She jostled slightly, her right hand slipped from the steering wheel.
“The GPS comes on frequently, announcing your upcoming turns. You get used to it after a while.”
She smiled, and glanced up into the rearview mirror. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. Averting my eyes from the dashboard to the side mirror, a red Lamborghini came into view. This fucker was approaching way too fast for the forty miles per hour speed limit.
To help ease her mind, I opted for the humorous approach. “Okay, Tinley, this douche canoe has decided that he doesn’t need to obey the law. So ease your foot off the gas and slow down. He’s got plenty of room to pass you.”
The guy was on his phone, and waving his hand in the air. Clearly agitated, he was no Sunday driver. Tinley slowed her speed to thirty-five miles per hour. The guy hit the gas, sped around us, and in true douchebag fashion, he flipped us off.
“And here I thought East Harbour was a classy place,” I remarked, turning my attention back to Tinley.
She laughed. “Oh, we have our fair share of city dwellers who come here to show off how much money they have for sport.”
“In two hundred feet turn left onto East Harbour Drive.”
The GPS guided us past a few local hot spots including Nancy’s Diner, to which Tinley explained they had the best French toast on the East Coast. She pointed out a few of her favorite places which led us onto a long winding road with the ocean coming into view.
“In two miles make a right onto Goodwood Road and arrive at destination.”
I huffed a laugh, glancing at the dashboard. “You live on Goodwood Road?”
“Yep, it’s long with impressive views,” she joked.
I stared out the window at the waves of blue crashing against the shore. It was an ideal surfing day, and there were plenty of surfers taking advantage. Before I knew it, we were pulling into her driveway and I was staring up at the greyish, traditional East Harbour cedar shake siding.
“Home sweet home,” she announced, turning off the engine.
I stared at her for a beat. “Tinley, you just drove us back to your place like you’d been driving your whole life.”
A wide smile crossed her lips. “I totally did, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did.”
AS I EXITED THE laundry room, I heard Matthew’s deep voice taking a sharp edge. I planned to take him to my art gallery after lunch, but his agent, Donna, had called, tying him up for about an hour, apparently there were some changes in the press-tour for his next film.
“So, what you’re telling me, Edgar, is that I have to go out to Montana for two days—two days and then fly out to Milan? After the Italy presser, I fly back to Montana for another two days to resume filming and then get back on a plane that night and meet-up with the cast in London?”
I didn’t know who Edgar was, but he was certainly getting an earful. Matthew’s shadow passed under the door of my office, spreading across the hardwood. There was a long silence. My fingers danced over the soft fabric of his tee shirt, and I thought back to our drive. I’d never had the desire or want to drive, but now, thanks to him, I had serious thoughts about getting my license.
“They should push filming, I’ll be exhausted. What can they possibly accomplish in two days?”
I decided to stop eavesdropping, and walked into my bedroom. Hours after a night of the best sex of my life, here I was giving Matthew his own space in my closet. This was quite the opposite of no expectations. I shook my head, and laughed as I hung up the final t-shirt.
Matthew’s travel schedule sounded grueling. It was a further reminder that our time together was short lived. As much as I thought I wanted to keep the agreement of no expectations, I was beginning to see I was clearly lying to myself. Truth be told, I was a Pisces therefore a dreamer and a romantic.
“Tinley, where are you?”
“In my bedroom,” I called out.
Leaning against the doorframe, he raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing in here?”
A faint smile crossed my lips. “I thought I’d hang up your new threads. Instead of folding them and stuffing back into the shopping bags.”
“This closet is bigger than my first apartment in Los Angeles,” he said, stepping inside. “Way bigger than my dorm at Pepperdine.”
“It’s hard to see you as a co-ed,” I said, straightening the hangers on the bottom rack.
Matthew’s hand reached out to finger the bow on one of my red heels. “Why is that?”
I shrugged. “I guess, I always think of you as Matthew Barber . . . actor.”
