by Moira McTark
Her fingers dug into the sheets beneath her as the denim crumpled around Matt’s legs and he stepped out of his jeans. He leaned forward on the bed with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
The ache in her core was steady and intense. Demanding and impatient. Matt came for her, moving across the bed, between her legs, and over her body, until his powerful frame stopped above her. His arms bracketed her and his wide, chiseled lips lowered over her mouth, brushing back and forth until she opened to him. Her head angled back and Matt trailed kisses down the sensitive skin of her neck, grazing his teeth over her collarbone, scraping the slight stubble of his jaw through the valley between her breasts.
“Nichole, you feel so good. So soft.” His hand found her pussy, stroking through her slick valley. “So wet.” One thick finger pushed inside of her, and he groaned. “God, so wet.” He added a second finger, stretching her as he explored her from within.
On a quivering moan, Nichole spread her legs wider, opening herself to the sensations of his touch. “For you,” she breathed as she fell back against the mattress and reached for him. Her fingers sifted into his hair, drifted over his cheekbones, his eyebrows, the line of his jaw. She memorized every part of him. This was her moment, her chance to learn his touch, his taste, his scent, every secret his body held.
Tonight would be enough. It had to be.
Her hips rose to meet his thrust, her back arched as he slipped his thumb between her folds and circled her clit. Lowering his head to her mouth, he teased his tongue inside and thrust in time with his fingers, making her pussy clench around him. Matt broke from the kiss, groaning, and moved his mouth down her body. Withdrawing his hand from between her thighs, he gripped her hips. “I have to taste you.”
Anything. Everything. So long as it’s you.
His tongue swept through her sex, once and again, before he honed in on the sweet bundle of nerves at the top of her slit. He suckled her clit, nibbled and teased it, lapped at and kissed it with the caress of his lips until she writhed against his mouth. She throbbed with deep rhythmic pulls that seemed to draw from the tips of her extremities. Her heels lost purchase against the sheets at either side of him as her control waned and she gave herself over to the hold of his hands supporting her raised hips. Feasting, he burrowed back and forth into the slick of her sex, the flat of his tongue stroking hard against the point of her need.
She was so close. Her cries echoed through the room. Then he drew her erect clit into his mouth and sucked her ruthlessly, until the delicious pleasure-pain wracked her with a force so intense she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. There was only the slamming force of her release, ripping through her as she came against his mouth.
Everything about her was heaven. So good, so sweet. So wet and hot, he almost came just feeling her orgasm under his lips. He had to get inside her. Now.
Matt shifted, reached for the nightstand, and grabbed a condom. Nichole moved beneath him, her hands drifting over his chest, his ribs. She stopped to play with his nipples, then teased her nails through the narrow trail of hair on his abdomen. He loved her touch, her thorough exploration of his form. No woman had ever made him feel so masculine.
Kneeling back on his heels, Matt rolled the condom over his shaft and chucked the wrapper aside. Nichole waited, her pretty pink pussy spread open and slick, ready for him.
“God, you’re beautiful,” she whispered.
His head jerked up to meet her stare. She seemed to be almost in a daze, and then her eyes cleared and she looked away.
“Women are beautiful. You,” he ran his fingers from her knees down her inner thigh, “are beautiful…gorgeous…incredible.”
A faint smile played at her mouth, and she shook her head.
His chest tightened with something more than the need to sink his cock into her. Something he didn’t want to think about.
He notched his cock head at her opening. “Look at me, Nichole.”
Her gaze locked with his and for a moment, there was more than lust in her eyes.
No, damn it. This was sex. It was what she wanted. What she needed from him. She wasn’t in love with him. They were simply meeting a need. A mutual, driving need.
“Inside me. Please. Now.”
Please. His cock grew more painfully full, and his blood raced like a hurricane through his veins. How could one word from her lips reduce him to such a state?
He pushed into her, inch by inch, savoring the silky descent while he watched her face, her eyes, her mouth. He stretched her tight sheath, burying himself inside her completely, and then drew back, setting a slow, even rhythm for the sensual, wet friction of their bodies moving in time.
A part of him screamed to drive deep and hard within her, to pummel her body, and take them both quickly to completion, but he couldn’t do it. He’d waited too long to let passion rush the experience. If she allowed him the whole night, he’d give her every sensation, every fantasy he could fit in. But if they were only going to have this one time, he wanted to make it last. He would make it tender and sexy and slow. He would make her remember his touch on the most sacred, hidden parts of her.
And he would remember how she felt.
Wet and soft and tight. The eager grip of her body receiving his, her reluctant release. The hungry kiss of her spread lips against his groin when he gave her all of himself. The rippling spasms of her muscles and the bite of her nails into his shoulders as he stretched her, again and again.
“So good, Nichole.” Not baby or honey or sweetheart. She wasn’t any of those things to him, at least not while he was moving within her. Not like this. He needed to remember who she was. Remember the limit of what they were doing. He couldn’t afford to get lost in the feel of her body parting for him as he pushed deep inside of her, or how it clung to him, wet and tight, as he withdrew, or the sound of her soft mews as they moved together.
