by Lily Rede
“But if I wanted to, you would, right? All I’d have to do is unzip and slide my cock into you, just like this, and that hot little pussy would welcome me in, milking my dick until I explode for you. Would you like that?”
Grace nodded, so turned on her legs were shaking.
Matt slid a hand over her hip to find her bare folds, two fingers tracing her cleft before slipping between her slick labia to fill her channel in a decadent, erotic plunge, all the way to the palm.
She cried out and he tsked.
“You have to be quiet, sweetheart, or we’re going to have an audience. I’ll have to stop. God, the way your pussy grips my fingers. Tight and wet and smooth as silk. I think it likes me.”
Grace whimpered, biting her lip to hold back a moan as his thick fingers set a steady rhythm, stroking her most sensitive flesh. Her position against the car door didn’t allow her to do anything but grind her ass against his hips as he fingered her, his other hand sliding up to explore the curve of her waist and then her breasts. Not for the first time, Grace wished she were bigger, but Matt seemed to approve, sliding his big, warm hand under tank top and bra to cup her and gently toy with a nipple in counterpoint to his thrusts until her eyes rolled back in her head.
I’m going to come so fucking hard. In the parking lot in front of Clark’s. Shit.
“I’m not going to fuck you right now, Grace,” Matt said, kissing her jaw.
Grace moaned a protest despite his instructions, and he chuckled.
“Because when I slide into this hot slit, I want you bare and spread wide so I can see every inch of creamy skin and wet pussy, and so you can scream out your pleasure and show me exactly how much you like being filled with my cock. Now, come for me.”
His teeth sank into the delicate muscle between neck and shoulder in a gentle bite, and it was all over as Grace erupted into his hand, the world tilting on its axis as she came, and came, and came.
Wow.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MATT HELD GRACE CLOSE on the dance floor, swaying to the music, caught between elation and terror. The dozens of eyes that followed them with speculation were unnerving, too.
Tough shit, thought Matt, They were just going to have to get used to it. And so was he.
Because after feeling Grace come apart in his arms, Matt felt like he could take on the world. He’d been so nervous, but the moment he turned her to face the car door, something clicked.
It was a fantasy. And Matt had had plenty of experience with fantasies. Tapping into one of them for a script was easy, and playing it out, well, he may have a painful case of blue balls for the rest of the night, but he’d rocked Grace Mallow’s kinky little world, and that was totally worth it.
After she came back to herself, Grace slumped against him, turning her face trustingly toward him for a slow, deep kiss that somehow made the whole erotic episode in the parking lot that much more intimate. He finally let her go, letting her set her clothing to rights, though he wouldn’t give her panties back. At least not right away. He still had the others – ripped beyond repair.
Mildly dirty old man, he admonished himself, but in light of some of the things she wanted him to do to her, a couple of pairs of panties were tame in comparison.
Grace hesitated slightly when Matt took her hand and led her inside the restaurant – a normal couple out for dinner – and the raised eyebrows pissed him off. She relaxed a little when Fiona waved her over, having scored a table near the dance floor with Evie and Colin. His heart clenched as he saw them go out of their way to set her at ease.
No one talked about fires, though Evie checked her phone every five minutes like clockwork.
After the much-longed-for steak, Matt coaxed a reluctant Grace out onto the dance floor, reveling in the chance to hold her close in public. He tried to lose himself in the music and the incredible feel of Grace’s body pressed tightly to his, but he couldn’t stop worrying. Grace had it in her head that being linked romantically to her was going to ruin his life, which was nonsense. She was also worried that he wouldn’t be able to give her what she needed, and vice versa. That wasn’t nonsense, but Matt wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Kiss me,” he murmured, and she looked up, startled, and then around at the crowd.
Colin and Evie were dancing nearby, oblivious, and Fiona was chatting up a cute waiter, but the rest of the patrons – the locals, at least – kept one eye on them, with the exception of a group of rowdy young fishermen by the bar, already three sheets to the wind.
Matt didn’t repeat the request, just raised an eyebrow, trying to calm the flutter in his stomach as she worried her lower lip. Grace finally slid her hands up to his shoulders, raising herself on tiptoe to reach his mouth. He tilted down just enough to allow her to accomplish it, and was rewarded with her lush lips against his.
“Open,” he demanded quietly, and she did, clutching Matt’s shoulders as his tongue swept inside for a leisurely taste, “I love your mouth, sweetheart. I can’t wait to feel these sweet lips on my cock.”
Matt had never spoken to a woman like this, and he was tense, braced for a slap in the face, but it never came. Grace just sagged against him, letting him hold her up and kiss her any way he wanted to until they were both breathless. But the doubts lingered.
“Is – is this okay? I don’t really know…I don’t want you to feel…” Matt cringed, knowing he was ruining it, but Grace only chuckled.
“If you go too far, believe me I’ll let you know, probably with a high heel jabbed into a very sensitive area.”
Matt lost a few functioning brain cells as he felt her arch slightly, pressing her soft stomach into his throbbing cock. He wanted to balance Grace’s harder sexual urges with romance, but he had to remind himself that no matter how exciting it might be, their first time shouldn’t be hard and fast up against a restaurant bathroom wall with half the town just beyond the door. He edged back with a rueful smile.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The song ended and another started up, but Grace was already moving toward the bar.
