My legs shake with those words, and they’re about to give out, but instead I thrust forward, letting my dick slide through Matt’s fist. “I’m yours, Matt.”
Make me feel like only you can. Let me get lost while you care for me. I swallow those words.
He pushes me against the wall, and our mouths crash against each other. It’s an urgent, hard kiss. A fucking wrestling match between tongues. If I didn’t need him so badly, I’d spend hours tasting his lips, making love to his mouth. Savoring his taste. “Undress for me,” Matt says between breaths while he begins to unbutton his shirt.
I step out of my pants, grip the bottom of my shirt pulling it up and drop it next to my slacks. Matt mirrors my movements. The moon lights the room enough that I can see his firm, defined body. The perfectly delineated muscles of his stomach forming a V-shape that ends right at his crotch. Fuck, his cock—hard, long, thick—is ready to pump inside me. The tip swollen and I bet leaking some pre-cum.
“Bed, now,” Matt says as a gasp.
“Fuck,” I say, sitting on the edge as I reach for his waist and pull him down with me. Matt’s strong hands wrap around my neck, his thumb tracing my jawline. As his chest meets mine, his hard length touches mine. Hard cock against hard cock thrusting against each other. His body stops moving and his hand reaches for my dick. He runs his hand up and down, squeezing it. I stroke my hand along the well-defined muscles of his back, savoring him, enjoying his tongue. “Stop toying with me, I need you inside, baby. I need more.”
Matt’s body shifts, twisting to the side of the bed. The sound of him ripping the foil makes my cock twitch with anticipation. He comes back, biting the side of my neck, sucking it. “You taste delicious, salty, like French fries.” His analogy is juvenile, but the husky voice makes my body quake. That big mouth nibbles its way down my body, and his tongue licks my pecs, my abs, and my length. “Ready?” With the question, Matt pushes one finger inside me, his tongue making love to my dick.
He covers my length with his mouth, taking me deep inside, while thrusting three fingers inside my hole. Hitting my prostate, he charges my every nerve with so much energy I’m about to explode.
“So fucking tasty,” Matt says with a groan, retrieving his hand from my ass. He positions himself, and then covers himself with lube. I can barely make sense of all the sensations overflowing my body. I feel an arm wrap around my left leg, holding it up while Matt begins pushing himself inside me, slowly. “Tell me to stop. I don’t want to hurt you.” His soft voice slides through my ears while he slides inside me inch by inch until he’s all the way in. That bright gaze shines with the moonlight and as our eyes meet, he speaks. “Tell me when you’re ready for me to move.”
God, he’s so thick and long I wish he could stay inside me forever, filling every inch of me with every inch of him. “Ready,” I say, as I sigh.
“Holy fuck, you feel so fucking good, baby.” He pulls out and thrusts back in.
Lowering his chest against mine, his mouth meets mine. I don’t wait for him to ask for permission. I open for him, tasting myself, feeling as if I am now part of him. Our tongues mesh in a tender, soft kiss, as he plunges himself in and out. His hand grabs my cock, and it begins to glide up and down. Electricity runs beneath my skin, my entire body consumed by his touch, his musk. My balls are ready to release another charge. Matt squeezes my dick tighter and I can’t hold it any longer.
“Come with me, baby,” he whispers, thrusting harder, faster. My body thrashes beneath him, as I lose myself. All the tension I gathered through the night disappears with the last breath.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks.
“I’m not fragile.” I try to lighten the atmosphere because my body, my heart, and even my soul are overwhelmed about what happened between us. Instead of saying anything more, I kiss him and enjoy the last moments of having him inside me.
Our kiss lasts a few breaths and when we’re done, Matt pulls out, rolling to the side. “You’re becoming one of my favorite activities.” He leaves the bed, then comes back and pulls me into his arms. “Stay in my bed tonight.” My back tenses with the request. “Dude, don’t read much into it, just think how I’ll wake you up when I’m ready to have you again.”
