Chapter 39 #2
“I know, but…” He searches my face. “Why?”
“Because I want to feel good.” I kiss him again, slower. “I want you.” My mouth brushes along his scruff to his ear. “I want to feel you.”
His hands tighten at my thighs.
“And I’m sober,” I add.
His breath ghosts over my cheek. “Yeah?” he murmurs. “And what happens when you feel things after?”
“Then I feel things.” I meet his eyes. “We talk about it.”
He lifts a brow, studying me, like he’s still unsure if he can trust this.
“I’m scared shitless,” I admit quietly. “But I’m so tired of running.”
His face softens, and something shifts in him.
“I don’t want this to just be about sex,” he says, his voice low. “As much as I want that… that’s not what this is for me. It never has been.”
“It’s never been about sex for me, either,” I whisper. “Never.”
He stills completely.
My hands press against his chest, my pulse thundering before the words spill out. “I love you, Matt. I’ve always loved you.” I shake my head, emotion clogging my throat. “And I don’t want to waste another day pretending I don’t.”
I take a shaky breath, eyes locked on his, trusting him to catch me because it feels like I just flung myself off a fucking ledge.
A slow, crooked grin spreads across his face, and his hand slides around the back of my neck. He pulls me in and crashes his mouth to mine.
Muscle memory kicks in—my mouth, his mouth—anticipation curling low in my stomach as his fingers skim my skin, teasing the neckline of my robe before slipping beneath the fabric.
His tongue glides against mine, and a sound of pure want slips out of me before I can stop it.
He grips my thighs and pulls me closer, his firm cock pressing against me. He drags a finger down the center of my breasts, then lower.
He tugs at the tie, loosening it, pushing the robe open at my waist.
My breath stutters as cool air hits my skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of his hand smoothing over my stomach.
His mouth leaves mine, trailing along my jaw, down my neck, flicking his tongue against my pulse point.
A steady thrum builds between my legs, and I press down on him harder, rolling my hips instinctively.
He groans. “Fuck, babe.”
His teeth graze my collarbone, and I tip my head back with a gasp as he nips at my shoulder, then sucks hard.
He leans back, and I meet his gaze, both of us breathing heavy.
God. I forgot how much fun it can be to make out.
His eyes drop to my chest, fingers brushing along my décolletage, pushing the silk farther and farther until it slips from my shoulders.
He swallows, eyes glued to me.
My nipples harden, chest rising and falling with every breath. My pulse races. Somewhere down below, I’m screaming for him to stop taking this so slow and touch me—because I can’t wait another minute.
“Christ, babe.” He sweeps his thumb over one of my nipples, circling it slowly, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You are so fucking sexy.”
He flattens his hand, palm cupping my breast.
I gasp, reaching for his tie and tugging just enough slack to get to the top button of his shirt. His mouth claims mine as my fingers move frantically down the row, working each button open until I can finally shove the fabric aside and run my hands across his abs.
Oh my God.
I lean back and take him in, heat pooling between my thighs. My hands move over his chest, rubbing, exploring, desire detonating inside me.
His lips crash back onto mine almost instantly, needier this time, hungrier, hands cascading across my back, pressing our chests together.
“Oh my God, Matt,” I whisper against his mouth, our breaths mingling. “Fuck me.”
He chuckles, low and deep. “My two favorite words.”
His fingers crawl slowly across my skin, sliding up my thigh, thumbs brushing dangerously close to where I’m dying for him to touch me.
I tilt my hips, silently begging, coaxing his fingers higher.
He grins against my lips, ghosting his knuckles up the center of me, so soft I barely feel it through the lace. His thumb dips below the seam, dragging it back and forth in a slow, teasing way that shortens my breath.
I squeeze my eyes shut and whimper, breaking our kiss, every nerve in my body zeroing in on what his fingers are doing to me.
“Already this desperate,” he murmurs.
His index and middle finger stroke up the fabric, again and again, light as a feather, fucking with me, torturing me. The steady thrum grows louder and louder, until it’s impossible to think about anything except the ache and his fingers.
He brings his mouth to my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “I haven’t even touched you yet,” he says softly. “And you’re already soaking my fingers.”
My hands scramble for his pants, but he catches them, then shifts forward and stands, lifting me with him. I wrap my legs tight around his waist, crossing my ankles, clinging to him.
He carries me through the living room and into the hall toward the bedroom. I work the knot loose in his tie.
