Chapter 19
nineteen
Natalia
Love is like a cloud. Hazy and dream-like, and just a little bit out of reach. And lust? Well, that’s different. It’s hot in a way that chokes you, strangles the air out of you, until a person is just a dot in the void. An atom in the universe.
I’m not sure what the fuck this is.
My ears ring, fire blazing through my limbs, my nipples, and between my legs.
Matias slams me into the wall, his hands cupping my ass and dragging me closer to him.
Our bodies drag together, but it’s not enough.
It’s not enough when I’ve been craving him for years.
Just standing in the same room with him these past few weeks aches in a way I can’t describe.
This fire has been years in the making.
He presses me against the wall and frees one of his hands, using it to cup my jaw and angle his mouth against mine. His tongue slicks against mine, not bothering with any pretenses, any gentle caresses on my bottom lip.
Matias kisses me like he’s starving.
I moan against his mouth, sliding my hand into the short hair on the nape of his neck and kissing him back with four years’ worth of pent-up sexual tension. There have been other men—a couple of unimportant faces that never went past unsatisfying, limp kisses.
But there’s only one man that understands my body like this.
There’s a little voice in the back of my head that shouts, this is a mistake! But she falls mute when Matias whirls me around the room, arm clamped under me like a vice, cupping my jaw like he may die if he stops kissing me. His sharp jaw moves, a dirty sound echoing from the place our lips meet.
The world spins, and then I’m free-falling, but I can’t bring myself to care. We collapse onto the sofa, Matias right above me, pressing his big frame between my thighs and groaning low when I welcome him with another hot, open-mouthed kiss.
I kiss him like I need him to fuck me.
We break for a moment, and I use the opportunity to take him in. He watches me through half-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling with jagged breaths. His mouth is pink and shining, bottom lip beckoning me in the dim light of my living room.
I move before I change my mind, tugging at his shirt, determined to touch him like I’ve been dying to for so long.
These years without him, without his kisses and touch and body…
it’s been so long. And the need grips me so hard it feels like a bucket of ice water, seizing my chest until I’m just a bundle of needy nerve endings clutching his t-shirt.
The feeling eases when he rips the shirt over his head, and it feels like I can breathe a little as I skate my fingers down his torso. He’s always been my kryptonite.
I like scary-looking men. No, that’s not right. I don’t like scary-looking men.
I like scary men. Full stop.
And Matias is the devil himself.
His abdomen contracts as I relearn his tattoos under my fingertips, greeting them silently like old friends. There’s a pair of mythical monsters I always liked the most, a dragon playing on the firm, lean curve of his stomach, leading right to his?—
He groans, the lean planes of his abs tensing when I press my hand against the firm bulge on his jeans.
It would be so easy to finish this thing between us.
But then I look up. Matias watches me, his eyes shuttered, like he can’t believe the sight before him.
Like he can’t blink for fear of missing the moment.
I reach up and grab his hand instead, dragging the weight of his firm body against mine and sighing when his lips find mine again. His lower lip burns between mine, his beard scratching against my chin, the heat from his chest teasing my nipples.
Matias kisses me slowly this time. He hums when I nibble his lower lip, the gust of breath mingling between us.
I reach up, loving the way the strong planes of his shoulders tense and shift when I touch them, when his muscles contract like they’re waking from a long sleep.
Like he’s coming back to life in my arms.
“Hm.” He rumbles, licking an obscene strip at the corner of my mouth. “You kiss like you’re starving, Mama.” His big hands smooth my hair out of my face, using the opportunity to pepper warm kisses all over my face. “He must be doing a bad job.”
“Jealous?” I can’t help but push—to see how much of a reaction I can get out of someone like him. Matias was always so competitive.
He runs a hand between my breasts, raising a brow when my breath hitches and nipples pebble under my shirt.
“You want to know what I think?” He leans down and presses a soft kiss against my mouth, his hand cupping my jaw, and then sliding down my neck, chest, until he’s holding the weight of my breast in his hand.
