Lincoln sighed. "I don't have any answers for you, but I think you gave up to damn easy. Maybe she just needs more time."
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I snorted. "It's been almost five years."
"All the more reason not to toss it all out the window." He shook his head, his mouth twisting in exasperation. "I just hate to see two of my favorite people make each other miserable. If I thought for one minute I had a chance with her, we wouldn't be having this conversation. But she's not interested, no matter how much her father would like to see us together. And frankly, I'm sick of the pretense." He snorted. "For one thing, it's damned hard to get laid when everyone thinks you have a girlfriend."
I choked back a surprised burst of laughter. "So you're playing Cupid for your own good?"
His mouth formed a satisfied grin. "Something like that."
He twisted the handle and opened the car door. "Just remember, if you blow it this time, I don't plan to get arrested again for at least another fifteen years, so I'm not doing this for you again any time soon." Yawning, he added,
"Good night ... or morning. Whichever," and stepped onto the sidewalk.
I pressed my forehead against the cool, leather-wrapped steering wheel.
Five incredibly short years. Five torturously long months.
And the hottest damn kitchen sex ever.
Maybe I did need to rethink my strategy. The ultimatum route sure as hell wasn't working.
Perhaps it was time for a little good, old-fashioned seduction.
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30
According to Matthew [The Gospel of Love 2]
by Jackie Barbosa
Chapter Five
I paused in the doorway to Casey's bedroom, momentarily distracted from the burning heat of the ceramic coffee cup in my hand by the sight of her nude, caramel-skinned form.
She'd kicked off the covers during the night and lay on her side, one leg splayed across the rich burgundy bedspread, the other stretched out atop the bright, white sheet. With her braids spread across the pillow and one hand tucked up under her cheek, she looked like an Egyptian princess. Nefertiti caught napping.
The erection I'd woken up with had subsided while I brewed the coffee, but it wouldn't stay down for long at this rate.
I crossed to the bed and sat on its edge. Casey stirred and rolled onto her back, one arm brushing up against my thigh.
The inadvertent contact sparked my barely contained lust, and I was tempted to set the cup aside and wake her up in a less gentlemanly—but much more entertaining—way.
Confronted with solid male muscle where her subconscious must have expected soft blankets, she jerked back, like a sleeper who's just realized she's about to fall out of bed. Her eyelids fluttered, and her muscles tensed as she came awake.
She opened her eyes, their inky depths going from drowsy to wary to puzzled in quick succession. "Matty?"
"The one and only," I confirmed.
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She struggled up onto one elbow, seemingly unaware of the tantalizing way the motion put her gorgeous tits on display. My fingers itched, and my mouth watered.
"What—how did you get in?"
"Same way you got into my place. I still have a key."
Her gaze darted to the other side of the bed, the blankets undisturbed, and then back to me. "Where did you sleep?"
"The couch." I brought the cup into her line of vision. "I made you coffee."
Java was the way to Casey's heart, especially first thing in the morning. It wasn't that she needed the energy, though.
On the contrary, she was a whirlwind of activity, practically a force of nature all on her own, and caffeine didn't seem to affect her one way or the other. If I drank a cup of regular coffee at four in the afternoon, I was up until midnight or later. Casey, on the other hand, could drink a cup and fall asleep ten minutes later.
No, for Casey, coffee was a sensory experience—the heat, the scent, the flavor, the color—and she savored it for that reason alone.
"Oh. Um, thank you." She squirmed to a full sitting position, then pulled the blankets up over her torso before taking the mug of steaming liquid from me. Holding the cup with both hands, she regarded me over the rim as she took several slow, careful sips. By the time she spoke again, the coffee was half gone.
"Why are you here? After last night, I thought..."
I set my hands over hers and met her gaze. A current of awareness and longing leapt between us, immediate and 32
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electric. "After last night, I can't stay away. I need you, Casey. And if you need more time to be sure, to be ready..." I shrugged. "I'll wait."
She tipped her head to one side and eyed me thoughtfully.
"And if I'm never ready?"
The question smacked me square in the chest like a dodge ball thrown at a kindergarten kid by the fifth grade bully.
Ouch!
Damn it, I wanted to marry her, settle down, have a couple of kids. Be like my parents. And I had no idea what the fuck was wrong with that scenario. Wasn't it what all women aspired to at some level? Hell, my brother, Luke, had been round and round with a dozen different girlfriends over the years because the whole wedding ring, picket fence, and rug rats routine was exactly what they wanted and he wouldn't give it to them. Although I had the feeling the latest, Lisa Sullivan, might be winning him over to the other side.
I took a little too long to answer, because Casey sighed and put the cup, now empty, on the bedside table and swung her legs off the edge of the bed. "I thought so."
Nude, she stood up and walked around me to get to the chest of drawers. Her ass swayed enticingly as she passed by me, making me want to reach out and grab a handful—or more. Even though I was puzzled and irritated by her stubbornness, my dick and balls didn't care.
