Matthew: I’ve never been into spanking, but I have this new desire to spank your ass.
Matthew: At least tell me that you’re thinking about me when you fuck yourself with a vibrator. And it better be complimentary in length and girth to my cock.
Tinley: You’re obsessed with my vibrator.
Matthew: Here’s an article I found, I think you should read it: “Is My Vibrator Destroying My Vagina?”
Tinley: Noted. Forty-five minutes to achieve an orgasm and she needed Adderall?
Matthew: For focus.
Tinley: Of course.
Tinley: Here’s an article I found, I think you should read it: “A Blue Vibrator Changed My Entire Sex Life.”
Matthew: Noted. Her vibrator had a name—Blueberry. What’s your vibrator’s name?
Tinley: The Texas Longhorn.
Matthew: Clever. Aka Matthew.
Three Months Later
SEPTEMBER WAS SLIDING INTO October. The chill in the air along with the gorgeous shades of orange and pink that painted the evening sky made that apparent. My fingers tapped along the steering wheel to the beat of the music as I fought my way through the crowded Manhattan streets. Yes, I was an official licensed driver.
I pulled my Mercedes up to the valet stand at Lorenzo’s and then scooped up my clutch along with Holliday’s gift from the passenger seat. After handing my keys to the valet, I hurried inside to escape the chill. I should have worn a coat, but earlier my grey sweater seemed weather appropriate.
“You’re late,” Matthew said, pushing off the wall with his thick shoulder. Fuck. He was even more handsome than I remembered.
“You’re here,” I replied, combing my fingers through my wind tousled hair.
Matthew covered my hand with his. “You look beautiful.”
His words, thoughtful and simple, hit me with impact. The months, the distance, none of that changed the way my body and my head reacted to seeing him again.
Matthew took my hand dragging me across the lobby and into dark hallway. “I’ve missed you.” His hips pinned me against the wall. “It’s been way too long.”
Matthew hands lifted to my face, and then he kissed me. It was all-consuming, months of want and need poured into the tangle of lips and tongues.
“I’ve missed you,” I breathed. “More than you know.”
Once again, my mouth found his, hot and wet, his tongue stroked against mine. His hands pushed beneath my sweater, inching their way to my breasts.
“You can retire your vibrator because I’m here now.” He kissed down my throat, and over the rise of my chest. “Or we can put both of your Texas longhorns to good use.”
“Matthew,” I breathed his name like a prayer or possibly moaned like a whore. It was hard to tell the difference.
The sound of voices and laughter filtered through the lobby. Breaking our connection, I gazed into Matthew’s heated eyes, and a tiny laugh escaped me seeing the frustration passing over his face.
He cocked a brow. “Oh, you think this is funny?”
I lifted a shoulder. “A little bit.”
“We’ll see how funny it is later when I’m teasing you. When I’m fucking you, and making you beg for my cock.”
“Perhaps, I’ll be the one making you beg, when I’m sucking your cock and you’re groaning for me to suck deeper.” Matthew eyed me, as his hands smoothed my sweater over my stomach.
“Fuck, do we have to go to this birthday bash?” Matthew asked, straightening his tie.
We stepped out of the hallway and into the lobby. I slicked my lips with a bright red color and then fluffed out my hair.
“Yes, we have to go to this party. Holliday is my best friend, and it’s nice to have something happy to celebrate. We’ve waited months, what are a few more hours?”
“Okay, and I really hope this isn’t your middle name—Derek.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Incorrect, again, and this game feels so wrong without tequila and Mexican food.”
“I’ve got you for a few more hours and I do not want to be drunk, but if food is what you need I can make you something. I could pop a pizza in the oven.”
Matthew’s fingertips traced lazy circles against my hip. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s go to Montana. We can leave in a few hours.”
I wiggled from beneath him and tossed back the blanket. “It’s the middle of the night. We can’t just up and leave. I have a thousand things to do this week alone.”
