by Lisa Loomis
“Mathew.”
“You complaining already?” he teased.
“Not complaining,” I said, thinking it was thoughtful.
Flowers and a bottle of chardonnay sat on the table. This was a new Mathew, one that wanted to make things nice, wanted to please me. One I’d just had a rare glimpse of in this same room years ago. It made my heart sing.
“Wanting to get lucky tonight, are you?” I asked.
“Tonight, kid, I’m planning on it.”
I moved to him and put my arms around his neck.
“Kiss me like you used to, take me down that road of rocking my world,” I begged.
He obliged, making my knees weak. I unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, down his arms to the floor. I kissed his neck and shoulders, licking, tasting his skin. He buried his fingers in my hair, as I continued down his chest. My body was screaming for me to tear his clothes off, take him, but my mind wanted it slow. I wanted him to beg. When I got to the top of his jeans, I knelt on the floor and unbuttoned them. I could hear him suck in his breath as I pulled the stiff fabric down. I smiled when he was commando, remembering my dress. His hands fell as I put his hard cock in my mouth. I ran my tongue around it slowly, sucking lightly at the same time.
“Oh, Morgan,” he moaned.
Before I could finish, he reached for me, pulling me up, kissing me again, that kiss. My heart was racing, my body on fire with desire as I watched him step out of his jeans and walk to the bed. He tore back the bedspread and lay down on his side looking at me, his eyes undressing me where I stood. He beckoned me with his finger and when I reached the bed he tried to pull me to him, but I turned and pushed him away. He looked surprised.
“Watch,” I demanded.
He grinned and his pupil’s got large. He moved up the bed leaning back into the pillows, and I slowly unbuttoned my blouse, revealing a sexy black-and-red bra of satin and lace. I held his gaze as I unhurriedly took the blouse off, opening it, pushing it off my shoulders, letting it fall down my arms. He blinked slowly as I stood in my bra and tight jeans. I ran my hands down my thighs and then bent forward slightly to unbuttoned my jeans, peeling them down to reveal a pair of matching panties. He started to say something, and I put my finger to my lips. He watched as I took the jeans off. I stood in my bra and panties and turned around, letting him admire.
“I like it,” he said huskily, moving toward me.
“You, stay right there,” I commanded.
He looked at me in intense concentration. I climbed on the bed and starting at his feet, I ran my bra covered breasts over them, up his legs, then let his cock feel the softness of the satin and the coarseness of the lace.
“Um,” he uttered.
I touched and slinked my way further up his body. I pulled his arms above his head and pinned them there. His eyes were wild with desire and it made me shudder. I ran my tongue around his lips as I straddled his body, not allowing him to kiss me. He moaned slightly. He tried to move his arms, and I applied pressure.
“No, Mathew,” I whispered. “No touching until I say so.”
I rocked back settling more on his stomach than his crotch, but I could still feel part of his hard cock through my panties. From my position on top of him, I stared into his eyes; I could feel his need, the small tremors racking his body.
“Watch.”
Starting at the base of my neck, I ran my hands down my body, slowly, teasingly over my bra, and down my sides, over my stomach to my crotch. I paused, slipping a finger briefly under the panties. I ran my hands down my thighs ultimately shifting my hands from me to him. I felt up his chest, taking his arms, pulling them toward me. I took his hands in mine and made him follow the same path I’d showed him on my body, although I didn't allow him to linger. I rose up on my knees moving back so that I sat directly on his hard cock. The crotch of my panties was wet and I couldn’t help but press into him. I unclasped my bra and took it off, taking his hands, cupping them over my bare breasts. He pinched my nipples between his fingers and rolled them. I stared into his eyes, as my nipples got hard from his touch.
“Mathew,” I breathed out.
My body ached with desire. I rocked on him slightly and then leaned forward, pressing my lips into his. He pushed his tongue deep in my mouth as he slipped his fingers under my panties and then into me. I moaned, feeling his fingers inside me moving side to side. I was beyond excited, I needed him inside me. I drew his hand up and pulled the panties to one side of my leg. Not bothering to take them off I guided his hardness into me. He bucked up, thrusting into me. Then again and again. I rode him with an urgency I hadn’t felt in a long time. Faster and harder. He let me take us right to the edge before he grabbed my hips firmly, grinding me onto him.
“Ahhh,” I groaned, arching my back.
I collapsed on top of him, feeling weak, both of us breathing hard. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight to him. I stayed there, my face buried against his neck.
“Don’t ever fuck me like one of your groupies again,” he said.
I raised my face to look at him, and we both laughed out loud.
“Remember that?” I asked.
“Oh, it was quite the comment after hot passionate sex.”
“Is that what it was? Up against the door and rough,” I teased.
He slapped my ass.
“Ouch.”
I rolled off him, took the panties off, and nestled into the crook of his arm.
“Cute little get-up,” he said.
I looked up at him and smiled.
“You like?”
“Yeah, I like.”
“I thought you might. I bought it special,” I said.
“You have more?” he asked.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
He moved from me and got up from the bed walking to the table. He opened the wine, and poured one glass.
