“I can feel how fucking wet you are, little one, but apparently I need to remind you who you belong to.”
He boosts me up against the wall and presses his denim-covered cock against my core, rocking against me, making me gasp and groan. Hell yes, I’m his! And suddenly, he can’t get inside me fast enough. I don’t care that we’re in the restroom of a restaurant. I need him. Now.
He leans back to unfasten his jeans, unleashes his cock and very gently rubs the head of his hard dick over my clit and through my folds, until he slips inside me, burying himself as deep as he can go. He pulls both my hands over my head and pins them with one of his hands, supports my ass with the other and proceeds to fuck me hard and fast, panting and growling. He bites my neck, leaving a mark, I’m sure, then kisses me again, until we both have to break away to breathe.
“I told you before, I’ll never share you, sweetheart, and I meant it.” He releases my hands to cup my face in his palm, brushing the apple of my cheek with his thumb.
God, he’s consuming me. I can feel the frustration rolling off him in waves, and while his movements are urgent, he’s still gentle, careful not to hurt me.
He’d never hurt me.
He leans his forehead against mine and in a low voice commands, “Come.”
And I can’t help it, I do. Having him touch me, inside me, is my undoing, and I come hard, bucking my hips and clenching around him.
“There is nothing sexier than watching you come,” he groans and explodes inside me.
We’re both panting, and I’m quivering from the aftershocks of both of our orgasms. Before pulling out of me or even setting me back on the floor, he grips my chin in his hand and keeps my gaze pinned to his.
“You have five minutes to get rid of the asshole and get in my car. You are already spending the night tied to my bed, but you take even a second longer and you’ll be blindfolded as well.”
I gape at him as he pulls out of me, tucks himself away and sets his watch. He turns to the sink, wets a paper towel and returns to me, kneeling at my feet, cleaning the insides of my thighs where his semen has streamed out of me. He straightens my skirt, tosses the towel away, stands and kisses me thoroughly and completely, then takes my hand in his and leads me out of the bathroom back to my table.
When we arrive, Ben is grinning wider than I’ve ever seen him.
Matt leans in and kisses my cheek, then whispers in my ear, “The clock is ticking. I’ll see you outside,” and then he’s gone.
“So, are things resolved?” Ben asks, watching Matt walk away.
“Uh, I think the groveling is about to come sooner than I expected,” I reply in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Ben, but…”
“No, don’t be sorry. I’ll be here all week. We’ll catch up another day.”
I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
I grab my purse and hurry out of the restaurant to find Matt parked in front of the entrance, the engine running, and waiting for me.
I climb into the passenger seat and watch him warily. “I’m here.”
“That’s a good start,” he replies and pulls away from the restaurant toward his own apartment.
“Where are we going?”
“Home.”
“Why?”
The look he sends me is hurt and angry, making me sink back into the seat. “You and I have some things to work out. The first of which being you don’t go out on dates with anyone but me.”
“We broke up, Matt. I can see whomever I choose.”
“Bullshit.” His voice is low and hard, and the usual calm that Matt exudes has settled back around him.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
He parks in his space and pulls himself out of the car and around to my side, opens the door and waits for me to climb out of the car.
I hold my hand out for his. He takes it, raises it to his lips and kisses my knuckles tenderly before leading me into the elevator. He’s quiet as the elevator climbs to his floor, then he leads me down the hall to his door.
Once inside, I’m at a loss. I’m not sure where to take it from here.
Do I just blurt out I’m sorry?
“Let’s start with who was he,” Matt begins and sits on the edge of a chair in his living room. He gestures to the couch opposite him, and I sit, remembering our last night together here on this sofa.
“Ben,” I begin and clear my throat, “he’s a good friend.”
Matt raises an eyebrow, waiting for more of an explanation.
“He’s from my hometown, and he was my boyfriend until I moved here to go to culinary school.”
Matt’s eyes darken, and his hands clench into fists.
“There’s been nothing sexual happening with him in years, and frankly, right before you walked up and interrupted, we were talking about you.” I raise an eyebrow and then keep talking, “And how I was going to clean up this mess I caused.”
“Dating other men isn’t the answer,” Matt mutters.
“He’s in town for the week and invited me to dinner and wanted to know why I look sad.” The last few words are a whisper as I look down at my feet.
“Why are you sad, little one?”
I feel tears gather, so I cover my face with my hands and take a deep breath. “Because I miss you,” I murmur. “Matt, I owe you a big apology.”
“Lower your hands and look me in the eye.”
I comply and am shocked to see tears in his eyes when my gaze finds his. “I’m so sorry, for not being more open with you, for assuming instead of discussing. Hell, for just being an idiot in general.”
“You’re not an idiot, but I accept the apology for the rest of it.” He wipes his hand over his mouth, watching me. God, he looks amazing. His hair is a riotous mess, and his eyes look tired, but the T-shirt he’s wearing molds to his upper body, showing off every line of every muscle, and his jeans are just delicious.
I can’t stop looking at him, soaking in the sight of him.
Oh, how I’ve missed him.
“I can’t stand this.” Matt stands and pulls me to my feet then lifts me into his arms, sits on the couch and settles me in his lap. “This is better.”
I loop my arms around his neck and cling, just hugging him tightly, breathing him in.
“Talk to me, baby.”
I lean back to look into his face, gliding my fingertips down his cheeks. “I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”