He pulled me back, pinning me underneath him, trapping me with his legs on either side of my torso. “Look, you told me that you were on a six-week break from the show.” Matthew fisted his shaft, dragging himself over my nipples. “Tinley, you worked hard all summer, now take some time off and come stay with me in Montana.”
Matthew shifted, sliding his dick between my tits. “Is titty-fucking a thing again?” My nipples peaked as his arousal spread over my chest. Traitors.
“I’ll fuck any part of you that you will allow, especially your beautiful tits. They deserve to be worshiped.” He kept stroking, and then guided my hands to my breasts. The feel of him, the impossibly soft skin against my chest was more pleasurable than I’d remembered from previous experiences.
“I can’t just leave on a whim.”
“I can have a jet on the runway tomorrow morning,” he added, palming his cock.
“I don’t know, Matthew,” I sighed, placing my hand on his cock stroking in time with him. “It seems like an impossible request.”
“Just take one thing at a time,” he groaned. “I’ll help you get your house in order. I can toss out what food might expire while you’re gone. I can gather up the garbage. Hell, I’ll even clean if that’s what it takes.”
My eyes darted to his cock. “You make it sound so easy.” He was making a very strong case for me to leave and tempting me with this cock was a dirty trick. I wanted him to dirty me up, splash his cum all over me.
“It is that easy. I know you love making lists. So, make a list and we’ll cross things off together.”
He snapped back, and that’s when I felt the warmth of him spreading across my breasts sliding down my skin. After a moment, he jumped up and walked to the bathroom. He returned with a warm, wet cloth and cleaned up the mess he’d made.
He kissed my lips. “This is happening, beautiful. I need more than one night. You’ve got time off and at least if we’re in the same time zone, same house—I can share a meal with you that doesn’t involve Instagram filters.” He picked up his phone and started tapping at the screen.
“You’re not taking no for an answer?” I asked, drawing my knees to my chest.
“Nope, pack lingerie or better yet, nothing at all.”
“Tinley, wake up, babe, we’re here,” Matthew said, bringing me out of my drowsy sleep. The sound of gravel crunched under the tires of the SUV as he navigated the long driveway. I found myself staring up at an impossibly gorgeous house—a contemporary design with straight simple lines. When I thought of Montana and Big Sky country this modern aesthetic did not come to mind. The grand two-story home was tucked away on the side of a mountain with sweeping views of nature, a far different ethereal beauty than was my ocean front property.
Matthew parked the Range Rover and I climbed out. Sliding my sunglasses off my face, I stood there captivated by the windows and glass walls. It was in a word: breathtaking.
“What do you think?” Matthew asked, grabbing our luggage from the back.
“It’s beautiful. I’d love to see it in the winter with all the snow.” We trekked along a long wooden walkway that led us past a courtyard landscaped with beautiful pine trees to the front door.
“Well, you can,” he said, unlocking the door. “I bought this place in August—it’s all mine.”
“Wow, congratulations. Now, let me inside so that I can see the interior.”
“I’m letting you in, but I’ll give you the tour later, right now all I want to do is christen this place.”
&nb
sp; I barely remembered the sound of the front door closing. Matthew had me stripped out of my clothes and riding his cock in front of a roaring fireplace surrounded by a wall of stone and glass. And then once more in the shower, and before I knew it, afternoon sunlight had given way to a dusk sky.
I stood admiring the mountain peaks dipped in faint yellows and oranges. While thinking that an entire three months had passed and nothing had changed between the two of us. Neither one of us had spent time with another person in an intimate capacity.
The sound of pots and pans clanging drew my attention from the postcard view to the kitchen. Everything was sleek and modern. Light filled the space spreading over concrete and natural woods. “What’s going on in here?” I asked, rounding the island.
Matthew smiled, pouring a can of tomato paste into a mixing bowl. “I hope you’re hungry because I’m making Queso Fresco Enchiladas.”
