When her fingers started working his belt buckle, he came back to himself. He took his shirt by the hem and discarded it on the floor. On hands and knees he prowled over her until she was forced onto her back, hands knocked loose from his belt. “No, no. I know you’d suck me so good. But my mouth will be giving the pleasure tonight.”

He gave a long lick of her pert nipple and she moaned. “Twist my arm, why don’t you?”

Matt trailed his tongue between her br**sts, taking the other nipple between his lips and sucking, humming in his throat to send vibrations through her body. When her back arched, fingernails cutting into his shoulders, he trailed his touch up the inside of her thighs. They fell open for him, a show of submission that made him pulse with heat. With pride.

When he began to massage Lucy through her already-damp panties, she nearly came off the ottoman. “Matt. Oh my God.”

“Did you touch yourself here when you got home, baby girl? Maybe watch a little  p**n  to pick up where my fingers left off?”

She blushed, but shook her head frantically on the soft surface. “No.”

Thank God. He’d wanted to be the one. “Tell me why.”

“I don’t know, I…” Her eyes squeezed shut. “I didn’t want to give in to it. Didn’t want to admit you got to me.”

Would this girl ever stop surprising him? He shoved the material of her underwear aside and traced her seam with his middle finger. Damp. Beautiful. “But I do get to you. Don’t I?”

“Yes,” she whispered, slaying him. “I get to you, too.”

He felt transparent in that moment, as though she could see right past his defenses. It alarmed him, forced him into motion again before she could say something else and strip him completely. Taking one final suck of her delicious breast, he began dragging his tongue down her belly. It shuddered underneath his treatment, her navel dipping in time with hot little gasps. Without taking his lips from her warming skin, he slid her panties down her legs, finally baring her completely.

“Look at you, spreading your legs for a kiss.” He pushed two fingers into her heat, swearing under his breath at the slickness of her arousal. She threw her head back, hips lifting and falling, just as uninhibited as he remembered. “The first time I tongue you into coming, it’s going to be an apology. The second time will be a reward for waiting.” He fell to his knees and took his first intoxicating taste of Lucy. A growl worked its way free of his chest. “The third time is going to be because I f**king love to hear you scream.”

“Matt. Now. Please!”

He wanted to take his time, but he couldn’t stop once he got started. The way she whimpered his name as his tongue circled her clit made him feel like a god. In an effort to get close as humanly possible, he threw her legs over his shoulders and focused on turning her world upside down. When her thighs began to clench and shake around his ears, he drew his middle finger in and out of her entrance, sucking with increasing pressure on that bundle of nerves that would get her off. His c**k was pressed against the ottoman, hips pumping rhythmically as he imagined f**king her, being surrounded by all that tight heat.

After a few too-brief moments, she dug her nails into his hair and tugged, her flesh spasming against his mouth. “Oh my God. It’s so good. So good.”

He continued his ministrations, but kept his eyes on her bucking body as she came. Lucy getting off was the most unbelievable sight he could remember. He’d feared her becoming an addiction, and he saw now that his concern had been more than warranted. His own condition was rapidly deteriorating, sending him into madness. Hunger pumped madly in his veins. He wouldn’t give in to the impulse to climb on top of her body and ride her until he got tired of hearing his name screamed at the ceiling. As in, never. He wouldn’t. This was for her. Only her.

When she settled down, Matt reached up with one hand and trailed his fingertips over her breast. “You are sweet all over, aren’t you? Your mouth. Your ni**les.” Gently, he bit the inside of her thigh before licking away the sting. “Your pu**y.” His tongue found her center again, flicking her sensitive clitoris gently. “I like hearing you beg, baby. Do it again.”

She moaned, taking her own hair in restless fists. “That was…I mean, holy—”

“Lucy.” Matt pushed and dragged his painful erection against the side of the ottoman. “Again.”

“No.” She tried to sit up. “Come up here with me.”

He pushed her thighs open with a growl. “Yes. I’d like another one, please. That’s the correct response.”

For one emotionally charged moment, she only watched him through hooded eyes, as if she might protest again. Until he savored her in a long, hard lick. Her body shuddered, knees falling wide once more. “Y-yes. I’d like another one, pleas— Oh, God.”

Chapter Nine

Lucy woke with a start when her internal studio audience began chanting her name, softly at first, then louder and louder. As if she’d done something to earn their approval. But what? Her eyes flew open, the events of the evening crashing through her memory like a rhinoceros in the jungle. Matt showing up at her door looking anguished. Hungry. Him pleasuring her from his knees her until her vocal cords went raw. He’d basically sent her into an orgasm coma. Should that fact cause her embarrassment or make her feel like a rock star?

Her studio audience immediately ceased chanting her name and started in with rock star, rock star, rock star! She felt her lips tilt up in a satisfied grin. Damn straight, rock star. Call her Mick Jagger because—

Someone shifted behind her in the gigantic guest bed and Lucy stifled a squeak of panic. A heavy arm slipped around her midsection, rugged male stubble scraping her neck, accompanied by a satisfied noise. A clean scent filled her nose, mouthwateringly masculine. It calmed her, even as it made her belly flutter with sudden nerves. Matt had stayed over last night? She didn’t remember him carrying her to bed, nor had she let herself think past their stolen moments together. Not with Matt, who continued to be elusive.

Despite his attempt to punish her in the park, she’d quickly transitioned from anger to a puddle of trembling need. Something that seemed to happen frequently where Matt was concerned. She’d heard the rawness in his voice and had no choice but to open the door. His expression as he’d stood silhouetted by the streetlamp had been her final undoing. Regret had been a living thing written all over his face. Before she’d formed a rational thought, he’d been touching her, kissing her, talking to her in a hushed, overtly sexual manner that gave her goose bumps every time it whispered through her mind. Instead of giving him hell like she’d planned on doing if they ever crossed paths again, she’d spread her thighs quicker than a Pilates instructor.

She didn’t know what it meant that he’d never, at any point last night, taken his own pleasure. She’d been more than willing to give it to him, remembered telling him so explicitly on more than one occasion, in fact. Yet he’d continued to deny himself, even though he’d been noticeably aroused. As in, wood for days. However, orgasms notwithstanding, they hadn’t actually talked about what seemed to keep happening between them, so in the light of day, last night felt kind of like one of those dreams that leaves you feeling anxious and confused about its meaning.