by Lisa Loomis
“Let’s go,” he said again more firmly.
“Go,” Sean said, patting my hand that was still on his arm.
I was sure he didn’t want to be part of a scene. It wasn’t fair to drag Sean in although I wanted to lash out at Mathew in the worst way.
“Thanks for everything,” I said, kissing his cheek.
Mathew watched and then started down the hall. I knew I had better follow. He opened the front door to the house, letting me out before him. When we got into the car, he sat a minute then gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands.
“What was that?” he asked, looking straight ahead.
“What was what?” I asked naively.
“Don’t fuck with me, Morgan,” his voice was raised.
“Oh, Sean?” I asked.
“Yeah, Sean,” he spat out.
“Well, I think it’s this thing called kissing,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know, the same thing you were doing with the brunette.”
I leaned across the car getting right in his face as I said it. He took a deep breath, and I could see sweat on his upper lip. His eyes flashed at me, and I sensed his anger. He balled his fists and banged them on the steering wheel, which caused me to jump.
“Don’t do that to me, Morgan.”
“Don’t do it to you? What about me?” I demanded, sounding more hurt than I wanted to.
“I don’t even know her,” he said, leaning his head back on the seat and pushing his hair back with one hand.
“Oh, and that makes a difference? Because I know Sean, I shouldn’t be kissing him?”
My voice was raised, my anger had returned, the blood pulsing rapidly in my neck.
“Screw you. I’m going back to the party,” I said.
I opened the door, starting to get out.
“No, you’re not. We’re leaving. Shut the god damn door,” he said, grabbing my skirt and pulling me back into the car.
We rode back to Jack’s without another word. There were so many things I wanted to hurl at him and yet the screaming inside my head drowned them out. I hardly remembered the drive to his place.
“Get out of the car,” Mathew ordered as he shut off the ignition.
I opened my door, stepping out into the sunlight, and followed him into Jack’s. I was glad no one was home, if we were going to fight, best not in front of everyone. I walked into his room hesitantly; he shut the door hard behind him and sat down on the bed. He put his head in his hands, his hair falling forward. I knew I had pissed him off, but I didn’t care. About time he got some of his own god damn medicine. I leaned up against the door, crossing my arms over my chest, watching him, waiting. Wondering what he could possibly accuse me of, when he had started it. He angrily kicked off his flip-flops, took his shirt off, then looked up at me. I was high and could tell by his eyes he was too. I’d seen Mathew mad on occasion, but this mad was being directed at me. He had made it clear over the years he wasn’t jealous of me, so I didn’t understand his anger. Was it because it was Sean?
I was trying to reason out the emotion when Mathew came at me, shoving me up against the door. He pressed the air out of my lungs, and my knees buckled slightly, but his weight kept me pinned. My heart was racing, as was my mind. He pressed his body into mine. I put my hands between our chests and tried to shove him back. He didn’t go far. Our eyes locked. He was angry all right and so was I. I’d never thought about hitting him before, but I did now. I balled my fists at my chest.
He circled my wrists firmly with his hands, forcing them down to my side, pushing back into me, covering me with desperate, forceful kisses. My lips, my neck, down my shirt. The harder I tried to move away, the harder he worked to keep me there. He reached down and pulled my jean skirt up and tried to put his hand between my legs. I squeezed my legs tight together to block him. Pressing harder into my chest, he put his hands firmly on my hips, dragging his hands down, yanking my bikini underwear down to my knees. The yearning between my legs surprised and frightened me.
I wanted to stay mad. He slid his hands under my shirt and shoved it and my bra up, exposing my breasts. Mathew pushed his bare chest into mine, skin on skin. His breathing was ragged, and I could feel both our pulses racing. Oh, I wanted to moan. I hated that even now he could make my body react. He ran one hand up my thigh, cupped one of my butt cheeks and squeezed. It was a cross between pain and pleasure. He pushed my skirt up farther.
