He stayed away while she belonged to Ian, but Ian was gone, and if there were ever two people who deserved love together, after having the man they both adored taken away, it was her and Mathew.
She ground herself against him, then lifted and rocked back and forth before falling again. He tweaked her nipple with one hand while stroking her clit with the other, but she wasn’t used to being in charge, taking what she wanted, and even though he felt amazing, having him buried inside her wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t what she needed.
She needed Mathew to take charge, to take her. She opened her eyes, prepared to tell him as much, but his kind, gentle smile as he sat up, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her close to his chest told her he understood.
She gasped as he rolled his hips, pushing deeper so he rubbed the magical spot inside that seemed connected to every single nerve ending in her entire body. “Wrap your arms around my neck and clasp your hands together.”
She nodded, linked her fingers together, and allowed him to take over. So close they breathed the same air, he gripped her hips and controlled her movements while thrusting again and again and again. His eyes were so dark she couldn’t tell where the irises ended and the pupils began, and as he stared at her, she had the insane urge to break into tears.
It was right there, shining brightly in his eyes. He loved her. But riding alongside was deep denial, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to breach the highly fortified walls designed to keep her at a distance. Anger, frustration, and overwhelming sadness crashed through her even as her body climbed higher with undeniable pleasure.
Moving a hand from her hip to a breast, he teased the nipple until it was a painful knot of nerves. When he clamped down on the tip, she cried out and arched her back, pushing herself harder into his hands.
Her body hummed and vibrated as her impending climax built. She couldn’t come without permission, but her body was his to control, and despite her emotional despair, once he gave the command, she would erupt into flames. He pumped in and out, driving her higher until she ached from head to toe, dangling on the edge of the precipice.
“I’m going to count to three…” He drew in a harsh breath as he withdrew then slammed in again, making her realize how much effort he exerted holding his orgasm at bay. “And then we’re coming together.”
The burn in her nipple intensified as he tightened his grip with every thrust. She’d never been a fan of nipple clamps, and knowing that, Ian rarely used them. But this… Oh God. Mathew had the perfect formula for inciting the right amount of pain to increase the pleasure.
“One.” His hard thrust bumped her womb. “Two.” The crescendo swirling in her stomach, sending the signal to every cell in her body to prepare for blastoff, was more intense than anything she’d ever experienced. He released the grip on her nipples, causing blood to rush in at the same time he said, “Three.” And she fractured into a million pieces.
She bucked and jerked, trying to get even closer as pleasure rocketed through her body. He barked out a curse and his arms tightened around her waist, drawing her up tight, as if he also sought a deeper connection.
When their heart rates slowed and the aftershocks passed, he was still holding her tightly, his forehead pressed to hers. After several quiet moments, he kissed her shoulder, her neck, her temple… but still didn’t kiss her mouth.
“Are you okay?”
She stared at his lips longingly. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t want the additional connection, but she had the sense, despite having him buried deep inside, he didn’t kiss her because it was too intimate.
“Yes, Sir. I’m more than okay.”
His eyes flickered to her mouth, and she held her breath with renewed hope and anticipation, but then his gaze rose back to her eyes and he brushed a piece of hair away from her temple. “I’ll go get something to clean you up with.”
After getting Muriel and himself washed up, Mathew slipped on his boxers, dressed Muriel in his shirt, and carried her to the lobby where they had a decent place to comfortably sit. If they were at home, he would’ve kept her naked. But they were at her office, and even though the lights were off and the lot empty, he didn’t want to take a chance on anyone glimpsing something they had no business seeing. Not only would it not be good for Muriel’s reputation, but he wasn’t into sharing, not even voyeuristically.
Ian had strict rules concerning play with Muriel: no penetration with anything other than toys, and contact with the mouth—theirs or hers—was strictly forbidden, but he still shared her with his closest friends.
If she were his, Mathew would be a stingy son of bitch with his most precious possession. He might play with her at the club to make use of the equipment, but she would remain mostly covered, and no one, not even Lucas, would ever touch her again.
Mathew sat on the sofa, then stretched out as much as possible given it was a loveseat and his torso barely fit on the damn thing, and pulled her down on top of him. She scooted to the back so she rested partially against the cushions and partially against his side.
“We need a better location for aftercare. This sofa is a little on the short side.”
She giggled and stroked his chest. “I’ll convert the spare room into a private space for us before next time.” She froze and drew in a shallow breath, as if realizing she might’ve fucked up with the assumption. “Will there be another time?”
He stroked her silky arm with a rough palm and contemplated the plethora of problems that came with continuing down this path. He was already in too deep but seemed incapable of stopping himself from crawling in deeper. He wasn’t being fair to her, because while she needed a Dom—and he was happy to fill that role in the short term—it would be a disservice in the long run.
He saw the look in her eye that accompanied her explosive responses. She cared for him, and as more than a casual friend or hit-and-run play partner. He was at a loss as to why she felt that way and worried, when the time came for them to go their separate ways, she would be too bonded to effectively move on.
