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Submissiveness.
If someone had told him this morning that Liza Moretti was a submissive, he would have scoffed.
And he could tell by Liza’s face that he wasn’t the only one shocked by the discovery. She frowned, and he could almost read the struggle in her eyes, the part of her that couldn’t figure out why she was responding to him.
He didn’t give her time to think about that too hard. Instead, he lowered his head once more. He sucked and nipped at her clit, adding his fingers to the mix, pushing two inside her wet pussy.
It clenched strongly, greedily grasping his fingers as he thrust them in and out. She was tight, almost too tight.
“How long?” he asked.
She didn’t need clarification. “Two years,” she confessed. “Maybe a little more.”
Matt struggled to make sense of that admission. Liza was sexual, vibrant, beautiful. How could it have been so long? What the hell was wrong with every single man in this city?
He increased the suction on her clit as well as his pace, pushing her hard, taking her to the brink fast. His girl needed an orgasm.
His.
His.
Fuck…no.
“Matt,” she said, her hands digging into his muscular shoulders, her nails scraping the skin there.
God, he loved the sound of his name on her lips.
“I, I…”
He lifted his face, gazed up at her, waiting for her to return it. She looked down.
“You’re going to come for me and you’re not going to hold a goddamned thing back. You try to give me less than everything, I’ll punish you for it.” He placed his mouth back on her, his fingers thrusting harder, and within seconds, she was there.
Liza’s knee began to buckle in the midst of her orgasm, so he lowered her other leg, quickly reaching up to press on her stomach with one hand, holding her steady against the wall as she rode out the storm. With his other hand, he continued stroking her, milking every ounce of pleasure from her clenching pussy.
He’d never seen anything more beautiful than Liza Moretti in the throes of an orgasm.
Her grip on his shoulders tightened as she bent forward, trembling with the force. She called out his name. Just his name. Over and over.
It wasn’t a scream. It was quieter, almost reverent.
Matt rose slowly, retaining his grip on her, his eyes locked on her flushed face so that he saw the moment her wits returned.
Liza’s eyes blinked open, her lashes fluttering. Then she looked him dead in the eye and…smiled.
Matt tried to recall the last time anyone had ever smiled at him like that. Years, he decided. It wasn’t the smile that was unusual; women flashed him flirty grins all the time.
No, Liza’s smile was something else altogether.
It was genuine happiness and affection and, God help him, even trust.
His chest tightened, and he suddenly found it difficult to draw a deep breath.
Her comment earlier drifted through his brain as the magnitude of what he’d just done struck.
This is a mistake.
He’d known that going in, yet he’d tossed all sense of self-preservation aside, thinking with the wrong head. Now he could see this wasn’t just a mistake.
