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“Well, are you still hungry, Matthew?” I purred, “Because I have some ideas about dessert…”
One of the straps of my dress had fallen down my shoulder, and I shrugged the other one down as well, pushing the dress over my chest so it would fall towards my waist—leaving me sitting with the green fabric pooled at my stomach, in just my black bra.
Matthew’s mouth moved to my ear, his warm breath brushing over my neck as his tongue flicked my earlobe. “I want to have you right here, Noelle,” he growled.“Eat you out all night on this countertop until you scream my name.”
His fingers strummed over my collarbone, down over the thin straps of my lacy bra, which left nothing to the imagination. Each tap of his fingers against my skin sent shooting sensations down my spine, and I could feel how turned on I was from the liquid heat pooling between my thighs. Only he made me this wet just from a few simple touches.
“So do it,” I breathed, blinking at him as I tangled my hands into his blonde locks and brought my mouth up to his. “Have me.”
I wondered if my eyes were as blown out as his. The black of his irises took over much of the blue, leaving a small ring around his eyes. Because if I was looking at him the way he was looking at me, like one taste was going to absolutely ruin him—well, I may have been truly fucked.
And I didn’t mean literally—though I expected that would come later.
Finally, finally, my lips and his met, and I knew that whatever we had, well, it was different. Because no matter how many times I kissed him, that burning intensity, that spark of passion, never subsided. Not like how it did with others. With him, something was different. Maybe it was the way his hands fit perfectly around mine or the slope of his mouth as I met him breath for breath. All I knew was I had never felt these sparksof passion with anyone else. Never felt the warm heat in my stomach from just one touch. Not until him. Until Matthew Freaking Harper walked into that event and ruined my whole damn life.
His tongue slid into my mouth as I parted my lips for him, and I could only sigh at the taste of him—wine and sauce all swirling together with all that he was, the very taste of him that I loved—and I returned every kiss, every movement, with equal intensity.
“I dreamed about this,” he panted as he pulled away and I leaned my forehead against his.
“Dreamed about what? What did you do to me in your dreams, Matthew?” Because I had, too. Dreamed about when he would take me next, how he would do it—dreamed about his lips on mine, on my neck, trailing down my body.
I had dreamed about him every damn night and he had plagued mythoughts—there was a power in knowing I had done the same thing to him. The idea of him, hard and aching in his bed alone, touching himself as I had done, night after night, making myself come as I imagined him inside of me again… was almost too much to handle.
“Everything. Everything.”
“Show me,” I leaned in close to whisper in his ear.
So, he did. His hands reached around my back and unclasped my bra, my nipples hard and aching already, and I couldn’t stop the gasp of pleasure as he bent down and took one in his mouth. Licking, sucking, teeth lightly grazing against my sensitive skin as he circled around it, fervent attention given to my breasts. I shifted my body and squirmed out of the rest of my dress, letting it fall on the floor, forgotten.
There was something about the way I felt with his mouth swiping over me that made me shut my eyes and lean back against the counter. The way he palmed and cupped my breasts with his large hands, skin still spilling out, made every part of me feel so very, very warm and revered as he loved every inch of my body—my curves thanks to my hourglass figure, my thick thighs I once hated, and my triple-D sized breasts.
God, and how he worshipped me.
“Matthew,” I moaned, “I think I’m gonna come just from you sucking on my nipples alone, oh my god.”
I couldn’t help the noises that escaped then as his mouth switched sides, not leaving the other out, and his hand occupied the now hardened nipple. From his touch, from his teeth and lips and tongue, my arms moved from where I was braced on the counter to keep myself in place to his shoulders as Matthew continued suckling against my breasts.
I cried out loud and louder, and when Matthew pulled away, running his fingers through his hair as he looked at me, I uttered only please and don’t stop, and begged him with my best big brown puppy dog eyes.
“What do you want, my sweet girl?” I wanted him. For all things holy and mighty, I wanted him inside of me and wanted him to make me come, and I didn’t care if it was right here in his kitchen for goodness’ sake as long as he put his mouth back on me, his fingers on my clit—something, anything.
“I want you,” I heaved, “to fuck me. Hard. Right here, on the counter.” God, I wasn’t sure if I wanted it or needed it anymore, just that the heat between my thighs was growing hotter, and I wanted him to quell the desire, to satisfy my needs.
And heaven help me, I wanted all of him.
