Chapter 23
LOUIS
I floated in a bubble of happiness as we made our way down Main Street, Matthew humoring me as I dragged him into a couple of shops along the way. By the time we reached our apartments, our cheeks were rosy with cold, and we’d consumed way too many sweets from the candy store down the block.
Stopping just outside the door to my apartment, Matty pulled me in for a kiss.
We lingered over it, neither of us in any hurry to part, despite the wind and snow flurries that had picked up half an hour ago.
A particularly harsh burst of wind finally broke through the rose-colored haze and had us splitting apart with a shiver.
“What are you going to do while I’m working?” Matty trailed a thumb down my jawline. He’d told me he needed to spend a few hours in his studio this afternoon, but had hinted at coming over to my apartment when he was finished.
“I’m not entirely sure. Maybe a nap. Maybe a movie or a book. The beauty of taking a week off is that I can do whatever I want.”
“You don’t strike me as the type of guy who’s very good at keeping still.”
I could see why he might think that. I did like to be out and about. But I treasured my down time as well. “The older I get, the less I feel the need to be constantly in motion. I’ve gotten pretty good at entertaining myself.”
“Good.” He kissed my nose then pulled back. “I should probably get to it.” His body language said he wasn’t happy about it.
“I was thinking about steak soup for dinner. I’ve got plenty of that leftover prime rib to use up. Feel free to come over when you’re done.”
“Sounds perfect.” He kissed me again, then walked toward his apartment. I stood at my door, watching him go, then smiled when he looked at me one more time before stepping inside his own door.
As I’d told Natalie this morning, I was fucked.
Forty-five minutes later, a knock sounded at the door, startling me awake.
I’d been reading one of the books I’d found in Matty’s shop and must have fallen asleep.
Blinking blearily, I readjusted my glasses, picked the book up from the floor where it must have fallen while I slept, and set it on the coffee table.
As I stood to answer the door, the knock sounded again, only this time it sounded a lot less like a knock and a lot more like someone was trying to bust down the door.
“I’m coming,” I called out as I crossed the room. I pulled open the door to find a disheveled looking Matthew, hand raised mid-knock with snowflakes clinging to his hair and eyelashes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, stepping aside to let him in.
He strode past me then turned, and I had just enough time to catch the wild glint in his eye before I found myself pressed up against the door with Matty’s thigh pressed between mine and his mouth trailing kisses over every part of my skin that he could find.
What was with this guy and pressing me up against things?
Who was I kidding? I hoped he never stopped.
His cold hands found their way under my sweater, sending a shiver through me as he ran them up and down my chest. He kissed my neck, my jaw, my ear, then finally pounced on my mouth with a ferocious energy I was having difficulty keeping up with.
But I was nothing if not stubborn, and certainly not one to back down from a challenge, leaving me no choice but to rise to the occasion. If he wanted it hard and dirty, then he’d get it hard and dirty.
Untucking his shirt from his jeans, I began working the buttons as he nipped at my lower lip.
My glasses fell to the floor with a clatter, but we soldiered on, too caught up in the wild heat of the moment to pay them any mind.
Finally releasing the last button of his shirt, I jerked the fabric apart, exposing his chest so I could run my fingers through all that thick hair.
“God, I love the way you feel. So fucking masculine. Your hair. Your skin. It just fucking does something to me.”
He growled in my ear, then bent down, grasped me under both legs and hoisted me up. I gave the most undignified squeal of surprise, both my legs and arms wrapping around him in a desperate attempt to hold on.
“Don’t step on my glasses,” I said as he turned us away from the door.
“Do you need them?”
“For what we’re about to do? No.”
He carefully nudged them toward the corner and out of the way with his toe, then crossed the room with purposeful strides, as if he wasn’t carrying a one-hundred-and-eighty-pound man like he was a feather. It was the single hottest moment of my life.
“Bedroom?”
“To the right. No, the left. My right, your left.”
He turned in the direction I indicated, only pausing to flip on the light before dumping me on the bed.
I didn’t even have a moment to react before he was climbing on top of me, shoving my sweater up and licking a stripe from my navel up to the center of my chest. He slid his way over to my nipple, licking and sucking at it while I wriggled beneath him.
When his teeth got in on the act, I nearly bucked him off me.
“Fuck, Matty. You’re going to make me come just like that. ”
He nipped on the tight bud one more time, then pulled back and began attacking the fly of my jeans. “No coming. Not yet,” he growled, blue eyes piercing through me, demanding that I comply.
