by M. Pierce
But I hadn't. I felt the ache in my back and limbs thanks to sex in Matt's car and sex in a lumpy field. Plus, when I staggered into the main area of the basement, Chrissy immediately assaulted me.
"Morning sunshine!" Chrissy and Jay were playing the PS3. She tossed her controller. "Are you going to tell me if you banged that babe yet? Because if he's just a friend, I would reallllly like his number."
I glared at her. The thought of Matt with my sister—the thought of Matt with anyone, actually—made my hands tighten into fists. Still, I knew Chrissy wasn't Matt's type. Chrissy was too abrasive; Matt was too bossy. Watching their interaction that morning was like watching a cage fight, and given enough time, I think they'd go Highlander on each other.
"He's mine," I announced. "Um, sort of. He's also seven years older than you."
"Hey, there's a manther in all of us!" Chrissy called as I left the basement.
Okay, I had forgotten the PS3 and Xbox360 in the basement. So much for privacy. Then again, I didn't plan on bringing Matt into my room. Not for... not for sex, at least.
My skin tingled pleasantly and I hummed as I made my coffee. Not for sex, who was I kidding? I'd fuck that guy in a coat closet.
My thoughts drifted back over all the ways he'd touched me. My ass, my breasts, my sex. God, I loved the way he handled me, like he had a right to my body. Like I was his. I loved his voice, demanding, dictating, demeaning, and, in the end, desperate.
That had to be my favorite part—hearing Matt go crazy.
I need to come. Baby I need to come.
I wished I could wield a little feminine power over him.
Too bad I turned into a total ditz in his presence. I had to work on that.
I shuffled into the office.
Dad must have unpacked and set up my desktop before leaving for work. I frowned when I saw it. First my bed, now the computer. I had to do some unpacking before dad did everything for me. I felt like enough of a mooch just moving home.
I had to show my parents that I was going to be productive. In other words, I had to be useful around the house, start looking for a job, and not lunge into the first shitty relationship that came my way.
So... going out for drinks, staying out all night, getting laid, and sleeping in until 2:00 p.m. was an awesome start to my bum summer. Ugh.
Guiltily, I picked at the work mom had emailed. She needed every bit of this. She worked part time as a nurse, part time from home doing transcription, and she was still paying off loans for her nursing degree.
Maybe when she tried to pay me I would refuse the money.
I wondered how long I could gas my car and pay for food with the seven hundred dollars in my checking account. And what was I going to do about insurance?
It took me two hours to complete the simple tasks mom had given me.
Too much daydreaming.
I opened my email and cracked my knuckles, grinning like an idiot. Now I could write the next installment of my collaborative story with Matt. God, I missed this.
Lana and Cal were making camp by a river in the middle of nowhere. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part, but I thought I could feel the sexual tension building between our characters. Would it weird Matt out if this turned into smut?
Well, if it did, he was tactful enough to segue to the fluttering curtains—or the fluttering field grass, in this case.
Mmm, the field. I spaced for a moment as I remembered the way Matt stared at me when I sprawled on his blanket and bared myself to him. With looks like his, he couldn't possibly be sex starved—but he'd looked starved. Starved for me.
Suddenly the office felt hot. Damn.
I began to write.
I moved Lana and Cal summarily through a campsite routine—hitching the horses, building a fire, spreading the bedrolls—and then I focused on Lana. She was sore from riding and grimy with the dust of the road. The river looked cool and dark, swirling gently in a deep pool. She unpacked a lump of soap and began to undress as discreetly as possible.
After she slipped into the river and cast a glance back at Cal, I sent the paragraphs to Matt. An email from Matt appeared almost simultaneously. I couldn't help but smile as I noticed he'd used a different email account. His main account, by the look of it.
Subject: Frostypants
Sender: Matthew R. Sky Jr.
Date: Monday, July 1, 2013
Time: 5:32 PM
Hi Hannah,
We'll do dinner at 8ish. I'll pick you up at 7. I need to be inside of you.
Matt
* * *
I wilted in the office chair. Fuck. There is was again, that crazy sexy candor.
