11. Casey
eleven
Casey
T he next day was my day off, and I figured I’d wait at least one day before confronting Matt about the kiss. Just to let him cool down and all that, not because I was afraid to confront him. Not that afraid, anyway.
My only plans involved a new hair dyeing kit and a mediocre shower, so I was surprised to hear a knock on the door a few minutes after Oliver left. I trudged over to open it and found Matt standing there, squinting at the sun. He had a few days’ growth of beard, which made him look a bit more like himself and less like the hot sex god I’d accidentally kissed. Okay, fine, purposely kissed.
“All right, since it’s your day off, I thought I’d teach you what a kayak is,” he said.
“No thank you. I have an appointment with a jar of rose frost hair dye and my—” I lost my train of thought mid-sentence as he stretched his arms over his head, giving me a nice glimpse of tattooed abs beneath the hem of his shirt. Fuck, the sex god was still in play. And he didn’t look mad at me. Why had I spent the past twelve hours constructing an apology if he wasn’t even going to be angry?
“Come on, Case. It’ll be fun.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and bounced on his toes, grinning like a little kid on Christmas.
“Fine.”
He tilted his head. “But you haven’t even heard my very convincing argument yet.”
“The sooner I give in, the sooner we get this over with and I can relax, right?”
“Yep,” he said, still frowning, probably because this was the first time I’d ever agreed with him. “All right, well, I want to make sure you know what a kayak is because it’s a big part of camp life, and you keep calling them rowboats.”
“They are rowboats. Boats that you row.”
“Technically, it’s called paddling,” he corrected as we walked side-by-side down the path. He bumped me gently with his shoulder, and it felt affectionate, but maybe he was just uncoordinated.
“Should I be calling them paddle boats?”
“Oh my god,” he groaned. “Now you’re just fucking with me. But I will not get angry. Ben told me you think I’m grumpy.” He turned away from me and unlocked the boat shed, leaving me standing there, having a mini panic attack about what else Ben had told him.
I paused at the door to the shed, which was in a bit better shape than the art shed. That seemed wrong. “Do we have to go on the water? Like if I start just agreeing they’re kayaks, can I go back to dyeing my hair?”
He narrowed his eyes at me, lifting up a kayak like it weighed nothing and holding it out to me. “You must. It’s the only way to understand camp life.”
I stepped into the building to take the little boat from his hand, then yelped and dropped it, tumbling forward onto my hands and knees. How the hell had he been holding that heavy boat with only one hand? “What the hell? Why is it so heavy?”
He burst out laughing, holding out a hand to me. “It’s not. Maybe you need to work out more?”
I growled at him, lunging at him in a rage just as he tried to help me up, which threw him off balance, and he teetered on one foot for a moment before we went flying backward into the pile of life jackets stacked against the rear wall. I landed on top of him, straddling his hips, hands braced on the firm muscles of his chest.
We froze like that for a beat, neither of us moving. Hell, I hardly dared to breathe.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
“Sorry! I mean, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” I started to stand up, but his hands shot out, gripping my waist roughly, holding me where I was.
“Casey. Stop fucking squirming.” He bucked his hips upward and twisted around, slamming me down onto my back on the life vests, and I let out a little whimper, arching up and pressing my body against his, which was maybe not the reaction he was looking for.
His breathing was rough as he stared down at me, still not doing anything, just staring down at me, his blue eyes dark and stormy.
“You’re fucking wearing my shirt,” he growled.
I blinked. “I mean, if you wanted it back, you could have just asked. You didn’t have to tackle me.”
He blew out a frustrated breath. “I don’t want it back.”
My hand went to his chest, palm landing on a nipple piercing, which reminded me of a very important question. “Do you have any other piercings?”
“That’s what you’re asking right now?” He shifted, bracing a big hand on either side of my head. I really hoped he couldn’t feel how hard being manhandled was making me. I was flustered and turned on and confused all at once as he pressed his hips down, and … shit, was he hard, too?
“It’s a pertinent question."
Matt's lips tilted. “You know, all the time you were staring at me, I thought you were cataloging ways to irritate me. Instead, you were thinking about whether or not my cock is pierced?”
“To be fair, it was a bit of both,” I said, arching my back in a way that made his cock glide against mine. A little whimper slipped from my lips as I cataloged just how delicious his body felt against mine. Hard planes of muscle fitting against me just right, his thick, pulsing cock rocking between my legs, making me way too hard to fit in these tight jeans. There was too much fabric between us. I reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up. He reared back and for a second I thought he might leave me like this, horny and needy and desperate for him.
The whimpering, panicked sound I made in protest was more than a little embarrassing.
