Jade
Chapter twenty-six
Iused to think those T-shirts and coffee mugs with sayings about needing vitamin sea were stupid. But I get it now. The ocean is healing. By the time we left the beach yesterday, I think we all felt a little lighter. Relaxed. Ready for anything life could throw at us.
A far cry from today.
We started with a tour of the stadium, and Coop got to run the bases.
Then Mateo took us to his favorite museum.
I know he was trying to appease my artistic side, and I appreciate the effort, but it was boring as fuck.
After the museum we grabbed sushi and came home to get ready for Friendsgiving.
It was a lot. I'm glad the day is over and we're heading back to Mateo's.
As soon as we step into the condo, my chest loosens, and I can breathe again. Which says everything about how Friendsgiving went considering how stuffy his condo is.
Coop enjoyed playing with some of the other player's kids, and everyone was friendly enough, but I still stuck out like a sore fucking thumb.
From my hair, to my clothes, to my lack of baseball knowledge.
And I fielded far too many questions about tattoos for my liking.
Like I was a museum exhibit. Half of them had several tattoos of their own, so I don't get why it was such a hot topic.
I don't think it was intentional, but it didn't make it any less uncomfortable.
Further confirmation I don't belong in Mateo's world, especially the one that exists outside Wilmont.
One thing surprised me though, something I didn't pick up on until tonight.
Mateo doesn't drink alcohol.
He drank soda and water all night. Even when everyone else drank beer and cocktails. Even I had a beer. Okay, and a low dose edible. But who could blame me? I needed to calm the voices of anxiety somehow.
"Do you take pain meds?" I ask, because I can't remember him ever opening a prescription bottle. Only ever ibuprofen. And after realizing he's sober, I find it oddly curious.
He holds a finger to his lips and closes the door to the bedroom where he's laid a sleeping Coop. I said I could do it, but his face argued. His sexy, take control face, that I hate to love.
"I haven't had anything stronger than an over-the-counter painkiller in fifteen years? Maybe twenty?" He drags his hand over the beard that's growing out again. He hasn't shaved since I picked on him for it.
"Not even after surgery?" I ask.
He shakes his head.
"And alcohol?"
He raises a brow, pinching his lips as he closes some of the distance between us.
I swallow like the prey I am. My heart racing at how the tables have turned tonight.
"I don't remember. One day I ordered seltzer instead of a beer and realized I didn't need alcohol to have a good time, so why bother?"
He takes another step forward, and fuck me, I'm going to like this game.
I slip out of his reach and use the couch as a barrier between us.
His Adam's apple bobs in his throat, and his blue eyes cloud over as if he were drunk.
Except it's me he's drunk on, and it's a knife in my gut. One I continue to twist.
I sink my teeth into my lower lip.
He rounds the corner, and I backpedal, turn, and run.
But Mateo, he's a storm chaser, and I'm the storm.
"Enjoy this game now, Storm Cloud, because a few weeks from now you won't be able to get away so easily."
My heart races, anticipation of what is yet to come, but my brain short circuits. A few weeks? That's feelings territory. I grip the doorframe to Mateo's bedroom and dare to look over my shoulder.
Mateo stalks toward me, pulling his T-shirt over his head as he gets closer. My brain blanks. It's me and him, and every last thing he wants to do to me. Forget any noes I may have had before him. They no longer exist. This alpha exchange we seem to fall naturally into is surreal.
"You've been teasing me all night," he says, licking his lips.
"Teasing you how?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"With this," he says, reaching for me. He brushes my hair over one shoulder and traces my bare spine with his finger.
"This top is torture. I've been thinking about bending you over all night."
I've never loved a shirt more. Turning, I take a step into the bedroom.
Mateo pulls at the single knot in the middle of my back, and I freeze.
The warmth of his body close to mine silences my inner brat.
He kisses my neck, lingering as he pushes my top off my shoulders. Deft fingers undo the clasp of my bra, and both it and the shirt fall to my feet. His tongue follows the trail of his earlier fingers, and my breath catches in my throat.
"I've dreamt of this," he says, his voice emitting vibrations up my spine. "Of you," he adds.
My body stiffens at his confession, but then his bare chest is against my back as he undoes my jeans and slides my zipper down.
"Here's what's going to happen," he says, his lips brushing my ear. "I'm going to bend you over that bed, and then I'm going to make you come so hard, you leave a puddle on the floor."
My pussy clenches at his words.
