“Your eyes give away all your indecent thoughts, Miss Halsted.”
Peeling back the covers, I ran my palm up his leg to his ass. I squeezed, feeling his muscles cording under my hand, and landed a resounding slap.
“All of them?” I challenged.
He shot a heated glance over his shoulder, and I rubbed the pink handprint blooming on his skin before switching sides. He rolled, swinging an arm out to grab me around the waist and pin me beneath him.
“I’d really like to know what you’re thinking.”
I brushed the hair from my eyes and smiled up at Matthew. “I’m thinking you are an unbelievably hot sample of your species, and I wanted to feel the perfection for myself. Then I was wondering whether you wanted to fuck me in the shower, and if you did maybe you’d want to use the massaging showerhead on my—”
“Holy fuck, Lauren.”
A howling groan filled the room, and Matthew balanced on his forearms, kicking the sheets away and rocking into me with one rough motion. That response told me everything I needed to know about the unrefined and frankly shocking requests that kept rolling off my tongue.
I probably wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but I was drunk on the power he gave me and my words. I didn’t understand where they came from or how he drew them out or why we needed them. But I knew they did something to him, to us both, and I was slowly understanding the depth to which they affected us. They freed me from everything, from my rules, from myself, and they didn’t just turn him on, they turned himup.
“You always say you need some time,” I said. It came out in a stutter, rasping in time with the hammering of his hips. I wrapped a hand around the headboard; we usually found ourselves on the floor after this kind of thrusting, and we’d done this enough to know when to hold on. “And look where you end up.”
“Thought I did. But then you spanked me, and opened that filthy mouth of yours.” He shook his head, his expression bewildered. “If I knew I’d like you slapping my ass so much, we would have started there.”
He lifted my hips a few degrees, and I knew from the concentration on his face and bunched muscles in his shoulders he was close, but that angle hurt like hell.
“Don’t stop but please don’t keep doing that,” I said.
He froze for a moment, then pulled out. “What’d I do? What’s wrong?”
I rolled over and settled in his lap, my back to his chest, knowing this position always worked for us. We’d tried them all, and determined our strengths and preferences quickly. I guided him into me, and we sighed when I sank down over him. “You can still be a caveman while being gentle.”
We moved together slowly, undulating in a patient rhythm with his arm braced over my breasts and his mouth on my neck and shoulders. This was sleepy, middle-of-the-night sex, quiet and calm and instinctual, with the only sounds coming from hushed moans and skin sliding across skin. I felt Matthew—all of him—swallowing all of me until there was no delineation between us.
We weren’t frantic and we weren’t primal, and we weren’t hiding behind filthy bucket lists, alcohol, or a certain degree of anonymity. We’d needed those things to come together before, to be whatever, whomever we wanted—at least I needed them—but we didn’t need them anymore. This was where we knew each other, where we anticipated every sound and shiver, and we didn’t need anything else. It was just us, just Matt and Lauren, and we only needed this.
He brought his hand to my pelvis, holding me there and pressing, and we felt my walls closing around him, magnifying the fullness. I laced my fingers with his, guiding him.
“I want your fingers on me, just like…” I demonstrated, my fingers scribbling over my clit while I arched into him. I was right there, so closeso close, but I wasn’t ready to go over yet, and I stiffened, holding back and fighting off the first tickles of release. My clit couldn’t take any more stimulation right now, and I moved our fingers lower, to where he moved in me. Our pace slowed to an aching roll, and we moaned in concert when we rubbed the base of his cock.
“Tell me what you need,” Matthew said against my throat. His voice was strained, almost gravelly, and it strummed every tightly wound nerve in my body. “There is nothing hotter than watching you touch yourself while I’m fucking you, and I know you’re so fucking close and you’re just waiting until I let you come.”
“Why do I love it when you talk to me like that?”
He rocked against me, his forehead pressed to my shoulder and his rough groans against my skin, and I focused on nothing more than the warmth and wetness where we were joined.
“The same reason I love your filthy mind, so just tell me what you need.”
I didn’t have to think about it. The words were right there, rising to the top like perverted little bubbles in my champagne, just waiting for him to ask for them, and here’s the thing: I wanted everything I asked for. I didn’t want him calling me his dirty slut while we ate paella, of course, but I wanted it when the lights and clothes were off. Sex with Matthew was a special type of truth serum for me, and it was the one place I could completely shake off the world and rely only on instinct.
My hips swayed, and through the smooth, round motion I locked our fingers around his base, squeezing while I met his thrusts. And then I turned my head, my lips brushing over Matthew’s, and in the most demure voice possible I said, “I want to be your fuck toy. All for you. Only for you. Only ever for you.”
A strangled grunt rumbled from Matthew’s chest, his arms tightening as he surged into my body. He bit my shoulder hard—harder than ever before, harder than necessary—and I came apart with a shriek, my body liquefying in his arms. The electricity crackling between us went from bright white to starlit darkness, and I felt everything inside me unraveling. Every stitch and seam was sliding loose, and I was undone by him, this, us.
“You’re incredible. So fucking incredible,” he panted. His muscles sagged with a sigh, and his forehead fell to my back.
Matthew kissed my shoulders, holding me close. I studied him over my shoulder for a heavy moment, my gaze dropping to the purple indentations in my skin before breaking our connection to fall into the pillows. He flopped on his stomach beside me and brought his hand to my ass.
“This is crazy,” I whispered.
“I’m starting to think you’re right about that.” Matthew pressed a kiss to the slope of my breast and stared at it, hopefully reminding himself to take it easy with the biting. “But I like this kind of crazy.”
