I hated it too. Hated that he felt that way, hated that we had these sad, twisted childhoods that bound us in some morbid way.
“I just wanted to tell you that you’re not alone and you have nothing to be ashamed of. They’re the sick ones. They’re the ones who should be ashamed, not us.” He held my gaze until I looked away, a jumble of emotions running through me all at once. “Let me walk you up now,” he murmured, and pushed open his door to come around to my side.
It took a few minutes for me to find my keys and a few more to trudge up the stairs because the elevator was broken, but by the time we got to apartment six hundred, the last thing I wanted was to be alone. I’d left the warehouse broken, sad and a little drunk and now, even after telling Matty the worst parts of my life, I felt…cleaner. Better. Maybe he hadn’t forgiven me, but he didn’t hate me, and that mattered more than anything right then.
I wasn’t ready to let him go yet.
“You got it from here?”
I shivered, the air-conditioned building turning my wet clothes into a wearable refrigeration system. “I’d rather if you came in,” I said softly.
His laser-like gaze held mine and he shook his head slowly. "Bad idea."
"Why?" My voice sounded husky but it wasn't because I was hesitant. In that moment, I'd never been surer of anything in my life. I tried again, louder this time. "Why is it a bad idea, Matty?"
"You know the answer to that already, Red. If I come in, I'm not going to want to leave. I'm going to want to hold you and then I’m going to want to kiss you-” He jammed a hand through his damp hair and let out a low growl of frustration. “I wish I could turn it on and off like you do, or push it aside so we could just work together, but I can't. It's always there for me, and the way I feel tonight only makes it worse."
"How do you feel tonight?"
"Mad. Mad that you had to go through that as a kid. Mad that I have to work for your father. Mad that he's your father at all. Mad that you didn't tell me the truth. And furious with myself because I fucking want you anyway, and what does that make me?"
"It makes you human. It makes both of us human."
Heart in my throat, I took his hand and walked backward through my door, leading him with me. "Stay with me. Let's make each other forget the past. Your mom and mine. We'll forget Mickey and this whole stupid deal and just let go."
"I can't just let go."
"You can with me. I won't judge you, Matty."
"What if I hurt you?"
"I'm made of tougher stuff than that, and I know something you don't."
"What's that?"
"You would never hurt me."
I rolled up onto my tiptoes and kissed him, slipping my tongue between his lips on a sigh. Please, my soul begged.
On a groan, he responded, his tongue tangling with mine, taking and giving all at once. I craned my neck back to give him the space he needed and, when he grabbed my hips and hoisted me up, I responded by wrapping my legs around his lean waist. He palmed my ass as we walked, bumping into walls as we went. He grunted when his elbow smashed against the closet doorknob, but he didn't falter.
"Are you sure?" he muttered against my mouth.
"Yes! Yes, yes, yes. Bedroom is the second door on the right," I said, between kisses. I locked my arms around his neck, hanging on tight as he let go of my bottom to open the door. He crossed the room in three long strides and set me on the floor.
I yanked off my wet shirt and pants and tossed them to the carpet, excitement and elation melting away any shyness.
"I don't have a fucking condom again," he said in a guttural voice, eyes glued to my body even as he stripped the nearly transparent T-shirt over his head. "I keep doing that on purpose, thinking if I don't have one, it will stop me from trying to fuck you, but it's clearly not working."
I choked out a laugh and jumped on the bed so I could watch him undress. "That's funny, because I think I’m doing the exact opposite."
He slanted a brow at me and planted his hands on his hips. "What do you mean?"
I reached into my bedside table and pulled out a strip of three condoms and tossed them into the air in his direction. "I'm more pragmatic. I keep telling myself it's the lure of the forbidden fruit and if I keep them handy, just the knowledge that I could have sex with you if I wanted to will be enough to keep me from doing it."
"Looks like we were both wrong."
I nodded slowly, mouth going dry as he tugged his jeans, underwear and socks off and kicked them into the corner. "Looks that way."
