“Spread your legs, baby. Wider. And push that juicy butt out. I want to watch it bounce when I fuck that sweet mouth of yours. Damn, you really are the sweetest thing, aren’t you? The thought of you out in the world on your own drives me fucking crazy.”
I release him so I can snatch a breath, gripping him in my hand so I can keep caressing him. “I’m not alone now. I’m with you,” I whisper.
He didn’t want me to leave.
The reminder of his fury at catching me at the door makes delicious heat billow in my stomach.
He looks half-crazed now as he stares down at me. “Yes, you fucking are. You’re mine. Say it.”
“I-I’m yours.”
He catches the back of my head and presses in deep, until my throat opens up around his girth and my gag reflexes are in serious threat of overloading.
My nails dig into his thighs with the effort to take him deeper.
He’s panting by the time he pulls back. Satisfaction oozes from him as he rasps, “Once more, with feeling, angel.”
“I’m yours. Only yours.”
Is it crazy to feel so deeply for a man I’ve only just met?
Maybe.
But so far everything I thought about him when I felt his presence at the shadowy rear of the bar has borne out. He was my protector not once but twice when douchebags got too close.
He brought me to the beach and fed me.
And he was a gentleman, well, until lust took over at the beach, but I like his ferocity. And the way he spoke to me about making sure that my first time didn’t hurt?
I may not be experienced, but I grew up in New York and I’ve heard enough stories from girls my own age to know that very few guys are that careful with inexperienced first-timers. Most would rather forget their deflowering and move on to better experiences.
Everything Matt has done, every small way he’s cared for me has been more than I’ve had in a long time.
Hell, in…forever.
My memory of my dad has been hazy for a long time, which isn’t surprising since he walked out on us when I was three. Since then, the parade of men through my mother’s life has left me hovering between dread and disgust.
So why not make this last a little longer?
He wants me to stay. I know that the possessive talk of forever is just that. Talk. We barely know each other.
Surely he couldn’t…wouldn’t be feeling a slice of what I’m feeling…would he?
No.
So…one day.
Then I’ll leave.
My chest squeezes at the thought, but I push the sensation away and flick my tongue faster against his shaft.
His fingers tighten painfully in my hair but I love the burn. It sends shivers down my body.
“God, are you a budding pain slut, baby? You like it when I pull your hair?” He squeezes again and I moan with the sublimeness of it.
“Hmm.”
Matt hisses. “Oh hell, I’m going to blow so hard for you. Here it comes, angel.”