However, his unwillingness to stop the madness and allow her to find another Dom right now was yet another shining example of his questionable status as a decent human being. But he couldn’t give her up yet. There were still so many things he wanted to learn about her, as a submissive and a woman, and until his cravings were fully satisfied, he would selfishly keep her.
“Yeah, angel. There’ll be a next time.” He tilted his head to see her better. “Do you need help setting up the spare room?”
Light filled her eyes and a smile curled her luscious mouth. God, he wanted to kiss her, but he couldn’t get that close… which seemed ridiculous considering he just fucked her senseless, but kissing would be too much. Much like being face to face while buried balls deep had caused him to dangle precariously close to an edge from which he could never recover.
“I can take care of it,” she said with a broad smile. “It’ll be an honor to prepare a special room for you.”
He brushed her hair away from her eye and swept his thumb back and forth across her cheek. She was such a beautiful woman, inside and out, which made him all kinds of wrong for her.
What am I doing? What made him so weak that he couldn’t leave her alone?
“You know this will never work long term. Right?”
She drew back, surprised by his blunt remark, and chewed the inside of her cheek while searching his eyes. Finally, she said, “No, I don’t know that. And neither do you.”
He barked out a laugh at her stern response. She was submissive to the core, but when she strongly believed in something, all signs of the doting submissive disappeared and a fierce tomcat took her place.
“Sweet Muriel. Please don’t kid yourself into thinking otherwise.” Because if she believed, he’d be tempted to believe, and the fall would be all the more devastating.
She tried to scoot away, but he tightened his grip around her waist and kept her body flus
h to his. His stomach tightened as he considered his next words, the ones he didn’t want to speak, but needed to get out before they continued down this brief path.
“Muriel, I’m the worst guy in the world for you. You’re smart and beautiful and you possess an innocence rarely seen in this world. I was born with a black mark on my soul, and throughout my life, I’ve continued to accumulate black marks. You’ve had to have heard enough stories from Ian to know that’s true.”
He rubbed her arm with his hand, as if soothing her would somehow ease the ache filling his chest. “I can help you get back into the lifestyle so you can start figuring out what you want for your future. But I can never be more than a temporary solution.”
Her lips thinned as she pressed them together and her normally baby-blue eyes turned to steel. “I won’t allow you to talk about yourself like that.”
He laughed and rolled her onto her stomach so he could swat her ass with his hand. “You won’t allow me to talk about myself that way? I think you’ve forgotten who’s on top.”
She shook her head emphatically. “No, I haven’t forgotten. I have sore nipples and a swollen, aching pussy reminding me who’s in charge. But this is a power exchange, right? You build me up, and as your submissive”—her jaw clenched tightly as she swallowed—“even if temporarily, it’s my job to remind you that you’re amazing.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “See, that right there is proof of what I’m saying. You always see the beauty in people. It’s like your DNA prevents you from seeing people as they truly are.”
She pursed her lips with anger. “Do you think Ian was a good man?”
“What?” Her question hit him like a solid uppercut. “He was one of the finest men I ever met.” Liam, his father, was the only man who might’ve been better than Ian.
“Did you trust his judgment?”
Mathew’s eyes narrowed in warning for her to tread carefully on this hallowed ground. Ian wasn’t a saint, but he was pretty damn close, and Mathew wouldn’t tolerate implications otherwise, not even from Ian’s wife. “Yes. Unequivocally.”
“Do you know why he chose you as his best man?”
The question stopped Mathew’s heart and caused his lungs to seize between breaths. They never discussed why he chose Mathew to fill that role. He assumed it was because they’d been friends forever, and even though Lucas was an equally good friend, Ian and Mathew went farther back. Emotion clogged his throat, preventing him from answering, so he shook his head.
“He told me he chose you because if something happened to him, you would take care of me… in every way.”
Her emphasis on the last three words sent a chill ripping down Mathew’s spine, but before he could examine it too closely, she continued.
“I didn’t understand, and of course, I didn’t want to continue the discussion. Who wants to talk about the prospect of their spouse leaving them before they’re a hundred?”
She drew in a deep breath and settled her head back on his chest. Without her looking at him, he didn’t have to school his expression, so he rested his head on the arm of the sofa and stared at the ceiling, trying to take in this new information.
“I thought he was crazy,” she continued. “Especially since you couldn’t stand me. Or so I thought.”
His arms tensed and it took maximum focus to not squeeze her to death while still trying to say without words how sorry he was for making her believe it all those years.
“I asked him about it once, and he said, ‘Silly girl, don’t you know everyone loves you?’”
Numbing horror mixed with shame flooded Mathew’s nervous system. Ian knew how Mathew felt about Muriel? Jesus, his best friend knew Mathew was a coveting asshole?
Panic clawed his insides as he fought the urge to toss Muriel off and flee from the room. The familiar heavy ache in his chest expanded, and he drew in slow, steady breaths, trying to ward off another motherfucking attack. When it became evident he was losing the battle, he pushed Muriel back so she was at arm’s length and no longer resting on his chest.