He stepped toward me, his cock already stiff and ready, jutting out in front of him. I'd gotten to touch it, but I hadn't seen it last time, and now I wanted to get my fill. If this was a one-time deal, then I was going to milk it for whatever it was worth.
Before Matty McDaniels left my apartment, there would be no part of him I hadn't touched, no square inch of muscle that I hadn't licked or bit. If this was the one time I could be myself and trust that the person I was with had all their cards on the table, then I was going to make the most of it.
I scooted to the edge of the bed and swung my legs over the side until I was facing him. His abs were at my eye-level and the sight was breathtaking. Better than any sunset or ocean view. I leaned in and traced the defined muscles with my fingertip, marveling at the way his muscles quivered and jumped beneath my touch.
"I want to put my mouth on you," I whispered, embarrassed by my words, but determined not to hold back.
"Kayla-"
I didn't wait for the rest of his response, and dipped my head in to taste him. Just one lick.
I looped my arms around his hips to hold him in place, part of me still feeling like, if I let go, he'd blow away in the wind like every other good thing in my life.
But he wasn’t going anywhere.
The second my mouth touched him, he slipped his hands into my hair so gently, my eyes stung with the sweetness of it. He murmured my name under his breath and at that moment, I would've killed to be two people at once. One doing exactly what I was doing and another me to watch his face. To take a mental picture of every line of his body, every flex of every muscle as I used my mouth and tongue to love him.
I took my time, laving his length up one side and then down the other, reveling in the flex of his fingers against my scalp and the tension in his thighs when I closed my lips tighter over him. More than once he tried to pull me up.
"Enough, Kayla. You don't have to do this-"
But then I'd just suck him deeper, and he would break off on a muttered curse and tremble in my hands. This wasn't a reminder of my childhood in Wisconsin. This was painting over that terror with something beautiful.
"Am I doing okay?" I asked, risking a glance at his face.
"Better than okay. You feel..." He squeezed his eyes closed as I swooped down and sucked on the broad, smooth head gently. "It's amazing."
And I believed him, because it wasn’t long before he was arching into me, gasping my name.
“We’ve got to stop now.”
“No, I want you to. Just go ahead,” I murmured, stroking him up and down with my hand. At least I could give him this. Then maybe he wouldn’t be disappointed when… “I probably can’t anyway,” I finished lamely, unable to squeeze the rest of the words out. Apparently the day of revelations would never end.
“You can't what?" He had pulled away and even though I was staring at a random spot on his hip rather than meeting his gaze in the dim room, I could feel the weight of his stare. Hear the beginnings of comprehension in his voice. He knew what I was going to say, but it was so shocking that he hadn't admitted it to himself yet. That's how sad and pathetic it was.
I thought about leaving until I remembered we were in my apartment. Short of asking him to leave, which seemed like a real asshole thing to do since I was the one who'd all but begged him to come in, there was only one thing to do. I chomped on the bullet, closed my eyes and said the words.
"I can't have an orgasm.”
Chapter Eight
Matty
I don't know if I blinked, or made a sound, or if I even managed a nod, but whatever I did, there was no way it was anything close to what I wanted to do.
“So you should just...um, go ahead. Or whatever," she murmured miserably.
"When you say you can’t, you mean, ever?"
"Ever."
"Not even from oral?" I pulled her to her feet and forced her to meet my gaze.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek and for a second I wondered if she might start to cry, which would have killed me.
But not Kayla James.
She was a fucking warrior. And not one of those people who never had any hard shit happen to them and liked to brag about mental toughness. She was an actual, battle-tested warrior, and every time I tried to close myself off from her, that part of her called to me again.
I'd met tons of girls in my life. Some almost as sexy as she was, objectively at least. Great tits, luscious lips, pretty faces. But I couldn't connect with a single one of them beyond a laugh and a fun night out. They couldn't possibly understand what life had been like for me, or how, when I said I had a tough childhood, I didn't mean that I had a lot of chores to do or that my parents wouldn't get me that bike I wanted so bad.
