by Lake, C. J.
Instinctively, Emma began rocking her hips slowly to meet his motions, savoring the feel of him--until he did something unexpected. With both fingers deep inside her, he turned his whole hand around--and she nearly jolted off the desk. Her back arched sharply as the shock and incredibly arousing sensation hit her at once. Something in that move was explosive; she cried out and he did it again.
“Oh, my God…” Emma whispered brokenly as Matt kept twisting his hand, creating powerful vibrations in her every time he did it.
“Do you like that?” he asked raggedly, sounding as turned on as she was.
Emma couldn’t even formulate a response. The pleasure was almost too much to take. With her neck and back arched, she struggled to find her voice as he twisted his hand again and again, and currents of heat washed through her, until--without warning--a burst of extreme ecstasy hit her body and sent her reeling.
She practically screamed as she climaxed, while Matt uttered roughly, “You are so hot, you are so fucking hot…”
Both were still panting as Matt hurriedly stripped off her tee shirt and then his own. Weakly, Emma climbed up into a sitting position on the desk, reached for his zipper. Instead of nudging her onto her back again, Matt surprised her by scooping her off the desk and setting her on her feet. Then, abruptly, he turned her in his arms.
With his chest pressed against her back, and his fully aroused cock pressed against her ass, Emma let out a thready sigh of anticipation. As his hands slid up her stomach to cover her bare breasts, Matt dipped his head down to kiss her neck. Then he whispered in her ear, “Do you want it slow and gentle?”
“No,” she said softly, her voice barely audible. But when Matt growled with excitement, she knew that he’d heard, and the next thing she knew he was slipping a condom on, pushing her forward, bending her over the desk, and sliding his cock inside her, stimulating the exact spot where his fingers had been, where her body was still humming and vulnerable.
It was primal, mind-fogging bliss. Raw and animalistic. With a guttural sound of arousal, Matt held her as took Emma hard and fast, grunting and muttering to her about how good she felt. Eagerly, hungrily, she fucked him back.
When Matt finally climaxed, he clutched onto Emma, and they both cried out, gracelessly slamming their bodies against each other until the firestorm passed.
Feebly, Emma let herself drop down on top of her desk, and Matt followed, pressing his chest into her back, as they both lay there, catching their breath. After several moments, he eased up his weight on her and let out an exhausted sigh. Finding her voice, Emma said, “Oh, my God, where did you learn that thing with your hand?” Before he could answer, she snapped her palm over his mouth and said, “Never mind! I don’t want to know.”
Matt chuckled softly, as he took her hand and set it on his chest, casually. “I read it in a magazine,” he told her. Then, glancing over at her, he grinned and said, “I’m glad it worked out.” Emma’s face broke into a smile and she snuggled in closer. She wasn’t sure if she believed him or not about the magazine--but she was very happy he’d said it.
Chapter 32
When Pellican returned later that night, Tragan and Bardo were on their way out. They explained about Matt’s abrupt departure. “Said he had to help his parents with something,” Tragan said while he shoved on his jacket.
“Really?” Pellican said doubtfully.
“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” Bardo asked.
“Nothing, but…hey, does Winter have a new girl?” Pellican said, now looking directly at Tragan.
Pausing, Tragan made sure to keep a poker face. As far as he knew, Matt didn’t have a girl; he hadn’t mentioned anything. But Matt was a quiet guy. Who clearly had a thing for Andy’s sister. Plus, Tragan knew Matt’s parents and it was hard to picture them texting Matt at night instead of calling.
“Not that I know of,” Tragan answered. “Why?”
“Because he hasn’t been home the past two nights.”
Sounding touched, Bardo said, “Oh, and you’ve been up waiting for him? Pacing the floors? That’s sweet, bro,” he added, clapping a hand on Pellican’s shoulder.
“Get off of me,” Pellican grumbled impatiently, shaking off Bardo, who only chuckled “Look, it’s not that big of an apartment. I happened to notice he wasn’t home last night or the night before. And now this fake excuse tonight?”
