Don't Look Back (18 page)

I step into a small marbled entryway, and Matthew turns on the lights. To my amazement, in front of me is a lounge area, and beyond that, French doors lead to a balcony overlooking the city. In the corner of the room is a glass and steel spiral staircase leading to what I assume is the bedroom.

“Wow, look at this view,” I say, walking to the doors. As if by magic, all sexual energy is temporarily lost, and I am captivated by the elegance of the suite, trying desperately to unlock the doors and open them. I release the lock and a breeze rushes in, flowing over me, allowing the white curtains to dance freely like sheer silk bridal veils. I step onto the balcony, suddenly engulfed by the midnight sky and the stars hovering above me, while the city below is quiet. Matthew soon joins me, barefoot and carrying two water bottles.

“Are you thirsty?” He offers me a bottle, his eyes
warm and smiling.

Suddenly his closeness makes me nervous again; a spark of energy ignites as he passes the water to me.

“Yes, thank you.” I take the water from him. I keep my eyes locked on him as I bring the bottle to my lips and take a drink. The water is cool, and I realize I have not consumed much water since arriving here.

Matthew’s eyes darken as he takes a step closer to me, removing the bottle from my hand and setting it down on the patio table. His every movement is slow, precise, and elegant. I eagerly anticipate his kiss, but instead he takes my hand, pulling me back inside.

Silently and obediently I follow as he leads me up the glass staircase. My suitcase has been placed in a small seating area to the right. As we come up the stairs to the second floor, I can see Matthew’s own personal belongings scattered around the room. The king-size bed practically fills the entire area, its fluffy comforter and pillows offering the promise of peaceful rest, and my heart leaps at the thought of what it will offer me. The lights are dimmed; I can hear classical music playing from concealed speakers. As we move down the room toward the bathroom, I recognize the sound water echoing from the shower and see steam filling the softly lit bathroom.

Matthew turns to me and pulls his sweater over his head, revealing his bare chest. For a moment I am taken aback by his nakedness, so lost in my thoughts that I do not feel him unbuttoning my blouse. My hands tremble as I reach up and touch
his flesh for the first time. My hands roam over his chest, gliding over his nipples, feeling his hair tickling my palms. My greedy fingers trail the hair line south, down over his hard stomach, past his belly button, to the top of his jeans.

His arousal is evident, swollen and hard, confined in his jeans. I nervously undo the top button and carefully slide the zipper a little, revealing the thick elastic band of his underwear. My blouse slips from my shoulders, and under Matthew’s skillful fingertips, my bra soon follows, exposing my full breasts. Dropping to his knees, Matthew slides the right leg of my jeans upward, unzips my knee-high boot, removes it, then does the same on my left side. I bury my hands in his hair, something I have longed to do since I laid eyes on him. The silky tresses curl around my fingers, and I tenderly clutch a fistful. Unbuttoning my jeans, he expertly shimmies them and my panties off, leaving me naked. As he stands before me, he removes the last of his own clothing and leads me into the faintly lit shower.

As the stinging hot water hits our bodies, Matthew’s mouth is fiercely upon me, nipping at my lips, sucking and licking, his tongue urging me with desperation to open up to him, which I do with little resistance. At long last, I am tasting him; his kiss is passionate. Our tongues dance as his head moves, changing the angle from which he takes me. His hands take turns exploring my hair and my face, cradling my cheeks, guiding me to accept his deep kiss.

Slowly, he moves me toward the back of the shower, pushing me against the tile, trapping me
with his strong body. The contrast of the hot water and the cool tile against my back adds to the confusion of my senses, heightening my arousal. I feel him hard against my belly, his erection no longer constricted by his clothing. His leg rests between my thighs, so I move against him, desperate to seek relief from the agonizing ache within me. Sensing my plans, Matthew kisses me more tenderly and softly.

“Slow down, my love,” he whispers. “We have all night, Kate, and I plan on taking my time. I won’t let you fall asleep on me this time.” He grins playfully, and then he is coaxing my mouth open with his own, thrusting his tongue deep within me, tasting me, bringing me back to full arousal in an instant.