He teased her clit on each downward stroke, building the intensity of their contact until she stifled a quiet cry and the muscles of her body contracted around him, tightening toward the point of their union.
“So good, so good…” Her voice trailed off, low and breathy, stroking over his senses and bringing him closer to her. “Please…please….”
He moved inside her faster, harder. A sheen of sweat covered his body and every part of him worked to wrench out the sounds of her satisfaction, the release he would give her.
He drove into her, again and again. Her head tossed against the pillow. Harder. Her arms flung overhead to brace her against the wall. Faster. She sank her teeth into her lush bottom lip.
In and out, so wet, in and out, so close. They slammed together until her legs tightened at his waist and her scream ripped free. The viselike grip of her body seized around him, dragging him over the edge of ecstasy with her. Every one of his muscles tensed, and his focus narrowed until there was nothing but Nichole, beneath him, around him, for him, and everything he’d been holding back and fighting to restrain was in that instant, freed. Pouring out of him.
He buried his face in her hair, his cock still inside of her, and voiced the only words in his heart, “Nichole, Nichole, Nichole….”
Chapter Five
February 15th
Nichole awoke in a tangle of limbs, her body awash in the tender sensations of a night spent in the throes of ecstasy. Matt had loved her over and over, until the inky night sky washed gray and they finally, reluctantly, succumbed to sleep in each other’s arms.
Not wanting to move, she savored the feel of him next to her, his naked form against hers, holding her like he’d never let her go. His chest rose and fell in the rhythmic contentment of one deeply asleep. She wouldn’t let herself move, would barely breathe; she hoarded every second of this closeness, pretending that he loved her, until he awakened and life went back to normal.
She’d waited half a lifetime for last night, and the memory would have to sustain her through the remainder of her days. He didn’t want more. She might have b
een stupid to believe she would be satisfied with this trifling morsel of his love, but it was done—and when given the opportunity to taste his desire, she hadn’t been able to resist.
Her heart ached as she listened to the thrum of his heartbeat, felt the warmth of his skin beneath her cheek, and studied the way his muscles layered over each other to create the masterpiece of his chest.
He shifted and drew her tighter against him, until his rigid cock nudged her belly. His palm warmed as it caressed her hip and thigh.
She arched into him, rubbing as though she were merely adjusting in her sleep.
“Mmm. Nichole.”
Touch me, please.
Rocking against her, Matt groaned and rolled over her, so that his cock nestled against the slick of her sex.
He opened his eyes, and her heart stalled. She was terrified it would be a repeat of the awkward morning two months before where he’d been stunned to find her in his arms and fled the scene in a whirlwind of apologies. But as he looked down at her now, his gaze searched her face. He didn’t look startled. He knew who he was with. Knew how they’d gotten there—and he wasn’t running.
Neither was she.
Nichole’s soft blue eyes stared up at him, utterly open and trusting. After all of his resistance, the years of fighting urges and denying every need that had her name or scent wrapped around it, he’d finally given in and now here he was on top of her. If any other woman were beneath him, he’d already be reaching for a condom. But this was Nichole, and he wasn’t sure if last night’s arrangement carried over into the morning. Suddenly, standard protocol didn’t seem to apply.
She wet her lips and fixed her gaze on his mouth. “Just one more time?”
It took Matt an eternity packed into a single second to realize what she’d said and to recognize the blatant desire that burned in her eyes.
Hell, yes.
He knew that changing the rules of the game they’d agreed to last night might be dangerous, but after twelve years, just one more time seemed like a reasonable concession.
“Just one more time.” His mouth sought the long line of her neck, and her fingers wound into his hair. He closed his eyes, letting his brow skim her collarbone. She was so smooth.
Her legs wrapped around him, and her pussy dripped with a need that matched his own. She squirmed against him, trying to take him inside her, but he held her in place.
“Condom,” he rasped against her neck, damning the generations of thoughtless, reckless, promiscuous fucks who had made it a necessary courtesy for him to wait one damn second longer than was necessary to bury himself inside her.
She stilled and looked up at him with desperation. “You know I’m on the pill, and we’ve both used condoms…every time. Haven’t we?”
He met her eyes, understanding that she was asking if it was safe. “Every time.”
The corner of her mouth ticked up and by mutual understanding, they dismissed the preliminaries. He slid one hand under her hips and positioned the head of his cock at her wet opening.
“God, please, just do it!” she begged, wriggling against him, her face reflecting pure anguish at the delay.
Matt pushed into her, full length, groaning at the sensation of penetration without a barrier. Her skin sheathed him in a wet, velvet rub so intense it took every ounce of his control to keep from finishing right then.
Nichole threw back her head and opened her mouth in a silent “O” as he withdrew to the tip and then plunged back in, caressing her clit with his groin. She pulled her head forward, lips parted, and stared into his eyes, wearing an expression of pure wonderment.
“Did you know…it could be…so good?”
“No.” He thrust into her again, and their eyes locked. He shook his head, grunting out the rest of his answer, “Never like this….”
“Virgins,” she half giggled, although her laugh turned into a moan on his next thrust.
He nodded and dug his fingers into the sweet flesh of her ass. “Glad we…waited?”
