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When we got back late Wednesday night, he shared a cab with me, giving me a quick kiss goodnight when he dropped me off at my apartment. I was too tired to even cop a feel of his muscled body, merely mumbling a goodbye to him.
The rest of the week, I spent jumping to do Lorraine’s every whim. Matt was off traveling again Thursday morning to Atlanta, and that seemed to give Lorraine a renewed sense of power over me. I swear, one day she even asked me to get a cup of coffee for her, but I faked a bout of diarrhea and told her I had to use the bathroom to get out of it. Every time after that, if she even looked like she was going to ask me to do something, I’d clutch at my stomach, hunch my body over, and moan with a pathetic look on my face. She’d wrinkle her nose in distaste and as soon as she was gone from my sight, I’d laugh out loud over my deviousness.
I haven’t heard from Matt, not that I expected to. On no less than three occasions after he brought me to a screaming orgasm, he didn’t even wait for my heart rate to get back to normal before he would lean over me with a worried look in his eyes and say, “You know this is just sex, right?”
I’d dutifully say ‘right,’ and then gasp as he started kissing me again.
So, even though he was clear that it was just sex, and even though he made sure I understood that he wasn’t relationship material, I still was sort of pining to hear from him. Yes, I know… it’s sex… just sex. And great sex at that.
But I’m a woman. We get our feelings all mushed up in this stuff, and even though my brain rationally tells me not to let my heart get involved, it’s kind of hard not to. I mean, there is more to Matt than just sex. He’s an attorney I’ve come to respect a great deal in the short time I’ve known him. He’s passionate about his work and is a champion for the underdog. He’s a great employer, treating everyone fairly and equally. Also, he’s funny as hell, and when he doesn’t have me sobbing out in pleasure, he has me laughing so hard in bed that I’m terrified I’m going to make the faux pas of all faux pas. The dreaded fart while you’re lying in your lover’s arms.
Luckily, that hasn’t happened… yet.
I finally broke down this morning and sent Matt a short email, asking him when he got a chance if he could email those articles he mentioned on biomechanical engineering. I really didn’t want them… actually wanted to puke from the thought of having to read them, but I wanted… no, needed, some type of contact from Matt.
After all, as a woman, I’m entitled to my period of insecurity and self-doubt that would assuredly overwhelm me at any minute and convince myself that Matt actually hates me and wants nothing to do with me.
When Matt replied to my email around lunchtime, I was so excited I choked on a piece of brown rice sushi that I was trying to swallow. After I hacked it up and spit it in the garbage, I opened the email, eager to suck down the details of some witty or flirty response he would send me.
Instead, he just responded: See attached articles.
Well, shit! What a letdown. I could literally feel my depression firing through my veins over the fact that what Matt had been telling me over and over again was true. I was really nothing more than great sex to him. He wasn’t missing me, he wasn’t pining after me, and he sure as hell didn’t have time to flirt with me.
In fact, I’m betting he was already planning to hit One Night Only this upcoming weekend.
So, you see… that is why I’m too tired and depressed to do anything but head home and crawl into bed.
When I get to my apartment, I’m somewhat relieved that Macy is gone. She had left me a note that said:
Heading to the Hamptons to torture my parents for the weekend. See you Sunday.
Macy had invited me to go with her, but there was no way I was subjecting myself to that freak show. Macy and her parents despised each other, and they literally only got together to make each other suffer. It was sick and twisted, and so far out of the realm of my understanding. I lost my dad four years ago, and my mother and I were very close. We talked every day, by either phone or email, and there was nothing I couldn’t talk to her about.
Well, except maybe Matt.
While I adore my Macy-girl, I’m glad she’s gone because I don’t feel like being around her natural effervescence tonight. She’s like sunshine on a stick, and tonight I just feel like being depressed. I want to put on my stretchy pants and let my stomach hang out while I gorge on ice cream.
Which is exactly what I do. I put on my gray sweatpants, an old Columbia t-shirt, and my fuzzy slippers. I wash all of my makeup off, braid my hair into two pigtails, and curl myself up on the couch to watch a marathon of Law and Order: SVU with my two favorite men in the world… Ben and Jerry.
When I’m well into my third episode, and my ice cream carton is looking pathetically empty, the doorbell rings. Getting up from the couch, I shuffle to the door, intent on ignoring whoever is on the other side. When I put my eye up to the peephole, my skin gets all prickly with awareness.
Matt is standing there in a rumpled suit with his briefcase in one hand and his travel suitcase in the other.
I take a moment before I open the door to do a mental checklist of how bad I look.
No makeup.
Check.
Bad hair.
Check.
Frumpy clothing with an ice cream stain on front.
Check.
Fuzzy slippers that look like something my grandma would wear.
Check.
Oh, hell… this is just sex, so let’s see how bad Matt wants it.
I pull the door open and give him a smile, making sure he can get a good gander at the hot mess that is McKayla Dawson. “What are you doing here?”
In true Matt fashion, his eyes rake down my body slowly and back up again. When he meets my eyes, there’s no mocking over how frightful I look. Instead, his eyes look fevered and his voice is husky when he says, “I’ve been fantasizing about you for two days. Why wouldn’t I be here?”
