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“Fuck,” he whispers, “fuck, girl.”
He grinds into me, his hand sliding around the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair, strands catching on his calluses, tugging. The slight sting makes me gasp again, makes my nipples harden, strain against the lace of my bra.
Heat unfurls between my legs, deep inside me. Oh God, I think I just soaked my panties.
Is he going to kiss me? His mouth is beautiful, full lips parted as he pants raggedly.
He doesn’t. His head jerks up in alert, though I can hear nothing over the sound of my harsh breathing.
Then he steps back, releasing me. “You should run back to your little boyfriend,” he says snidely and strides away. He enters his bedroom and slams the door behind him, leaving me shaken, aching and confused.
What in the world just happened?
Chapter Seventeen
Matt
Christ, what was I thinking?
Goddamn hell. Today has just been too much for my fraying control, and it’s only eight in the fucking morning.
Another sleepless night steeped in nightmares.
Another morning of despair.
Mary’s scream and tears.
Cole’s soft weeping.
And then Octavia, quieting the noise in the house, in my head. Soothing the children, loving them.
Just… being here, in the fucking house, all pretty and bright and sexy, turning me on like I have no business being around her.
Checking me out as I came out of the shower, lower lip caught between white teeth, her tits rising and falling, her cheeks flushed.
So damn hot. Aroused. As I pinned her against me, I thought she’d have let me do anything I wanted to her, touch her, kiss her, fuck her.
I’m out of my fucking mind. She doesn’t want that.
She’s too young. Too innocent. I caught her by surprise, but it’s not me she wants. She has a boyfriend, for fuck’s sake. A guy her age, I’ll bet, a nice boy who will look at the stars with her and pr
omise her nice things.
Not someone who wants to fuck her through the wall like me. Throw her to the floor and pound into her, rip her clothes and take her hard and dry, fill her up with my cum.
Motherfucking hell.
My dick is hard and heavy, an iron bar between my legs. Letting the towel fall, I grab it and squeeze, groaning between my teeth.
What is she doing to me, goddammit? After Emma passed I thought I’d never get hard for another woman, ever. But my body didn’t get the memo, apparently. It wants. It needs.
And Octavia is around the house every day, pretty and sweet. It’s only fucking natural that my dick likes her.
That I like her, but I kill that line of thinking right away.
Don’t, Matt. Just fucking don’t.
But I can’t stop the need that’s riding me. I’ve suppressed it for too long, and my hand moves of its own volition, squeezing, stroking until I know I’m about to come.