The room goes silent. I don’t respond, but I don’t move either. For one night, for tonight, I won’t think any further, just feel. Let Matt be here for me, reassure me that what we’ve done was right. Well, maybe not a night, but I can stay for a few hours.
“Good night, Tristan.” Matt kisses my shoulder blade and I remain silent, enjoying his warm arms and remembering the bliss he just sent me into.
“This isn’t discreet, Matt,” Tristan complains, as he tucks his dress shirt inside his pants. “How many times do I have to tell you that my office isn’t the place for this?”
“That’s not what you said a few moments ago,” I say, while fixing my own shit and disposing of my condom. “Harder, Decker, faster. Those were your words.” I take a couple of steps and kiss the side of his neck.
“You know what I mean.”
I grin as I see him fight the pleasure of my presence with his rules. Just for that I should fuck him again.
“Should I remind you that you called me?” I point at my cellphone. He frowns. “Well, texted me: I need you, babe.”
He doesn’t have to say more. Each time he asks me to be with him, I am. Just like the times I call him and he agrees to see me. Tonight, I welcomed the distraction. In fact, over the last seven weeks, he’s become the best distraction I’ve ever had. We fool around often. I dare to say that we do it on a daily basis. We meet each other while I’m in California, and when he goes to Seattle. He hates when I come to any of his bars or nightclubs, although he stops complaining once I fuck him thoroughly. The guy isn’t hard to please. As long as I fake that I’m here to discuss business and I give him a couple of orgasms, he’s happy I showed up. Being in the closet doesn’t make me happy, but I trust he’ll work through that soon.
“Well, I assumed you’d come to my place when I was done working,” he says, fixing his tie and sliding on his jacket. Fuck. Fuck. That powerful-business-man look makes me want to fuck him again. “Not appear through my door an hour later.” He stops, tilts his head, and narrows his gaze. “Where were you?”
“In Santa Barbara. I was working, trying to catch up with some shit I haven’t been able to finish.” I pull him toward me and kiss him thoroughly.
God, I can’t get enough of him. There’s something about Tristan that makes me crave him on a daily basis. The more I have him, the more I want. We not only fuck, but we also hang out. I enjoy his company either way. It’s been almost two months since he finally caved and let himself come to me. Seven weeks of hanging out with him here at work, or going on a hike. He doesn’t enjoy playing video games as much as I do, but we compensate that time by watching sports. All is good; we don’t need to like the same things to be friends. Friends with some benefits. Scratch that . . . we have a lot of benefits.
“Are you going back to Seattle tomorrow?” he asks before pressing his lips against mine. I nod without letting him go, but he pushes me. “No, I can’t take another round. I’m understaffed tonight. You want to help? We can head to my place later and head to Seattle in the morning.”
“I’m taking the late flight, you?”
“I can change my ticket if you . . .” He trails his gaze, shakes his head, as he twists his lips. “No, I have to be there by noon. See you tomorrow night then?”
“I’ll stay and help, take you home for one last fuck, and then see you tomorrow night. Does that work for you?”
He looks around the room pensively. “I should say no,” he tells me.
“But you’re going to say yes, aren’t you?” He nods and I can’t help but give him another kiss. “You should come to Sunday dinner this weekend.”
“We agreed, Matthew. Have you told them?” His face hardens and I regret mentioning dinner. I shake my head, because for the first t
ime in my life, I haven’t told a soul about who I’m seeing. Even if we are nothing official. Even if we are just hanging out. I’m excited about having Tristan in my life and I can’t tell a fucking soul about it. Not even my little sister, who happens to be my confidant. “Please don’t start this shit. Not tonight.”
I lift my palms and shrug. “Dude, it’s dinner. They don’t have to know that I fuck you. There’s no pressure. I’m cool with what we’re doing. It’s all good.”
His jaw tightens, and instead of saying something, he leaves the office and I follow behind. Fuck, I hate when he gets upset with stupid things. No. I hate that he’s trying to put me in a closet. Yes, my stomach clenches at the mere thought of hiding who I am. I don’t flaunt my sexuality, but I don’t hide it from anyone. I love who I am and even though I love my parents, I’d hate to end up like them. Hiding themselves and their happiness because of the fucking outside world.
