Matt brushed his lips against mine, a promise of more. Then he leaned down, his mouth moving from my lips to my collarbone. Each kiss trailed lower, a slow, tantalizing path along my collarbone that made my pulse race. With deliberate slowness, he undid the buttons of my shirt, placing a kiss on each newly exposed bit of skin. My breath hitched as the trail of kisses moved lower, a feverish anticipation building with each lingering touch.
Matt’s pace was unhurried, each button a tiny victory as he exposed more of my chest, inch by tantalizing inch. My shirt fell open, baring my heart to him—both literally and metaphorically—while my breathing turned shallow under the onslaught of desire.
By the time the last button was undone, my shirt hanging open, my entire body felt like it was on fire. I was desperatefor more, greedy for the feel of his skin against mine with no barriers between us.
“This slow burn is killing me,” I managed to gasp out, even as another part of me relished the exquisite torture.
Matt chuckled above me, the sound vibrating against the newly exposed skin of my torso. “Good things take time,” he murmured, but I could hear the edge in his voice, that thread of desire that matched my own.
Impatient and more than a little desperate, I shrugged off my jacket and yanked my shirt away from my body. The fabric fluttered to the floor like a discarded thought. In one fluid movement, I launched myself at him. “Deal with this,” I demanded, indicating my pants as I captured his lips once again.
He obliged without hesitation, his hands moving to my waistband while our mouths clashed in a wild dance. The world narrowed down to the touch of his fingers as they worked my pants free, the fabric sliding down my legs until I was in my naked glory.
I pressed myself against him shamelessly, legs wrapping around his waist as if they belonged there. Our kiss was an inferno now, a tangle of tongues and stolen breaths that left no room for thought.
With every grind against Matt’s body, every roll of our hips together, the air around us seemed to charge with electricity. It was intoxicating—the feel of him so close, so much yet still not enough. My hands roamed over his back, nails digging in slightly because if this was madness, then sanity be damned—I wanted more.
The release from Matt’s lips felt like the finale of a fireworks show—spectacular yet leaving me yearning for more. But oh, he wasn’t done. He moved down to my neck, his lips trailing a path of fire that licked at every nerve ending.
He made his way to my collar, peppering it with attention, before descending to my chest. There, he found a new toy to play with—my nipple. Matt took it into his mouth, and that wicked tongue of his started its dance, teasing and toying with a skill that should’ve been illegal. It was loving torture, and I was the willing victim tied up in invisible ropes of pleasure.
I gasped, unable to contain the litany of moans that followed. “You’ve got a real talent for… mmm… torture.”
His chuckle vibrated against my skin, the sound almost as tantalizing as the sensations he was evoking. Meanwhile, his fingers mirrored the actions of his mouth—twin sources of torment that had me squirming beneath him like a marionette under the control of a master puppeteer.
I writhed under him, each tug and twist sending shock waves that radiated outward from my chest to the rest of my body. It was like being in the eye of a storm—calm yet chaotic—as I rode out each wave of sensation he conjured with his mouth and hands.
“You’re too good at this,” I gasped between moans. It was a compliment wrapped in an accusation—a statement of fact that bore repeating.
Matt hummed around me—a vibration that only added to the sensory overload. “I aim to please,” came his muffled reply, sending another jolt through me.
By the time he decided my nipples had endured enough sweet agony, I was breathless and dazed—a kite caught in a hurricane. His trail of kisses didn’t stop; they descended farther down my belly, an explorer charting unknown territories with every press of his lips.
And then there it was—the moment when his mouth found my cock. The sensation was immediate and intense, a white-hot blaze that burned through me as he took me in. His lips wereheaven; his tongue was sin itself—flicking and swirling in ways that made coherent thought impossible.
I groaned—loudly—my back arching off the bed as if pulled by strings only Matt could see. My fingers tangled in his hair involuntarily as he worked me over with an expertise that bordered on supernatural. But even then, Matt wasn’t satisfied with just one source of pleasure—he needed more; I needed more. His teasing finger traced lower until it brushed against my entrance.
The sensation was nothing short of celestial, Matt’s mouth working me with the fervor of a man possessed. My toes curled so tight I feared they might cramp, and stars exploded behind my eyes, a private fireworks show courtesy of his expert tongue. I rode that high like a roller coaster with no intention of slowing down, soaring over the peaks of pleasure until I spilled into Matt’s mouth. He drank me down like I was the elixir of life, and I was still floating somewhere in the stratosphere when he hoisted me up and kissed me so deep it felt like he was reaching into my soul. The taste of myself on his lips was strangely intoxicating—like a fine wine you can’t afford but drink anyway because, hell, life’s short.
Before I could even consider coming down from my Everest of ecstasy, I felt him—hard and insistent—pressing at my entrance. A new wave of sensation crashed over me, rolling in hot on the heels of my orgasm. It was like trying to catch my breath after sprinting a mile but in the best possible way. It was an invasion, but the most welcome kind—a pleasure so acute it bordered on pain.
Matt began to move within me, each thrust a shock wave that reignited the pleasure that had just begun to ebb. I clung to him like he was the only solid thing in a world spinning out of control, nails digging into the muscle of his back as if I could anchor myself in the eye of this storm of ecstasy.
His rhythm was unrelenting—hot and hard and fast—and God help me, it was exactly what I craved. Each thrust targeting that spot inside me like a homing missile programmed for maximum impact, sending squirms of delight through my body. Every fiber of my being sang out for more, each nerve ending sparking like faulty wiring in an electrical storm.
We were lost in it—the timelessness of pure pleasure—as Matt pounded into me. With every thrust, I welcomed him with open arms—or legs in this case—and open heart. The man was a machine in all the right ways, and damn if I didn’t love every second of it.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better—faster, harder, deeper—he shifted gears again. Legs over shoulders, he dove deeper still, deep enough to touch my soul. One climax rolled into two and then three as he pushed down on me with each thrust, driving us both toward oblivion. And when he finally came deep inside me, it was like all the slot machines in Vegas paying out at once—a cascade of sensation that left us both spent and panting.
There we were, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat-drenched sheets, still catching our breath from the kind of earth-shattering climax that would’ve registered on the Richter scale. Matt collapsed onto me, a solid weight that felt like home. His lips found mine in a kiss that was somehow both a victory lap and a gentle reassurance. “That was incredible,” he murmured against my mouth.
My brain, still foggy with the afterglow, managed a dazed nod, a bobbing like one of those dashboard dolls.
Matt rolled off with the grace of a panther leaving its prey. He stood, muscles still thrumming with energy, and sauntered into the walk-in closet. Curiosity pricked at me as I sprawled on the bed like a damsel in distress—or maybe the prince who’dbeen thoroughly rescued—catching my breath and getting my bearings.
He emerged moments later, an armful of silk ties clutched to his chest. The array of colors splayed out on the bed like a peacock’s fan. “Pick one,” he said, that devilish spark in his eyes.
Humoring him, I reached for a deep-blue tie with silver accents—understated but classy. “This one.”