“Well, this is unexpected. Apparently, someone spent some time at the local market since we’ve been apart.”
“I’ll have you know that I’m quite the chef.” Matthew added four garlic cloves. “I never told you this story, but when I was in high school, one of the local diners needed help in the kitchen. I spent an entire summer slinging burgers and making six kinds of dishes with grilled snapper.”
“You’ve been holding out on me,” I mused, taking a seat across from him.
He pointed the chopping knife in my direction. “There was no arugula that I can remember when I was growing up. In college, my roommates begged me to make all the meals. I told them I’d do it if they bought the ingredients, came up with a menu, and they had to clean up.”
“Of course,” I said, resting my elbows on the counter. “That’s a smart the trade off—cleanup is the worst.”
“I ended up helping them plan some of the weekly meals. I made everything from pancakes to pork tacos. When they asked me to make spaghetti or mac and cheese from the box I was like, hell no. That’s just lazy.” Matthew walked into the pantry and returned with an onion. “That summer, I needed cash because I had been looking at buying this 1970’s Ford Mustang, candy apple red—such a sweet ride. I begged Mister Santos to let me put down a down payment so that I could use the summer, and fall if I needed, to scrape together the cash.”
I watched in complete fascination as he chopped and measured the ingredients. “The recipe calls for three chipotle peppers, but I’m going to add two so that it’s not too spicy.” He tossed a towel over his shoulder and opened the fridge. “I nearly forgot about that summer at the diner.”
“It’s such a good memory.”
“You want a beer or a glass of wine?”
“Wine is good, thank you. So, tell me, did you end up getting the car?”
“I did,” he answered, sliding the wine glass in front of me. “And three months later, I totaled the damn thing.”
I shook my head. “Oh no, that’s terrible. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, this guy in a large pickup truck hit me from behind at fifty-eight miles per hour while I was stopped waiting to make a left turn.” He popped off the cap to his beer and then tossed it into the trash. “My car went sailing into a telephone pole.”
I gasped. “Were you injured?”
“Not a scratch.”
“Thank goodness.” I felt my heart stutter in my chest. It was an odd sensation. Matthew, he was standing in front of me—smiling, breathing, living— yet a strange pang of pain washed over me.
He tossed back a drink and then went back to the task of prepping the meal. “What job did you have in high school?”
I took a long drink before answering Matthew. “Hmm . . . Soap Opera Actress.”
Matthew laughed. “Touché. I assume that you quit acting to attend college?”
Shit. This was an opportunity to share. Was I ready to open up about this part of my life? Was I ready to share the details of that horrible time?
“First, I need to blend all these ingredients together, but I want this story.”
The answer came quickly, and without surprise—yes.
I TURNED OFF THE mixer and then poured the contents into a medium sauce pan. Tinley helped herself to another glass of wine. Three months, three very long, self-pleasuring months and as much hell as it had been, having her here now was a gift.
Over the last months, women slipped me their phone numbers, their panties, and their room keys. Even my co-star slipped into my trailer one afternoon. Dozens of women, I could have had any one of them, but all I wanted was Tinley. She had taken up permanent residence in my life, despite the miles of earth that stretched between us.
Now, we had time—time to reconnect, not that we needed it, because it felt as if no time had passed. That feeling was a rarity, of that I was well aware. She sat here in the kitchen, her blonde hair cascading around her shoulders in soft waves and I wanted to mess it up—again. Her grey sweater had fallen off her shoulder, and the layered gold chains and lace of her silk camisole were perfect complements to her delicate beauty. In a room full of art, I’d still look at her.
I placed the skillet on top of the burner to heat up the oil. “Now, tell me, why does a seventeen-year-old retire from acting?”
“She retires when her mother dies, and her mother’s friend”—she swallowed a sip of wine and continued with shaky breath—“who also happened to be a family friend, tries to force himself on her.”