Shit, what the fuck am I doing?
Today I released the anger brewing inside me by banging my drums for a few hours. For the past three nights I’ve asked Tristan to stay with me, but he has left. He never said no, but he didn’t stay. There have been no explanations, no apologies. He waits for me to fall asleep and then leaves my side. This is fucking unbelievable. I’m not asking him for much, only to stay next to me while he sleeps. Why can’t he do it? It’s not as if we’re announcing to everyone that we fucked and shared a bed.
Dripping in sweat, I decide to head downstairs to take a shower. In a couple of hours I have to head to my parents’ for Sunday dinner. The penthouse is silent. Tristan wasn’t around when I woke up at noon. We’re not a couple, but would it kill him to be more open to the possibilities of being together?
Tristan’s words from a couple months ago chase themselves around my mind as I enter my bedroom. “You’re comfortable with your sexuality—whatever that might be. Good for you . . . I prefer to keep my business to myself . . .”
This situation is killing me. I can’t kiss him whenever I want. Not even a simple touch in front of others, as that makes him jump out of his skin. If only . . . if only he talked to me about what makes him think he has to stay behind closed doors. What is it that makes him do and behave the way he does? Is he ashamed, scared . . . what the fuck is it? Can I help him? It must be wearing to pretend he’s not attracted to me.
Stepping into the stream of water, I wash away the sweat, the questions, and the prickling feeling that this can’t continue. We have a great time together when he’s not concerned about what others think, when it’s only us. One thing I know is that hiding isn’t me, and pretending I don’t want him—that I don’t care—is going to break me. A man can only lie to himself for so long before the lies become truths.
Shutting the shower off, I then dry myself with my towel and head to my closet. Throw on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and my shoes. I run a hand through my hair and go downstairs. If I play the piano, my mood will calm. There’s no point heading to see the family with a wrecking mess eating me on the inside. I’d hate to behave like a prick in front of them, and they don’t deserve to deal with my problems. The feelings, doubts, and issues will remain, but at least they’ll be dormant for a few hours.
My feet come to a halt the moment my eyes lock with Tristan’s green stare.
“Did you find bedbugs in my bed again?”
“You were still sleeping when I left the bed. I never stay later than eight,” he lies to me. I cross my arms, hoping he’ll change his tune. “Sleeping with another man isn’t me.”
I release a loud laugh. “Priceless. What are you, Tristan?” I scratch the bridge of my nose waiting to hear some other childish response from this man. The thirty-year-old man that regresses at least ten years when it comes to his sexuality. “Maybe one day you’ll recognize who you are for yourself. That’s the first step.”
He walks closer to where I stand, his eyes a couple of slits. “I am aware that I like to be fucked by men, and love to fuck women.” He combs his hair with one hand letting a loud breath out. “That is different from sleeping in the same bed with a man—or a woman.” He raises his hand showing me two fingers. “Sleeping and fucking aren’t the same, they are two different things. Our physical relationship will continue as long as you understand that I have my limitations . . . my hard limits. Staying for the night is one of them. This isn’t me trying to be an asshole, but trying to keep things together.” He touches his temple. “Remaining sane. The question is, can you respect them?”
“I respect you, but I hope that someday something or someone snaps you from that narrowed mentality,” I say, brushing my lips against his. Tristan’s eyes close, his forehead rests on my shoulder. Man, what is it that keeps him from enjoying himself? Fuck, we both need to chill. Checking the time, I realize we have enough time to take a hike. “We’re cool, Trist, let’s change and head to the trails.”
“A miracle?” I cock an eyebrow at his question. “A miracle is what will snap me from the fucking shit ingrained inside my head.”
“Maybe love.” I shrug and we both head to our rooms to change.
Sunday dinner is at my sister’s this weekend. My parents are getting ready to leave for Albany this upcoming week. My grandparents are moving to Seattle. Gabe wants to make sure Grandma Janine goes to the best cardiologist. They’re trying to find the right doctor to treat her heart condition, and we promised to help them take care of her. If all goes according to plan, she might last another eighty-some years. At least, that’s what AJ wants.
