12. Matt
Matt
T he second I caved and let myself kiss her, it was over. There was no pretending now. No posturing. No performance.
Her lips parted beneath mine as she spoke, and I stole it, delving into her mouth unabashedly. She only sank further into it, letting me lead her, letting me take like she’d been desperate for it.
And I knew damn well she had been.
That look she’d given me at the reception, the way her breathing had faltered before and after I’d given her the weakest kiss of my goddamn life, the way she’d practically begged me without words for more than that before giving up and letting it go — it told me far more than she thought it did. Maybe far more than she knew.
I didn’t touch her at first — at least not really , outside of the way I was cupping her cheeks and the way I was crowding her.
I just kissed her like I couldn’t help it, like if I stopped, I’d forget how to breathe.
But then her hand curled into my shirt, her fingers fisting in the fabric and pulling at my tie, and I broke.
My hand slid around her waist, fingers splaying across her back over that goddamn fabric that had been clinging to her all evening and driving me insane.
The other two dresses she’d worn had been enough to make me spiral, but this one , this stupid fucking dress, had nearly made me throw her over my shoulder and take her somewhere private in the middle of the ceremony. But now I didn’t need to.
I pulled her flush against me until there wasn’t a fraction of space left between us. Her body arched into mine, into me , warm and soft and too much, and I knew without a doubt in my mind that I was screwed. She was addictive in a way I wasn’t used to.
“You’re beautiful,” I murmured, pulling back just enough to look at her, to take her in like this. The words came out far more like a confession than I was used to — not just because she was beautiful, because dear God, she was , but because she was something I would never allow myself to keep.
Her cheeks heated, her mouth opening to respond, but I cut her off with another kiss.
She gasped as I finally pushed her that little bit backward, making her lose her balance against the edge of the bed, my knee coming up onto the mattress, my hands holding her up.
I lowered both of us together, refusing to leave her mouth, until her body had sunk into the soft sheets and I was over her, my jacket halfway down my shoulders from her incessant pushing, lipstick smeared across her chin.
I kissed her deeper, harder, hungrier than I had been in years. And she met me every step of the way.
I didn’t care. I didn’t fucking care anymore.
I wanted her.
I wanted her more than I wanted to admit.
I broke it, just barely, when my jacket hit the floor, my mouth hovering against her jaw. “This isn’t part of the plan,” I murmured, my voice low, too rough, too jagged. “Fuck, this isn’t—this isn’t the act, Sienna.”
Her breathing stuttered as she looked up at me, her fingers frozen around my tie.
“I’m not pretending right now,” I added, swallowing past the gravel in my throat, my hand sliding to the back of her neck and lifting just enough to make her throat extend.
My blood rushed south the moment I let myself kiss her right in the center of it.
“Don’t know if I ever was, if I’m being honest.”
I could feel the whimper reverberate through her. “Matt?—”
“You make me feel something,” I interrupted, my voice barely above a whisper.
My other hand moved, raking down her side, settling in the narrowest part of her waist. “You make me feel real . Human. You fucking get to me, like you’ve dug these claws in, and I can’t pry them out.
Don’t even know if I’d want to if I could. ”
I kissed lower, down along her collarbone, the exposed part of her chest.
“I know you wanted that line to exist. But you already crossed it. We both did.”
Sienna was still for a second, nothing but the rapid rise and fall of her chest moving in short, shallow little bursts.
But then her fingers closed around my tie and pulled with a desperation that bordered on frustration, dragging me back up her body and right to her mouth.
She kissed me this time, and any lingering resolve I had was gone. She kissed me hard , hungry, like she didn’t have words left to give me and this was all she could manage. But God, it was enough.
My hand met hers at my tie, hooking into the knot and pulling until the short end slipped free and it fell to the wayside.
“Zipper,” I mumbled against her mouth, pushing the straps of her dress from her shoulders.
I’d undressed enough women in my life to know damn well that I wasn’t going to easily find the zipper on a dress like this.
Her hand left my chest and fumbled along the side of her body, and I followed her, my fingers hooking on the tiny bit of metal hidden beneath a fold of fabric and pulling it down.