Tragan shrugged. He couldn’t deny it sounded fake. “I don’t know, man. He hasn’t said a word about a girl.”
Suddenly, Bardo’s eyes widened and he yelped, “Oh, my God, I know what’s going on!”
“What?” Pellican said curiously.
“He’s been seeing Keri! That has to be it. Here, she’s been sniffing around again-- sending messages through Neeta and me--she even showed up at the Lamplighter. She must have finally worn the guy down.”
“Damn, I hope not,” Tragan said honestly.
Meanwhile Pellican challenged Bardo’s theory. “But why wouldn’t he tell us? Come on, obviously we’d understand.”
“Speak for yourself, man. Keri’s no good.”
“I agree with Tray,” Bardo said.
“Yeah, but she’s smoking hot!” Pellican proclaimed.
Ignoring him, Bardo looked to Tragan for some kind of guidance. “So what can we do to save someone from himself?”
With reluctant cynicism, Tragan answered, “As a general rule? Absolutely nothing.”
“Right. That’s what I was afraid of.”
~
Matt didn’t have to work the next day so he and Emma slept in. Though, when he eventually awoke, he was alone. In only his boxer-briefs he left the bedroom, and followed the strong, sweet scent of something baking. He found Emma in the kitchen with a frilly yellow apron wrapped around her pajama pants and Tinkerbell tee shirt, now measuring out the coffee.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, hearing the raspiness in his voice since it was the first time he’d spoken that day.
“Oh, hi,” she said brightly, smiling at him. Both crossed the kitchen and met in the middle for a kiss.
“What are you doing?” Matt asked.
“Making French toast. Do you like that?”
“Of course,” he assured her then kissed her again.
When their mouths broke, she said, “Let me just finish the coffee. Go sit.”
“Okay, boss,” he said with a smile and took his usual seat at her table. Today it was already set for two; each plate already had sliced fruit on it.
Once the coffee was brewing, Emma reached for potholders. “I hope you like this. I always bake it in the oven,” she mentioned conversationally, “because it’s so much easier.”
“It’s gonna be awesome. Do you need help?” Matt asked, as he started to leave his chair so he could grab the pan for her.
“No, sit. It’s not heavy,” she insisted, just as the phone on her wall began to ring. “Oh--enh--I’ll just let the machine get it,” she remarked and reached inside the oven to grab the tray of French toast. Then, to Matt’s annoyance, an increasingly familiar voice intruded on their intimate little brunch.
“Hi, Emma. Phil Parker here. I hope you’ve been doing well. I was actually just driving through your neighborhood--on my way back from an appointment--and I thought I’d try you, see if you’re around. I was thinking I could take you to an early lunch. But you’re not answering, so I probably missed you. In any case, it was just a thought. Give me a call sometime when you’re free. I really enjoyed our dinner. Take care.”
By the time Parker was done rambling, Matt was curling his lip up, somewhat glaring at the answering machine. Obviously Emma caught his expression, because she said, “Don’t even start,” as she set the tray of French toast down on the counter.
He shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Good.”
While Emma was filling up a large plate, Matt watched her. Damn, she was so adorable. So sweet and soft and hot and special--so set apart from everyone else. His chest t
ightened a little at the thought that she might not be his. He wasn’t really threatened by Phil Parker; if Emma wanted to be with him, then she’d be here making him French toast. No, what bothered him was her whole insistence that everything between Matt and her had to end as soon as she moved. He still didn’t agree with that, and the more time he spent with her…well, somehow he’d get her to change her mind.
“Hey, I don’t blame Parker for being hung up on you,” Matt remarked now.
“I’d hardly call him ‘hung up.’”
“Well, he’s doing drive-bys,” Matt pointed out.
“Don’t say that; you’ll freak me out. Phil’s a nice guy. I’m sure he was just in the neighborhood, like he said.”
Probably Emma was right about him being a nice guy--but she was definitely wrong if she believed the dude wasn’t sweating her. The thought suddenly gave Matt pause. Jesus, was there any chance that Phil Parker could have thrown the brick threw Matt’s window the other night--the very night that Matt had kissed Emma for the first time?
