7. Natalie
7
NATALIE
“ G lad to hear you had a lot of fun,” he spits out as soon as Anne and Noah are gone.
“Judging by what Noah said, I’m not the only one who had a lot of fun.” There’s a feeling deep in my chest I don’t have a name for.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t have that much fun.” His tone is judging, poisonous—turning the feeling in my chest to rage.
“Where the hell do you get off?”
“Not making out with random bartenders, that’s for sure.” He bites back.
“Oh, sorry. Was it something I wasn’t supposed to do? Here I was, thinking I’m a goddamn grown woman, free to do whatever, with whoever I please.” Anger simmers inside of me, getting ready to burst.
“Yup. And you sure exercise that freedom.”
That’s it. He’s gone too far. I get up from the lounge chair, pushing a finger into his chest. I force eye contact and his gaze forces a breath out of me. His green eyes are dark with rage and something else. Hunger.
“I’m not sure what’re you implying, but I won’t let you talk to me that way.”
“Might as well go back to not talking to me at all.” He huffs.
“What do you want from me?” I command.
“What do I want from you?” A flash of hurt trickles into his gaze before his eyes darken more. Seconds tick by. “I’ll show you what I want from you.” His voice is suddenly barely above a whisper.
Before I know it, his lips are on mine, shameless and conquering. Arousal tingles deep in my core as he bites into my lower lip to make me open for him. His tongue explores my mouth, so sure and rough. So unlike the cool and collected Matt I know. My hands are all over him while his skilled hands travel from my hair down all the way to my ass. He grabs it, closing the space between us, rubbing me on his already hard cock.
I let out a whimper, and he breaks the kiss, breathing heavily.
“Are you drunk?” Here he is, Matt the gentleman.
“No.” I shake my head. “You?”
“Not anymore.” His lips are back on mine before they travel over my jaw to my neck. Inhaling my scent, he groans, the sound raising goosebumps on my skin.
“Did he kiss you like this?” I’m an independent, strong woman, not a fan of jealous types, but something about his possessive tone makes liquid pool between my legs.
“No.” My voice is quiet, but it’s true. No one has ever kissed me like Matt does, not that I’d admit it.
He lowers me to the lounge chair, never breaking the kiss. My nipples are trying to break free from the dress, and, luckily, he helps them, unzipping my dress and leaving me in only a skimpy, lace thong.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Is the last thing I hear before his mouth closes around my nipple, and I lose all sense of reality. His fingers play with the other while he sucks and tugs on it. He hasn’t even touched my pussy, and I’m on the fast track to O-town.
He releases my nipple with a pop and takes off my thong with eager hands. Lowering down to his knees, he breathes cool air over my slit. My neglected pussy flutters for him.
“Did he get to lick this pretty little pussy?” A loud moan escapes me. Hearing dirty talk from this respectful, proper man is a kink I’ve just unlocked.
“No.” My voice is breathless and any oxygen I’ve inhaled escapes me when his mouth connects to my clit, sucking hard.
“Fuuuck.” My hands are quickly in his hair, keeping him where I need him. He smiles. The bastard smiles at my reaction, continuing to eat out my pussy like he does it for a living.
I’m used to directing my partner’s moves so I can cross the finish line, but he doesn’t let me, leading me to it all on his own.
“Fuck, I don’t have a condom again.” He realizes just as I’m about to come, and I groan in frustration. The groan gets louder when I remember my purse, equipped with condoms at all times, is downstairs and this is too urgent to get it.
“I’m on the pill, and I always use condoms,” I say, my primitive brain quicker than the rational one. He wastes no time, ripping the buttons off his shirt and unbuttoning his pants, releasing his leaking erection.
“I haven’t fucked anyone since the last time we had sex.”
There’s a warning bell somewhere in the back of my head. Like this was important information demanding attention, but all the blood rushed to my clit, leaving the brain highly understaffed.
The feel of his thick cock entering me instantly silences the warnings. We moan in unison, and he pauses for a split second before he pumps into me at an unforgiving pace.
Last time, it was quick and dirty, so I waste no time. My hands travel his shoulders and bulging biceps, leaving nail marks in their wake. His abs are hard and dripping with sweat while he fills me so completely. Using one hand to hold himself up, the other one lands beneath my jaw, remembering what I like, but not putting any pressure on it. His eyes are on me, but I don’t dare to look back, afraid of liking what I’ll see in them. I feel the heat and the smoothness of his bare cock inside of me, pushing me to the edge. But I can’t cross it without clit stimulation, never could.
Before I can lower my hand to help myself, his fingers pinch my clit and light bursts in front of my eyes. I shiver as an orgasm crashes into me, hearing a pained groan before he pulls out his cock and unloads his cum on my tits and belly.
We’re both breathing heavily, our bodies covered in sweat, and, in my case, cum.
“I didn’t want to risk anything,” he explains, once again showing his gentleman-like side.
A sense of dread floods over me as he gets up to grab some tissues from the bar. He cleans me meticulously, but I’m not there. I’m deep in my head, spewing insults at myself.
How could I be so stupid?
We didn’t use a fucking condom. I never do shit like that. I’m always careful. Physically and emotionally. And today, I had unprotected sex with a man who wants so much more than I can give. A man I am forced to be around for the rest of my life.
I wish I could blame alcohol, but I must be honest with myself. The only thing I’m drunk on are the four days in paradise with this perfect specimen of a man. Four days of foreplay, watching him strut around in his swim trunks, displaying all eight of his abs.
He’s done cleaning me, but the look in his eyes is apprehensive. As if I’m a frightened animal and he’s afraid I’m going to escape. And he’s right.
I will.
“Look, I really think we should stop doing this.” His shoulders drop. “Don’t you agree?” I continue.
“No, to be honest, I don’t. I would rather take you on a date and see where this is going. Our chemistry is off the charts, and I couldn’t even look twice at another woman ever since the last time we’ve been together.”
“You know I don’t do dating.” My voice is quiet.
“Yeah, I know.” He sighs, getting up.
“Let me know if you change your mind. Good night, Natalie.” The way he says my name sends another wave of shivers down my body. Or it might be the cool night air.
It’s better this way. We need a clean cut.
Lying on the lush bed in my cabin, I expect to feel relief. Instead, in its place, regret forms.