“Mathew, don’t,” I whispered, wanting him to settle back.
“Don’t what, Morgan? Give you what you want?” he answered tersely.
He covered my mouth, kissing me deeply before I could answer. I backed down and relaxed which made him not press so hard into me. He unbuttoned his shorts and pushed them down, kicking them to one side when he worked them off. He ground his pelvis into me. His cock was hard and he tasted like beer and salt. I could smell his skin: a combination of his soap and sweat. He squeezed my breast hard, and I let out a gasp. I wanted him, my resolve to stay mad disintegrating, at the same time despising my weakness for him.
"Mathew," I managed to get out before he crushed his mouth into mine again.
I quit resisting and kissed him back. He wiggled a knee between my legs and spread them slightly and then more so with his hands. His touch and the simple motion of spreading me made me want to orgasm. Looking into my eyes he circled my nipple with his finger until he made it hard, a sexy grin spreading across his face. Then he ran his fingers down my body, around my breasts, down my stomach, and past my twisted skirt. I sucked in my breath as he went lower, between my legs where he lingered only briefly before he thrust his fingers into me.
“Oh,” I moaned.
I couldn’t mask the desire in my voice. He pushed his fingers in and out of me, circling, teasing, coming just to the outer limits and then in again. He finally pressed himself into me, making me feel his hardness. Together we worked to pull the remainder of my clothes off and I let him enter me up against the door. What had started out, as anger and resistance had become pure lust. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and then wrapped my legs around his waist. He carried me to the bed that way. His face was a mixture of emotion. He seemed desperate, almost primal, and I let him take me there with him. He pounded into me with a need that took us both to the edge. I dug my fingers into his back as we plunged down the other side. Still breathing heavily Mathew rolled onto his back, his eyes closed.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No, you didn’t hurt me,” I whispered.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant. I thought about asking when I realized he was asleep. It was still light out. I pushed his hair back, playing with it, loving his thick, blond hair. I gently arranged it around his shoulders. The tightness I had seen earlier in his jaw was gone. I traced my finger around his mouth, around his lips soft and full. I’d sobered up, but the cocaine had me wide awake. I lay there, and watched him sleep while I replayed the day’s events in my head. I shouldn’t have pissed him off with Sean. Sean. I hoped he would forgive me. By now he realized I had lied. I had enjoyed kissing him, which surprised me. I smiled, recalling Mathew’s expression of disbelief. Knowing he deserved it didn’t make me feel any better about what I’d done.
The light finally faded from the room, and I slid down beside him. I took his limp arm and wrapped it around me. I wondered how many other girls had shared this same bed with him. Brook even. Don’t think about it I told myself. I listened to him breathe. Mathew, keep me here was my last thought before I fell asleep. I woke sometime in the night, hearing other people in the house. I couldn’t see the clock; it was dark outside. In between sleep and partial wakefulness, I would hear a loud voice or laughter. It seemed to go on a long time. The light was filtering though the blind when Mathew started to stir. He was on his side, facing me.
“Morgan,” he said softly.
He took my hand gently and pushed it down to his cock.
I was amazed to find him hard already. He opened his eyes and leaned across the pillow, kissing me softly, almost tentatively. I pressed my body into him.
“I’m sorry, kid,” he stroked my hair and kissed my forehead. “Sorry about yesterday.”
I waited, in no hurry to verbalize my forgiveness, our necessary mutual forgiveness. I let him hold me. Let him feel my body, keeping silent. I knew he wouldn’t move further unless I gave him some indication that it was okay. I kissed him and let him caress me until I could tell his desire was almost painful.
“Don’t ever fuck me like one of your groupies again. You want it rough, make sure you understand it’s me,” I said finally.
He buried his head into my shoulder, his hair falling across my face; when he lifted his head, he looked into my eyes.
“I was loaded and mad. Not a good combination, but trust me, Morgan, I knew it was you.”
He leaned in and kissed me so tenderly, I thought my heart might break.