He steps up to me and leans down to nuzzle my neck, his arms going around my waist. I push back at him, but he doesn’t let me go.
“Matt… I look a mess. I wasn’t expecting you. ”
“You look beautiful, and you’re going to invite me in so I can f**k you senseless. ”
Yes, please… I’ll take two!
I immediately step back when his grip loosens and motion for him to come in, closing the door behind him. He sets his briefcase down and removes his jacket to lay it over the back of the love seat. Perusing the large living room, he takes in the Brazilian hardwoods, the expensive leather furniture, and the custom drapery.
“How do you afford this place? I know I certainly don’t pay you enough to live here. ”
“It is my roommate Macy’s apartment. She’s ungodly rich and apparently thinks I’m like her best friend or something, so she lets me live here for peanuts. I’m totally taking advantage of her,” I quip.
“I seriously doubt you even know how to take advantage of someone,” Matt murmurs as he lifts me up into his arms so that my legs go around his waist. “Enough talk, though. I need to be inside of you. ”
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I press against his lips, welcoming the feel of his tongue against mine. His palms grip my ass hard, pressing me down against his erection, which is already seeking release against his zipper. Pulling away slightly, I mumble against his lips, “Bedroom’s down the hall. ”
Matt starts walking back toward my bedroom, rubbing his chin along my neck as we go. His five o’clock shadow abrades deliciously against my skin, causing me to shiver.
“I’d love to take a shower first,” Matt says when I point out my bedroom door. “Will you join me?”
“Hmmmm,” I muse. “You, me, hot, soapy shower… that sounds terrible. ”
Laughing, Matt follows my direction and carries me into my bathroom. While he strips both of us down, I ask, “So… how was Atlanta?”
“I’m exhausted, but it was a good trip. I got the case that we were mediating settled. Client’s happy,” he said, while trailing a finger up the outside of my leg and over my hipbone. His hand goes between my legs, so I barely can comprehend him when he asks, “How was the rest of your week?”
I think a garbled sound came out, followed by a low moan, and immediately finished by a breathy pant.
He grins at me. “That good, huh?”
I nod my head, and he pushes me into the shower. My hands start wandering, playing over the hard lines of his chest, digging into his shoulders. I let my fingertips gently bump along the marbled ridges of his stomach, and I playfully tug on his happy trail of hair. While Matt shampoos my hair, I take him in my hands and start stroking him to life, which doesn’t take much effort on my part.
Batting my hands away, Matt says, “Let’s finish this shower. I’m dying to get you in the bed. ”
“What’s wrong with shower sex?” I ask, my lip sticking out in a full-blown pout that I’m hoping will earn a nibble from Matt.
Kissing me on the nose and sticking me under the water to rinse off, he says, “Nothing… I’m just so tired, I don’t know if I can hold you up. Bed sex tonight. Shower sex in the morning after I’ve rested. ”
With that, Matt slaps me on the butt and hops out, wrapping a towel around his waist. “Hurry up… I’ll be waiting. ”
He heads back into my bedroom, while I quickly slap some conditioner on my head and work it through my long locks. Rinsing it well, I turn the water off. I dry off as quickly as possible, but there’s nothing worse than taking long, wet hair to bed. Quickly brushing the tangles out, I turn the hair dryer on, trying to get the majority of the dampness out of it.
But I think of Matt lying in my bed… naked… slightly moist… completely horny for me, and, after three minutes, I give up and turn the dryer off. We’re just going to have to deal with wet pillows from my head.
Dropping my towel to the floor, I turn the bathroom light off and walk into the bedroom.
There is my hunk of burning love… my orgasm master, my energizer bunny, sprawled out waiting for me on the bed.
Fast asleep.
I can tell he tried to stay awake. He has one foot propped on the floor and the other on the bed; his legs are wide open with his package all squarely tucked in for a nice sleep. It’s no longer standing at attention and seeking my interest the way it was five minutes ago.
Taking a moment, I gaze at Matt. He is an unbelievably sexy man, absolute perfection in my mind. He’s strong, confident, and quick-witted—an alpha to the core.
But watching him lay on my bed, sound asleep, with his mouth slightly open and a soft snore emitting, he looks incredibly vulnerable to me right now.
The great sex god, Matt Connover, is too tired to make love to me tonight.
And there’s something about it that touches my heart.
Yes, that is someone nibbling on my neck.
Not just someone… that’s Matt nibbling on my neck.
As I start to wake fully up, other sensations assault me. Matt is pressed up against my back, my head resting on his arm, while the other is wrapped around my waist. His c**k is pressed into my backside, and his lips are making a goose-bump trail along the skin of my neck.
I stretch my body and then, for good measure, push my butt into Matt Jr. , who is insistently knocking on my back door. Matt Sr. groans in response, and the arm that was wrapped around my waist travels south, his fingers working their way between my legs.
Yup… that’s on my list of best way ever to wake up!
“I can’t believe you let me sleep last night,” Matt chides as he sinks a finger into me. “You’re a bad girl. ”
No words come out, just a breathy moan that causes Matt to chuckle, and he adds another finger. I feel compelled to converse with him… You know, show him that I can multitask while he wakes my body up.
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