14. Chapter 14 #2
She laughs — a low, breathless sound — and reaches for my shirt. I yank it off myself, faster than she can manage, and then her palms are flat against my chest, tracing the lines of muscle.
I walk her backward until her knees hit the bed. She sits down, looking up at me through her lashes, and reaches for my belt. The same motion she made in the car. The same deliberate unbuckling. But this time, I don't let her take control.
I catch her wrists. "Not this time."
Her eyes flash. "No?"
I shake my head slowly. "Lie back."
She holds my gaze for a long moment — challenge and surrender warring in her expression.
Then she obeys, settling against my pillows with her hair fanned out like dark water.
I kneel over her, unzipping her skirt and sliding it down her legs along with those absurd heels.
She kicks them off, and then she's beneath me in nothing but a scrap of black lace, her olive skin luminous in the half-light.
I strip the underwear down her thighs. She lifts her hips to help, and then she's bare — completely, devastatingly bare — spread out on my sheets like something I don't deserve but can't stop myself from taking.
"You're so fucking beautiful," I say. The words scrape out of me, raw and unfiltered.
Her breath hitches. "Matt —"
I lower my head between her thighs.
She gasps when my mouth finds her. Fuck — she's already soaked. I taste her slowly at first, learning her with long, deliberate strokes of my tongue. She's slick and swollen, her clit a tight bud beneath my lips. I circle it. Tease it. Feel her thighs tremble against my shoulders.
"Please —" The word comes out fractured.
I give her more. Flatten my tongue against her clit and press, then suck gently, then harder. Her hips buck off the mattress. I pin them down with one hand across her stomach and keep going — rhythmic, relentless, building her toward something I can feel gathering in the tension of her body.
She comes apart with my name on her lips.
Her back arches off the bed. Her fingers twist in the sheets. I feel the pulse of her orgasm against my mouth, wet and hot and trembling, and I don't stop. I work her through it, easing off just enough to let her breathe before I start building again.
"Wait —" She's panting. "I can't —"
"You can." I drag my tongue through her folds, tasting her release. "Give me another one."
She makes a sound that's half sob, half laugh. Her hands find my head, fingers threading through my hair — not pushing me away, but holding on. I find her clit again and stroke it in tight circles, faster now, more pressure. Her thighs clamp around my ears. Her breathing turns ragged.
The second orgasm hits her harder than the first. She cries out, and I muffle it with my palm over her mouth — Elias is down the hall, sleeping, the thought distant but present enough to keep us from being completely reckless.
Her body shakes beneath me, wave after wave rolling through her, and I ride it with her until she goes limp against the mattress.
I kiss the inside of her thigh and lift my head. She's staring at me with dazed eyes, her chest heaving.
"Get up here," she manages. "Now."
I shed the rest of my clothes in seconds. I settle between her thighs, the head of my cock pressing against her entrance. She's so wet I can feel it coating me before I even push inside.
"Look at me," I say.
Her eyes lock on mine. Green and deep and wanting.
I thrust into her in one smooth motion.
We both groan. She's tight — impossibly, devastatingly tight — and hot and wet, and for a moment I just stay there, buried to the hilt, feeling her pulse around me. Her legs wrap around my waist, heels pressing into my lower back, urging me to move.
I pull back and drive into her again. Hard.
"Fuck —" Her head falls back, exposing the line of her throat. I put my mouth there, teeth grazing her pulse point, and set a rhythm that's anything but gentle. The bed creaks beneath us. The headboard taps the wall — soft, but audible, and I slow down just enough to shift the angle.
"Don't stop," she breathes. "Don't you dare stop."
I don't.
I fuck her with the kind of desperation I haven't let myself feel in years. Every thrust is a confession. Every snap of my hips says something I can't put into words. She meets me stroke for stroke, her body rising to meet mine, her nails raking down my back hard enough to sting.
"You feel so good," I say against her ear. "So fucking wet for me."
She whimpers. Her walls clench around my cock, and I know she's close again.
"That's it." I drive deeper, grinding my pelvis against her clit. "Come on my cock. Let me feel you."
She shatters. Her whole body seizes, back bowing, mouth open in a silent cry.
I cover her lips with mine and swallow the sound, swallowing her moans as her pussy contracts around me in waves.
I keep moving through it — slower now, letting her ride it out — but the feel of her coming undone is pushing me toward my own edge.
I slow my pace as she comes down, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her throat, her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder. Her pulse hammers under my lips, rapid and wild.
"Turn over," I say. "You're going to give me one more."
She opens her eyes, dazed and dark with want. "What?"
"Turn over."
She holds my gaze for a beat — something passing between us, a question and an answer — then rolls onto her stomach.
I grab her hips and pull her up onto her knees, positioning myself behind her.
The view — the elegant curve of her spine, the swell of her ass, the slick evidence of her arousal glistening on her thighs — makes my cock twitch with renewed urgency.
I drag the head through her folds, teasing, coating myself in her wetness, and she pushes back against me, greedy for it.
"Stop playing," she says, voice wrecked.
"Ask nicely."
"Matt —"
"Ask."
"Please." The word comes out strangled, desperate in a way I've never heard from her before. "Please fuck me."
I thrust in deep, one smooth stroke that buries me completely, and she cries out, face pressed into the pillow to muffle the sound.
I set a punishing pace — harder than before, deeper, the angle letting me fill her completely.
The sound of our skin meeting echoes off the walls — sharp and rhythmic, punctuated by her muffled moans and the wet slide of my cock inside her.
I grip her hips hard, pulling her back onto me with each stroke, watching where our bodies join.
"God, you feel perfect. So fucking hot, so fucking tight. Come for me again. I want to feel you squeeze my cock when I fill you up."
She whimpers, fingers twisting in the sheets, pulling them loose from the corners of the mattress. The dirty talk does something to her — I can tell by the way her breath catches, the way she tightens around me like a vice.
"Tell me," she gasps. "Tell me what you're going to do to me."
I lean over her, chest against her back, mouth near her ear, and I can feel her trembling beneath me.
I plant one hand on the mattress next to hers, so I can keep the angle.
"I'm going to keep fucking you until you can't remember your own name.
And then I'm going to come so deep inside you'll feel me for days. "
She bites her lip to stifle another moan. I press another kiss to her shoulder, her neck. I let go of her hip and let my hand slide around, stroking her clit.