Seeing the sweat pouring off his forehead and lip, she gasped and jumped up. “Mathew? Are you okay?
Unable to speak, he shook his head and sat up on the edge of the sofa, propped his elbows on his knees, and rested his head in his upraised hands.
Jesus Christ, how could Ian have known all those years and Mathew not realize? Why hadn’t he confronted Mathew? And if Ian knew… Fuck. Lucas had to know, which might explain why he’d engineered the scene at the club the other night… and why he said Ian would’ve wanted Muriel and Mathew to be together.
The panic grew and expanded as he struggled to catch his breath and not pass out from the suffocating squeeze in his chest. Movement around him drew his attention as a cool compress wrapped around the back of his neck.
He sighed with relief and drew in a shuddering breath as Muriel stroked his neck and shoulders with the cloth and whispered sweet, soothing words. He couldn’t understand them because of the roar in his ears, but his body recognized her melodic tone, and that in itself was enough to relax him.
After several moments, the worst passed and the paralyzing anxiety drained from his body. He slumped against the back of the sofa and drew in a long, shuddering breath.
“How long have you had them?” Her tone was soft and concerned but lacked judgment or disdain, like she believed him weak for succumbing to them.
He tried to meet her gaze but found it impossible to maintain eye contact. “Since Ian died.”
She knelt on the floor between his feet and with slow, gentle strokes, swept the cool cloth across his forehead and down the side of his face. “I’m sorry you have to deal with them. My brother has them, and I know how uncomfortable they can be.”
His head snapped up and he caught her gaze. “Danny?”
Muriel nodded and swept the cloth down the other side of his face. “Yeah.”
Wow. Danny was a retired Special Forces mega badass. Mathew hated hearing the guy also suffered from attacks, but the knowledge gave him a small measure of comfort, because if Danny hadn’t been able to wrangle his under control, maybe Mathew wasn’t as weak and pathetic as he thought.
“Mathew…” She paused and waited until he met her gaze before continuing. “There wasn’t anything you could’ve done for Ian.”
He squeezed his eyes shut to ward off the pain her words inflicted.
“The coroner and two different doctors said he was gone before he hit the ground.”
He shook his head, partially because he wanted her to stop talking and partially because he disagreed with her. There had to have been something someone could’ve done. He hadn’t reacted fast enough, hadn’t gotten to Ian quickly enough. Hadn’t dialed 9-1-1 the second he gave him that quizzical look. With all the advances in modern medicine, someone would’ve been able to save him if Mathew had reacted sooner.
“Mathew… Sir.”
Her voice was firm and steady, and damn her, she knew by addressing him as Sir he would be compelled to look at her. Her soft, imploring gaze was filled with desperation for him to listen—to really hear—what she said. “There was nothing anyone could’ve done. If Lucas had been with him, the result would’ve been the same. If his doctor had been with him, the result would’ve been the same. Hell, if he’d been standing in the middle of the emergency room, the result would’ve been the same.”
She leaned into him and cupped his jaw with her palm. “I had no idea you were carrying this burden.”
No one did, not even Lucas. Although, with what he’d learned over the last little bit, he supposed that might not be true. It seemed everyone knew a hell of a lot more than he thought.
“Please stop blaming yourself. I’m sure this isn’t something you’re keen on, but maybe you could talk to someone about the panic attacks.” When he opened his mouth to argue, she brushed her thumb across his lip, effectively cutting off his argument. “Then talk to a medical doctor about Ian’s case and ha
ve them tell you there wasn’t anything that could’ve prevented his passing. And if nothing else, talk to me. I want to help you.”
He leaned his head to the side and rested his cheek in the cradle of her palm, drawing her love and compassion into his skin… into his soul. She was everything he’d ever wanted… She was all he’d ever wanted. God, why couldn’t he have been born a better man so he could be what she needed too?
Chapter 13
Muriel spent the next week mentally preparing for the one year anniversary of Ian’s passing while also setting up the spare room for her and Mathew’s… sessions. She hadn’t quite figured out what to call them, even in her mind, so thinking in clinical terms seemed healthiest for her emotional well-being at this point.
Even though the scope of their relationship had taken a drastic turn over the past week, it was still too soon for long-term planning. Each morning, Mathew sent her a good morning text. She usually received a second one—checking in to see how her day was going—around lunchtime. And in the evenings, they talked on the phone for long periods of time.
Those conversations had revealed two important bits of information about Mathew. He was a much better conversationalist than she would’ve expected, and he was a freaking rock star at phone sex.
The only exception to their comfortable routine came on Friday, the one-year anniversary of Ian’s passing. That morning, the text had been simple. I’m here if you need anything. She replied by telling him she was fine and also reminded him she, too, was around if he needed her.
There weren’t any more texts that day, but a simple phone call late in the evening, letting her know he was thinking about her and checking to make sure she was okay.
The day had been difficult but had also been a defining point for Muriel. She’d made it through the first year—something she doubted was possible at the beginning of her time without Ian—and that ushered in a tremendous sense of relief and renewed hope for her future.
Coveted (Pandora's Playground #1) Page 14