Maybe I shouldn't care, either.
"Wait a sec," I said as she opened the dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of panties. I shoved off the bed and crossed 33
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the floor to stand behind her, snatching the underwear from her.
A thong. Nice.
"You're jumping to conclusions." I leaned in next to her ear and dropped my voice half an octave. "Let's say I'll wait forever. What do I get in return?" Tossing the underwear back into the drawer, I cupped her naked breasts and grazed the nipples with my thumbs.
She drew in a shaky breath, her nipples going straight to attention. "You do care, though, Matty. You want to get married."
I slid one hand down between her thighs and pressed the heel of my palm to her pussy. "Not just for the sake of getting married."
As soon as I said it, I knew this, at least, was true. I wanted to marry Casey. Nobody else. If I couldn't marry her, then...
"Let's say we never get married," I continued conversationally. "Could I still do this?" I slipped one finger between the soft, moist folds of her cunt, grazing her clit before pulling away.
Her knees wobbled.
"And this?" Placing my hands on her shoulders, I turned her to face me, then lowered my mouth and caught her hardened nipple into my mouth. I played with it only a second before dropping to my knees in front of her, adding, "And this?" just before letting my tongue dart between pussy lips to stroke her clit. This time, I dug in, not holding back to ask more questions. Instead, I savored the musky, sweet taste of 34
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her and the way her juices mixed with my saliva to make her ready for my fingers, my cock.
She spread her legs wider and grabbed onto my head for support, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. I stabbed two fing
ers inside her cunt and fucked her with them until I felt her muscles clench with the telltale signs of impending orgasm. Then I did the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life.
I stopped, stood up, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
She looked up at me, wide-eyed with confusion, wild-eyed with need. "Why—?" The one word was all she could manage, little more than a gasp. I knew what she was asking, though.
I shrugged. "You never said yes."
"Yes to what?"
I reached out and dragged her body against mine, trying not to let the erotic sensation of her naked body pressed against my clothed distract me from my purpose. "Yes, I can touch you. Yes, I can lick you. Yes, I can fuck you ... when I want, where I want, how I want." I ground out the words while I ground my erection against her belly. "You don't have to marry me, baby, now or ever, but if you don't—I need certain assurances in return."
Then I did the second hardest thing ever. I let her go and marched out of the room.
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According to Matthew [The Gospel of Love 2]
by Jackie Barbosa
Chapter Six
As I sank onto Casey's high-backed couch, my cock hard as a steel I-beam, I wondered if I hadn't just made the biggest mistake of my life. Pushing her that way, making it sound like all I wanted from her was sex ... That might not have been the best choice.
But fuck it, if she wanted to be with me, she had to want to be with me. Had to be as hot to jump my bones as I was to jump hers—which was damn near inferno hot. God, it had been way too long, and last night's encounter in the kitchen had only made me hungrier.
I listened and waited, silently begging her to do what I intended. Willing her to follow me out here, take my cock from my jeans, and then do whatever struck her fancy. She could suck me, fuck me, make me write bad checks ... I didn't care as long as she proved she wanted me.
Seconds dragged like minutes, a minute like an hour. And then I heard it—the slam of a drawer being shut, the creak of bedsprings.
What the hell? I willed myself to hold my position, not to give into my curiosity as to what she was up to.
"Matty?" Her voice shook a little, like she was still out of breath or ... really turned on.
My dick stiffened, even though I would have said a few seconds before that wasn't possible. "What!" I gritted my teeth, determined not to give in.
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"Come back here." There was a slight pause before she added, "Please?" She sounded almost apologetic. And very turned on.
It took me—okay, it took my cock—exactly five seconds to make up my mind. I all but jumped off the sofa and ran to the bedroom. My dignity was shot.
The sight that met my eyes when I walked through the bedroom door almost leveled me, though.
Casey reclined on the bed, a stack of pillows propping her up from behind. Wearing nothing but an inviting expression, she held a tube in one hand and a red, jelly dildo in the other.
The blood drained from my head with a roar, making me so dizzy I damn near inspected the carpet. Because I knew what she was offering me.
The one thing she'd never let me do before.
Fuck her ass.
I knew because I'd bought her that dildo about three years earlier. Whenever I brought up the topic of trying anal sex, she expressed concern. That it would hurt, that she wouldn't like, etcetera. And I didn't want to force her into anything, because ... well, damn it, I loved her. But I did want to fuck every one of her holes, and that was the only one that had been off-limits.
So, I bought a medium-sized anal dildo, explained what it was for, and told her to try it. No pressure, but maybe she'd decide anal wouldn't be as hard or painful as she imagined.
I never asked her about it again after that, figuring it was up to her to bring up the subject if she was interested. As far as I knew, she'd never used it. Now, I wasn't so sure.