Nah, he thought, dismissing the notion as he dug into his French toast. The Parker theory was probably a stretch.
“By the way, did you tell him about us?”
Whipping her head at him, she scoffed and said, “Of course not! I haven’t even told my sister, much less Phil Parker--whom I haven’t even talked to since our one dinner!”
“Hey, I’m just saying, you’re off the market now and maybe Parker needs to be told that. In person--by me.”
With a dismissive laugh, Emma rolled her eyes. “You’re so helpful like that.”
Matt grinned despite himself. “It would be more humane for the guy.”
“Right, I forgot about your soft spot for Phil Parker and his overall well-being,” she said sarcastically, then set the plate of French toast on the table and took a seat. “Now enough of this macho ridiculousness. I cooked for you. And I don’t even like to cook.”
Matt’s mouth broke into a smile at that and he reached across the table and took her hand. “Thank you, beautiful,” he said sincerely.
“So…do you like it?” Emma asked now, blinking hopefully at him as he put a forkful in his mouth.
“Love it,” Matt told her. She beamed a smile at him, and something swelled in his chest. “Hey, listen. How about we go out tonight?” Matt said.
“Where?”
“I’ll decide that.”
She tilted her head at him. “Oh, will you?” she said dryly.
“Yes. I’m taking you on a date,” Matt explained simply. “So I’ll decide.” When Emma hesitated a moment, he added, “Why should Phil Parker be the only guy who gets to put on his A game for you?”
Chapter 33
When Matt was hanging out at Tragan’s place that afternoon, he asked for some advice about Emma--while at the same time keeping things vague. He knew Tray wasn’t one to pry for details. Leaning back in an armchair, Matt said, “Hey, I was thinking of taking Emma out, because she’s been down about her sons being away and I wanted to take her mind off of it.”
“That’s cool,” Tragan said casually as he turned on his PlayStation.
“Listen, you’ve known Andy’s sister awhile. What do you think she’d like? Because sometimes she seems so serious, and…” He shrugged. “I just wanted her to have some fun.”
“Um…” Tragan slouched on the couch, thinking it over. Then he snapped his fingers and said, “I know. And this is not the gamer in me telling you this, all right? This is fact.”
“What?” Matt said curiously.
“Believe it or not, there’s something Andy and Emma used to do as kids--which doesn’t seem like it would be their style, but Andy said they had the best time.”
“All right, so educate me, man,” Matt said, leaning forward.
~
“Now I see,” Emma remarked that night, talking over the whir of machines and the trill of bells and whistles. “When you said ‘A game,’ the ‘A’ stood for arcade.” Grabbing reams of tickets from the ticket window, Matt just grinned at her. “I can’t believe I’m actually here right now,” she added as he took her hand.
“Why not?” he said, eying her with concern as he led her past the pool tables. “You don’t like it?”
“No, are you kidding?” she said, smiling up at him and giving his hand a squeeze. “I love it! Andy and I used to go to a place like this when we were kids. I just meant it’s ridiculous to think that of all the times to come to an arcade, I do it when my sons are out of town. That’s all I meant.”
“We’ll take them next time,” Matt commented. Emma’s first reaction to that was joy--picturing her sons having fun and Matt making them laugh--but joy was one of those un-cautious emotions. It didn’t see the problems. For instance: if Matt was going to be pretty much out of her life in a couple of weeks, then why would she let her sons start getting attached to him? Obviously she couldn’t.
Matt must have noticed her pinched brow of distress. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Emma fibbed. “I just don’t remember how to play a lot of these games. So you’ll have to help me.”
“No problem,” he said, sliding his hand around her waist as his voice dipped lower. “I’ll teach you everything I know.”
An hour later, as Emma tossed her last Skee ball, Matt said, “Are you hungry yet?”
“Yes. Now I am.”