The corners of his mouth tilted up. “So, you think of me pretty regularly, that’s what I’m hearing.”
Charmed by this man standing in front of me, it was hard to suppress a grin. His words filled me with wanted pleasure. “I do. Do you want to know a secret?”
Leaning back, his elbows settled atop the shelf beside my handbags. “Of course.”
“When I was in college, I used to have your poster on my wall. Actually, I strung lights on the wall beside my bed. Then I took clothes pins and hung up pictures and quotes. I had this picture of you from your first interview with Bella Magazine you were wearing a grey sweater, and jeans. I had few more of you, but that picture was my favorite.”
He gave me a sly sideways glance. “I was pretty much in bed with you every night in college, huh?” His gaze burned into mine, melting me into a puddle.
“I suppose so.”
He jutted his chin towards the opposite side of my closet. “Is that a tutu?”
My gaze swung to all my dance and ballet clothes. “Yep.”
“What’s that all about? Halloween costume?”
I strode across the thick carpeting past one of faux fur covered ottomans. “Nope,” I answered, grabbing the wooden hanger. “I have a minor in dance. This was one of my practice skirts.” I ran my fingers over the tarlatan fabric.
A devious smiled crossed his lips. “Model it for me.”
Smiling at him, I nod. “Okay, step out please.”
His brows scrunched together. “I’ve seen you naked, remember?”
“Out.” I pointed to the door. “Consider this the element of surprise, and shut the doors behind you.”
He did as I said, and I quickly went to work stripping out of my clothes. Working my hips, I shimmied into the tutu. I tossed my hair up into a sleek bun and then shoved my feet into my favorite Louboutin heels.
I pushed open the doors of my closet to find Matthew on my bed, on his side, and propped up on one elbow. He blinked up at me, his mouth hanging open. “My God, Tinley. This image of you, standing here in front of me like this is going into my permanent spank bank.”
I laughed, positioning my heels back to back. Holding the door handle as a replacement for a barre, I slowly bent my knees, which was a bit difficult but I had enough skill to perform the move in heels. Keeping my back straight I lowered into a demi plié, then rising slowly. Next, I bent my knees with graceful depth into the grand plié position. At this point my pussy was on full display for him. Yep, I was completely naked aside from the tutu and heels.
Rising off the bed, his feet hit the floor with force. One . . . two . . . three strides and he was on me, pushing me backwards into my closet. He leaned into me, kissing me deeply, sucking all the air out of my lungs.
“Do you know how fucking sexy you are right now?” He nipped my bottom lip making me moan. My cheeks heated at the feel of his hands gripping and kneading my ass. Matthew lifted me up and my legs locked around his waist. My fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders, everything tightened inside me.
When his lips kissed the soft spot below my ear, I nearly came undone. My back hit the wall, rattling my dresser drawers. He lowered us to the floor, and with a quick movement he had his pants shoved to his knees. The sound of a foil packet ripping open rang in my ears. I loved that sound.
“You drive me crazy.” He slammed into me, and a groan rattled his thro
at. “Completely fucking crazy.” The desire in his eyes was animalistic, everything about him was primal. Grunting and panting, he wrapped his lips around my nipple, making me cry out.
“Oh, yes, Matthew,” I moaned, my nails scratching along the nape of his neck.
He continued pumping into me, my tits bouncing with every thrust. “Such a good girl,” he murmured. Matthew’s fingers dug into my hips, he stared between us pushing deeper. “I’m going to fuck your hot little pussy until you can’t remember your own name . . . until you’re screaming mine.”
I cried out feeling the sweet ache of him, stretching me. Filling me completely.
Anchoring my hands over my head, my eyes rolled back into my skull as the weight of him pressed against my body. His lips landed on my neck, his teeth scraping over my skin. “I want to make it good for you, beautiful,” he rasped.
Matthew continued pumping into me with deep, lingering strokes. Every inch of my body tingled. His teeth gnashed into my shoulder, and I exploded, blown to bits by a spiraling orgasm.