“Looking at me like that isn’t helping,” I quipped, unable to contain my sass. Though there was some truth to the statement. My cock was aching, begging to be touched, stroked, or sucked, the need to come burning through me like a wildfire, my orgasm imminent.
The sound of my zipper lowering rang out through the room like the crack of a gunshot, and then he was yanking my pants and briefs down in one fluid motion, not stopping until my lower half was completely bare.
We both drew a breath and his eyes flicked to mine, then back down to my dick, standing proudly, begging for attention.
His eyes flicked back to mine, and I saw the split second when hesitation flipped to resolve, and then he was diving forward.
It was a blur after that. Wet heat. Suction.
The telltale tingling at the base of my spine.
His grunt as my cock hit the back of his throat.
The feel of his hair tangled in the fingers of one hand while I gripped the duvet in the other.
It was wet and sloppy . . . and the best goddamn blow job of my life.
“Matty. Baby, I’m going to come. Pull off if you don’t want . . .”
My words trailed off as he doubled down, pulling me deep into his mouth and sucking for all he was worth.
I came with a screech, eyes squeezed shut and teeth gritted against the onslaught as the strength of it tore through me like a hurricane.
I heard him swallow—felt him swallow—marveling at how a man who’d never touched another dick prior to yesterday could give a blow job so powerful it nearly had me blacking out.
I released his hair, my limbs turning to noodles as if he’d sucked every bit of energy and strength out of my dick. He wasn’t done, though. He pulled off, unzipping his own pants and drawing them down, along with his boxers, allowing his cock to spring free.
Climbing onto the bed and straddling me, he spat on his dick and began stroking himself, his movements fast and jerky, clearly desperate to get himself off. My sweater had slipped about halfway down, so I yanked it back up, exposing my torso to give him a larger target.
“That’s it, Matty. Come all over me. Mark me. Dirty me up.”
“That mouth,” he muttered, and then with a grunt, the first spurt of wet heat landed on my nipple—the same one he’d bitten just a few moments before.
“That’s it. So fucking hot.” More cum landed on my belly, pooling on my abs, and then with a final stroke, he spurted onto my sternum right above my heart.
He collapsed next to me, lying on his back, breathing heavily. I sat up just enough to pull my sweater up over my head, tossed it on the floor, then collapsed back on the bed.
Warm and sated, I drifted in a post-orgasmic haze while Matthew’s breathing finally evened out beside me. He linked his pinky in mine, the simple gesture causing my heart to execute one perfect flip-flop.
“You’re pretty fucking amazing, do you know that?” A snort was his only response. “May I ask what inspired that quite remarkable blow job? You were a man on a mission.”
“Maybe I was just horny.”
I rolled my head to look at him. “Maybe . . . but something tells me there’s more to it than that.”
He huffed out a breath, then rolled his head to face me. “I might have read a scene in my book. And it might have been the one that sort of started this all.”
“You might have?” I gave him my best shit-eating grin.
“Fucker,” he muttered, rolling up to a sitting position and scrubbing his hands down his face. “Wait here,” he said, then disappeared out of my room.
I heard the sounds of cabinets opening and closing, followed by water running, and then he was striding back into the room, gloriously naked, with a wet wash cloth in his hands. He frowned as he cleaned me up, showing me his sweet and salty side once again.
“There’s a scene in the book I’m recording,” he began, taking extra time to wipe me down without looking me in the eye.
“It’s a blow-job scene. And the first time I read it, I sort of .
. . got . . . hard.” When his eyes flicked to mine, I did my best to keep my expression neutral.
“I ended up jerking off that night. Came harder than I had in . . . well, a very long time.”
He tossed the towel on the floor, finally turning to meet my eyes. “The thing is, the first time I read that scene, I kept wondering what it would be like. To smell a man. To feel the weight of his cock in my mouth. It was what first had me questioning everything.”
He shifted on the bed, leaning on his side with his elbow propped under him.
“Tonight, when I read that scene, I had all those same thoughts, only this time they centered around you. What would you smell like? What would you taste like? What would it feel like to have your cock in my mouth? And suddenly I realized, I didn’t have to wonder.
I could actually experience those things.
And once I had that realization, I had to know. ”
“And?” I reached out and pinched his chin playfully. “What did you think?”
He bent forward, and with his lips just inches away from mine said, “Better than anything I’d imagined.”