He slides a hand around my throat, forcing my head back and pushes his other hand into my pants.
"Mmm, how long have these panties been soaked, Storm Cloud?"
I don't answer him, afraid of what I might say if I do.
He pushes my panties to the side and swipes a finger through my wetness. When he removes his hand from my pants, I cry out at the loss. But then he lifts his hand past my face, and the sound of him sucking his finger has me ready to beg.
Luckily, he doesn't make me.
His hand disappears from around my neck, and he drags my jeans past my hips.
"Someday, I'm going to pull those down and drag my tongue along with it," he says and then the heat of his body is gone.
I whip around, ready to give him the verbal lashing he deserves if his plan is to get me into the state I'm in only to walk away.
"Take it all off for me, boots too," he says and drops into the chair in the corner of the room. His gaze never shifts away from me as he takes off his own shoes.
Reluctantly, I do as he says and stand before him, wearing nothing but my panties and somehow feeling even more exposed. Can he see the way my heart thuds in my chest? The way my breath is uneven? Can he see the feelings written in my eyes?
"You need to lose those panties before I get to you." He stands and meets my gaze as he unbuckles his jeans, sliding them off, past the newer slimmer brace he's been wearing. He steps out of them, his dick at full attention as he removes his brace. "Now."
I shake my head.
He moves far faster than I expect, closing the distance between us and spinning me around in mere seconds.
He pushes down on my shoulder blades, and I fall to my elbows on the bed, my ass in the air.
He puts a pillow beneath my hips, and then my panties slide down my legs until I can kick them off the rest of the way.
"God, you're a sight," he says. "I wish you could see yourself like this."
Only the sound of our breathing fills the air for a moment, and I wait, unsure of what to expect next. That's the thing about Mateo, he's forever surprising me. And for once in my life, I'm not dreading the surprise. That is until I hear a drawer open followed by an irritated groan.
"What is it?" I ask, looking over my shoulder.
"No fucking condom," he says through gritted teeth.
I roll to my back, deflated. This cannot be happening. Not now. Not when we were about to fill the silence with the slapping of our bodies.
"It's fine," he says, closing the drawer. A strand of his blond hair falls in his face, and he licks his lips. His blue eyes travel down my naked body, consuming me. It's slow and intentional, a promise. "We'll have other fun."
'Other fun' doesn't work for me. Not with him looking at me the way he is. I shift up to my elbows.
"I'm on the pill, and we're both clean, right?"
He swallows, unsure.
"I'm okay with this," I say, surprising myself that the words are genuine. "I trust you."
Our gazes lock.
The spike strip between us removed.
Mateo wastes no time, grabbing me by the hips and spinning me back over. As if I'm a rag doll. My insides quake.
A hard smack lands on my ass, startling me.
I don't want to like it, but my mouth betrays me, letting out a moan.
"Mmm," he says. "I think I discovered one of your yeses."
Another slap across my cheek, harder this time. The tingle between my legs intensifies. As much as I want to beg him to keep going, I want him to take it even more. I grip the sheets and pull my body further onto the bed.
Rough hands grip my calves and pull me back, forcing me back into position.
"Carolina," I say.
He releases me. "What?"
"Safeword." I pant. "Not using it now, but Carolina."
"Atlantis."
There's a soft breeze against my backside before he makes contact.
If I have a bruise in the shape of his hand on my ass tomorrow, it'll be worth it.
He slides an arm beneath my hips like a man on a mission, and I squirm.
"Stop squirming or the next one will be harder."
There's a light flutter against my clit, and then it intensifies. He grips my ass, digging his fingers into the flesh. Definitely going to have a bruise, and oh fuck…I…fuck. My back arches, and the pressure on my clit disappears.
I cry out in frustration.
Fucking tease.
"Oh, you don't get to come yet," he says. "Not until I say."
Little does he know, I could probably get off just by listening to him talk like that.
He pushes a finger inside me, and I inhale sharply.
His other hand slides down my ass, finding my wetness and dragging it up, pausing imperceptibly at my hole. Everywhere he touches, my senses are heightened.
Bending over me slightly, he drops his tattooed hand to the bed beside my chest, his cock sliding between my cheeks. The heel of his hand between my legs presses on my clit, rubbing as he rocks his fingers in and out of my pussy.
His cock teases me, and part of me wants to tell him to take my ass, but I stop short, the pressure inside building.
He pulls his fingers from my pussy and my body seizes.