“What do you want, curly?” He kept his hands by his sides, and she could tell he was doing his best to appear as non-threatening as possible. If Matthew was putting the ball in her court, then she was picking up said ball and volleying it.
“I want you.” Grace had never been particularly forward when it came to men, but Matthew was different. What she felt for him was different. Somehow those strong feelings made her more confident.
“Are you sure?”
“Would I have said it if I didn't mean it?” Taking Matthew’s hand, she led him over to the bed. Slowly she lifted her t-shirt over her head, letting it fall to the floor, then she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her leggings and shimmied them down her legs. She stood before him in nothing but her panties.
Heat practically poured off Matthew, but he still didn't move.
All his honor and self-control made her want to shatter it.
Stepping closer she smiled when she saw Matthew’s hungry gaze tracking her every move. This time her hands went to the hem of his t-shirt, and she pushed it up, and he helped pull it over his head.
“Wow,” she murmured. He really was cut. His muscles were so sculpted that she couldn’t help but run her fingers across each ridge and plane. At her touch, she could see him growing hard, his length standing to attention, and she ran the tip of one finger along it, making Matthew hiss in a breath.
“You keep tempting me like that, sweetheart, and I won't be able to restrain myself,” he warned.
“Good. I don’t want your restraint right now.”
Matthew groaned and wrapped his hands around her hips, and he lifted her, rubbing her center along his length, and ripping a moan from her lips.
“These have got to go,” Matthew said as he set her on her feet and slid the panties down her legs. “These legs look even better when you have nothing else on. And these breasts.” He palmed them, his fingers kneaded her sensitive flesh, then he swirled the pad of a finger over her nipples, making them pebble. “I can't wait to taste them,” he said as he scooped her up and laid her down on the bed. Before touching her, he stood above her, his eyes sweeping over her naked body, spread out before him. Everywhere his gaze touched her body responded until all of her was tingling, heated with a flush that there was only one way to put out.
“Hurry up and touch me,” she pleaded because she absolutely wasn’t above begging right now. If he didn't touch her soon, she was going to burn from the inside out.
“Oh, I intend to, honey. I'm going to touch every inch of you with my fingers, and then my tongue, and then I'm going to bury myself inside you and you’re going to come so hard you’re going to think you lost your mind.”
“I think I already lost my mind,” she murmured.
The smile he gave her was pure sex and her insides clenched in delightful anticipation.
Then his fingers slipped between her legs, and he was right, the ability to think suddenly fled.
All she could do was feel.
Feel the heat building low in her stomach as his thumb slid in slow circles on her needy little bundle of nerves. A finger brushed at her entrance and inched inside her so slowly she thought she was going to die from the desire to feel him inside her body.
Once he had one finger buried deep, he added another, the pressure of his thumb increased, and the heat growing inside her began to burn so brightly she felt like she was smoldering. Then his body moved to stretch out above her, and his lips closed around one of her nipples. The heat of his mouth, the rasp of his teeth, and the swirl of his tongue added to what his very expert hand was doing between her legs lit the match and finally set her alight.
She came long and hard, so hard in fact it felt like flames were shooting through her body like a mess of shooting stars.
Grace was still floating back down to earth when Matthew shed his shorts and settled between her legs.
Like a flip was switched, her hazy afterglow morphed into terror.
“Hold her down. Stop fighting me, Grace. This is happening whether you want it or not, I did my time, now you owe me.”
“Grace! Sweetheart, what’s wrong? It’s okay, honey, it’s okay. We won't do anything you don’t want to.”
She hadn't even realized she was screaming no and fighting him until he hauled her into his lap and began to touch soft kisses to the top of her head.
“Matthew?”
“Right here, honey.”
Mortification washed over her.
She’d freaked out, had a flash back, right after he’d given her an earth-shattering orgasm. When he went to initiate sex, her brain must have transported itself back to the night of her rape. How embarrassing. How was she ever going to look Matthew in the eye ever again?