His eyes crinkle in amusement, and then he starts laughing.
Hard.
I mean gut-busting, belly-clenching, pee-your-pants hard. Pushing away from me, he actually has to put his hand down on the dresser to hold himself up while he laughs. “That was probably the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says between gasps, tears pooling in his eyes.
Glaring at him, I say, “Is your shirt made of like steel or something?”
And that causes him to succumb to fresh peals of laughter.
I merely cross my arms over my chest and rain down my most displeasing frown upon him. He finally gets control of himself, letting out a few stray snickers, and then he’s standing straight in front of me. Holding his hands out in front of himself, he says, “I’m sorry… but that was funny.”
“Yeah, not so much for me,” I tell him. Walking to the door, I open it. “I’m sort of not in the mood now.”
Matt’s lips quirk at me, and he grins at me in sheer amusement. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I told you I’m not in the mood.”
The irritating fool walks over and sits down on the edge of my bed. “Yes, you are. Now get over here,” he says as he unbuckles his belt. “I’d kill for you to take me in your mouth right now.”
I’m weak. That’s all there is to it. I close the door and walk back into the room, but I’m not convinced that this should evolve into sex.
“What are we doing, Matt?” I ask in a tired voice.
He gives me a devilish grin as he pulls his belt off, tossing it on the floor. “I’d say you’re getting ready to give me a blow job, and then I’m going to make you come more times than you’ll be able to remember tomorrow.”
Well, oh shit… that practically just made me have an orgasm right there. Shaking my head to clear the sexual fuzziness away, I say more firmly, “I thought we both agreed this was wrong. Besides, you got your jollies off again at One Night Only this weekend and…”
I stop, because I almost admitted that his sleeping with someone else is a deal breaker for me. But is it? And do I really want him to know that knowledge affects me? He’s been pretty clear about the fact that I’ll only ever be a fuck for him, and I sure as hell don’t want him having power over me… thinking that it hurts my feelings.
So I quickly say, “And besides… I slept with someone else, too, this weekend. Remember… most amazing weekend ever.”
Matt pushes off from the bed and comes to stand in front of me. He takes his finger and thumb, gripping my chin so I have to meet his eyes. “I lied. I wasn’t with anyone this weekend. And you lied for that matter, too. You didn’t sleep with anyone else.”
I start sputtering, jerking my chin away. “What makes you think I lied?”
He’s having none of it. Drawing me into his arms, he wraps himself around me. He kisses me then, so very softly, and whispers. “I know you lied for the same reason I did. We don’t want to admit this attraction, yet both of us are obsessed by it. You can’t get me out of your mind, just as I can’t get you out of my mine. I’m tired of fighting it, and I’m tired of jerking off when I’d rather be sunk deep inside of you. So I’m not fighting it anymore.”
He kisses me again, just a light grazing of his lips against mine, and I sigh. While this relationship is still so very wrong, his words to me are so very, very right. I can handle that there will not be a relationship out of this, and that this will only ever be sex, because damn if it isn’t the most powerful, fulfilling, and mind-blowing sex I’ve ever had. Yeah, I’m jumping in if he’s on board.
I know this will come to bite me in the ass one day, but I’m still not able to walk away. I can foresee all types of problems cropping up just because I’m powerless to stop myself from banging my boss.
Pushing out of his arms, I drop to my knees in front of him and unzip his pants. I peek up at him, and he’s staring down at me with dark eyes, his lower lip stuck between his teeth. He’s holding his breath, watching to see what I do, and it makes me feel invincible.
He must see the power radiating off me, the quiet confidence I have in my stare, because he’s compelled to say, even as he gently strokes my cheek, “This is just sex, McKayla… nothing more.”
Taking him in my hand, I squeeze him gently, loving the way the air hisses out of his lungs. I lean forward and lick him from base to tip, looking up at him once more. “As long as it’s nothing less.”
“Fair enough,” he grits out, before grasping my head and urging my face toward his dick.
I then proceed to give him, what I’m betting is, the best blow job he’s ever had. Yeah, I know that sounds cocky, but the sounds he’s emitting, the curse words he’s dropping, and the way his body cannot seem to stay still under my ministrations… it’s all adding up to be one hell of an inexplicably magical moment for the great Matt Connover.
“God… Mac… that feels good,” he groans. I purr in approval, not wanting to remove my lips from him to thank him for his praise.
Intent on making him scream my name out, I pull him in deeper than ever, straight to the back of my throat, and give an extremely strong suck. His hands grip my hair, and he tries to pull me off. “Fuck… I’m going to come if you don’t stop.”
I think I snarled at him. I might have even released him long enough to gnash my teeth like a feral dog fighting over a bone, but it was enough that he released my head. I latch back on, intent on bringing Matt the same pleasure that he has doled out to me on more than occasion.
I pour my all into it, loving every time he trembles against me, loving when his words are harsh and dirty, but then sometimes reverent. I love the taste of him, and the reclamation of the power that I was holding earlier.
I’m loving all of it, but none of it compares to the feeling of when Matt finally orgasms so hard that his legs buckle and he falls to the bed, whispering over and over, “Mac… Mac… Mac…”
Matt chanting my name in reverence is much sexier than him screaming at the top of his lungs. This was indeed a job well done.
With a supremely satisfied smile on my face, I crawl up on the bed beside Matt and wait for him to recover.
Then it’s my turn.
I can hardly wait.
It’s quitting time. The workweek is over, and a bunch of my colleagues invited me out for drinks with them. I declined, giving some lame-ass excuse that I already had plans, but truth be told, I don’t feel like doing anything other than going home, eating a carton of Ben & Jerry, and falling into a coma-like sleep.
I’m exhausted, both mentally and physically.
Why you ask?
Well, I’ll tell you.
I spent two days in Chicago with Matt, watching him depose witness after witness, while paying keen attention to his cat and mouse game so that I could take the best notes possible. At night, he kept me awake until the early morning hours, making love to me over and over and over again. He was insatiable. I was insatiable. We couldn’t get enough of each other, but I drew the line when Matt wanted to pull me into the bathroom on the airplane so we could both join the Mile High Club.
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 aft
er 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 fuck 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-blow
n 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.
Legal Affairs - Stipulation Page 2