Last Light(30)

Matt adjusted the thermostat, then pulled me back into the circle of his arms.

I smiled up at him. Dear God, I’d missed this handsome face, this strong grip.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, the edges of laughter in his voice, “and happy Valentine’s Day. I made a snack.” He hooked a thumb toward the table. I glanced over his shoulder. It was Valentine’s Day, wasn’t it? I had forgotten.

In the candlelight, I saw two paper plates, a bag of Wonder Bread, a jar of peanut butter, and one spoon. I pressed my lips into a line to keep from laughing.

“Oh, sweetie. Wow. And … a tree.” My mouth twitched. “Did something burn?”

I was still acutely aware of Matt’s arousal pressed against me. His fingers gathered up my coat as we spoke. I trembled against him.

“I was making pasta. I threw it out. It came out all … weird. Hannah, what—” Matt’s fingertips trailed over the tops of my thigh-highs. Again, confusion flashed through his eyes. He began to undo my coat, freeing one button after another and finally throwing it open. I swayed on my heels. Fuck …

Matt’s expression grew serious, and my own giggly mood floated into oblivion. Already, my chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. My nipples stood stiff against the mesh cups of my slip. I lowered my eyes.

“Do you … like it?” I whispered.

How did this work? Matt’s desire seemed to suck the sound out of the room, and the breath out of my body. And he was only staring. I peeked at him through my lashes.

The look I found on his face is with me forever. It was need mingled with satisfaction. A hunger in his eyes, a thin smile on his lips.

Matt wanted me, and Matt already had me. I was his.

He pushed the coat from my shoulders and it flopped to the floor. I dropped my purse. Matt shucked off his T-shirt and I stared at his torso.

I came alive then, flattening my palms to his chest. His heart knocked under my hand.

“Yeah,” Matt said. He nudged me toward the wall. I let him move me; I yielded easily and started to pant. Heat gathered between my legs. “Yeah … I like it, Hannah. I like this…”

He pinched my nipple through the polka-dot fabric. I moaned. My hands flew to the drawstrings on his pants. He grinned down at me as I fumbled with the knot.

“I like this,” he whispered, shifting out of my reach and slipping a hand between my legs. My thong was soaked. Matt pulled it down. He unclipped my garters and let my panties slide down my thighs.

“This.” He squeezed my ass with both hands. I squirmed.

“Please.” I reached for his pants again. It was humiliating, being the only one exposed, and I wanted … I wanted to see Matt’s need. I wanted him naked.

Again, Matt moved his hips out of reach. He chuckled and pressed my back into the wall. I stamped my foot.

“So precious, Hannah. So f*cking sexy. Touch your breasts … your nipples.” Matt trained his green eyes on my chest. “Do it, and I’ll take off my pants.”

I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes, lifting my hands to my breasts. Matt always embarrassed me during sex. And some part of me … loved it.

“Eyes open, look at me.” His voice tickled my ear.

I forced myself to meet Matt’s gaze as I squeezed my breasts. He tilted his head. The tent in his lounge pants said he was enjoying the show, but f*ck, I wanted to see his body. When I rolled my nipples between my fingers, I gasped and Matt’s mouth dropped open.

“God, Hannah.” He pushed off his pants. He braced a hand against the wall and gripped his shaft. My eyes broke from his. I drank in the sight of his sculpted body, his stiff cock, his strong thighs. “This … is how it was, wasn’t it? You touching yourself … me touching myself.”

My eyelids fluttered.

“It was,” I said. “Not anymore.”

“Not anymore.” Matt touched my face. He turned me gently to face the wall and rested his shaft along the cleft of my backside. “Can you tell, Hannah?” Matt gathered my hair with one hand. He kissed my ear. “Can you tell I like it, your tight little lingerie?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

“How? How can you tell?” Matt slid his sex up my crack. I pushed out my bottom and clenched my cheeks to grip him. Matt hissed. I grinned. Two could play at this game.

“The way you stare,” I said.

“Mm, what else?” He kissed the corner of my mouth. Lightly, he teased a fingertip over my sex. My desire oozed down his finger.

“Your cock,” I said quietly. I knew that was the answer he wanted.

“Yes. What about it?” Matt rewarded me by lazily circling my entrance with his finger. He pushed his chest against my back, and my heaving breasts met the wall.

“Hard,” I mumbled.

A whisper of laughter crossed the nape of my neck. I reached back and gripped Matt’s hips, trying to draw him closer to my body. His cock throbbed against my bottom.

“That’s right, Hannah. You make my dick so f*cking hard.”

I moaned and tried to drive my body onto Matt’s finger, but I couldn’t move.

Matt released me suddenly. My heavy hair fell around my shoulders; the pressure of his body eased and air rushed into my lungs. And then he dragged me down.





Chapter 18