I found the tiny hook-and-eye at the top and cursed, a half-laugh breaking from me as I shifted, kissing her jaw, her neck, clumsily pinching the metal together once, twice, three times until it released, the fabric around her loosening.
She didn’t waste a second.
She shimmied, just enough, her hand slipping through the sides until the fabric was pooling uncomfortably around her waist and her upper half was bare, bits of boning sticking me in the stomach.
I didn’t even have a second to appreciate the view before I was sick of being stabbed. “Dear God, we need to get this off you,” I huffed, pulling myself from her enough to actually move . “Lift up, sweetheart.”
She bit back a laugh and raised her hips, letting me tug the green nightmare that had almost made me fully hard the first time I’d laid eyes on it down over her ass and thighs. “Don’t like my dress?” she murmured, her cheeks bright pink, her lipstick close to ruined.
“Exact opposite,” I rasped, shoving it off the bed before I took her face in my hand, my thumb rubbing over her lower lip, destroying the last of the color on her lips and dragging a line of red across her cheek.
Fuck , she looked good with her makeup ruined.
“You’ve no idea the thoughts that have been invading my head all goddamn night watching you move around in that. ”
I didn’t let her answer.
My hand clamped over her mouth when I hooked my fingers on the black lace of her underwear.
“Listen to me,” I said, pulling the fabric down until she was bare, a sinful string of her arousal clinging to them and connecting the fabric to her core before it snapped.
“My son is two walls over. You’re going to be good for me and keep those pretty sounds nice and quiet like before, understood? ”
Her eyes widened as I let myself sink between her thighs again, my free hand pulling at my shirt buttons.
“You don’t have to be silent,” I clarified, popping the first, then the second, the third. “Just quiet . No louder than we are right now.” I moved my hand enough for her to speak and let my shirt fall away.
“Okay,” she breathed, her chest rising and falling faster the moment I moved to my belt. “Fuck, we shouldn’t—Christ. Okay. Okay .”
“No use fighting yourself now.” The clink of my belt buckle freeing seemed to echo between our breaths, and her fingers wrapped around the leather, pulling it out of my belt loops frantically.
My lips met her neck, her collarbone, her chest, the swell of her breasts from sheer need alone, my control gone, my body acting on instinct.
“Shit,” she hissed as my teeth grazed a raised nipple.
I hesitated, glaring up at her through my lashes. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you expecting me to just undress you and not touch you?”
“I don’t know,” she huffed, her brown eyes narrowing and breath stuttering when I dragged my thumb over it instead. “I— fuck —figured you’d keep pretending to have self-control.”
I snorted and nipped at the skin of her breast before soothing it gently with my tongue.
“No,” I murmured, hooking my hands around the back of her thighs and lifting them up, up, up, and back, my bare chest dragging across her lower half and the sheets as I placed open-mouth kisses down the expanse of her stomach. “I’m well past pretending.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but I closed mine over her heat — and all coherent thought dissolved into thin air.
Shit. The taste of her was fucking intoxicating, slick and sweet like overripe fruit, like something I wanted to ruin myself with.
Her thighs quivered against my temples and cheeks as I dragged my tongue through her, slow and precise, savoring the whimper she let out before she bit down on the meat of her palm, that same noise muffled and broken when I flicked the tip over her clit.
I shouldn’t have let myself do this. I knew that, knew it in my bones .
But I didn’t stop.
Her free hand sank into my hair, fingers twisting in the waxed strands, tugging hard enough to border on pain. I groaned quietly against her, pressing my mouth firmer, hungrier , licking into her like it could be my goddamn salvation.
She pulled tighter. “Matt—” It was half a sob, half a whisper, her bite marks visible on the back of her hand.
I gripped her hips hard in answer, pinning her in place when she tried to wriggle away from the intensity. No escape. Not when those soft, pretty noises were morphing into ragged gasps and making my cock throb where it was pinned between me, my slacks, and the sheets.
Her body arched off the bed the moment I sucked her clit between my teeth, my tongue ravaging, one hand sliding around her thigh and through the outpouring of her dampness to press two fingers inside of her, curling them as the sunk to the hilt.
She tightened around them.
“ Fuck ,” I groaned, the singular word muffled.