Placing a tiny kiss on the end of my nose, he pulls away. He reaches above my head, places a bar of soap in my hand, and turns away from me, standing with his back to me, inviting me to lather him up. I rejoice at the idea of exploring his body and slowly float the scented bar over his skin, leaving a trail of white bubbles. I take my time, bending down and bathing each leg, reveling in the feel of his perfectly formed buttocks, thoroughly savoring the experience while he stands still, allowing me to investigate.

My breasts softly tease his back as I lather his shoulders, and then I press them against him as I reach around to soap up his chest, his abdomen, and his hips. His hand closes over mine, confiscating the bar, and I realize it’s now Matthew’s turn.

“Turn around,” he orders, seductively rubbing the soap in his hands to create a generous lather.

My heart leaps at the thought of his inquisitive hands on me. Facing the back wall of the shower, I find myself a few inches from the smooth tiles, my fingertips tracing the grout lines as I feel Matthew’s knee between my legs, nudging them gently apart. He takes my arms and places them against the shower wall, making me I feel as though I am about to be thoroughly searched. His touch is delicate, beginning at my ankles and moving up my calves and thighs. He is generous with his contact, never giving one leg more attention than the other. He slides his soapy hand erotically between my thighs, briefly rubbing against my aroused, delicate skin, and then moves across my pelvis and hips.

He continues exploring, enjoying the sensual curves of my matured body, his hands trailing over my bottom, belly, ribcage, and breasts. He lingers on them, cupping them in his palms, his hands roaming their fullness, playing with the taut nipples. Finally, he moves on to my shoulders, back and arms, and then he pulls me under the water, rinsing us both. Matthew reaches behind himself and shuts off the water, and opening the glass door, he struts away from me in his exposed grandeur.

I watch in the soft light as he picks up a fluffy, white towel and dries off in front of the mirror; I finally can appreciate his beauty in full. His legs are long and lean, and he has a tan line from his hips to mid-thigh. Round, firm buttocks lead up to his muscular back and broad shoulders. Now that his hair is wet, it appears even darker, the curls tighter. He is an incredibly beautiful specimen of a man. He wraps the towel around his waist and rubs another through his hair, and I can see he is quietly laughing
at me. I realize I am staring while standing wet and naked in the shower. Blushing, I grab the plush white bathrobe hanging outside the shower door, pull it on, and walk toward the bedroom. Matthew is quick to follow me, catching me from behind as I pass by the bed.

“This is not necessary,” he says, his voice deep and playful as he tugs the robe off my shoulders from behind and drops it to the floor. “You’re so beautiful, Kate.” He trails soft kisses down my damp neck, along my shoulder. “You should have been mine.”

Matthew places a soft kiss between my shoulder blades, then another, and another still as his lips dip lower, trailing down my spine. His skin rubs against the backs of my legs as he lowers himself onto his knees behind me, his chest pushing against my bottom. His lips explore my back while his hands massage my hips and butt, encircling my thighs, causing my legs to tremble. His touch is fire to my flesh, always on the move, burning, exploring.

“I like this,” Matthew mumbles between kisses, but my mind is elsewhere, lost in his seduction and the feel of his flesh upon my flesh. “Damn, Kate, this is sexy.” I feel him place a kiss dead center between my Venus dimples.

Shit! My eyes snap open … my tattoo.

“You have no idea how crazy this drives me, Kate.” His fingers slide up my inner thighs, his mouth sucking and nibbling the soft skin of my rear end.

His fingers rise higher, caressing the soft skin of my bikini line.

“You got that butterfly tattoo because of me.”
He slides a finger into the moist center of my being, stroking the glowing ember, coaxing it to flame. “Admit it, Kate, you were always mine.” His long, lean finger enters me deeply and I gasp, moaning at the agonizing ache his touch produces in me.

My body begs for more. I wantonly push my hips back toward him, grinding my buttocks against his chest. He pulls his finger out and slides it across my delicate skin.

“Admit it, Kate,” he demands, rolling his hand over my engorged, sensitive core.

The pressure from his touch drives me wild.

“Yes, Matthew, yes, it was you.” I surrender, telling him what he wants me to admit. “The butterfly was for you,” I pant, my breath ragged, my body frantic for his touch.