“Oh fuck, Tinley,” he groaned. At once, his body tightened, every muscle pulled taut. His body jerked, and I rocked forward. I would have rug burn on my ass for sure, but I didn’t care. He rasped a long soliloquy of curses and filthy promises. Then he was humming and groaning as he poured into me. Matthew nestled his face into the crook of my neck taking a deep breath. Shifting to lie beside me, Matthew dragged his fingers through my hair and kissed me.
He whispered into my ear, “God, you’re perfect, this is perfect.”
It felt perfect, but that could just be my blissful post-orgasmic haze. If staying with Matthew like this was an option, I’d take it. I’d choose this forever . . . choose him. Forever. That was a long time, and time was something the two of us did not have.
I traced the ink on his arm. “Why this tattoo?”
“I wish I had some cool story for you, but it’s just a longhorn.”
“The skull of a longhorn and an anatomical heart—is that your way of saying, home is where the heart is?”
“I suppose that you could look at it that way.” His lips moved down my cheek to my neck, kissing and licking.
“Did you get your travel schedule taken care of?”
Matthew was quiet for a moment, and then he swept me up into his arms carrying me out of the closet.
“I did, and the next few weeks are going to be insane,” he said, setting me on the edge of my bed before removing my heels. “But, let’s not worry about that right now.” His lips met mine, as his hands brushed over my breast cupping and massaging, pinching my nipple. “Not even the rest of the afternoon or tonight.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Center of the bed, Tinley, and remove that skirt, I want you bare,” he ordered. Matthew returned from the bathroom, and settled between my legs. “How are you feeling?” he asked, stroking his hand up my legs. “Are you ready for me?”
“Yes,” I said, reaching up to snake my arms around his neck spreading my legs to give him better access. His movements were unhurried, slow and careful as he kissed between my breasts and down my stomach. He reached between us and pushed his cock inside me.
Matthew wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight as his hips rolled against me. We rocked together slowly, and I dug my heels into his back urging him closer. Matthew lifted his head to look at me pulling me into those hazel eyes. Captivating me and drawing me closer and closer until I was burning and melting into him.
Hushed moans and sighs drifted through the room, washing over me like an erotic symphony. I listened to every single sound, every breath cataloging it to memory. He took my hand from where I had a firm lock on his biceps and entwined his fingers with mine. Leaning down, he captured my lips with his, thrusting deeper and pushing me to the edge.
“I’m so deep, do you feel that, Tinley.”
I flexed my inner muscles, squeezing him and then he was right there coming with a quiet roar.
I loved that sound. I loved all his sounds. We clung together saying nothing and everything I needed to know was right there in his gaze.
Tinley: Tell me something really out there.
Matthew: Space is really out there.
Tinley: Funny. Not quite what I meant though. Tell me something interesting.
Matthew: The lion that roars on the MGM logo is named Volney.
Tinley: That is interesting. That name means people’s spirit.
Tinley: Let me start again. Tell me something interesting about you. Something I cannot Google.
Matthew: Okay, well, this might be Google worthy, but it’s personal. In college I played baseball.
Matthew: I was only on the team my freshman and sophomore years.
Tinley: What position did you play?
Matthew: I was the third baseman.
Tinley: I just updated your Wikipedia page.
Matthew: I didn’t even realize I had one of those.
Tinley: How could you not know?
Matthew: Oh yeah, this does look familiar. I need to change that picture.
Tinley: Yeah, for being a big time action star, your page needs work.
Matthew: I don’t really pay attention. I think that was something Naomi and her staff were going to work on.
Matthew: Who is your publicist?
Tinley: I don’t have a publicist.
Matthew: Really?
Tinley: Yeah, Johanna’s office takes care of anything I need. She’s got this whole boutique agency thing going on—small staff, personal attention, and fewer clients. It works well for my career.
Tinley: Are you thinking of a change?