“Want anything?”
“A cold shower?”
Grace laughed, and Matt tortured himself watching her shapely ass as she sashayed away. He rejoined Evie and Colin at the table, just as Evie got up, checking her phone.
“I’m going to call in, make sure everything’s okay.”
Colin rolled his eyes and Evie shot him a withering glare before disappearing outside.
“There must be something wrong with me,” said Colin, “but when she looks at me like that, I just want to drop to my knees and beg.”
He leveled a knowing look on Matt.
“I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but it’s good to see you with Grace. It’s about time,” Colin said quietly, “for both of you.”
With a burst of understanding, Matt realized the truth. They knew. They knew about Grace, what she wanted, what she liked. Evie, Grace, and Fiona were thick as thieves, and Colin had known her since grade school. Suddenly, he felt…off. These were Grace’s friends, the people she trusted with the intimate details of her life, who didn’t judge. He’d only been taken into confidence the night before, and practically under duress at that, and he abruptly felt foolish sitting there, knowing that they knew what Grace wanted him to do to her, what he was willing to try for her sake.
It was unsettling.
“I said no!” Grace’s voice drifted back to him, more than a little pissed off.
They all looked up to see Grace straining to get away from one of the drunken fishermen, a young idiot with brown hair and sun-chapped skin who had wrapped his arms around her by the bar and was now sliding rough hands toward her ass. She twisted, trying to knee him in the balls, but he just laughed and held her tighter.
“That purple hair is hot, baby,” he slurred, “Is it purple everywhere?”
Matt didn’t think. He didn’t reason. He didn’t even note that Grace had managed to grab one of the
fisherman’s roving hands and twist his finger up at an awkward angle, forcing him to let go. Matt just lost it, completely and utterly. In seconds, he was across the room and had knocked the bastard away from Grace with a mighty heave.
“Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” he growled.
“Matt!” Grace’s shocked voice barely cracked the red fog that filled his brain.
He felt like he was underwater as he stomped toward the fisherman, who was scrambling to his feet as the crowd stopped everything to watch.
“What the fuck, man? I was just showing the lady a good time. She wanted it.”
Mine.
It felt good to sink a fist into the guy’s face, and it would have felt even better to pound him into a bloody pulp, but he felt hands holding him back as his opponent sank to the ground in a less-than-graceful slump, out cold. Matt savored the sting in his fist.
“Oh my God!”
He turned to face Grace and froze. She and half the restaurant’s patrons were looking at him in shock. Worse than that, underneath the shock was fear – the same kind of fear that filled his nightmares.
“Matt?” Grace’s voice was soft, tentative.
Matt couldn’t breathe, choking on regret.
“I’m sorry,” he gritted out, and then he was rushing out the door, past Evie, who frowned at his abrupt departure. He blindly found his SUV in the dark parking lot, and got the hell away before he did any more damage.
GRACE PEELED OFF HER clothes, set her glasses on the counter, and stepped into the bathtub, letting the warm lavender-scented heat envelop her body and soak away some of the night’s tension. She was grateful that Adam had been asleep when she arrived, and noted with amused surprise that he’d done a credible job of fixing the faucet, though he probably would have done better with some actual tools. She was going to have to break down and buy him that toolkit.
She sank lower in the water, trying to force herself to relax, but knew it was impossible – Matt had scared her tonight. Really scared her. Never mind that she’d been about to inflict some serious damage herself. Grace had never seen his incredible strength used against another person, and had never thought she would. It had taken her an hour to convince the fisherman with the swollen jaw not to press charges.
And okay, a little blackmail.
Grace should feel worse about that, but didn’t – the guy needed to learn that not taking “no” for an answer was considered assault.
But Matt…
He’d never been anything but gentle with her, and she’d never seen him lose his temper like that before, either. He’d obviously been horrified by what he’d done.
Is that why he’s so terrified by the thought of domination? Is he afraid he’s going to hurt me if he loses control?
That made sense, and she realized with a sinking heart that it was a valid concern. She’d heard horror stories at some of the clubs – how a spanking could become a beating, how a possessive nature could become crazy jealousy and paranoid stalking. It was the chief reason she’d been so careful about her partners, and why she tried to stay emotionally detached – falling in love with a potential psycho seemed far riskier than any of her bedroom fun and games.
Could she trust him? Grace sensed that she could, but there was no way she was going to rely on gut instinct in this case. Anger issues were not something to be taken lightly. Besides, she was handicapped by the memory of that meltingly delicious interlude in the parking lot. Despite the hot water, Grace shivered, again feeling his fingers relentlessly thrusting between her thighs while he whispered dirty little things in her ear. When he’d ordered her to come, she was helpless to resist, feeling sensation course through her body in a molten rush, his hard muscled form holding her up, holding her safe. It was nothing short of epic.
She sat up straighter. She basically had three options. A day or two earlier she would have gone with “end it now,” but that seemed like the coward’s way out, went against everything she felt, and made a mockery of Matt’s impassioned campaign to convince her that they belonged together. The second option was simple blind faith that she could trust him – she wasn’t that stupid. No, Grace was a librarian, and she was going to do what her kind did best. She was going to make an informed decision, and that required just one thing.