We watch in silence as his hand cups me, the warmth of his roughened palm going straight between my legs.
“You were always good at lying to everyone except me, Natalia. He doesn’t matter.” If he only knew how good I’ve become at lying to him…
“You have a really big ego.” I tell him, praying he can’t see the gleam in my eye.
He likes that, one side of his mouth pulling into a smirk. “Not big. Huge.” He winks, glancing between our bodies at his erection. “You think I’m the only one here feeling this?” Matias releases my breast, his hand trailing down my soft belly, stopping at the seam of my pajama shorts.
“If I pull these little shorts to the side, and play with your pussy, I won’t find you dripping for me?”
I short circuit at the sound of his voice, low and dangerous. The smart thing would be to send him home—because I’m way past playing with fire. Matias observes me, his eyes glued to my face, watching as I swallow down one shaky breath after another.
My hand trembles as I follow his, pressing it against my pussy through my shorts, leading him to the place I ache the most.
“Why don’t you find out?” My voice is barely above a whisper, but the room is so charged, so quiet—that I may as well be screaming for him to touch me.
And when his hands glide around my ass and hook over my shorts, dragging them down, I realize I’m not above begging him to put his hands on me. Cool air wraps around my thighs, making me feel exposed as I press my knees together.
Matias wraps a hand around each of my thighs, his warmth chasing away the cold until I spread my thighs for him.
And as composed as he looked above me, the second I let him in, he falls apart before me.
We watch together, as he skates his tattooed hands over my apex, the contrast between my soft skin and his weathered hands making me tingle in anticipation.
“You always had the prettiest pussy in the world.” He breathes, voice awed as he runs a finger against my clit, and then another. Matias leans down, eyes drinking me in so deeply my heart races as he lingers right above the apex of my pussy. “You don’t know the things I’d do for you, Florecita.”
He draws slow circles around me, taking a perverse amount of pleasure when I twitch beneath him.
Taking even more pleasure in this whole thing when his fingers come back slick with my need—but I’m past caring about the smug look on his face.
I’m already doing like, a dozen things I said I’d never do again, so what’s the harm in begging?
“Please?” The word hangs between us, and I fully expect Matias to use it against me.
But to my surprise, the harsh expression on his face softens, and when he strokes me again, his hands are tender and sure.
Like he’s done this a million times before—like he was just teasing me to an orgasm this morning.
My body responds in turn, heady arousal coursing through my limbs like molten honey, my eyes glazing over like it hasn’t been four years since the last time we did something like this. Like no time has passed.
I close my eyes, sighing against the cresting ache between my legs.
And I damn near shoot off the sofa when he puts his mouth on me.
Matias clamps an arm around my hip, his eyes mirthful as he wraps his mouth around my clit, savoring me like this is his first meal of the day.
Or the last meal of his life.
The stubble on his chin scratches between my thighs, the sensation staining the unadulterated pleasure with a hint of pain.
Matias stares deeply into my eyes, watching me as he flattens his tongue and drags it between my legs.
All my limbs tense at once. I try bucking, moving, shifting—not sure what the hell my goal is.
But he doesn’t seem to care. No, Matias follows me, flooding every last cell in my body with blinding pleasure.
It hasn’t felt like this in a long time, I think, watching the ceiling as my sight dims with the last of my coherency leaving my body.
Even when I touch myself, it doesn’t feel like this.
My muscles relax, that tell-tale, clenching ache building between my legs.
And then, when I start to feel like a dot in the universe, his deft fingers drag through my drenched slit, slowly sliding inside me and moving in time with his tongue.
I think I stop breathing when he finds that spot I like.
My hands trail down, dragging through his hair, digging my nails at the spot where his hair meets the back of his neck. I buck into his mouth, savoring the sight of his muscular shoulders move in time to coax me to an orgasm.
My core tenses, the beginning of my orgasm traveling through my stomach, the wave just begging to crest?—
Matias stops.
