceiling or pieces of paint falling off periodically. Seattle’s public school system is pretty good compared to the rest of the country, but the schools still have a hard time getting funding for everything they need.

She leads us to the school counselor’s office.

“Our counselor is currently on sick leave, so you’ll be using her office these three days.”

“This is perfect, thank you,” I reply. The office is small and dated, but it’s just what we need. There’s even a tiny waiting room where I’ll set up. She leaves us alone and I get to setting up the treats, while Matt sets up the paperwork he prepared.

The first clients appear and I introduce them to Matt. They are a sweet South-Asian couple in their thirties, in need of some legal help with their work permits. Their wide smiles elicit a hope within me, making me float throughout the rest of the day.

One after the other, his clients leave the office with relief on their faces.

“Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Anderson. You have helped us more than you could know,” the last client tells him as she exits the office, and I have to give him props.

The whole day went without a glitch. He had seven clients who all left the clinic grateful and hopeful. Most of them needed help with work permits, some of them need help with housing, and some will make use of the BYC’s programs for their kids.

“Did you get all their contact info?” he asks. What makes the law clinic even better is he’ll keep consulting most of the clients in the BYC.

“Have it right here.” I wave a stack of papers before inserting them into a folder. He nods, clicking his pen in his hand.

“This was pretty awesome.” A spark appears behind his reading glasses.

“Yeah, it’s a cool project, I must admit.”

Spending the whole day with him has me on edge, so I welcome finally going our separate ways and head to Blissful Balance for a much-needed yoga session. Even in my downward facing dog, my mind is filled with thoughts of him.

The way the clients had hearts in their eyes after meeting with him puts a damper on my ‘he’s not a nice guy’ spiel. He’s patient and honestly cares about helping them. Along with the fact his sleeves got rolled up by the end of the day, which is my personal Achilles’ heel, it’s hard to remember to hate him.

Luckily, the advanced workout gets demanding enough to occupy my brain. After five minutes in tree pose, there’s sweat dripping out of every pore. I love the feeling.

The feeling of being too tired to think—or overthink. I go to bed with aching muscles but a calm mind.

“Did you talk to Connor?” he asks after the last client on Friday leaves our temporary office. We worked as a well-oiled machine, putting behind our differences in respect for the people we’re trying to help.

“Yup. Mrs. Joshi can come on Monday to check out her new apartment. It’s tiny, but it will be perfect for her,” I respond, a smile taking over my face. Mrs. Joshi is an elderly woman that came to the clinic today looking for some legal help, but Matt was determined to find her a better place to live.

“At least she’ll be able to afford it.” He lets out a relieved breath. “Damn, that feels good. I’ve helped more people this week than I did in eight years of my career,” he adds with a self-conscious smile.

“It was your idea.” I sit down on the other side of a small, weathered two-seater.

“That would have been worth nothing without your help. Besides, you all do this on a daily basis—you help people.”

“And now you do, too.”

“Yeah.” He gets pensive for a moment. “I know you haven’t been thrilled with me coming to work at the BYC, but this is probably the best decision I’ve ever made.”

A pang of guilt starts in my chest. Here he is, changing his life, and I’ve been acting like a bitch because it’s inconvenient for me to work with him.

“It hasn’t been all bad. We’ve done some pretty good work on this.”

“Yeah, we have. We make a good team.” His eyes bore into me, staring straight into my soul. Lasting longer than intended, the look turns from curious to something else. Something more...inviting.

“I guess we do,” I agree quietly.

“Fuck, I can barely think when you’re around.” He shakes his head, finally breaking eye contact. “This is not me; you know? Not who I usually am.” He drops his head into his hands. “I don’t have trouble managing my attraction to someone, ever. But then again, I’ve never been this attracted to someone. I’ve never had someone possessing my every waking thought.” His words are poison, burning their way through my insides. His eyes connect to mine. “I’ve never had someone making me question my basic sanity or the ability to control my own actions.”

I feel the same way. But I won’t admit it. I can’t.

The silence gets awkward, so he continues, rubbing a hand over his face. “Shit, sorry for saying all this. You don’t deserve to deal with sexual harassment in your workplace, and I need to respect your decision.”

“What if I don’t want you respecting it?” I’m not sure my voice was audible, but the look he gives me makes it obvious he heard me.

A moment passes. Two.

“Don’t tempt me. I’m not sure I have it in me to resist.” His jaw is set, the hunger overtaking his eyes.

“Why would you?” I add a small smirk.

Another moment passes.

