Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
I work around the clock on the grant proposal—half my time is spent researching how to even write a grant proposal. The more I realize how complex it is, the more my blood boils that Chip dropped this in my lap at the last minute. I refuse to be defeated by that asshat. I refuse even more to let it ruin my trip with Matt, which is officially happening. So, in addition to bikinis, sundresses, and hats, I fill my suitcase with books, notepads, and my laptop.
My plane touches down in Cancun around eleven p.m. By the time Marcus picks me up from the airport and drives me to the villa, it is well past midnight. I can feel the anticipation of seeing Matt build in my chest as I walk up the dimly lit stone stairs. It's been over three weeks since we saw each other at his show in Maryland, but it feels like much longer.
The villa looks like it's been carved into the side of a hill, all natural materials, stone, dark wood, and greenery. Marcus hands me a key, and I let myself in. I thank him and walk into the room, taking in the cavernous ceilings and woven jute carpets. The focal point is a massive four-poster bed of raw wood draped in white mosquito nets in the middle of the room. I see Matt's guitars, amps, and other equipment leaning against the couch in a small seating area to the left. A tiny half kitchen is off to the right.
“Matt?”
The entire back of the room opens to the outside. The doors are thrown open, and the gauzy white curtains billow in the warm breeze coming off the ocean. I walk toward the door, my body filling with a familiar electrical current. I smell the tangy smoke from a joint, mixed with coconut sunscreen and the salty air. I walk out onto the patio overlooking the beach. The moon is full and bright, casting a creamy glow on the ocean, the beach, the infinity pool before me, and a beautiful man lounging on one of the chaises.
Matt.
He's wearing a short-sleeved floral print shirt, unbuttoned, and linen shorts. His hands are clasped gently behind his head, eyes closed. Somewhere on the patio a slow, sultry song in Spanish seeps out of hidden speakers.
I touch his shoulder. “Matt?”
His eyes fly open, taking me in, and the look in them has such an intensity, a mix of joy and lust and wonder all at once. I wish I could bottle it up.
“You’re here.” He smiles.
He pulls me down to sit with him on the chaise.
“Long time, no see,” I say and grab the heavy glass of tequila sitting next to him. I take a sip while he continues to stare at me, his gaze so piercing I almost look away. He abruptly takes the glass from my hand, places it on the ground, and takes me gently by the jaw, bringing my mouth to his.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs. His mouth is ready and waiting, those lips soft and parted. I lean into him, feelings surging through me. Our tongues meet and I taste him, the woody and smoky taste of the tequila, the weed, the coconut sunscreen, all together heady. He pauses and reaches under the chaise to pull out a flower, a single pink dahlia. It is vibrant, the dozens of tiny petals each a slightly different shade of pink.
“For you.” He hands it to me.
"It's beautiful. Thank you." I tuck it behind my ear and turn to straddle him on the chair. I can feel him, hard and pressing against me through the linen of his shorts. My hands run down his smooth chest, pushing away the fabric of his shirt. I trace the art on his pecs, run my fingers down the now familiar trail of the tattoos that decorate his arm. I land at his unassumingly soft hands and then his fingers—his gorgeous, long, deft fingers. I have dreamed of these fingers in the weeks we’ve spent apart. I bring them to my mouth, putting them in, one by one.
I take my time, working my mouth thoroughly up and down each finger, watching him watch me in awe. Then I slowly guide his hand and those wet fingers to the top of my pants. He takes my direction and moves south, brushing the outside of my panties and groaning, mostly to himself, “How are you so fucking wet?”
I answer by kissing him deeply, hungrily. “You.”
He rushes to yank my tank top over my head as I fumble to slide his shorts off. Soon enough we're both naked, skin to skin, kissing like it's our last moments on earth, nothing but us and the moon and the warm, salty air, the low, thumping beat of the music and the waves crashing in the background. He stops me, getting up to find a condom. The absence of his body against mine is jarring. I want him back. All of him.
“No, don’t,” I gasp, pushing him back down on the chaise. He looks at me, longing in his eyes. I thought about this on the flight here.
“I have an IUD. I know you know this. I want you. All of you. Just you with nothing between us. Is that okay? Are you good?” I ask, looking down at him, my every sense heightened as I await his response.
“Yes,” he answers. “Jesus. Yes. I want that, too. I am good—all clear. I didn't want to be the one to bring it up, I felt like it should be your decision. But, yes . Just me and you, Jules. Nothing between us. Not now, not ever.”
I kiss him deeply, my adrenaline rushing at the idea of it. He buries his face in my chest, moaning softly, as I take my sweet time guiding him toward me. I rub his throbbing cock against me, drenching it in my wetness, almost coming at the idea that there will be no barrier between us for the first time.
He grits his teeth. "Fuck, Jules."
I tease him at my opening, letting him feel me, me feeling him, the anticipation building. When I can't take it anymore, I slide him inside of me as slowly as humanly possible. Savoring every raw, unadorned inch, loving how he seems to fit so perfectly. The way I'm stretched just enough to accommodate him. My body shudders.
His eyes roll back into his head as it falls against the chaise. “Fuuuuuuuck, please don’t move,” he pants. I stay still as long as I can manage before I slowly start rocking on him, feeling the friction building between us. Our breath quickens in sync. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, babe. Slow down, please. I’ve been away from you for too long, and no condom … it’s too much. I want this to last. I want to enjoy it.”
I try to still myself, but something primal takes over, and I can’t stop. I grab the back of his neck and start moving again. He grabs my hips, holding me in place on top of him. He brings those beautiful fingers up and around and starts rubbing my clit in a way only he can. Those same fingers that were in my mouth a few minutes ago are now moving in deliciously slow circles, the pressure building. I feel myself almost levitating out of my body and lean backward, bracing my hands against his shins. His hypnotic movements outside of me, and inside, the thickness of him spreading me, all at the same time. It's too much. " Matt! " I cry out, gasping for air. I last five more strokes of those fingers before I shatter completely.
I feel myself clench and release again and again around him. My breathing is labored, rasping in my throat. I didn't think it was possible for him to get any harder, but after he feels me come, he turns to granite. By the time I open my eyes and lean forward to look at him, he is staring at me, his eyes huge, glossy, animalistic. I know he is close. I take those fingers, the ones that I love so much, now slick with me, and stick them back in my mouth, sucking on them as I grind against him. That's all it takes. I feel him explode as he flings his head back and screams my name, nothing between us, both of us pulsating in unison.
We stay like that for what feels like hours. We stay like that until I can feel him dripping out of me.
When our breathing steadies, I take a second to lock in this moment—the smells, the sound of the waves crashing behind us, the loose-limbed, hazy-eyed calm, the pure serotonin pumping through my bloodstream, and the sight of the moon’s milky white filter on this beautiful man completely sated beneath me, still inside of me. I never want to forget this.
When I start to wonder if Matt fell asleep, I slide off him and rest my head against his chest. “You doing okay?” I murmur.
No answer. I plant tiny kisses on his shoulder, his neck.
“Yes, more than okay,” he says finally.
"What are you thinking about?"
“I'm thinking if I died right here, right now, with you, that’d be just fine with me.”
I smile, knowing that exact feeling.