“C’mon,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the upholstered booths that filled the warmly lit back corner of the arcade. Over here, the air was fragrant with pizza and soft pretzels, and the aroma was a bit like mind control--because when Matt asked her what she wanted, Emma said, “Um, pizza’s good. And a pretzel.”
Tonight she’d held tightly to Matt whenever he offered his hand, feeling close to him and a sort of adrenaline rush from the games they were playing together and all their laughing. It wasn’t just the surroundings; being with Matt did something to her. It brought back a younger version of herself, a younger time in her life.
Before Matt left to get their food, he warned, “Now don’t let any guys steal you away from me while I’m gone.”
“Promise.”
While they ate, Matt surprised her by asking: “By the way, am I allowed to tell anyone about us yet?”
“Oh…um, do you want to tell people?” Emma asked.
Matt shrugged. “It’s just I haven’t been around much and my friends are probably wondering what’s up.”
Thoughtfully, she chewed her lip for a moment. “Well, what would you say?”
“Just that we’ve got something going,” he replied casually.
“Do you think they’d understand what that means?”
At that, Matt gave a laugh. “Of course they’d understand--it’s not that complicated. Emma, I know you like to make it complicated, but actually…it isn’t,” he informed her.
She didn’t bother arguing. Why should she spoil Matt’s blissfully simplistic view of things? Especially tonight, when he was making her feel so happy?
He appeared momentarily startled when she said, “Okay. You can tell your friends.”
“Yeah?” he said, looking pleasantly surprised.
Grinning at him, Emma nodded. “Sure, I don’t see why not. It’s just as well, too, because I hate keeping stuff from Andy.”
Just then Matt’s phone buzzed.
“It’s my dad; I’ll call him back,” he explained and stuck his cell back in his pocket.
“Do you think it might be important?”
“No, it’s work stuff,” Matt stated matter-of-factly.
“Speaking of work,” Emma said after taking another sip of soda, “do you like working on houses? I mean, do you see yourself wanting to do that for a long time?”
With a sigh, Matt replied, “Well, I’d love to take over my dad’s business someday and run the company.”
“Oh, that’s great! Duh, of course, that makes sense.”
“We’ll see.”
“What do
you mean?”
“Nah, nothing,” Matt said, tossing his cup back to chew on an ice cube.
“What is it?” Emma pressed gently.
After a beat, Matt gave a shrug and told her, “It’s just that I have to get my Contractor’s License first--in order to run the business.”
“Okay…” Emma said, waiting for more.
“And I’ve blown the exam twice already,” Matt confessed, heaving another sigh. Despite his relaxed, slouching posture in the booth, he started crunching more ice--a sure sign of stress. Emma didn’t want to pry, but at the same time, she was genuinely curious why Matt hadn’t passed the exam. He seemed so knowledgeable when it came to his job, and surely his dad could have prepped him.
She kept her tone neutral when she asked, “Is it a test that requires a lot of studying?”
“I do study,” Matt said, frustration edging his voice.
“Are the questions really hard?”
“I’m sure I would know the answers to most of them.”
“What do you mean you’re sure you would know?” she asked, confused.
Matt looked at her earnestly, his dark eyes locking with her gaze in a way that felt special. “Look, Emma, the truth is…” She suddenly got a sinking feeling. A sense of foreboding seemed only natural when someone started with “The truth is…” and then let a protracted silence hang in the air.
“I’m dyslexic,” he finished. She stayed quiet, not letting on that Andy had told her that already. “I can read,” Matt was quick to add, his voice sounding a bit urgent.
“Of course you can read; I know that,” Emma assured him, putting her hand over his. Her heart twisted at the thought that Matt might feel self-conscious about having dyslexia.
His shoulders tensed a little as he elaborated, “I can read okay under normal circumstances. It’s just test-taking. See, it’s a really long exam and after a while, sometimes my brain starts to scramble letters. And when that happens, my mind starts to blank. That’s all.”
“But wait,” Emma said. “If you have dyslexia, surely you can get special arrangements made for your test. They must have special conditions for people with--”