Suddenly You (Our Exception Book 2)

Chapter 12

Matthew is unfurling like a spring bloom. Every day he curls around me every chance he gets and lets me kiss my way across his body, my mouth always settling on his dick. In those moments, the way he gently tugs on my hair, the sounds he makes… I nearly lose my mind.

I never expected him to let me do this to him, but he does. Multiple times a day. When he wakes up and before he falls asleep, like clockwork, begging me for it in his own silent way.

And he always insists on reciprocating. Just hand jobs, but fuck, I love him touching me anywhere. Anytime. I’ll take it.

I’ll so take it.

“What do you want to do this weekend?” I ask as I lick my swollen lips. I just popped off him, watched his sleepy eyes take me in as my throat contracted around his dick.

Best way to wake up, in my opinion.

“Dunno.”

“I was thinking we could go to Paris.”

Matthew rolls his eyes, his lips pulled open in a laugh. “Fuck off. We aren’t going to Paris.”

My lips kiss their way up his chest as I grind my cock against his thigh. “But we could go. I have a jet we could charter.”

He peers up at me. “Of course you do.”

“I’ll take you anywhere in the world, Matthew.”

“You’re spoiling me,” he retorts and wraps his arms around me. My cock is painfully hard now, and I know he feels the state I’m in because he’s arching up into it, teasing me.

Love it when he does this. Love that he’s growing more confident and just takes what he wants.

“Want me to get you off?” he asks, his nose trailing along my cheek, inhaling me.

“Only if you ask nicely,” I counter, gasping softly when he nibbles at my earlobe.

He sighs, but does it anyways, making me preen at how good he is. “Please, Cooper, let me get you off.”

My lips turn into a grin as I thrust against him, loving the drag of my dick on his skin. A second later, Matthew is rolling me onto my back, his strong thighs straddling me. His limp cock is settled against his thigh as he grips my dick in his fist and starts to pump me.

My eyelids flutter closed, the feel of him on me too damn potent, but I force them back open. I want to watch him get me off. Love how serious he takes this, how deeply he concentrates on each stroke, wanting to always make it so good for me.

“Does it feel good?” he asks, and I nod, biting my bottom lip.

“Always feels so damn good.”

He grins down at me and then with his free hand, cradles my balls in his palm. He rolls them and I spread my legs wider, wanting more. I’d love for him to stick his mouth on me, to suck on me timidly as I give him directions, but I won’t hold out hope. It’s a miracle he’s even doing this. When he first wrapped his fist around my cock, I thought I’d died.

I never expected it. I just figured the blow jobs would go unreciprocated.

But he insists on it. Every time.

And I’ll take anything I can get.

“Want me to get some lube?” he asks after a minute, and I shake my head, feeling flushed and needy.

“No, just spit on me.”

He watches me for a moment and then leans down, his mouth so close to my cock that I nearly explode right then. But I’m glad I don’t. I love watching as his mouth gathers saliva and then it spills from his lips and coats the tip of me.

I groan at the feel of it, watching as his thumb smears the wetness around my cock head.

This is what it would feel like to have his mouth take my cock. I imagine his lips spread wide around me, his cheeks flushed, his pupils eclipsing his irises. He’d be so beautiful with me inside of him.

“Fuck, yes,” I moan, arching up into his touch over and over. “Perfect, so perfect.”

He likes the praise, so I give it to him, feeling his fist tighten around me. He’s strong, methodical, and a moment later, I explode across his fingers, shuddering through another epic orgasm.

But I think it’s only because it’s him—my husband—that I react this way.

I don’t think another would suffice.

When my eyes flit to Matthew’s, I see him staring down at his messy fingers.

Oh hell, the curiosity I see in that gaze. I’ve caught him tasting me when he thinks I’m not looking. It makes me all sorts of crazy. To know that he’s so inquisitive, that he doesn’t find me repulsive.

But sadly, with me watching, he doesn’t lick, doesn’t taste. Instead, he wipes himself up and flops down next to me, his body pressing into mine.

“So, about this weekend. You don’t need to take me to Paris,” he says, his finger trailing over my stomach. “I can’t even imagine what that trip would add to what I owe you.”

My lips turn down. I’d completely forgotten about that damn tally. I stopped keeping track a while ago. Honestly, I never really cared in the first place. I’m just enjoying my time with him.

Enjoying being married to him.

“What?” Matthew asks, his brow furrowing. “It would cost me an arm and a leg to fly to Paris and you know it.”

“I do,” I say, my voice a little snootier than it should be. It’s not his fault that I placed him in this position. Or the fact that he’s even thinking about money. It’s my fault. I kept him in this marriage, I’m the one who insisted we stay married when I could have easily gotten this annulled.

And I know I’ll be in for a world of hurt in the end. I obviously didn’t think this all through.

“What if I said the trip would be on me?” I ask, turning toward him and running my hand through his hair. He’s like a cat, arching into it, nearly purring as I massage his scalp.

“Would it really be?” he asks.

“Yeah, it would. My treat. I want to take you to all the places you’ve never been.”

“Then yeah, we can do that, but maybe wait for the school year to end in June. I don’t want to use any more sick days.”

Fucking work, I think as I pull him against me.

“That’s fine. We can wait. For now, we’ll plan something closer to home. Something we’ll both enjoy.”

He sighs into my skin as I hold him tightly.

Now, what to do?