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I cleared my throat, my brain trying to form words through a haze of lust. "You don't have to do this," I croaked. But I really, really want you to, my dick added helpfully.
She transferred the two items to one palm and held them out to me. "I know I don't have to. I want to."
I crossed the floor, reeled in by the lure of the irresistible bait. "Why now?" I asked, my breath heavy and ragged as I settled onto the bed beside her. "After all this time?"
Her cheeks turned pink as she pressed the tube and dildo into my hand. "When we broke up, I realized I was more curious than I thought. That I wanted to try it. But I didn't want to try it with anyone else. Only you." She shrugged and looked away, her embarrassment charming and so electrifying my blood sizzled like a live wire. "I don't want to make the same mistake twice."
My stomach clenched, and my blood chilled at her words.
Grabbing her chin, I turned her face so she had to meet my gaze. "So this is ... what? My goodbye present?"
Her already big eyes got bigger. "No, of course not." She reached up and wound her arms around my neck. "I told you last night—I want things the way they used to be. I love you, and I want us to be together. As long as you'll have me."
"I'll want you forever, Case. That's why I want you to m—"
She pressed her fingers over my mouth. "No. Don't say it.
Don't spoil this." Leaning closer, she feathered her lips across the skin beneath my ear, sending another current of electricity through my wiring. "Fuck my ass, Matty. Please."
If there was any guy in his right mind who could resist an appeal like that, he had to be a eunuch. Either that, or 38
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hearing the words had made him come in his pants before he even got to the main event, which I was very much afraid I was going to do.
"All right," I said, fighting for some semblance of control over my own balls.
I picked up the dildo. Made of a stiff yet pliable gel, it tapered from a slender tip a little bigger around than one of my fingers to a base not quite as big around as my cock.
From the peaked tips of her nipples and the rich, womanly scent of her pussy, I knew she was still as lit up as I was, but if she was going to enjoy this experience, I couldn't just slather on the lube and dive in head first. Either way, she'd need to go swimming first. The only question was how many lessons she'd need before we graduated to the platform.
"Have you used this?" I asked.
She shook her head. "I thought about it, but..."
"Okay. Then let's start slow." Climbing onto the bed, I got into position between her legs, grabbed her by the ankles, and spread her thighs while pulling her downward until her pink-and-caramel pussy was level with my mouth.
I pressed my lips to her dark curls, then snaked my tongue along her slit. Sweet and juicy, like candy. She hummed her approval as I swirled and sucked her clit just the way I knew she liked, the way that could usually get her off inside of two minutes.
But I didn't want her to come. Not yet.
Leaving her clit against a small moan of protest, I reached for the lube, flipped the cap, and applied a generous dollop to the tip of my finger. When I was done, I settled back between 39
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her legs, this time pressing my finger against the pretty, puckered rosebud of her ass. She gasped, her muscles clenching reflexively against the invasion.
"Relax. This is going to feel good," I whispered, and tweaked her clit with my tongue again. I hoped I was telling the truth and would do everything in my power to ensure this didn't turn out to be a one-off event. Because I damn sure wanted to do it again.
Her hips bucked in response, but her sphincter was still tense. "Promise?"
; "Cross my heart and hope to lie," I answered.
She let out a gusting laugh at the joke—one we'd made dozens of times over the years—but it was enough to loosen her up. My finger slipped into her butt up to the first knuckle.
"Oh." The startled exhalation was followed by a pleading,
"Oh, God," when I started licking her again. Damn, my girl loved cunnilingus. Thankfully, so did I. But I liked it even better now, because the combination of surprise and eagerness on her part gave me all the leverage I needed to slide my finger in to the second knuckle and then beyond.
I closed my eyes and waited for her to catch up to me, holding my finger motionless while I kept at her clit. My cock, trapped in my jeans, throbbed with impatience. If it felt this good to have my finger in her ass, having my cock there was going to be fucking paradise.
Slow and easy, I reminded myself.
"You were right," she whispered after a few seconds.
I raised my head. "Right about what?" Lost in my own lustful thoughts, I'd forgotten the train of our conversation.
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"This feels good." She wiggled her ass experimentally, causing my embedded finger to slide out and back in. "Oh, that's nice."
"I couldn't agree more." Knowing she was ready for the next step in the process that would lead to my ultimate satisfaction, I grinned wickedly and complied with her unspoken request, returning my attentions to her clit while I fucked her ass with long, gentle strokes.
She murmured incoherently, her thighs tensing and relaxing in rhythm to my thrust. I felt the moment right before her orgasm hit—when she dangled on the precipice, suspended at the height of pleasure—and angled my finger slightly upward and began thrusting faster to force her over the edge. I looked up from between her legs, watching her beautiful face light with that perfect blend of ecstasy and agony, of power and vulnerability, and a surge of emotion threatened to overwhelm me.
She was mine, and she'd always be mine. No. Matter.
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