Mateo
Chapter thirty-one
"She knows," Jade says, storming into my bedroom unannounced, as if she belongs here.
"She doesn't," I say, dropping the shirt I was folding back onto my bed. "She would've gone apeshit at dinner yesterday if she knew."
"I'm telling you, she fucking knows." She crosses her arms and stares at me, jaw clenched.
"Would it be so bad if she did?" I ask, taking a step toward her.
"Oh, hell no," she says, spinning on her heel and exiting the room.
My gait is much slower than hers, but I follow her as fast as I can. By the time I get to the kitchen, she's bent over in the fridge.
Don't slap her ass.
Don't slap her ass.
Now isn't the time. If I slap her ass, she might throw a punch.
"I knew this was a bad idea," she says as she stands and closes the fridge.
She places the Red Bull can on the counter and turns to me.
"It was your bad idea," she says, pointing a finger at me.
"You didn't think so the other day." I smile and reach for the can.
"Don't," she says. "You don't need to do that for me."
"I know, but I want to."
Her chest rises and falls with a deep breath as she watches me open the can for her.
"I hate you," she says.
"You don't."
"I do. I really fucking do."
"Then why are you looking at me like that?" I ask, rounding the corner so we're standing face to face.
"Like what?" She slides her tongue over the silver ring in her lip.
"Like you aren't sure if you want to murder me or fuck me?"
"Can't it be both? Can't you have me so fired up that I want to punch that smug smile off your face and also want you to push me against that wall and fuck some calm into me?"
Hesitation can be the difference between winning and losing. Hesitation can cost you the game. The girl. Everything.
My lips crash into hers.
This isn't a game I'm willing to lose.
She wraps her arms around my neck and I guide her back, pushing her against the wall like she asked.
I don't wait, sliding my hand into her leggings and panties and settling it between her legs. She whimpers as I push a finger inside her.
"So fucking wet," I say against her lips.
She moans in my mouth as I forcefully drag my thumb over her clit. I release her and step back.
"Those have to go," I say, pointing to her sneakers and the clothes hung up on her thighs.
She pulls them off and grips my cock through my sweats. Rough and forceful, like the storm she is.
I grip her wrists and pull them above her head, holding them with one hand and burying my fingers back between her legs, rocking them in and out of her pussy.
"I need you," she says between heady breaths. "I need you inside me. Fuck me, Mateo. You're so good at giving me what I need."
I swallow.
"Come on, fuck me with that perfect cock. Make me come like only you can."
I slide my pants off my hips, freeing my dick and lift her. Her legs wrap around my waist as I slide between her legs. She's so fucking wet, so turned on by this, by us. Is it me? Is it the risk? I don't think I care, but I'll give her what she needs and thank her for it later.
Her hips adjust and the two of us guide her onto my cock. I shift my weight to my right leg and pull out slightly, only to thrust back in. Her back slides up the wall with each push of my hips. Glass rattles in the cabinet beside us. If we break something, I might need to frame it.
Her fingers dig into my hair, pulling at the ends as I pound her into the wall. She presses her lips to mine, pushing her tongue inside my mouth, swirling it against my own. I pull away, tugging at her lower lip when I do.
"Mateo." Her voice floats, dancing along the vibrations that pulse between us.
"I'm going to give you what you need," I say. I'm out of breath and out of shape, but I won't let it stop me, not when she's like this. Not when she's saying my name like that. It's intimate. It's personal.
Her legs tighten around me, and I thread one hand between us, pressing my thumb to her clit. Her eyes flutter closed. I caress her faster but with less pressure.
"Come on my cock, Storm Cloud. Soak me," I say, increasing my speed. Her nails dig into my shoulders and fuck she's beautiful when she comes.
Her legs tense, and she bites her lip so hard I'm surprised she doesn't bleed.
"Ma-te-ohh," she cries, each syllable broken before she drags out the O.
And drag it out she does.
Her pussy clenches around my shaft as I hammer her into the wall chasing my own release.
The flood gates open and I'm a goner, sinking my teeth into her shoulder to muffle my groan.
"I hate you," she says as I place her back on her feet.
I roll my eyes. We both know she doesn't.
She pushes me away, and I stumble back with a grimace.
"Sorry." She cringes. "I wasn't thinking."
My pants are caught up around my brace, and I grip the counter to steady myself as I disentangle them, pulling them back on.
"Why are you here, anyway?" I ask. I immediately regret it. It's not what or how I meant to say it.
Her face twists into annoyance.
I try again.
"I mean, I like the surprise, but I wasn't expecting you today. Did you come here just to yell about my sister?"
She snags her phone off the counter and taps at the screen.
Seconds later my phone pings. It feels ominous, and I'm nervous.
Her face is a blank slate, and I have no clue what to expect.
Will it be another photo of us on InASnap?
Fuck, I hope not. No, that can't be it, she'd have texted me or shoved it in my face when she got here. Good news then?
"Oh my god, will you stop trying to guess and fucking look at it?" she asks and hops onto the counter. Grabbing my phone, I slide between her legs and unlock it.
I tap on the text alert and then the photo attachment.
It's a screenshot of an email.
"I got an interview," she says before I can even discern what I'm looking at. "For the scholarship. It's in two days, and I have to bring my portfolio."
"I told you," I say, dropping my phone into my pocket.
The smile on her face is pure joy and astonishment.
"I just…" She doesn't finish, but smiles, her eyes sparkling.
"I'm so proud of you," I say, leaning into her and framing her face with my hands.
She bites her lip.
I kiss her before she can say something smart ass. It's tender. Sweet. Definitely not a friends with benefits kiss. Her hands slide to my waist, tugging me closer.
She could have called. She could've texted. Instead, she came here to show me in person like a girlfriend would. My heart pounds in my chest. Have I finally maneuvered around her shield?
Her lips leave mine, and the emptiness aches.
"Thank you for this," she whispers. Her mouth is still close enough to mine that each syllable is another brush of her lips. Every single one is a shovel cleaning up the wall she obliterated around my heart.