I’m losing my mind.
He’s impossibly hard.
His hands are everywhere: in my hair, on my hips, cradling my head so he can tilt my chin up and sweep kisses down my neck. It’s so heady when his fingers tease the top button on my nightgown. YES, I think. I’m more than ready to feel his hands on my bare skin, to have him touch me in places I’ve only imagined, but thankfully my brain catches up before we get too carried away.
My little sister is still awake, like ten feet away from where we’re currently mauling each other. If we’re going to do anything in this house, it has to be in my room, with the door locked and (preferably) a loud marching band performing out in the hallway.
I jerk back and break our kiss.
Matt’s gaze meets mine, his brows tugged together in confusion.
He thinks I’m pumping the brakes.
No, you fool.
I’m changing locations.
I scramble up off the couch, reach down for his hand, and tug him after me. We cross that living room in half a second. We’re down the hall, pressing fingers to our mouths and stifling laughter before I shove him into my bedroom, close the door, and freeze.
I listen for any sound of Josie stirring in her room or the subtle pad of footsteps on the carpet.
Blissful silence greets me.
I grin and turn to Matt.
We just might be able to get away with this.
I stand in front of him, half a room away as my hands find the buttons of my nightgown.
Am I really going to do this? I ask myself even as my fingers start to move of their own volition. My stomach quivers as the first button is undone. Then the next. Cool air hits my chest and a shiver racks my spine as I work the third button free. His eyes slash down to where my hands are working and the cool air is replaced with searing heat. My hands start to shake and that fourth button proves especially tricky.
He stays right where he is, watching me as I undress for him. He’s still wearing his suit pants, but his feet are bare. His hair is in disarray, but his features are as sharp and calculating as ever. Without his shirt, he’s a wall of tan skin and hard muscle. My mouth waters and I swallow, in awe of the effect he has on me. No words, no touching—just him, standing in my room, shadowed by the moonlight.
“Keep going,” he urges, his voice husky and low, and I realize then that I’ve paused, too preoccupied with staring at him.
I force my attention down to my nightgown and find the fifth button. The two sides of the dress sag open just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage. My skin glows like porcelain in the dark room and when I work the sixth button free, Matt growls and steps toward me.
He reaches me in two long strides, gripping my waist with one hand and using the other to push the flannel fabric off my right shoulder. The thick material scrapes across my sensitive skin as his mouth finds the base of my neck, my collarbone, and then the very center of my chest. He bends before me and strings kisses along my skin until he reaches the curve of my breast exposed by my nightgown. His fingers push the flannel aside reverently, baring me. Finally. My chest heaves as he stares down, almost in awe. His finger traces along my breast and then he hauls me against him at the same moment he takes the very tip into his mouth, sucking and kissing with a fervor I’ve never felt. My knees give out but he holds me up, dragging his tongue across me.
Heat spreads through my body as he takes his time worshiping me. It nearly feels like I’m the one doing the seducing, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
He’s the one in control, loosening another button on my nightgown so it’s easy to push off my other shoulder. The fabric pools at my feet and I’m standing before him in nothing but a silky pair of underwear and red fuzzy socks.
Standing before him like this, it feels like there’s so much more of him than there is of me. His hands are bigger than mine. He’s stronger, older, more confident. He bends to kiss my other breast and my hands roam across his back, trying to feel every contour of muscle, every inch of heated skin.
He wraps his hands around my hips and pushes me toward my small bed. There’s no use trying to keep up with his deft movements. We’re backing up at the same time his hands slide into my panties and cup my ass. He uses his grip to bring me against him and his hard length grinds into me. I can feel him through his pants. I know how patiently he’s waited. For hours—weeks.
He whispers against the shell of my ear, telling me how badly he wants to feel me wrapped around him.
His hips roll and my eyes pinch closed. There are still layers of clothes between us, but the sparks are there, warning me. I don’t want to come like this, just from his hips grinding against mine.
But I will if he continues.
I beg him to slow down because I’m coming undone too easily, but he doesn’t care. My silk panties brush against overly sensitive skin as he continues his seduction. His hand skims down and he brushes his fingers across me, on top of the fabric. He’s relentless and I’m angry with him, mad that he’s doing this to me when we’re so close to feeling skin on skin, so close to the real thing.
He kisses me relentlessly and continues teasing me right up until my toes start to curl, until I’ve completely surrendered to the beginnings of an orgasm. I don’t care about anything now that I’m so close. I can feel the tingles start to trickle up my spine and then suddenly he pulls back and deposits me on the bed. The shock of cold air jerks me sharply away from the edge.