Then he pounces on me like a wild animal. Taking a hold of my jaw, his lips seal to mine, a low groan escaping him.

It’s what I want. This controlled man losing it has become a personal kink of mine.

His lips are soft and demanding, and I’m putty in his hands. The doors aren’t locked so the janitor could walk in any second, but I’m too far gone to care. I grab him by the shoulders when he nips my bottom lip. His muscles are firm and taut beneath my hands, and I let out a moan.

“Shhh,” he whispers. “You’re going to have to be silent. Can you do that for me?”

Liquid pools between my legs as I nod my head shyly. Fuck, what’s he doing to me?

Kissing me again, he grabs me by the waist, lifting me up to straddle him. I roll my hips, feeling his rigid length beneath me. The friction does wonders for my throbbing clit and my nipples pebble in response.

I’m so fucking grateful I’m not wearing pants today. His hands find their way beneath my pleated skirt with ease, kneading the sensitive skin of my lace-covered ass.

“I need to feel you. Right fucking now,” he whispers with heavy breath. “Tell me you’re wet for me.”

“I’m so fucking wet.” It’s the truth. This man has a hold on my body I would rather not analyze.

He lifts me up, moving my panties to the side, and slides the palm of his hand over my slit.

“You weren’t lying,” he whispers in my ear, making my skin prickle with goosebumps.

Too keyed up to continue the foreplay, I get to work on unbuttoning his pants. With shaky fingers, I release his hard cock. Drool pools in my mouth, but there’s no time for me to taste him. I need to feel him inside of me. Now.

I lick the palm of my hand before stroking his cock to get him wet, though I’m pretty sure I’m dripping on his pants. He holds my panties to the side as I sit on his thick cock, inch by inch, before he’s buried all the way in my pussy.

His eyes roll to the back of his head, biting into his bottom lip. The need to moan is overwhelming, so I take a few seconds to get my shit together. I start to ride him, but he sets the punishing tempo, lifting me by the ass. He feels perfect inside of me, but the fucking panties slice into the sensitive skin.

“Wait.” He stops me, lifting me up. Both of his hands grab my underwear, and the sound of lace ripping fills the room.

Did he just tear my panties?

Why does it make me absolutely feral?

With the underwear out of the way, I impale myself on his cock again, and it’s even better. He’s hitting a spot deep inside of me, pushing me right to the edge. A quiet moan gets out, but he shushes me by putting both of his hands on my throat. I continue fucking him, his hands on my throat a delicious danger. One that makes the whole thing hotter.

I’m racing to the edge, the feel of him overwhelming.

“Do it,” I whisper, glancing at his hands and he increases the pressure on my delicate neck.

“Tap my forearms three times if it gets too much.” I nod my head to confirm, and the pressure gets harder.

Breath evades me, the hands on the side of my throat blocking my airway. His cock is hard and thick inside of me, hitting my G-spot. My hips roll, giving delicious friction to my clit, and the absence of air removes any ounce of control I had.

Just as I start to feel lightheaded, lights explode in my line of vision. My pussy clenches, gripping his cock, and he follows right behind. The pressure on my neck is gone and his lips are back on mine. He spills himself inside of me as I still tremble with my orgasm.

His kisses turn gentle as he comes down from the high.

Why is it like this, every single time?

He helps me get up and grabs a tissue from the desk to clean me up. The act is more intimate than all the dirty stuff we did. My ripped off panties end up in his pants pocket. I straighten my dress, trying not to look like I’ve just had my world rocked.

The mirror from my purse tells me I’m halfway presentable, but there is no way to stop the cum dripping from my pussy.

“Don’t worry, I knew what I was doing,” Matt stutters and I turn toward him.

“What?”

“Breath play. You showed me you’d want it, so I researched it. Just so you know, you weren’t in real danger. I’d never put you in danger.” My breath, ironically, escapes me at his words.

He noticed what I wanted and spent his time educating himself so he can give me what I want? Even when he had no guarantee we’d ever have sex again. He still put in the effort?

“Oh.” Why is that the hottest thing I’ve ever heard? And why does it make my insides tingle?

Fuck, it’s time to leave before I make him spoon me. It’s not often I get anything resembling romantic feelings, but when I do, it’s time to get the hell out.

He hands me my jacket and walks me out to my car. My thighs are slick with his seed, making this the dirtiest walk of shame I’ve ever had.

“I’ll see you Monday.” He gives me a friendly smile and leaves.

A weird sensation starts in my stomach. It’s probably the consequence of my guts being rearranged, but it feels strangely like disappointment because he’s gone.