Get on your hands and knees. I'm going to take you from behind.
Not to mention the bossiness. It should have annoyed me—this wasn't a gentlemanly invitation, it was an order—and yet I felt giddy. I could see Matt again. I could make sure he was real and that this was actually happening to me.
And maybe this time I could act like the smart, confident woman I was, not the blushing brainless mush of last night.
I spent the next hour and a half prepping. I unpacked a few boxes of clothes, showered and shaved, borrowed some of my sister's perfume and makeup, and dressed in a short strapless blue dress. Underneath, I wore a strapless gray pushup with creamy trim and a matching thong. At the last minute I threw on dangly earrings and a silver bracelet.
Matt arrived promptly at seven. I peeked at him from a front window. He stood leaning against his car, looking bored.
Holy. Fuck.
He wore pale gray slacks and a crisp white dress shirt. His wild hair was wet and pushed back. As I studied him, he glanced at his watch, then smirked toward the house.
Fuck, he looked right at me! I lurched away from the blinds. So uncool right now.
When I went out to meet him, I thought I saw his cocky smirk falter. Success! Maybe. It was hard to tell. Matt's smirks came in flavors—two parts kindness, one part wicked amusement, a little lust in the mix. Oh, and one hundred percent smug bastard.
Matt moved to meet me and I thought he might grab me and start groping my ass again. I wanted him to, even if Chrissy was watching from her window. Matt looked edible in dress clothes.
Instead, he hugged me gently and kissed my cheek. The air went out of my lungs. Oh lord, the way that shirt tucked into his slacks, showing off his trim hips. I caught a whiff of cologne.
When he opened the door for me, I nearly fell into his car. Déjà vu.
"There's a place in Boulder I like," Matt said as he drove. He stared ahead, serious and unsmiling. Totally unlike the man who'd driven me for hours through the nighttime prairie. "The Number Nine. Great food. I hate formal stuff, but what the hell."
I frowned at him.
"So what, you're just doing this for me?"
"Sure." He glanced at his iPhone. "I figured you'd like a meal."
"Well that's kind of shitty Matt," I snapped.
"Excuse me?" He was scrolling through his Pandora stations and driving too fast, with an unnerving amount of inattention. He didn't even look at me.
"I'm not some idiot girl you have to wine and dine before fucking. God, I'm sorry you feel the need to endure a nice dinner with me."
Matt chuckled. What a prick!
"Hannah, I enjoy eating." He'd settled on music. I recognized The Lumineers. Of course this jackass had great taste in music. "And I'll enjoy eating with you. I only meant that formal things... make me uneasy, okay? Don't worry, we'll do something I really enjoy afterward."
He reached for my hand. I held it stiff on my lap for all of three seconds.
"I love when you're feisty," Matt murmured. He pulled my hand onto his lap and pressed it against his thigh. Oh god, oh god, not again. I felt my ability to articulate myself gliding away. "You look amazing, Hannah. I know you want to get fucked, wearing a dress like that. I'll deliver, don't worry. I held back last night, but not this time. You're bad to wear that. I love it."
Mat
t slid my hand a little closer to his cock and left it there. He was watching the road with a stony expression. He reached over and squeezed one of my breasts, slipping a few fingers into my cleavage. I heated from head to toe.
"Matt," I squeaked. Cars were passing us and we were passing them, and I knew people must have seen Matt with his hand on my breast.
"What? This is what you want, Hannah. Don't try to deny it. You want to be used. I'm enjoying you, little bird. God, I love your body..." He shifted in his seat. The music seemed to dissatisfy him and his hand left my breast to switch to a dubstep station. Then, as if it were nothing, he retook my breast and wriggled his fingers into my cleavage again.
We rode most of the way to Boulder like that. When I tried to inch my fingers closer to his cock, he brushed my hand away and started to tease me. He said he wasn't surprised I wanted to touch his cock. He pushed his fingers into the cup of my bra, pinched my nipple, twisted it, and held it that way.
"Nn... no," I gasped, but I didn't try to stop him. Why? I was getting so turned on I'd started to worry about leaving a wet spot on my dress.