In one motion, Matthew’s mouth comes down on me fast and hard from behind. His head forces my legs apart, his tongue abruptly replacing his fingers where they had touched me only moments before. Fearing I might collapse, I bend toward the bed and manage to find some leverage leaning against the mattress.

Matthew is somehow kneeling before me, having maneuvered his body through my legs. His beautiful face is buried deep between my thighs, his tongue licking, his lips sucking, his teeth nipping, drinking greedily from me. My hands are knotted into his hair, urging him, guiding him, craving his touch. I can feel pressure building rapidly, growing deep within me, the darkness taking over as bright lights start to appear behind my eyelids, flickering like shooting stars.

As my legs quiver, Matthew’s hand gently guides
me backward onto the bed while his other hand raises my thigh, opening me to his assault. He cups my bottom, elevating my hips to him, thrusting his tongue deep into me and sending me over the edge into the abyss. My body violently releases, every muscle tensing and locking up, and as my back arches off the bed, I cry out in pure ecstasy.

When I float back down to earth and rejoin my body, Matthew is lying beside me on the bed, propped on his elbow, watching me. I roll to my side and mirror him, resting my hand on his chest, playing with his gold chain. I cannot describe what I have experienced, as I have nothing to compare it to. The reaction, the passion I feel when I am with Matthew—regretfully, I have not felt it with anyone else.

As we lie face to face, staring at each other, I start to trace the line of hair down toward his belly, unable to resist touching him. As my fingers trail south, his breathing becomes sharper and deeper. I watch as he grows hard before me, and my mouth waters at the thought of tasting him. Unable to hold back, I lean in and kiss his lips softly. My scent lingers on his face, and I pull back, watching for his reaction, but his expression is indecipherable. I roll my body closer, my breasts teasing his chest, and I open my lips, sucking his softly, running my tongue along them, tasting them.

He opens his mouth, inviting me in, allowing me full control. I pull myself onto his chest and kiss him deeply, pressing my body against him, burying my hands in his hair. Trailing kisses down his neck and onto his chest, I shift my weight to my knees, scooting down the bed, letting my lips taste every
inch of his torso. When he reaches to touch me, I gently place his hands above his head and smile. Then I return to my last location and continue my exploration. The trail from his belly button to the base of his erection is my favorite, but Matthew can’t keep his hands still. Over and over he interrupts me, and I have to return his wandering hands above his head until finally, I’m forced to threaten him.

“I’ll stop if you can’t behave,” I say seductively, on all fours between his thighs. His erection is standing tall, my breast strategically positioned to graze the delicate skin on its head as I speak to him.

“I’ll behave,” he concedes.

As I dip down to place soft kisses on his belly, my butt points high in the air, begging for him to touch me again, but it appears he is playing by the rules. As a reward, I settle between his thighs and grip his rock hard shaft, taking the top of him slowly into my mouth, tasting him, watching him as I enclose him in my warm, wet lips. It is exquisite to watch Matthew’s face; his mouth opens wide, his chest expands with a deep intake of air, his hands grab the bedding above his head, and I feel his buttocks squeeze tightly together as he thrusts his hips toward me, wanting more.

I take him in again, deeper this time, relaxing my tongue and licking him. Slowly, I take him deeper and deeper into my mouth, sliding my lips firmly down his shaft. My rhythm gradually increases and my hand glides up and down, keeping the tempo steady. My teeth gently graze his silky skin, and I taste the saltiness of his arousal as he climbs closer and closer to his release. I moan softly, increasing
the intensity as his warm, salty release fills my mouth. I swallow and smile, trailing kisses up his stomach, thrilled I could return the favor that he bestowed on me earlier. I find Matthew breathing hard, bed covers partially pulled over his face, and I feel absolutely triumphant.

I climb off the bed in search of water and grab a couple of bottles from the bar by the seating area, thirstily drinking from one. Climbing back into the luxurious bed, I sink into the plush mattress and the cotton sheets. After a short while, Matthew recovers and makes his way up the bed, joining me under the blankets. He wraps me in his arms in a heavenly embrace, and I realize that the last time we lay like this was in Hayloft Alley, twenty-two years ago, after we made love for the first time. As if reading my thoughts, Matthew speaks.

“We’re a long way from Hayloft Alley, Kate,” he says, pulling me closer to him, his legs entwining with mine.