Research.
MATT LAY AWAKE MOST of the night, staring at the ceiling, hating himself.
I blew it, he thought.
Forget Grace’s kinky preferences, it was his own more serious issues that would keep them apart. He tried to remember what the therapist had said – he’d gone to see her for a few months after his father’s death, resentful and directionless after his knee had blown out.
There’s nothing wrong with being angry. It’s what you do with that anger, Matt.
Well, what he did last night was punch out a drunken moron for touching his girl.
Or the girl that could have been his girl.
What a mess.
With a sigh, Matt gave up on sleep and headed downstairs to make some coffee. He was going to have to face Grace eventually, but not today. He had an appointment to keep. Twenty minutes later he was on the road out of town, with a brief stop at the florist’s for a bouquet of pink and orange gerbera daisies.
Sunrise Glen was on the water across the bay and looked more like a luxury resort than an institution, which was one of the reasons Matt had picked it. It cost the Earth, but the only decent thing his bastard father had ever done was leave a life insurance policy behind – he hadn’t taken care of his wife in life, it was only fair that he make up for it in death. Ironically, he’d been sober when his car had been plowed into by a drunk driver. In his lowest moments, Matt had thought that there was some poetic justice in that.
The pretty blonde nurse smiled at him as he stepped into the lobby.
“Good morning, Matt. She’s in the conservatory.”
“Thanks, Erin. Could you find me a vase?”
“Of course. Those are lovely. I’ll bring it to you.”
Matt nodded and walked the familiar path to the conservatory, a bright room paneled in windows, filled with plants and a bubbling fountain. May Harris sat in a chair on the bay side, looking out at the water. She was petite, with neat dark hair that was just starting to gray, and blue eyes in a sweet face. The thin white scar along her forehead was barely noticeable.
“Mom?” Matt kept his voice gentle.
She turned around, and for a second, her features froze into terror. Matt knew what she saw – a big, muscular man, with the features of the husband who abused her for decades – even though his eyes were hers.
“It’s me, Mom. It’s Matt.”
Her face relaxed into a smile, and he felt his insides unclench as he stepped forward to kiss her on the cheek.
“Matt. Of course, you’re Matt,” she said, reassuring herself, patting him on the cheek, “Did you have a nice day at school?”
Matt pulled up a chair.
“I finished school, Mom, remember?” he said patiently, “I’m a firefighter. I live over there.”
He pointed out the window to Bright’s Ferry across the bay and May shook her head, laughing at herself.
“That’s right. I remember.”
Matt handed her the flowers.
“For me? They’re beautiful, Matty. Thank you.”
Erin appeared with a vase full of water, and while May busied herself arranging the bouquet, Matt launched into an account of his week, talking about his progress on the house, how busy he was at work, but leaving out mention of the arsonist. May nodded and smiled. He wasn’t sure how much of it made sense to her, but she seemed to enjoy hearing it.
Matt squashed the usual kernel of rage that unfurled during these sessions – rage at his dead father, whose last drunken rampage had sent his petite wife flying down the stairs and landed her in a coma in the hospital two nights before his own untimely death. When she woke a week later, she was different, barely able to comprehend the loss of her hu
sband and her sudden freedom, often uncertain about the people she’d known her entire life. The doctors assured him that the brain was a marvelous instrument, and she might improve at some point, but it was a miracle that she was awake at all. When the neighbors found her wandering two blocks away for the third time, Matt realized that something had to be done, and that path led him to Bright’s Ferry.
“Hey Mom,” he said, a little hesitant, though there was almost no chance that she’d remember this conversation, “I met someone. I think you’d like her.”
May turned at this, surprised.
“A girlfriend? Oh, Matty, that’s wonderful. What’s her name?”
“Grace. She’s a librarian.”
“Your father and I always wanted grandchildren,” she mused, and then frowned as though trying to remember whether that sentiment had been expressed last week or a decade ago.
“We’re not there yet, Mom. We just started dating,”
And possibly just broke up, he added silently, but couldn’t squelch the pang of longing at the thought of Grace in his bed every night, in his house, raising a bunch of smart, outrageous kids. He shook his head to banish the image.
“When you’re ready, dear,” May patted his hand, “you should bring her by. But not on a school night. You have finals coming up.”
“Sure, Mom,” he replied, swallowing the lump in his throat as he gently held her hand between his.
CHAPTER NINE
LANSKY CONSTRUCTION WAS BOOMING, and Adam tried to swallow his nerves as he walked from Grace’s car to the main offices, which consisted of a double-wide trailer next to a fleet of pickup trucks and a row of supply warehouses. Nobody gave him a second look as they bustled to and fro, and he wiped sweaty hands on his freshly ironed jeans as he knocked on the door.
“Adam! Good to see you, bro.”
Russell bumped fists and ushered him inside. The space was utilitarian – a desk and computer, a few filing cabinets, and an overgrown ficus in the corner. Darryl was shaking hands with a fit, forty-something man with a genial face.