“No,” she gasped with a vehement shake of her head. He would have laughed if not for the contraction of muscles throughout her body, gripping and stroking him. Her eye squeezed shut. She was coming already. He drove deep, every thrust earning a louder cry from her as she crested her wave.
“Look at me,” he commanded, unable to stand the loss of intimacy.
She lifted her lids and opened her soul to him through those deep blue eyes, and all he could think were the words, I love you. The single line screamed through his mind. Begged, demanded that he give it voice. It sliced through his consciousness, tearing at his heart and mocking his conceit at believing he was in control. He pumped his hips, harder and faster. Driving in and out of her with increasing fervor until he lost all restraint and poured himself into her body, his voice ragged as a roar ripped from his chest and throat.
He panted, bowed his head against her neck, and rolled over onto his back, bringing Nichole to rest atop him. They lay there in silence for a few moments, long enough for Matt to slow his breathing and clear his mind.
What the fuck was he doing?
Nichole closed her eyes. It was over. She’d never have this again. Matt would never let her. She knew he’d seen into her heart when he’d held her gaze before losing himself inside her body. That momentary flicker of shock and uncertainty flashing across his face told her he’d seen through her charade, and his gaze had instantly shuttered closed. There would be no more nights together.
She had known that from the start.
Nothing had changed.
They were still best friends, only now with one sultry night between them.
“You awake?” he asked, his voice coarse. “Nichole?”
“Yes,” she answered, suddenly she realizing she didn’t know how to proceed from here. It was time to be friends again, but she was sprawled across his body, intimately molded to him. The logistics of a gracious exit seemed beyond her mental capacity. She took a moment to check her anxiety. She didn’t have to rush to scramble out of bed. She should just let it come naturally. Make it light, until they went their separate ways for showers. Laugh once or twice, and then act as if the whole, amazing, incredible, addictive interlude had never happened. Maybe in a few weeks, she’d go on a date—a very casual, no hand holding kind of date—just to prove to Matt she wasn’t carrying a torch. No worries. They’d be fine.
He stroked his hand over her bare shoulder and down her back, and stalled it at her waist. She knew he realized his touch was too intimate for where they were going. He moved his errant hand away and shifted from beneath her. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he leaned forward and tugged on a pair of navy track pants. The wide expanse of his back faced her as he asked, “You okay about…everything?”
No. Never. I’ll want you forever. “Oh, of course.” She pushed up on her arms and gathered the sheet around her. “Completely. Are you?”
Matt dared a glance over his shoulder. His attention flickered to the sheet, and he seemed somehow relieved that she was covered. His smile broke the tension. “It was fun, thanks for a great time. I needed that.”
Fun.
She wanted to scream, to demand to know how it could mean so much less to him than it did her. But she had no right. This was what she’d asked for, what she’d wanted.
Yes. Okay. Of course.
Casual and easy, just like she’d planned.
Emotion clogged her throat, but she pushed out the words and even managed a small laugh, “Glad to help out a friend in need. Although, technically, it was me begging for it. Will I ever live it down?”
He leaned across the bed and kissed her temple, letting his lips linger against her skin a fraction of a second longer than normal, and she wondered…. But then he pushed back from the bed and walked to the bathroom.
He didn’t look back.
—
The hot spray of the shower beat against Matt’s face like a thousand tiny fists demanding a piece of him for
jeopardizing the most important thing in his damn life. How could he have been so reckless? God help him if she ever walked away.
He couldn’t bear it.
Wrenching the shower knob, he stepped out and toweled off. His eyes wandered to the oversized glass stall behind him. He should have taken her in the shower, braced her against the smooth tile wall and—damn it! He shouldn’t have touched her at all.
With a towel wrapped around his waist, he was still mentally berating himself when he strode out of his room toward the kitchen and paused. Maybe he shouldn’t walk around like this anymore. No, talk about an ego. First, Nichole would notice if he suddenly changed his behavior around the townhouse, and second, she’d already seen him in a lot less.
Christ, you’re being an ass.
In preservation of the status quo, he headed down the hall. As he passed Nichole’s door, it opened, and she stepped out in her ugly pink robe. His mouth went dry and he stopped. God, she looked good.
“Hey.” Christ, he didn’t have a thing beyond that to say. All he wanted was to push the fuzzy lapels of that robe back and run his hands over the soft curves he knew where hidden beneath it.
“Hey, back at you.” She laughed. And then, as if he deserved mercy, even in the slightest degree, she said, “Okay, so it’s a little different this morning—err, afternoon. We had one night of play, we’re allowed one day to recover from the fun and get back to just being us. We’re only human, right?”
The anxious breath he’d been holding back slipped out in a long sigh of relief and Matt reached for her, pulling her into his chest for a hug. “Thanks, Nickie. I swear, sometimes you read my mind.”
She chuckled. “I think we’ve been friends for so long, I don’t have to read your mind to know what you’re thinking.”
Was it just his imagination, or did her voice carry a trace of regret?
She cleared her throat, nudged out of his arms, and leaned back against the doorframe, picking a loose thread from the cuff of her robe. “So speaking of friends—I talked to Lindy while you were in the shower, and we’re going out tonight if you want to join us.”