We end up at a club across town—the Gaythering Club. It’s one that I frequent when I need to get out. I like it here because it’s a very nice, high-end, and inclusive environment. I don’t need to worry about people eyeing me with my choice of clothes or making hate speech while I’m grinding up on another guy on the dance floor.

I got Patrick and Owen hooked on this place too, which is why when I mentioned coming here tonight, they invited themselves along. Probably helped that I mentioned Matthew would be here. I bet they want to see the two of us in action. Probably want to see me lose myself over him.

I’ll never hear the end of it, I swear.

They already fussed all over him when we met up in the parking lot, battering him with questions. I had to drag him away to save him from their clutches.

“They have the best drinks here,” I explain to Matthew as we stride inside the club. I link my arm through his as he takes in the decor. There’s a long bar that spans an entire wall with multiple bartenders working it. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and I see dancers on lifted stages around the room. Crowds of people are on the dance floor, grinding to the music. It’s fun, vibrant, and totally alluring.

Just like Matthew. He let me dress him for tonight, and I don’t know how it’s possible but he looks hotter than normal. I didn’t think anything could beat his white shirt and blue jeans combo. But this new look of black fitted slacks and a gray button-down with the sleeves rolled up the forearm is disgustingly hot.

Like makes my dick perk up and weep kind of hot.

And what’s even better about the whole ensemble is the ring on his finger.

The one I made sure he wore before we left for the night. I want everyone to know he’s mine.

Everyone.

I don’t want people creeping up on what’s not theirs.

“I think I may need to watch my alcohol levels in here,” he says, his eyes swiveling down to mine.

“Oh, but that’s no fun. I want to see you let loose,” I tell him.

Matthew’s lips turn up into a small grin. “I think that’s dangerous.”

I lean into him, whispering an incentive in his ear. “But if you loosen up, I could blow you in the bathroom.”

His ears turn an adorable shade of pink, and I see the color spread to his cheeks.

“We’ll see.”

Well, that’s promising. At least it’s not a no.

As we walk to the bar, ordering drinks for myself and Matthew, I turn my gaze to the dance floor, searching for anyone I may know. I don’t know many people who frequent here on a Saturday night, but I do have a few acquaintances I wouldn’t mind running in to. A little small talk and some catching up wouldn’t be the end of the world. And it would feed my extroverted soul a little.

To be honest, I wouldn’t mind a little gossip as well. A little spilled tea never hurt anyone. And it most definitely never hurt me.

In the distance, through the strobe lights, I see a familiar body gyrating on the dance floor. He always did have a way with those hips of his, as short as that fling was. And despite it being just a bit of silly fun between friends, I do miss Robin at times. Although, with Matthew in the picture now, and for the foreseeable future, the thought of spending time with Robin pales in comparison

Next to my husband, Robin is positively dull.

“Matthew,” I say as I sip my pear martini. “Dance with me?”

Matthew peers over at me, a beer bottle sitting at his lips.

“Yeah, that’s a no from me. I don’t dance.”

I sigh, tugging on his arm. “Oh, come on. Dance with your husband.”

His eyes flash, warring with himself. He wants to do this for me but can’t quite bring himself to. I love it when I bring him close to the tipping point, when he gets so close to doing something he wouldn’t normally do. I love watching him experience new things.

Another sip of beer goes down his throat, and I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs.

“Nah, you go dance. I’ll just watch.”

I glace over at Patrick and Owen, who are just grinning at me. They know that his refusal bothers me more than I’d like, that in general, anything Matthew has the power to hurt me. So I just straighten my shoulders, drain my drink, and set the glass on the bar top. A second later, I’m stepping onto the dance floor, my hips moving in time with the beat. It helps that I took dance lessons growing up. I do have a good grasp of rhythm and can really shake my ass.

As I move around on the dance floor, my eyes catch Matthew’s. He’s standing in the crowd near the bar, his gaze on me. Owen is whispering something into his ear and I see him pull his bottom lip between his teeth.

He likes what he sees so I put on a show, writhing around, letting my hands slip up my chest as I do so, hoping to entice him to come to me.

It doesn’t quite work, but I do love that his eyes are fastened to me.

Love that I’m the focal point of his world.

Just as I think that, my body dips against someone else, and I feel hands land on my hips. My gaze turns over my shoulder, and I see Robin standing there.

“Hey, you,” Robin says, grinning at me and placing a soft kiss to my cheek. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

“It was a last-minute decision.”

His eyes run across my face and then dip right down to my dick. “You look hot tonight.”

“So do you,” I say politely.

He grins at me and then pulls me into him. I try to distance myself without making a scene. I don’t want Matthew to get the wrong idea, but Robin isn’t getting the hint. He just pulls me closer and grinds up against me.

“Robin,” I say with a small laugh, pressing my hands against his chest. “I?—”

“I saw you across the room and had to touch you,” he interrupts, his face nuzzling against my neck, and for some reason, it feels all wrong. Nothing feels right anymore unless Matthew is a part of it.

The only person I want touching me is him.

“I want you again. Fuck, you’re so hot…”

“Robin,” I protest, but I can’t quite get away. He’s not aggressive or being too rough, but I’m definitely not fighting him hard enough. I’m trying to be polite because I don’t want to make a scene.

Fuck, if only Matthew was here. If only he’d danced with me in the first place. Robin’s lips slip across my cheek, and almost settle on my mouth. I tilt my head back slightly, trying to evade, but before Robin can lean into me, I’m pulled back by a set of hands.

Into Matthew.