If I was angry before, now I’m on fire. I scramble up and over to him, yanking on his pants at the same time he unzips them and pushes them down. They’re on the floor and his briefs are next. I lose my breath as I finally catch sight of his length. My reaction must be funny because he chuckles and pushes me back onto the bed.
“Not so angry now?” he teases right before his mouth meets mine.
A kiss.
God, it feels like ages since his mouth has been on mine, but it’s only been a few seconds. I’m reminded why we’re here, why I’m spreading my thighs and begging him to continue, to finally let this happen. My anger burns away and there’s nothing but all-consuming need left behind.
“We need to be quiet,” he warns as his hand drags down my body. His fingers hit the edge of my panties and I dig my nails into his shoulders. He pushes past the top of the fabric and then his palm covers me. We’ve been here before, his fingers sinking into me, but this time it’s infinitely better because his weight is on top of me, his naked heated skin covering mine.
I offer some inaudible plea and he shakes his head, bending down to kiss me.
His finger sinks inside me again, burrowing deeper.
“You nearly got us caught earlier,” he reminds me. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
Even as he threatens me, his fingers drag back out and then in, stretching me, teasing me.
My orgasm—the one he stole from me a second ago—comes roaring back to life, and if he’d only just keep…doing…that.
“I won’t make a peep,” I promise as my gaze finds his. My fingers wrap around the sides of his biceps and I use all of my strength to keep him there on top of me. His eyes are hooded as he stares down at me. I arch my back and my breasts brush against his chest. “Please,” I whisper desperately, and finally, a quiet groan tears through him and he claims my mouth.
My panties are tugged off and thank God he’s quick with the condom he pulls out of his wallet because I’m dying a slow death as he settles himself back between my thighs and thrusts into me…slowly…slowly…and then all at once. A moan rips through me as I finally orgasm just from that one, hard thrust. Fireworks dance behind my closed eyes and Matt’s mouth crashes against mine. His kiss is painful and biting and he’s angry at me for breaking my promise to stay quiet. He punishes me when he thrusts harder again and again. I wish I could tell him I’m not in control. My body is his, these limbs and mouth and that delicious spot in the center of my thighs are his to do with as he pleases. I wish I could tell him this is no punishment. This is a gift.
He hoists himself up onto his hands and uses the leverage to his advantage. With a confident grip, he hikes my bent knee up so my thighs are spread wider for him. One of his hands presses my leg into the mattress and he rolls his hips, grinding into me at an angle I’ve never experienced before.
He’s impossibly hard.
His hands are everywhere: in my hair, on my hips, cradling my head so he can tilt my chin up and sweep kisses down my neck. It’s so heady when his fingers tease the top button on my nightgown. YES, I think. I’m more than ready to feel his hands on my bare skin, to have him touch me in places I’ve only imagined, but thankfully my brain catches up before we get too carried away.
My little sister is still awake, like ten feet away from where we’re currently mauling each other. If we’re going to do anything in this house, it has to be in my room, with the door locked and (preferably) a loud marching band performing out in the hallway.
I jerk back and break our kiss.
Matt’s gaze meets mine, his brows tugged together in confusion.
He thinks I’m pumping the brakes.
No, you fool.
I’m changing locations.
I scramble up off the couch, reach down for his hand, and tug him after me. We cross that living room in half a second. We’re down the hall, pressing fingers to our mouths and stifling laughter before I shove him into my bedroom, close the door, and freeze.
I listen for any sound of Josie stirring in her room or the subtle pad of footsteps on the carpet.
Blissful silence greets me.
I grin and turn to Matt.
We just might be able to get away with this.
I stand in front of him, half a room away as my hands find the buttons of my nightgown.
Am I really going to do this? I ask myself even as my fingers start to move of their own volition. My stomach quivers as the first button is undone. Then the next. Cool air hits my chest and a shiver racks my spine as I work the third button free. His eyes slash down to where my hands are working and the cool air is replaced with searing heat. My hands start to shake and that fourth button proves especially tricky.
He stays right where he is, watching me as I undress for him. He’s still wearing his suit pants, but his feet are bare. His hair is in disarray, but his features are as sharp and calculating as ever. Without his shirt, he’s a wall of tan skin and hard muscle. My mouth waters and I swallow, in awe of the effect he has on me. No words, no touching—just him, standing in my room, shadowed by the moonlight.
“Keep going,” he urges, his voice husky and low, and I realize then that I’ve paused, too preoccupied with staring at him.
I force my attention down to my nightgown and find the fifth button. The two sides of the dress sag open just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage. My skin glows like porcelain in the dark room and when I work the sixth button free, Matt growls and steps toward me.