“Love me,” he asked.
When we made love this time, I felt like I was drowning in him. It was like waves coming in and pushing me down. My emotions so close to the surface, I was afraid they might spill out. I held on, hoping this Mathew would stay.
Chapter 35
“Shower?” he asked.
“That would be nice.”
I was ready to start over, wash yesterday away. Gayle’s words played in my head. “You’ve loved him forever” she said. What was love? Was it supposed to feel like this?
“I’ll make you coffee,” he said, drying off. “Cowboy if you want.”
I smiled remembering that morning after.
Jack and Sean were having coffee in the kitchen when we came up from downstairs. There were empty beer bottles, liquor bottles in varying stages of empty, and evidence of other party paraphernalia on the table and counter tops.
“Mornin',” Mathew said as he pulled two coffee cups out of the cabinet.
I was standing back in the doorway.
“Morgan, you can sit down,” Sean said, pulling out the empty chair next to him.
Mathew looked over his shoulder at me.
“Stay awhile,” he said, motioning towards the chair.
I felt overly self-conscious. My behavior with Sean had been awkward and I wondered if he’d told Jack. Being in the same clothes from the day before, Jack and Sean were fully aware I’d spent the night with Mathew. Sean shot me a knowing smile as I sat down. Mathew poured us coffee and brought it to the table. I was astounded he was having some. He didn’t bother removing the booze bottles, he just pushed them into the center of the table. The movement causing the smell of stale beer and cigarettes to swirl strongly.
“You boys getting started or just finishing?” Mathew asked.
I picked up my coffee cup, the roasted aroma filling my nose.
“Neither,” Jack answered. “Haven’t cleaned up yet from last night.”
“Looks like we had a party that I missed,” Mathew said.
I sat quietly, sipping my coffee. I hoped Mathew wouldn’t bring up anything to embarrass Sean or me.
“What happened to you yesterday? You bugged out early,” Jack said, scooting his chair back, going for more coffee.
The pot was empty. Jack dumped out the dregs.
“Another pot, anyone? Morgan, you’ll have another cup, won’t you?” Jack asked, already making one.
“Sure,” I answered.
I was dreading what Mathew might say. I wanted him to get it over with. Jack came and sat down as the coffee brewed.
“So where’d you go?” Jack persisted, looking at Mathew. “I thought we were going to play more.”
Mathew looked at Sean and then at me.
“Oh, Morgan and I had a little incident,” he began, then took a sip of coffee.
I shot a sidewise glance at Sean. Oh god, here it comes. I braced myself.
“Apparently she was in dire need of some kissing, and one thing led to another,” he said as he patted my leg.
I felt my stomach tighten. He had chosen words carefully, to warn me, and to let Sean know that we had it going on.
Gayle and I lay in the hammock together in her yard later that afternoon. It took Jane and me to get her into the thing, and I was nervous about getting her out. We were reading magazines, but I couldn’t focus. I kept thinking about his words: love me. Could he mean emotionally? I wasn’t sure.
“So the party was fun?” Gayle asked absently.
“Yeah, after-party was even better.”
“Mathew behave?”
“Fairly well.”
I didn’t always tell Gayle everything when it came to him, and she in return didn’t tell me some of her true feelings.
Mathew took me to the beach later that week. The cooler was packed, and we stopped by Togo’s to pick up lunch.
"Same spot?" I asked as we were waiting for the sandwiches to be made.
"That okay with you?"
“Definitely.”
Recalling our time there last summer had often helped me get through the school year. Once we spread out our towels, he popped us both a beer. A cold beer always tasted good on a hot day, and we settled back and watched the people on the beach in silence.
“Lotion?” he asked, handing me the Sea and Ski.
I squirted the lotion into my palm and rubbed my hands together. I started with his back and rubbed it in, taking my time, feeling the muscles under his warm skin.
“Other side,” I said.