What it meant to me was being hungry. It meant quitting high school at sixteen so I could get a job and save up to get my brothers out of foster care when I turned eighteen. Proms and football games and parties didn't mean shit to me. I was working back to back double shifts at the diner when everyone else my age was at homecoming. It was a choice, and one I never ever regretted, not even for a second. But it meant that I had nothing in common with any of the girls who met me. Girls who thought my "bad boy" image was fun, or cool. It would definitely have been less cool if they woke up next to me when I was in the middle of a night terror, body soaked in sweat as I dreamt of my mother holding me under the water in the bathtub until I passed out.
Now, though, as this girl looked up at me, face red with misery, chin lifted defiantly in spite of the humiliation that stained her cheeks, I felt like maybe she got it. Maybe it wouldn't scare her away. She was the daughter of Mickey Flynn and there was no fucking way we could ever make it work in the real world. But maybe we could be each other's salvation for a while. I could be a safe place for her to fall. She could be a person I could be myself with.
"Look, I understand if you want to go. It's super weird. I get it, and I won't be mad."
"Fuck that."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean. Fuck. That. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying here, and you and me are going to work this out. You down?"
She shook her head, brows raised, "I've tried. I swear to you, by myself, with a couple guys who tried to be patient.”
"But you've never been with me."
"You're setting yourself up to fail and that's not on you. It's not your problem to solve and I don't want you to feel responsible."
"I don't feel responsible. That cock-sucking piece of rat shit uncle of yours is responsible. But that doesn't mean I can't help you."
"I'm not some sad case in need of a pity fuck."
"Pity fuck? The only pity would be if I didn't get to fuck you because thinking about it is driving me crazy. I want you, and I know you want me. Now, the only way to make this a satisfactory activity for the both of us is to make sure we both get off. I'm a shoe in. I can barely watch you bend over without wanting to come. In order to even things up a little, we're going to take some time learning what you like. I couldn't live with myself any other way."
"What if I can't?"
"Then nothing's changed. We tried. Nothing lost. But what if you can?"
Her eyes shifted left and then right, and she crossed her arms over her chest. I held my breath, waiting for her refusal.
"Half an hour."
"I'm on the clock, now?" I tried to keep my tone light, but that definitely wasn't going to fly. Learning a woman's body took time and a half an hour wasn't long enough. "That's a little cold, no?"
"That's what I can do. Anything more than that, it's going to start to be like... a thing. If nothing's happening by then, what am I supposed to do? We'll be all awkward and uncomfortable. I don’t think I could take it."
I could tell by her body language that was the best I was going to get from her or else risk her walking away. I remembered the way her body had responded to mine back at the gym. I could still feel the wetness of her pussy coating my fingers. I could still see the way her eyes went wild and glassy as I closed my teeth over her nipple. My blood went hot and rushed south as I thought of doing all that again and more.
"Thirty minutes, then.” I nodded and rubbed my hands together warming to the idea and letting the chill that had soaked into my bones from our earlier conversation fade away. “Do we need to synchronize watches?"
She managed a shaky half smile, but she was definitely terrified of yet another failed attempt. Little did she know, there was no way in hell I was leaving this apartment until she came.
She laid back on the bed, stiff as a board, and closed her eyes. It was tough not to stare, because she looked fine as hell. Her tiny lace underwear barely covered the goodies, her full breasts strained against her bra and her legs, although not long, were banging. Fine, lean muscles lined her calves leading to trim ankles and those heels that she still hadn't taken off.
Not that I was about to complain. I could've stood there looking at her for the full thirty minutes and not gotten my fill, but I could hear the clock ticking in my head. Tick, tock, tick tock.
"That's not going to work," I murmured, sitting on the bed next to her. "I'd like you to lay on your stomach."
Her eyelids fluttered and then opened, revealing fearful brown eyes. "Why?"