Matthew: I’m not sure. I don’t give these business matters too much thought, and I definitely don’t think about publicity.
Tinley: Well, if you are thinking of a change I’d talk to Grady or Ronan. Their careers are more aligned with yours.
Matthew: That’s good advice.
Tinley: I’m very wise.
Matthew: I better get some sleep. I have to be on a plane in a few hours.
Tinley: Goodnight xx
Matthew: I’m fucking tired.
Tinley: I’ll bet. How is Milan?
Matthew: I don’t know honestly, I’ve been spending most of my time in the back of cars and inside hotel rooms.
Tinley: If you can, when you leave Milan have your driver take you to Luini’s. It’s a pretty famous shop hidden behind the Cathedral. If your driver is from there, he or she will know the place. You must try the panzerotti.
Matthew: What is panzerotti?
Tinley: Pastry that is stuffed with a savory filling, similar to an empanada.
Matthew: Sounds delicious.
Matthew: You were not wrong about the panzerotti.
Matthew: I got a few baked and a few fried.
Matthew: I was starving after that last interview.
Matthew: Boarding now.
Matthew: Okay never mind. Not boarding.
Matthew: I’m getting a flight to New York and then Alex is hooking me up with a flight to Bozeman. I would never have made it back in time.
Tinley: I knew that you’d enjoy them.
Tinley: Sorry to hear about the flight.
Tinley: You’re probably in the air now.
Matthew: Just landed in New York.
Matthew: I am half tempted to fly out to your house.
Tinley: I’m in the city.
Matthew: Whoa, you’re up.
Tinley: I am. We wrapped a long day around ten.
Matthew: I am sorry that I woke you.
Matthew: You should go back to sleep.
Tinley: I can keep you company until you board your flight.
Tinley: I like that you thought of me so early in the morning.
Matthew: I thought about you naked.
Tinley: I’m not naked.
Matthew: You should be.
Matthew: Wait. Where in the city are you?
Tinley: Aunt Maggie’s place.
Matthew: Are you alone?
Tinley: Yes. I have a room, actually more like an apartment all to myself.
Matthew: What? Are you serious?
Matthew: Where does your aunt live?
Tinley: Have you ever heard of the Cromwell Building?
Matthew: The building by Central Park that used to be a hotel?
Tinley: That’s the one. In the seventies, it was renovated into residences. Her place is two floors, what once was the grand ballroom. It’s really beautiful. The view is incredible.
Matthew: I wish I was there with you.
Tinley: Me too.
Matthew: Back to you being naked. I’m alone in a private lounge waiting for my escort. How about I call you and you let me listen while you finger yourself.
Tinley: I am not going to finger myself at my aunt’s place.
Matthew: Please.
Tinley: Normally, I’m all for you begging.
Matthew: Next time I see you, I’m going to have you begging for me to fuck you.
Tinley: I wish you were inside me, Matthew. Fucking me hard, then you’d slow your pace. We’d rock together . . . my fingernails scraping down your chest.
Matthew: Christ. You should stop. I’m half hard.
Tinley: Well now we’re both, “up” so to speak. lol
Matthew: Funny.
Matthew: Are you horny and in a fucking airport, miles away from your girlfriend?
Tinley: I am horny, but I have toys.
Matthew: You what? You won’t finger yourself, but you’ll pleasure yourself with a vibrator?
Matthew: And you didn’t tell me about the toys.
Matthew: Tell me about your toys. Be explicit. Send photos over that Snapchat thing.
Matthew: It’s been twenty minutes. I’m assuming the vibrator did the job and that you’re now blissfully asleep in a post orgasmic haze.
Matthew: Or, that toy didn’t do the job and you’re still desperately trying to pull that orgasm from deep inside you, but, darlin’, you and I both know that I’m the only one who can find that sweet spot.
Matthew: I’m boarding now. It’s been forty-two minutes. You better be sleeping or I’m going to have no choice but to withhold several orgasms the next time I see you.
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