“None for you?”
“I’m trying not to for a while,” he said, bringing the wine glass to me.
“I understand.”
“Let’s shower and do dinner downstairs in the dining room,” he said.
We spent the weekend as a couple, and it was weird for me, but in a good way. We went to the park. We shopped. We went out to eat. And Sunday arrived too soon; a weekend just didn’t seem long enough. Again we were sharing moments. We lounged in bed and he ordered room service for breakfast.
“You’ve spoiled me. I love it,” I said.
He looked seriously at me across the small table.
“Morgan, what would you think about moving back to San Jose?” he asked.
It was so out of the blue.
“Why would I do that? I just started State this year.”
“You could transfer to San Jose State, and we could get a place together. I can support you while you finish school,” he said.
I was shocked. I stared at him. No words were coming, and the seconds passed. I could tell he wasn’t getting the immediate response he wanted. Move back to San Jose? Our worlds had been separate for so long. My winter in Park City had forced me to grow up a bit and I’d made what I thought were adult decisions. To go back to school and get my finance degree; I’d laid out a plan for me, and now he wanted me to change it.
“Think about it, okay?” he asked, his expression one of uncertainty.
“Okay,” I managed to say.
My head was spinning. Where had this come from? Me come live with him? I climbed back into the bed, pulling the covers around me, a place of comfort.
“I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he said, climbing in next to me.
“I wasn’t expecting it is all.”
“We’ve been doing this dance a long time, and maybe it’s time to see if it can work,” he said.
I looked into his eyes and knew what he was saying was coming from his heart. He pulled me to him holding me, caressing me, and I let my body mold into his. I wanted him near me and yet my head was filled with dis
jointed thoughts. We talked, and held one another, and made love slowly. We stayed in bed until the last minute before we needed to shower and check out. Like our very first time together I felt like the bed was our private island.
“We still have some time,” he said as we drove out of the hotel parking lot.
“Can you take me to Vasona Park?” I asked, thinking of all the good memories and the many birthdays I'd spent there as a child.
“You got it,” he said smiling, turning up the music.
It was the Stones. I knew which song was coming. “Childhood living is easy to do, the things you wanted I bought them for you, graceless lady you know who I am, you know I can’t let you slide through my hands, wild horses couldn’t drag me away” played from the speakers. The flood of memories was crushing as the song played out.
We walked to a grassy knoll and hung out, watching the kids play in the playground. I lay between his legs, my back against him. Another good memory.
“You want kids?” he asked pensively.
“Someday, yeah.”
We’d never talked like this. Not about any real possibility of a future together. I wondered how long he had been thinking about it. He didn’t bring up his question from earlier, and I was relieved. He asked if I could come back in two weeks; he would buy my ticket. I said I would.
“Think about it,” he said when he kissed me goodbye at the airport.
His blue eyes twinkled when he smiled.
Chapter 47
He was all I thought about on the plane ride home. I was still stunned. Could it work? Could we? Here was what I had always wanted, us. Instead of shouting yes at the top of my lungs, I needed time to think about it. Morgan, what is wrong with you? I kept asking myself. Over the next two weeks, I went through the motions at school. I was half focused, missing him, wanting to get back. We talked on the phone several times.
“I did a little shopping today,” I said.
“What kind of shopping?”
“Victoria's Secret shopping.”
“Lucky me, I can’t wait to see you, Morgan,” he said, with a sexy edge in his voice.
He took me back to the Hyatt.
“Mathew, Jack’s is fine. The Hyatt’s got to be expensive,” I said, feeling guilty he was paying.
“I’m making good money, kid. It’s okay. I want to spend it on you,” he said, taking the luggage from the trunk.
While he checked in, standing in the lobby, I pictured myself in the teal dress, waiting, not know what to do my hands. Would that girl have moved back to San Jose? When Mathew motioned his head toward the elevators I followed. He kissed me as we rode up. The elevator stopped and he pulled away, different floor I noticed.
“Oh, my god,” I said when he opened the door to the room—it was a suite.
“Not a word,” he said.
He set the suitcases down and flopped down on the couch. He grinned at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Take off your clothes, I want to see,” he said.
“Not so fast, Mathew,” I laughed.
He slid his arm out along the back on the couch getting comfortable.
“Morgan, take off your clothes, now.”
“You’re like a little kid,” I said, feeling the butterflies rise up.
He smiled. I pulled my shirt off and wiggled out of my jeans. I did a slow turnaround and faced him in my lacy pink-and-blue bra-and-panty set.
“Very nice,” he said.
He pushed himself from the couch coming to me. His expression one of want. This time I let him lead the way. The lingerie didn’t stay on long.
“Hungry?” he asked, running his fingers through my hair.
“Um, how could I be hungry after that,” I asked, snuggled against him in bed.
“For food, silly.”
“Yeah, food, we need that, don’t we,” I murmured, not wanting to move away from him.