"It's okay, baby, it's okay," he soothed. "Don't fight it. I'm going to fuck you so hard tonight. Just think about that."
I closed my eyes. My nipple was quickly going numb, but Matt kept readjusting his fingers, twisting it tighter and pinching it to keep stimulating the nerves.
I was in a daze by the time we parked and walked to the restaurant. I couldn't understand how Matt kept his cool. Fuck, I wanted to drive him insane tonight. What happened to my feminine power?
At least he couldn't tease me in the restaurant. I would use the time to refocus.
The No. 9 was small and dimly lit, and I could tell right away that it was crazy expensive. Matt had made reservations.
When we were seated, I smirked and nudged his foot under the table.
"You're so cocky. How did you know I'd agree to go out with you?"
"Oh, I didn't," he said. His serious eyes skimmed the menu. I loved the way he looked at things—with withering dismissal or raw hunger.
I wanted to be the center of his attention.
Shit. Was I falling for a stranger? This was not in line with my productive summer plans.
He sighed and closed the menu.
"If you'd said no, I would have had to bring Laurence I suppose."
I snickered.
"What, don't you have any friends?"
"Not many," he said. He leveled me with a stare and suddenly I felt so... sorry for him. My heart knotted up. Who the hell was this amazing looking guy who lived alone with a rabbit and wrote stories with strangers online?
The restaurant's cheapest plate was thirty dollars and I had my eye on it. Matt had other plans. The waiter arrived and Matt fired our order at him before I could open my mouth.
"She'll have the seared scallops and a glass of your best white; I'll have the steak roulade and a Coke." He smiled at me. "We'll trade if you don't like seafood. The white will go well with the scallops, trust me."
"I love seafood. You don't want a drink?"
"Quit five years ago," he said negligently.
Sexy god is also sober. I tucked that information into my Matt file.
Our plates arrived and they were works of art, mine an arrangement of fat scallops with shallots and a buttery sauce swirled over the plate, Matt's a cascade of rolled spinach-stuffed steak. We shared. The flavors were exquisite and Matt was right, the white wine complemented my meal perfectly.
The wine got me buzzed and I fell under Matt's spell, talking and laughing with him like we had on our nighttime drive.
Matt got me chatting about the work I'd done that afternoon.
Yeesh, for someone who felt uneasy in formal environments, Matt could carry conversation effortlessly—and he looked like he belonged in this restaurant, whereas I felt out of place.
The waiter returned to check on us.
I planned to insist on paying for my part of the meal, though I had a dreadful feeling about the cost, but Matt only smirked when I mentioned it.
"Another time, Hannah. I already paid."
How the hell had I missed that? Ugh, drowning in Matt's sexy smile, that's how.
He took my hand as we left the restaurant and strolled up Pearl Street.
If he was in a rush to get inside me, he gave no indication. His eyes trailed over the shops. Sometimes he smiled down at me. Holy height discrepancy. Good thing I love tall men.
I caught people watching us. Oh... we obviously looked like a couple. A good-looking couple, I hoped. I felt eclipsed by the elegant man at my side.
Matt stopped.
I followed his gaze to a neon sign at the entrance of an alley. It read DYNAMITE.
"You've got to be kidding me," he said dryly.
"Ha. Wow." I shook my head. "I guess it's good I know where the place is. My sister's going to be begging rides off me, I know it."
"Kind of a long haul from Denver," he said. His tone was inscrutable. His eyes were trained on the glowing orange letters. What was he thinking, looking so somber? "Mm. Let's go in."
"Wait, what?" I laughed.
Matt tugged me down the alley and I traipsed after him, struggling on my heels. I'd never been inside a strip club. This was about to get interesting.
"You're crazy," I said as he paid our cover.
He smirked down at me. Uh-oh. I recognized that smirk.
One hundred percent trouble.
Inside, the club was surprisingly busy. I couldn't think over the music. The lighting was garish, red and yellow. A beaded curtain hung in front of some booths and there were red velvet chairs arranged beside a stage.