“So, how are things with Tristan?” AJ asks, as we set the table. I rotate my neck only enough for her to think I’m paying attention, but I avoid her eyes. Her intuition is better than Sherlock Holmes’. Any misstep, and she’s going to know something is going on. “Is he still an asshat?”
“Asshat? Man, having a child really transformed you into a bizarre character, little sister,” I say, evading the Tristan subject. “This no-cussing thing is really taking a toll on you, isn’t it?”
“Shut up,” she growls at me while flipping me the finger. Her brown curls bounce the moment she drags her feet through the floor to get in my face.
Great, I pissed her off.
Why is she mad at me? It’s not my fault her insults are comical. Ever since AJ had her baby, she’s been trying to talk like a decent human being. That’s an impossible task for the spawns of Chris Decker. Our father doesn’t understand what’s wrong with using the word fuck between each word he says—among other words.
“Where is Gracie?” Yep, I found the best way to divert her attention from the asshole I’m fucking at the moment—her beautiful daughter.
I shouldn’t be calling him names, but we had a fight before I left the house and I feel like calling him a fucking asshole. All started with my lack of restraint while in public. I kissed him while we were in the underground parking garage—the empty parking garage. He blew a gasket. We had just set one simple rule: I would respect his hard limits. Tristan wouldn’t shut up about my lack of restraint and respect toward him. The motherfucker threatened me with terminating our relationship. Through my constricted lungs, I also felt some kind of release. Eight weeks pretending we are a couple of friends sharing the same space was starting to tick me. I don’t want a title, but I do want to kiss him whenever it pleases me, wherever it pleases me. As of today, not even my family knows about my current situation. I can’t stand omitting that part of my life anymore, but I’ve been doing it for him.
“What’s wrong, babe?” AJ responds with a question. I try to relax, but the moment her green eyes get that red rim of doom around them, I know she caught me thinking about him. “What did he do to you?”
“Who?” I try my best to fake ignorance, but I know it’s futile to even try. This is AJ.
“You’re sleeping with Tristan, aren’t you?” My chin hits my chest. There’s no way I can deny it. She reads me like an open book. “That’s what you’ve been hiding from me. I knew it, I flipping knew it. Why
the hell are you hiding it?”
I remain silent because she’s not going to like the answer. AJ fought my parents for years because they hid their relationship. My sister can’t and won’t allow them to hide it ever again, and I know she’s going to have a hard time understanding why I can’t . . . Fuck, not even I understand why I’m doing this anymore. The thrill and novelty of doing him is gone. Yes, I like when we’re together. I enjoy him, but is it worth pushing myself to become someone I don’t like?
Maybe not, but I can’t analyze that shit right now.
“It’s complicated, AJ,” I respond with the weakest, most stupid words I can find.
AJ opens her arms, and of course I can’t help but step inside her protective hug and let her take some of the pain that’s building inside my chest.
“Get out of whatever you two are having before you fall for him, because he’s going to hurt you,” she says in a low voice. “I’m here for you, Mattie. We all are. You don’t need someone who doesn’t love who you are and can’t be honest with himself.”
My sister’s words pull the corners of my lips upward. She knows me too well, and she’s right. No one will put me in a situation I don’t feel comfortable. “Don’t worry, AJ. I don’t have feelings for him so it’ll be easy to terminate our rendezvous,” I tell her, all the while pretending my chest isn’t hurting. Maybe in the end that’s what will have to happen, but of course, I don’t want to lose my friend. If I do this the smart way, I should be able to keep him.
Right?
Stepping inside the building where I took residence eight weeks ago, I give a short nod to the doorman who receives my car keys. Home. So much different from the house I own in Santa Monica. Or the house where I grew up where everything my mother owns belongs in a museum. This is a modern structure of glass and steel that at night makes you feel as if you’re part of the sky. As I enter the elevator, my phone vibrates.
Uncut (Unexpected Book 4) Page 5