I lean up to face him, half-incoherent and aching, burning inside, watching mutely as he presses my phone towards me.
“What are you….?” I glance at the phone, pausing when I realize the phone is dialing out. I blink through the lust-induced haze, eyes flitting to Matias when I realize he’s calling Dom.
“Him or me?” Matias rumbles, leaning down and placing a kiss between my legs. The sound is wet, sinful, downright dirty. And I completely short-circuit when he skates a finger around my clit.
“Wh—what?”
“The cop or me?” He asks sharply, warm breath wafting between my legs. I shift mindlessly, trying to find a position to ease the pain—and scrambling for the mental clarity to figure out what the fuck I want to do.
The phone stops ringing as the call clicks and Dom’s voice rings on speakerphone. “Hello?”
“H—hey.” Matias raises a brow, his hands skating around my thighs, caressing the gentle slope of my stomach, watching me with the patience of a monk. But the erection between us tells another story.
Dom or Matias?
Dom or Matias?
I wrack my brain, trying to ignore the sweet achy pressure when Matias leans down and kisses me between the legs again. He’s really not playing fair.
“Natalia?”
“Dom. Hi.” Matias wraps his lips around my clit, and I have to press the phone against my neck and bite back a moan. “Listen…I…”
Matias starts fingering me again, an evil gust of laughter rumbling through him as I fight to get the words out. This is nothing short of torture.
And it’s the exact reason why I’m never going to pick Dom over him.
“Dom, I don’t think I’ll have time to hang out anymore.” I blurt out.
“Oh.” The man’s voice on the other line cuts short. “Okay…? Is…is everything okay? Your voice sounds weird.”
In the back of my head, I realize it’ll only take a handful of misplaced words from the young police officer to ruin everything. But when Matias hums his approval against my pussy, nothing else seems to matter.
“I’m fine.” I say curtly, pressing the phone against my forehead.
“I—I have to go now.” I end the call and throw the phone across the room, moaning loudly when Matias rewards me by doubling down with his fingers.
He thrusts firmly, steadily, matching the pace of his tongue, eyes burning like he’s a peon at the feet of a goddess.
And it’s the look that does me in.
Because through four years, a handful of meaningless dates, and dozens of hungry-eyed random men…no one ever sees every corner of me and still looks at me like that.
I shatter beneath him before I can stop myself, currents of pleasure gathering in one single point between my legs, until I’m a damp, shuddering mess beneath him. Until I have no thoughts. Just a body, floating in space, staring at the ceiling with ringing ears and blurry vision.
And a deeply satisfied grin on my face.
When my ears stop ringing, what I hear next makes my blood run cold.
“…What do you mean Santos is in the hospital?” I shoot up, slowing when Matias gives me a look and gives my leg a little squeeze. “Which hospital?”
I still, trying to listen to the next bit, my stomach dropping when Matias reaches for his shirt and throws it over his head. He speaks with the other person on the other end of the line for another moment before ending the call and pressing the phone against his forehead.
“What happened to Santos?”
Matias moves quickly, throwing his clothes back on and saying: “Car accident. They don’t know how bad it is.”
My stomach drops. I dart into the bathroom, cleaning myself up at light speed and looking for a change of clothes.
“Natalia…you should stay here.” Matias leans against the doorframe of my bedroom, shaking his keys like he’s about to walk out the door without me.
I know how Matias is. He acts impenetrable.
But he’s not good at lying to me, either.
And I can tell by the ashen look on his face, and the restless bounce of his foot, that he needs someone.
“I’m coming.” I say decisively, hopping into some jeans and dragging them up my legs. “We can either ride together. Or you’ll see me asking for you at the hospital.”
He looks at me for a long moment before nodding once. “I’ll be in the car.”
The moment he leaves, I use the opportunity to throw my hair into a haphazard bun, wondering if it’s a trick of the light…or if I really look more like the old me than I’ve looked in years.