Three topless girls were strutting along the stage, floating towards men with bills. Everyone I saw had a drink.
I got on my tiptoes to whisper in Matt's ear.
"I think we probably have to buy drinks."
Matt glanced at the girls, then smiled down at me.
"Now this is seedy as fuck," he whispered back.
"I'm glad you think so! It really is. What are we doing here?"
"Having some fun," he said. He pulled out his wallet and headed for the stage. He'd caught the eye of an attractive dancer with chin-length blond hair. I watched them lean together and chat briefly, and I saw Matt pass the woman a bill. Her eyes widened and she smiled. Shit, how much money did he just give her?
Matt made his way back to me and took my hand. We followed the blond stripper toward the back of the club and down a hall. It got dramatically quiet when we stepped into a midsized room with mirrors on every wall. There were a few ottomans, a black velvet couch, a simple armless chair, and a table. I edged closer to Matt.
"Hi hun," said the stripper. "I'm Kelly. Don't be nervous darlings."
Darlings? The girl looked maybe twenty-five. She was pretty, though, and amazingly calm for someone wearing only a G-string and stilettos.
"Your boyfriend said you two wanted to have a little fun," she said, looking meaningfully between Matt and I.
Boyfriend? I glared at Matt. My glare dissolved as soon as I met his eyes. Oh... no. There it was—that starved, absorbing look that made me wild to please him. My heart went double time. I smiled faintly.
"Yeah," I said quietly.
Matt squeezed my hand, then prowled over to lean against a wall and watch us. Typical, he couldn't even sit. Restless... controlling. Intoxicating.
"Sit," he ordered, nodding at the chair. "Give her a lap dance," he said to the stripper.
I sank onto the chair. I was agonizingly aware of Matt staring at me, but I couldn't meet his gaze. I knew I was beet red.
The stripper straddled me and began to dance. She ignored Matt. She winked at me, ran her tongue along her lips, and brought her breasts close to my body as she ground her ass against my thighs.
I realized with a jolt that I was getting wet.
I wasn't into girls, not really, so what gave?
It had to be Matt. Matt watching me, enjoy
ing my discomfort. Probably getting hard.
"Touch her," he said softly.
When I gave the stripper a questioning look, she took my hands and brought them to her breasts. I squeezed and she moaned.
Okay, I thought, I got this—but Matt's next order brought me up short.
"Show her yours, Hannah."
The stripper went right on grinding into my lap.
Show her mine? He wanted me to...
"Do it," Matt growled, leaning forward, "or I'll make you. Show her your nice big tits Hannah."
With shaking hands, I unzipped my dress enough to peel it down. Thank god I'd chosen a strapless dress. I rolled down my bra without unclasping it. My nipples were hard. I heard Matt exhale roughly.
"Good," he said.
The stripper lifted my heavy breasts and pressed them to hers. I moaned. Fuck, there was definitely a wet spot on my dress.
Matt stalked toward us suddenly.
"Get out," he snarled at the stripper.
Unfazed, the stripper accepted another bill from Matt, smiled at us both, and breezed out. The door clicked closed behind her. Matt stared down at me, tilting up my chin as if I were a disobedient child. My legs trembled.
"God, Hannah," he whispered. "You're perfect. Did you like that? Did you like making me hard like that? Look at my cock."
My eyes traveled down the buttons of Matt's shirt to the tent in his slacks. I swallowed.
"Looks good, right?"
I nodded.
"Did you enjoy showing your tits to that woman?" He chuckled and reached for my breasts, squeezing them mercilessly. "You're a slut for me, aren't you Hannah?"
"Yes," I gasped. I covered his hands with mine. My brain screamed: feminine power, feminine power! It was my turn to drive Matt crazy, god damnit.
I slid off the chair and fell to my knees at Matt's feet.
Before he could react, I yanked down his slacks and boxers, grabbed his cock—damn, I'd forgotten how huge it was—and began to suck hard on his head.
"Mm!" Matt groaned. "Ohhh... fuck..."
Success! His noises spurred me on. I swirled my tongue around his head and stroked his shaft with one hand, fondling his balls with the other.