Maybe Matt's Miracle(61)

“Faster,” he urges. “I need to hear you come.”

“You waiting for me?” My breath stutters along with my heart.

“Always,” he sighs.

“Matt,” I cry out.

“That’s right,” he urges. “Say my name.”

“Matt, Matt, Matt,” I chant.

“It’s me making you come, Sky. Only me.” His voice is low and soft and hits the very center of me.

“Only you.”

“Me. And you.”

My legs quiver, and I know it’s time.

“Sky,” he pleads. “Please come.”

A moan leaves my throat as my body bows with pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” he says. He grunts, and I can tell he’s coming, too. “Please don’t stop,” he begs.

I cry out softly, my body racked with tremors.

“Don’t stop,” he says, his voice growing softer.

“Unh,” I groan. I have to stop. My clit is too sensitive, my body wrecked. I slow my fingers and let the small aftershocks take me. Sensitive and used, I stop rubbing my * and listen to him breathe.

We sit like this for a moment, and then I hear him move.

“Stay with me, Matt,” I say.

“I’m not leaving you,” he says with a chuckle. “I just need to clean up. I’m kind of a mess.”

“Oh,” I breathe over a laugh. Forgot about that.

“Yeah,” he says. He moves around for a second, and then I hear his bed creak again. I imagine him settling back against the pillows, a content smile upon his face. “You okay?” he asks softly.

“Mmm hmm,” I hum.

He laughs. “And she’s speechless after that orgasm.”

I giggle. I can’t help it. I’m naked lying on top of my covers, and he just talked me through an orgasm over the phone. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Learn,” he says over a snort. “Shit, I’ve never done that before. That was all you.” He chuckles. “I can’t believe I let you corrupt me like that.”

I can’t bite back my grin. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

He yawns. “You couldn’t stop me.”



###



I wake up and look over at the clock. It’s two a.m., and I’m naked and cold on top of the covers. I get up and put on my jammies, then go the bathroom and wash my hands. I look in the mirror. I shake my head. A few short weeks ago, I was a single girl living my single life with a boyfriend who didn’t care about me. Now I have three kids who I am learning to love beyond anything I ever imagined, and I have Matt. I never knew I could feel the way I feel for Matt about anyone. I kind of feel sorry for Phillip. He never got me to this point, and I never gave him what I’m willing to give Matt.

I have this insatiable desire to go check on the girls. I walk down the hall and into their room. The night-light they can’t sleep without bathes the room in a soft glow. Mellie is on top of her covers, so I gently pull them from beneath her and cover her up. She snuffles into her pillow and rolls over. Joey rarely moves in her sleep, but I tug her covers up to her chin anyway. She doesn’t stir.

I want to check on Seth, too, but he’s a teenage boy, and I worry about opening his door. I decide not to chance it.

I walk into the living room and startle when I see a light on the end table turned on. Seth looks over his shoulder at me, closes the book he has open in his lap, and jams it into the cushions of the couch.

“Everything okay?” I ask. I sit down on the other end of the sofa and draw my feet up under me.

“Yeah.” I realize his eyes are wet, and he swipes a hand beneath his nose.

“What were you looking at?” I ask. My heart breaks for him. He never did cry after his mom’s death, at least not that I could see.

“Just some pictures,” he says without looking me in the eye.

“Can I see?” I reach for the album, and he shrugs his shoulders. I pull it out and turn to the first page. Seth was adorable as a baby. I smile and look over at him. “You always had those dimples, huh?”

He grins and scoots next to me on the couch.

I look closer and see my dad in the album. My heart nearly stops. He has his arm around Kendra in a lot of the pictures, and he looks so comfortable with her. “Granddad was here a lot,” he says.

I nod. I don’t know why that chokes me up, but it does.

I turn the page. “Your mom was so beautiful.”

“I know.” His shoulder touches mine, and he leans against me, pointing to a picture. “That’s my dad.”

Well, that’s not what I was expecting. His dad is Latino.

“He spoke Spanish to us all the time.”

I look up at him. “You know Spanish?”

He nods and turns the page. “That’s the man my Grandma eventually married. He was nice.”

That’s the man who took my dad’s place.

“How much do you know about all that?” I ask. I don’t know how much I can and can’t say around him.

“Enough,” he says.

“Your mom was smart and beautiful, huh?” I say, turning to a picture of her getting an award for something.

He nods. “But she didn’t trust men.”