But he ripped off his shirt and tossed it aside, and I almost came right there. He was just too much of everything masculine, everything I wanted. I reached up and traced my fingers over the light dusting of hair on his chest, giving his left nipple ring a little tug before trailing my index finger down his happy trail.
“Fuck, you’re so damn sexy, Casey,” his words echoed my thoughts about him.
“Just so you’re warned, I do not have abs,” I said, as my fingers traced the contours of his eight-pack.
He snorted and unbuttoned my flannel — or his flannel? He tossed it aside and tugged my undershirt up. I flushed, knowing my body had nothing on his, but let him strip me anyway, because his eyes lit up with a wild sort of hunger. But whatever he saw in me, he must have liked, because he groaned softly and cupped my chin in his hand, slashing his lips across mine.
The kiss was intense, passionate, forceful, and unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I wanted it to go on for days, but after a moment, he lifted his head, his lips inches from mine as his hand skimmed over my stomach.
“For the record, you do have abs. You’re cute and slender, but they’re there.”
“You think I’m cute?” I asked.
He didn’t answer; he seemed focused on nipping at my ear and my throat. Then he kissed me again, and I forgot what we were talking about entirely, arching up to press my body against his, feeling every curve of his thickly muscled chest and arms crushing me into the pile of life vests as his mouth ravaged mine, his hands pinning me in place.
This was Matt, my grumpy asshole boss. Was this what hate fucking felt like? I wasn’t entirely sure I hated him.
But I didn’t like him, either.
I fumbled at the button on his shorts, moaning as he smoothly unfastened my jeans and shoved them and my underwear, down, baring me, palming my cock with a feral growl. I was clumsier, and it took me a moment to free him, but he didn’t rush me. When I got that damn tricky button undone, the reward was well worth it. He was big, thick, and most definitely pierced. I wanted to inspect it, to explore the strange juxtaposition of metal and flesh with my mouth and hands, but he shoved my hands out of the way and wrapped one big hand around both of us.
That I liked well enough that I forgot about any plans. He was wet with pre-cum, and so was I, adding a slick, delicious lubrication as we both started thrusting, his lips trailing down my throat, teeth sinking into my shoulder as his body thrust against mine.
“Casey,” he breathed, thrusting faster. His cock was hot and silky against mine, and I knew right away that I wasn’t going to last. It was too good, and he was too sexy. I tried to remind myself that this was some sort of kinky wrestling, that we didn’t even like each other, but the only thing I could think about was damn good he felt.
Heat coursed through me as he tilted his hips and dragged his slick shaft against mine, the metal beads of his piercing rolling deliciously down my length. I couldn't hold on, even though I knew I should, I'd never done anything like this with a guy before and the orgasm crashed through me, my body convulsing with a rough cry, as my cock spurted all over his, making a mess of him. I stared down at it, breathing hard, and licked my lips.
"Matt. Can I taste?"
He rolled onto my back and shoved my head down to where he needed it, and I was too desperate to give him the worship he truly needed. Instead of taking my time, I lunged forward, licking my cum off of him, then wrapping my lips around his cock. He was so thick that it was a bit of a stretch to fit him in my mouth, but I was up for the challenge, because I fucking loved sucking cock. He had multiple piercings, a row of beads on the underside of his shaft, and something through his head. I thought that one was called a Prince Albert, and I made a note to ask him about them later.
For now, I pushed the curiosity aside and worked my tongue over the metal, finding out what made him moan, what made his hands tighten in my hair, what made the vein on the base of his cock pulse. I wrapped one hand around his shaft and used the other to play with his balls and perineum as I worked him over, determined to be the best blow job of his life.
He would never stop thinking of what my mouth felt like, and that would be my revenge.
Or something. It didn't matter, the only thing that mattered was swallowing Matt's cock as deep as I could.
It wasn't long before Matt's cock was swelling in my mouth, and he whispered gruffly that he was close. I sucked harder, letting him know I wanted to drink him down. He gripped my head and came with a shout, his hips thrusting deeper into my mouth as he writhed beneath me, making me feel like a master of my art. And I swallowed every last drop of his cum and mine, licking his cock clean. When I was done, I found him watching me, smiling, and felt a little flustered by the intensity in his wicked blue eyes.
I stood and yanked up my shorts, buttoning them. “Right, well I’ll remember what a kayak is now, thanks.”
Matt tilted his head, his expression inscrutable as he sat up, resting his arms on his knees. “You don’t want to go out on the water?”
“I think I get the idea,” I said breezily. "Won't forget they're kayaks now."
I grabbed the rest of my clothes and swept out of the cabin. Because if I stayed, I’d surely be snuggled up against his big body, begging him to hold me. I tucked his flannel tightly around me, telling myself that it was as good as a hug.
That sounded like lies.