"What do you think is about to happen? I'm not going to climb on top of you and bounce around for half an hour with my fingers crossed. We have to get you relaxed or there's no question I'm going to fail."
"It wouldn't be your fault. I'm the failure," she muttered turning her face away.
"I'm sure the guys you've been with have let you take the blame. Makes them feel better, but the fact is, you can have an orgasm. You clearly like being touched, and your body is really responsive. We just have to get you past the mental blocks in your way. First step? Relaxing."
I pressed her down on her belly and she let me. Face down, the view was just as distracting. Her ass was firm and round and almost bare, save for the tiny triangle of peach lace covering it. "Your body is beautiful," I said, and reached out to trail a finger over her shoulder, and then down her spine. I moved closer and leaned over her until I could cup both of her shoulders in my hands. She stiffened instantly but, after a few seconds, some of the tension left her. Stay non-threatening, take it super slow and whatever you do, don't look at the clock.
I dug my thumbs into the muscles alongside of her shoulder blades and she groaned. "You’re all knots."
She made a muffled noise against the pillow and then turned her head. "It doesn't hurt at all. I just didn't realize I was so tight."
I repeated the maneuver and she groaned again and laughed.
"Sorry. I'll try to be less noisy."
I was trying to relax her so I wasn't about to tell her that that was the last thing I wanted. In fact, the noisier the better. If, by the end of this thirty minutes, she was still quiet, I was going to pitch myself down that busted elevator shaft in the hallway.
I worked on her muscles, staying in the same spot until I could feel the knots melting away before moving lower. Her skin was so soft, it was a pleasure to touch her, and I was having the time of my life, if it wasn't for that niggling thought in the back of my head.
Tick tock.
Five minutes later, though, her breathing had slowed and her flesh was warm and pliable under my fingers. She was definitely relaxed. I would've loved to finish the massage. To keep rubbing her until she was a mass of goo, but now I had to
take it the other way and un-relax her. Get her tense again, but in all the right places for all the right reasons.
I slipped my hands lower until they were right above her ass and kneaded in and down with the heels of my palms, pressing her hips into the mattress. She let out a tiny sigh and her hips wriggled for a split second before going stock still again. I repeated the move, letting my hands drift lower to palm her ass and again press her against the bed. This time, her breath caught and the wriggle was more distinct.
I climbed down to the bottom of the bed so I was behind her now, and she moved to roll over but I pressed a staying hand on the small of her back. "Not yet."
I nudged her legs open until I could rest between them. I was close to the motherland then and my dick, which I'd been trying desperately to keep on lockdown by pretending I was giving an athlete a rubdown, came throbbing to life. There was no tricking it now. He sensed heaven was near and he wanted in.
I ran my hands up and down the backs of her thighs in the lightest touch I could manage. Goosebumps broke out on her skin, so I did it again.
"Does that tickle?" I asked, knowing it didn't but wanting to hear her voice. Needing to gauge whether I should take things further or whether she needed more time.
"N-no. Not tickle, exactly."
The next time I did it, I let my thumbs skim perilously close to her panty line, dipping between her thighs, so close to her pussy that I could feel the heat radiating there. She gasped and a shiver shot through her.
"Your legs are fantastic," I muttered, sliding my thumbs even closer now, but careful not to make direct contact. She shifted restlessly against the blanket and my cock pulsed in time with her movements. Visions of her getting onto all fours and me sliding that scrap of lace to the side and sliding my cock in deep ran through my head on an endless loop. I had to close my eyes for a minute to get it together.
"That feels-"
She broke off and let her legs fall open wider. I took that as an invitation to get closer with each pass as her thighs shook more and more. By the time I ran both thumbs over that hot, lace covered slit, I wanted to roar with the satisfaction of it. She jerked so hard she nearly knocked me off the bed.
Trust Me: Matty and Kayla, Book 1 of 3 (The McDaniels Brothers) Page 7