He reaches me in two long strides, gripping my waist with one hand and using the other to push the flannel fabric off my right shoulder. The thick material scrapes across my sensitive skin as his mouth finds the base of my neck, my collarbone, and then the very center of my chest. He bends before me and strings kisses along my skin until he reaches the curve of my breast exposed by my nightgown. His fingers push the flannel aside reverently, baring me. Finally. My chest heaves as he stares down, almost in awe. His finger traces along my breast and then he hauls me against him at the same moment he takes the very tip into his mouth, sucking and kissing with a fervor I’ve never felt. My knees give out but he holds me up, dragging his tongue across me.
Heat spreads through my body as he takes his time worshiping me. It nearly feels like I’m the one doing the seducing, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
He’s the one in control, loosening another button on my nightgown so it’s easy to push off my other shoulder. The fabric pools at my feet and I’m standing before him in nothing but a silky pair of underwear and red fuzzy socks.
Standing before him like this, it feels like there’s so much more of him than there is of me. His hands are bigger than mine. He’s stronger, older, more confident. He bends to kiss my other breast and my hands roam across his back, trying to feel every contour of muscle, every inch of heated skin.
He wraps his hands around my hips and pushes me toward my small bed. There’s no use trying to keep up with his deft movements. We’re backing up at the same time his hands slide into my panties and cup my ass. He uses his grip to bring me against him and his hard length grinds into me. I can feel him through his pants. I know how patiently he’s waited. For hours—weeks.
He whispers against the shell of my ear, telling me how badly he wants to feel me wrapped around him.
His hips roll and my eyes pinch closed. There are still layers of clothes between us, but the sparks are there, warning me. I don’t want to come like this, just from his hips grinding against mine.
But I will if he continues.
I beg him to slow down because I’m coming undone too easily, but he doesn’t care. My silk panties brush against overly sensitive skin as he continues his seduction. His hand skims down and he brushes his fingers across me, on top of the fabric. He’s relentless and I’m angry with him, mad that he’s doing this to me when we’re so close to feeling skin on skin, so close to the real thing.
He kisses me relentlessly and continues teasing me right up until my toes start to curl, until I’ve completely surrendered to the beginnings of an orgasm. I don’t care about anything now that I’m so close. I can feel the tingles start to trickle up my spine and then suddenly he pulls back and deposits me on the bed. The shock of cold air jerks me sharply away from the edge.
If I was angry before, now I’m on fire. I scramble up and over to him, yanking on his pants at the same time he unzips them and pushes them down. They’re on the floor and his briefs are next. I lose my breath as I finally catch sight of his length. My reaction must be funny because he chuckles and pushes me back onto the bed.
“Not so angry now?” he teases right before his mouth meets mine.
A kiss.
God, it feels like ages since his mouth has been on mine, but it’s only been a few seconds. I’m reminded why we’re here, why I’m spreading my thighs and begging him to continue, to finally let this happen. My anger burns away and there’s nothing but all-consuming need left behind.
“We need to be quiet,” he warns as his hand drags down my body. His fingers hit the edge of my panties and I dig my nails into his shoulders. He pushes past the top of the fabric and then his palm covers me. We’ve been here before, his fingers sinking into me, but this time it’s infinitely better because his weight is on top of me, his naked heated skin covering mine.
I offer some inaudible plea and he shakes his head, bending down to kiss me.
His finger sinks inside me again, burrowing deeper.
“You nearly got us caught earlier,” he reminds me. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
Even as he threatens me, his fingers drag back out and then in, stretching me, teasing me.
My orgasm—the one he stole from me a second ago—comes roaring back to life, and if he’d only just keep…doing…that.
“I won’t make a peep,” I promise as my gaze finds his. My fingers wrap around the sides of his biceps and I use all of my strength to keep him there on top of me. His eyes are hooded as he stares down at me. I arch my back and my breasts brush against his chest. “Please,” I whisper desperately, and finally, a quiet groan tears through him and he claims my mouth.
My panties are tugged off and thank God he’s quick with the condom he pulls out of his wallet because I’m dying a slow death as he settles himself back between my thighs and thrusts into me…slowly…slowly…and then all at once. A moan rips through me as I finally orgasm just from that one, hard thrust. Fireworks dance behind my closed eyes and Matt’s mouth crashes against mine. His kiss is painful and biting and he’s angry at me for breaking my promise to stay quiet. He punishes me when he thrusts harder again and again. I wish I could tell him I’m not in control. My body is his, these limbs and mouth and that delicious spot in the center of my thighs are his to do with as he pleases. I wish I could tell him this is no punishment. This is a gift.
He hoists himself up onto his hands and uses the leverage to his advantage. With a confident grip, he hikes my bent knee up so my thighs are spread wider for him. One of his hands presses my leg into the mattress and he rolls his hips, grinding into me at an angle I’ve never experienced before.