“Leave it,” he says just as I’m about to pull one end free. He lifts a brow. “I’ll need that in a minute.”
My insides turn to molten lava.
Holy shit.
It’s been way too long since I’ve had a man take control the way I know Matt’s about to.
Nothing turns me on more.
He sets me down in front of the bed, my body sliding slowly down his. I push at his shirt and he shrugs it off, then my fingers are at his pants, undoing them while he watches me with a sexy smirk as I tug the zipper down.
His hands graze my ass as I shove his pants past his hips. He kicks them off and steps out of them.
“Turn around,” he says, his voice rough.
I do as I’m told. His hand snakes around the front of me, pulling me flush to his chest.
“Do you trust me?” he whispers, lips brushing my neck.
I nod without hesitation. “Yes. Of course I do.”
His hand splays across my stomach and inches slowly upward.
My breath stutters as it passes between my breasts, slow and deliberate.
When he reaches my neck, his hand wraps gently around the front of it, light and controlled, but enough to make my breath hitch.
He holds it there, steady, awakening every nerve in my body.
His other hand moves from my hip to the front, fingers finding my underwear, mirroring the same tormenting strokes as before. My thighs tense. His body presses into mine from behind, the contrast dizzying, one hand firm at my throat, the other driving every last thought out of me.
I soften into him, melting back against his chest, eyes fluttering closed as I give in to the sensations racing through me. The kind only he can pull from me. The kind that make everything else fade away.
His hands disappear.
A moment later, the smooth silk of his tie slides over my eyes.
A grin spreads across my face.
“This okay?” he murmurs.
I nod, breathless.
He steps back, and my ears perk up, like that’ll somehow help me see what he’s doing.
His breath skims down the curve of my back, and a shiver races up my spine. His fingers hook around my underwear and he slides them down, over my hips, along my thighs, all the way to my feet.
His hands trail slowly up my calves, over my hamstrings, warmth skating across the back of my legs. Then his palm lands on my bare ass in a light smack, jolting a gasp out of me.
“To the bed,” he says, guiding me forward.
He turns me, lowering me until I’m flat against the mattress, right at the edge. His body hovers over mine, heat radiating, and I instinctively arch, lifting my hips into him.
He kisses me deep, stealing my breath away. I grab at him, my hands roaming across his skin, the hard lines of muscle firm beneath my fingertips. I reach lower, pressing the heel of my hand against his cock, and he groans into my mouth.
His fingers finally slide down the center of me. Firm. Slow. Then he circles my clit once… twice… just enough to feed the ache.
His lips slide across my jaw to my ear. “I’m going to taste you now.”
My stomach dips hard.
“Make you come against my tongue. Lick your pussy until you’re moaning my name.”
“Fuck, Matt,” I breathe.
“I want to hear you, babe. Don’t hold back.”
Then his mouth trails down my neck, over my chest, nipping his way lower.
My back arches. My thighs press together in search of friction, then part, desperate for him.
And when his mouth finally reaches me—
Oh my God.
He grips my thighs and spreads them wide, pinning them open against the bed.
His tongue drags up the center of me.
A moan spills from my lips.
Holy shit.
He pulls back just enough to make me feel the loss, his thumbs circling the sensitive spot inside my thighs, teasing.
God. He’s so damn good at this.
He licks again, firmer this time, flicking over my clit in quick, precise strokes that make my hips jerk.
One thumb digs into my thigh while his index finger slides back between my cheeks, intensifying everything: the ache, the pulse, the frantic need for more pressure.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
Matthew Grayson is about to wreck me.
He presses a kiss to my pubic bone. Then another. And another—everywhere except where I’m craving him. Just when I’m about to lose my mind, he slides a finger inside me, deep, curling just right.
My hips snap upward. “Fuck,” I cry out.
He stills. “I can’t hear you, baby.”
Then he adds a second finger.
“God, Matt,” I say louder, my voice breaking on his name.
He loves that—stroking his fucking ego.
His tongue finds my clit again, flicking relentlessly. Slow at first, then faster. His fingers plunge deeper, twisting, curling, until I’m writhing on the bed, gasping and slick with sweat.
Begging.
The pressure builds, tightening and coiling low in my core, pulling everything inward.
“Oh. God!”
It shoots through me in one hot, blinding rush that sparks in every direction. My thighs clamp around his head as my orgasm rips through my body, intense and overwhelming. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and I gasp for air as I ride out the high.
