With another powerful thrust, Matt sent Andy over the edge again, his cock pulsing in Matt’s hand as he came with a strangled cry, his ass clenching around Matt’s cock as he sprayed his release into Matt’s waiting hand.
The sensation of Andy’s orgasm around his cock was enough to send Matt over the edge. With a final, forceful thrust, Matt followed Andy, his own climax barreling through him. Matt’s orgasm was a white-hot explosion, the sensation of his seed spilling into the boy’s willing body sending waves of pleasure coursing through his veins. Each pulse of his cock was a brand, a mark of possession that left him feeling lightheaded and utterly sated.
Matt’s vision swam as he reveled in the afterglow, his body slick with sweat and spent from exertion. Andy, too, was a sight to behold, his body flushed with the evidence of their lovemaking, his eyes half-lidded with satisfaction.
With a gentleness that belied the fervor of their previous actions, Matt lifted Andy into his arms. The young man was boneless, his body limp with exhaustion as he nestled against Matt’s chest.
“Let’s get cleaned up and go to bed,” Matt murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Andy’s temple. The young man nodded, too exhausted to form words, his body draped trustingly over Matt’s shoulder as they made their way to the bathroom.
Once they were dry and nestled under the covers, Matt felt a wave of euphoria wash over him. He gathered Andy close, dropping a gentle kiss on his forehead.
“I love you,” he murmured, his tone hushed and heartfelt. Andy remained silent, having succumbed to slumber, and Matt’s smile broadened as he too surrendered to the pull of sleep, their bodies entwined in the quiet of the night.
Twenty-Four
ANDY
Sunlight spilled across the sheets, a rude reminder of reality after the escapades of last night. Every muscle in my body felt like it had run a marathon, climbed a mountain, and danced a tango—all at once. The memory of Matt and me tangling up sent a fresh wave of aches through me, the kind you don’t get at the gym.
A chuckle escaped my lips as I spotted the note perched on the bedside table, Matt’s handwriting looping across the page:Take it easy, beautiful.Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one feeling like he’d been through a particularly enthusiastic round of Twister.
I flopped back, letting out a sigh that filled the room. “Beautiful, huh?” I muttered to myself. Suddenly, Mia’s call from last night flashed in my mind—right when Matt was playing Picasso with sex toys on my body. I bolted out of bed, wincing as my muscles cried foul, and made a beeline for my cell phone on the coffee table. The sight of it still twisted my gut with the reminder of Sean, but I pushed those thoughts aside and dialed Mia’s number.
Ring after ring met my ear with no answer. My brow furrowed as I tapped my foot impatiently. “Come on, Mia,” Iwhispered into the void. Again, nothing but the cold embrace of voicemail. Deciding not to let worry consume me just yet, I made for the bathroom.
A shower worked wonders for the body but did little to quell my concern. Water sluiced over sore muscles, and I emerged with a towel wrapped around my waist and a growing hunger that rivaled my unease about Mia.
Food. Yes, food would help.
I ordered enough breakfast to feed a small army—or one very hungry, sore guy—and while waiting, I tried Mia’s number again. Still no answer. A gnawing sensation crept into my stomach that wasn’t from hunger. Mia wasn’t one to ignore calls, especially not mine.
James had Mia wrapped up in his world, and it didn’t sit right with me—not one bit. But what could I do, trapped in this gilded cage of luxury and lingering lust?
Tyrone rolled in with a cart that carried enough calories to power a space shuttle. “Thanks,” I managed between tries to reach Mia.
Eggs Benedict, pancakes stacked high—they all disappeared as if by magic while Mia’s silence loomed heavy in the air. I left her message after message:Call me back as soon as you get this, okay? It’s important.
Frustration mounting and confined by physical limitations—courtesy of Matt’s thorough attention—I cracked open my laptop. If I couldn’t be there for Mia in person just yet, at least I could lose myself in lines of code until she—or fate—decided to throw me a bone.
The sun had begun its lazy descent when Matt strolled in. He brought with him the scent of power and a touch of desert heat, enough to send my senses into a tailspin. My heart kicked up a notch, like a kid on Christmas morning, and my body—traitorous thing that it was—lit up like the Strip at night.
Matt’s lips pressed to my forehead, a cool contrast to the fevered thoughts in my head. “How’s the body holding up?” His voice rumbled like distant thunder, soothing yet foreboding.
I shrugged, masking the riot inside me with nonchalance. “Oh, you know, might file for assault charges later.” My attempt at humor barely masked the quiver of excitement his touch brought.
His chuckle vibrated through me. “James is bringing Mia over tonight.”
That caught my attention. A surge of happiness clashed with a spike of fear—like getting hit with a dose of adrenaline and tranquilizer at the same time. “Why’s she with Mr. Maxwell?” I asked, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
Matt shrugged those broad shoulders that seemed capable of carrying the world’s worries. “You’ll have to ask them.” Then he stood up as if to leave. “Just wanted to drop by and tell you that. I’ve got a ton of work to do so I’ll be back late.”
I eyed him with suspicion. “Ever heard of texting? Or—God forbid—a phone call?”
He shot me a grin that should be illegal for how it messed with my heart rate. “I prefer the personal touch.” With a wink, he left.
Alone again, I grabbed my phone like it was a lifeline. Come on, Mia. I dialed her number for what felt like the hundredth time today. The call went straight to voicemail.
As I hung up, frustration clawing at my chest, I couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion I knew why she was tangled up with James—the same reason Sean had turned from friend to ghost: two million reasons, all owed and none forgotten.