He obliged and flipped to face me. I warmed the lotion in my hands and then spread it across his chest. He reclined back on his elbows, his face tilted up, watching my face as I concentrated on rubbing the lotion into his pecs and down his tight stomach. I teased with my finger, my serious look gone as a dreamier smile took its place. I thought back to the last time we made love, and I ran my finger under the band of his swim trunks.
“Careful, kid,” he said, picking up the lotion.
“My turn,” I said as I sat back on my heels, my focus on him.
He cocked his head in a gesture I had come to know had numerous meanings, but mostly trouble. There was a side of him that could be so childlike and playful. I flipped my hair around my shoulder, and lay down on my stomach, anxious to feel his hands on me.
“Awk,” I yelled arching when he squeezed a cold blob from the lotion tube onto the middle of my back. “Damn, at least I warmed it up first.”
I rolled onto my side to glare up at him, and he laughed, reaching a hand out to force me back down onto my stomach.
"I'll warm it up," he said as he straddled my body.
He started working the lotion into my back and down the sides, slowly slipping his hands underneath me, caressing the sides of my breasts, letting his fingers slip underneath my top, teasing me with how close he came to my nipples. I groaned when he moved down my legs, not wanting him to stop. He started at my feet, rubbing and stroking, a sensual foot massage. I didn’t remember him ever rubbing my feet. Mathew slowly worked his way up my legs, repeating the strong, steady strokes on my calf muscles. By the time he got to my thighs, I had no doubt he was purposely turning me on.
I could feel the heat and moisture between my legs as he stroked and massaged, his fingers slyly slipping under my bikini bottoms, brushing me ever so slightly down there. I wanted to push into him, force his hand further beneath my suit, but I resisted.
His command to turn over was like a slap, and I protested. He only laughed and ordered me again to flip over onto my back, promising more.
Suddenly eager, I flipped over as he took a sip of beer. He leaned in and kissed me, his mouth cool initially and then not. His tongue warm against mine, only making me feel hotter. I never felt like I could get enough of his kisses. He pulled away and took another sip of beer and went back to the task at hand. I watched him put the lotion into his hands this time and rub it together. He held up his hands covered in white before he smiled and came directly at my boobs.
&nb
sp; “No, you don’t,” I cried out as I scrambled backwards in a crab walk, laughing.
“Come here, I’m teasing you. I can’t mess up that cute bikini you have on. But beware, later it’s coming off.”
His words sent a shiver through my body, and he saw it.
“What was that?” he laughed.
“That was what you can do to me when you don’t even touch me.”
“I like it,” he said with a smirk. “Come on, let me finish.”
Slowly, cautiously, I moved back towards him. We lay close to one another enjoying the sun and after lunch, we walked down to the water.
“It always feels so cold here,” I said, stepping into the surf.
It swirled around my feet and then retreated leaving a thin layer of foam behind.
“San Diego has spoiled you.”
“I guess.”
“Don’t be such a baby,” he said, pulling me into the water.
He held me as we floated in the waves, and the warmth of his body in the cool water was welcome. We were in and out of the water most of the day and I could feel my body tanning, turning golden brown. Late in the day we walked down the beach, holding hands. People were scattered about the sand, with brightly colored towels, umbrellas, as kids played by the water, laughing, screeching, some building sand castles. I breathed in the salt air and remembered other times, times I had longed for this. We came to a stream, run-off from the mountains that ran into the ocean.
“Come on, I want to show you something,” he said.
We followed the water up the beach into the trees and into an area where the water pooled before it ran down to the beach.
“This is pretty,” I said.
Mathew wasn’t paying much attention. He seemed to be looking for something. He reached down, and I saw what it was. He picked up a frog and put it in his hand.
“Look how cute he is,” he said like a child.
“You remembered,” I said with a wide smile as he cupped his other hand over the frog as it tried to jump.
“No, no, little fellow,” he said, lowering the frog back gently to the water.
We watched as he swam back into the undergrowth. It touched me that he had thought to bring me here, to share a frog.