Warmth kisses my skin as his mouth moves up my body. My heart pounds. Breath short. Everything is hazy. A blur.
The tie slips up and over my forehead. I blink, eyes adjusting to the dim light spilling in from the hallway.
That face. That smirk. That look.
I lose it.
I grab him and crush my mouth against his. There’s no holding back. It’s wild and hungry, and I lose myself completely in his kiss. In his arms. In him.
It feels so damn good.
Letting go.
Falling.
Not caring.
Because as long as I’m falling with Matt, I know I’ll be okay.
He’ll catch me—or we’ll crash together.
The weight of his body grounds me as our kiss grows hotter, all tongues and teeth and everything we’ve been holding back for over three goddamn years. Wasted time, breakups, all my stupid fears collapsing into something raw and real.
Matt drags my bottom lip between his teeth, then hovers above my mouth, panting, eyes locked on mine. “Fuck, babe. I want to make this last forever, but I want to fuck you so bad.”
“Then fuck me,” I breathe. “Now.”
He kisses me again, then reaches between us, lining himself up, dragging the tip through me, wetting it.
He looks at me, like he’s asking permission.
He doesn’t need it. Not right now. But I nod anyway.
He pushes into me, eliciting a soft gasp from my throat as he fills me completely. He pulls out, then drives back in. Again and again. Each thrust stronger, deeper, harder.
I wrap my ankles behind him and lift my hips off the bed, angling myself until he hits exactly where I want him.
“Fuck,” he groans.
We move together, chasing the same end. Sweat slicks our skin. Our breaths turn ragged, mixing in the thick, charged air between us.
My fingers trace his shoulders, down his back, feeling every flex of muscle as his pace turns rougher and more primal. I glance down, watching his cock slide in and out of me, the sight alone tightening everything low in my stomach.
“God,” I whisper, as another orgasm builds.
“Come with me, babe,” he grunts.
“I’m close,” I breathe.
He thrusts two more times, hard and deep, hitting that spot and holding it just long enough to send me over the edge.
I cry out when it hits, pleasure tearing through me. My legs lock around him as I chase every ounce of it.
“Fuck,” he groans, his hips stuttering as he follows, burying himself deep.
He stills, shuddering, then lowers over me, holding himself on his forearms, his breath hot against my neck.
His lips meet mine in a slow, exhausted kiss, like he has nothing left to give. But God, it’s sexy.
He pulls out and rolls onto his back, hand falling to his chest. “Fuck, your pussy feels so good.”
I turn toward him. He’s staring at the ceiling, grin stretching a mile wide. His gaze drops to me and he extends his arm. “Come here.”
He reaches for me, but I shake my head.
His brows furrow. “You’ve always loved to cuddle after sex.”
“I do,” I say softly. “But I just want to look at you for a minute.”
“Alright.” He rolls onto his side, and I move a tiny bit closer until my face is inches from his, staring at him, sharing the same air.
He smiles and takes my hand, lifting it to his mouth. He presses my palm to his lips and kisses it tenderly.
His eyes search mine.
I search back, feeling a steady comfort. Familiar. Safe.
Those eyes.
I’ve stared into them so many times over the past thirty years.
They’ve filled with tears from laughing so hard together.
They’ve held my pain when I couldn’t carry it alone.
They’ve fluttered my stomach with quiet glances from across a crowded room.
They’ve set my body on fire when I’ve been most vulnerable.
And they’ve told me how much he loves me—without any words at all.
There’s nothing I trust more than these eyes.
But God, how I’d love the words.
A flicker of panic sparks through me.
Shit.
I told him I loved him.
Twice.
He didn’t say it back.
My stomach knots.
I inch closer, sliding my arm across him as he rolls onto his back. I rest my ear against his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat ground me. I focus on my breath.
Deep inhale.
Slow exhale.
Matt’s heartbeat.
The sex was incredible. The best. Waiting this long. All that built-up tension. The frustration. Even the almost the other night, and the conversation that followed. It all made this that much better.
It was earned.
Matt’s fingers wander lazily across my back in rhythmic strokes.
I ran.
I came back.
We tried the whole friends thing.
We ended up in bed again.
Same shit. Different day.
I sink further into him, tracing the grooves in his abs.
Same old story...
Only this time—I’m determined to make the ending different.