We walked to a quaint Italian restaurant for dinner. It had green and white awnings over the front windows and plush red velvet booths inside with dark wooden tables. The walls were painted green and had numerous photos of beautiful landscape, I presumed to be Italy. It smelled delicious, of red sauce and bread, and I realized I was hungry. He ordered a bottle of red wine, and the waiter poured two glasses.
“Drinking again?”
“Now and then,” he answered.
“Walking, no driving,” I said, scolding.
We got more sociable that weekend: clubbing and hooking up with friends, and the band.
“Hit?” he asked as we sat in the parking lot, ready to go into a club.
He had a vial of cocaine in his hand. I liked cocaine, but I never bought it. When it was offered I usually was game. It was everywhere in the clubbing scene, in Park City it had been blatant. There were those, like me, that could do it socially and then those that became fanatical about it. I assumed Mathew had just gotten this because I was in town.
“Sure. You’re not doing this much, are you?” I asked.
I had grown out of the heavy partying scene, and I assumed he had too, especially after his accident, but now I wondered. I thought back to my times with the band, and worried that they still might be going full throttle.
“Only special occasions,” he said, handing it to me.
His words only reassured me a little. I took the small spoon and hit both nostrils. He did the same and put the vial in his pocket.
“Ready to do some dancing,” he asked, kissing me.
“Oh, yeah.”
The place was packed. People jammed so tight you could hardly move around, and loud; the talking, the laughter, the music. I drank too much wine; he didn’t drink at all. We snuck off to the bathroom several times to do more blow. We got sweaty on the dance floor. Mathew knew several people and he talk, shouted, with them. We left before the band quit, but it was still pretty late.
“That was so much fun,” I said, stumbling and laughing as he helped me into the elevator at the Hyatt.
“I’m glad,” he said, wrapping his arms around me.
When we got to the room, he made himself a Jack-and-Coke from the mini bar.
“Anything?” he asked.
“Any more coke?” I asked, knowing I didn’t need anything more to drink.
He handed me the vial. I tapped out lines onto a mirror he’d pulled from his suitcase and snorted two lines. When I stood up he looked at me and took a sip of his drink.
“Strip off your clothes,” he said.
“You strip off your clothes,” I giggled.
He grinned at me. I stared at him challenging him with my eyes.
“Are you going to take off your clothes?” he asked.
“No. I want you to take them off.”
I could feel that I swaying just a bit, my head light from the wine and coke. I watched as he set his drink down on the table and then lurched across the room at me, tackling me onto the bed. I let out a laughing scream as he rolled on top of me. We had wild sex late into the night, on the bed, over the chair, on the floor. Mathew was amazing; he could do it over and over. I figured the cocaine had a little something to do with it. We got in the bathtub at one point to relax and made love again. I was sore and a lot more sober when we finally lay in each other’s arms under the covers.
“Yes, I’ve thought about it,” I answered when he asked.
“Well?”
“Mathew, you need to give me time. I’m thinking yes, but it scares the shit out of me. I don’t know this Mathew.”
“Yes, you do,” he said.
“I don’t,” I protested. “The boy in the band that I knew was self-centered, especially when it came to me.”
He looked into my eyes.
“This boy,” I stroked his face “is new to me.”
“Let’s try to get some sleep,” he said annoyed.
Me hesitation confused me, but didn’t. I wasn’t sure I believed him, in him.
“I don’t know how you can support the two of us… Th
ere are so many things,” I went on. “When I am with you, I want it more than you know, but I have doubts.”
“Don’t,” he said.
“I’m trying.”
For the remainder of the school year, I went to see Mathew every other weekend. My lingerie collection was getting expensive, and Mathew was growing increasingly frustrated with me not giving him an answer. We were spending more weekends at Jack’s, and the more we were around other people, the more my doubts would resurface. Cocaine was usually around, and he was “social drinking”. We planned for me to come back for a week right after school ended, and I knew I had to make a decision. He told me he expected it.
Mathew arranged to use Bobby’s grandparents' place at the beach for five nights, the Hyatt the last two. The first two days we were alone at the beach house were fabulous. We cooked together, took walks on the beach, romped in the sun, rode beach cruisers around town, and spent a lot of time in bed. We built fires on the beach, and he played his guitar for me. When I watched him, I imagined it always like this. I tried to imagine us apartment hunting.
“I invited a few friends to stop by tonight,” he said while we showered.
We’d spent the day at the beach. It had been hot and we were clammy and sticky. It felt good to get the sand and the sunscreen off.
“That okay?”
“Sure,” I answered, rinsing my hair.
I was disappointed. I liked having him to myself. I remembered when we were kids I had felt that way too. A few friends turned into a party, and Mathew flirted openly with several of the girls that night. I watched him work the scene. It took me back in time to other parties we had been to, parties that hadn’t turned out so well. It was different though now, now we were a couple. I’d never had the right before to feel jealous, so I’d gotten mad or even. It surprised me to feel it now.
“I was talking to them, Morgan,” he defended.
“More like flirting,” I said, pouring us coffee the next morning. “Mathew, for god’s sake, you’re a chick magnet and you know it. That’s okay with me, but it’s not when you work it. If we can ever make it, you have to be committed.”