My eyes snapped shut, and my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. “Tinley, look at me.” I kept my voice soft and my words held an even measure. If she felt a kind of sadness or God forbid, shame, I would find out this motherfucker’s name and beat the shit out of him. It would be a true fucking pleasure. A goddamn honor.
Her blue eyes met mine. “I’m good, I promise.”
“Did he hurt you,” I swallowed thickly. “I mean, he didn’t . . .” My veins filled with an equal measure of dread and anger.
She layered her hand on top of mine, which I realized was clenched into a fist giving it a squeeze. “No, he didn’t hurt me. I had finished a scene—it was a pretty tough day. I went back to work two weeks after my mother died. I know now, I should have taken more time.”
“You can’t dwell on that,” I offered, rubbing the pad of my thumb against her knuckles.
She smiled. “I know and I don’t, it’s just something that enters my thoughts when I think about self-care. I had a breakdown on set and he ushered me to his dressing room. He held me in his arms and hugged me. This was an adult that I’d hugged before, and it all felt normal. Then, he kissed me and fondled my breast.”
Every word Tinley spoke I heard. She pointed to the stove and I stepped back to check the sauce. She gestured to the tortillas, and I poured the oil into the skillet.
“I pushed him away and slapped his face,” she said, nodding in my direction.
“I would have kicked him in the balls.”
She swallowed the rest of her wine. “Trust me, I thought about it, but I just wanted to get the fuck out of there.”
I dipped the tortillas into the oil one at time. This was a horrible story, and I wanted to wrap my arms around her and kiss her and ask her a hundred questions. But, this wasn’t about what I wanted from the conversation, this was about Tinley, and the fact that she was opening up to me, sharing something really deep and personal.
“Aunt Maggie wanted to have him fired. She had that kind of power, still does. I told her that I didn’t want to make waves. I just wanted to leave the show. Besides none of it felt right without my mother being there, she was my biggest cheerleader.”
“Where is this guy now?”
She brought her sweater back up and over her shoulder. “No longer with the show, obviously.” She expelled a deep breath. “He’s in Los Angeles—married, three kids, still acting, which is fine. I’m pretty confident that my aunt didn’t let the matter go that easily.”
“How do you mean?”
She fingered the gold chains around her neck. “This is only
speculation, but a few months after I left the show, he didn’t renew his contract and he took some time away from the spotlight. With his ego, there was no way he would have done that, I just don’t believe it.”
“And you think that Maggie had something to do with his short-lived hiatus.”
“I do.” Her smile returned. “For a long time, Aunt Maggie was the only family I had, a dependable family member anyway.”
I checked the sauce and added in a pinch of salt for taste. “What about your dad?”
“After my mom died, Dad poured himself into his work. Late nights, turned into even later nights. There were days I didn’t even see him. On top of being alone, I couldn’t stand being in the penthouse where Mom died day after day. With Aunt Maggie’s help, I got into a boarding school in Switzerland.” She pushed to her feet and took a drink of wine. “When I came home for Christmas, my father introduced me to Gianna, and while I thought the relationship had been fast, he was happy. Dad doesn’t know about what happened. All he knows is that I wanted to focus on my studies and prepare for life at Columbia.”
“I know that you’re not going to tell me the guy’s name, but you know that if I do find out, well, let’s say it won’t be pretty.”
“I know, but you know that you don’t need to go all caveman on my behalf, right?”
After placing the last tortilla on the plate, I wiped my hands and came around the island to kiss Tinley. “I know.” Everything inside me demanded that I kiss her deeply and hold her close, so close that all those memories dissolved into ash.
“Well, now that that matter is settled, are you going to feed me or what, Matthew Barber? I mean you’ve basically made me your sex slave, the least you can do is give a girl a meal.”
“I plan to feed you.” Wrapping my arms around her waist, I kissed her again. “You’re going to need fuel to keep your strength up.”
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