Spirit (7 page)

Matt shifts his arm a little to relax his grip on my thighs, bending his elbow to bring his left hand into play too. He uses it to part the lips of my pussy to fully expose my clit. No longer restrained, I allow my legs to open, my knees on either side of me.

Even a couple of minutes ago I might have been too embarrassed to do this, to spread my legs with such abandon, but arousal has obliterated any shreds of modesty. He knew exactly what he was doing. It was the work of moments to sweep my inhibitions aside without any apparent effort, and reduce me to a panting, pleading bundle of lust-driven nerves.

The barest of touches on the tip of my clit sends my hips jerking upwards. My orgasm is gathering, taking form deep inside, ready to erupt. He has only to light the blue touch paper.

He does, with his tongue against my clit. He licks, flicks it twice, then takes the swollen bud between his lips and sucks hard.

I’m rigid, the waves of hot pleasure washing through me, reaching every dark, chilled corner. I gasp, forget to breathe for a few moments as the sensations consume me. My pussy is convulsing around his fingers as he drives them in and out, the motion fast and accurate, the inner caress synchronised with the action of his tongue and lips against my clit.

My orgasm is swift and powerful, and way more intense than I had expected. My previous experiences had been pleasant enough, but not on this scale. Nothing to compare to the skilled artistry of Matt Logan.

As my tremors die away Matt withdraws his fingers from inside me and rolls to my side, allowing my legs to drop back down onto the mattress. I’m still reeling from the sudden rush of delight when he brushes his lips across mine. I can taste my juices on him, musky and rich. I want more, so I open my mouth and this time it’s my tongue exploring, Matt accepts, welcomes my intrusion as he tunnels his fingers through my hair again.

He breaks the kiss but only lifts his head fraction. His erection is hard, solid against my thigh. Mine now, soon to be buried inside me.

“Do you still want me to fuck you or is that enough?”

“What? No, of course not.” Nowhere near enough.

“No you don’t want me to fuck you, or…”

“Yes, I do. I do. Please, Matt, now. I need you, now.” I shift under him, trying to edge him into position. I should have known it would be futile. Matt does what he wants, when he wants to. Except now, it seems, as he’s again checking what I want.

“Say it. Say it, Beth.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“My pleasure.”

He stretches out an arm to grab a foil packet from the drawer beside the bed. Idiot that I am I never gave this side of things a thought. Matt did though, and sheathes himself in moments.

He adjusts his position only slightly, but it’s enough to bring the head of his cock to my entrance. He slides it around my pussy lips, tantalising me with the blunt solidity of it, the raw promise of what is to come.

Beyond coherent speech I tilt my hips upwards and whimper. Matt takes pity and lunges forward. He fills me, right to the hilt, in one long rush that expels the air from my lungs. I still have the head rail in a death grip, but I relinquish that now to place my hands on Matt’s shoulders. His elbows are on the bed on either side of my body, taking his weight. He places his palms on each side of my face, his thumbs under my chin, and tips my head back. His kiss is deep, possessing, relentless as he fucks me with his tongue. When I might have resumed my pleading I can’t. Instead I rely on wordless requests. I squeeze my inner muscles around him as hard as I’m able, gyrating my hips. I lift my legs and wrap them around his waist, hooking my heels together in the small of his back. My fingers are in his hair too, grabbing handfuls of it in silent entreaty.

Matt gets the message. Or maybe he’s just ready and decides that I am too. He withdraws his cock, only to thrust harder the next time. Then harder still. His strokes are accurate, angled to hit that sweet spot inside me, but still fast and deep, filling me, stretching me.

It hurts, almost. I wanted this, begged for it, but the sheer depth of sensation and emotion is more extreme than I could ever have imagined. I cling on, and surrender to the delicious onslaught.

Matt gentles a little, slows his strokes. He releases my mouth, his voice low as he murmurs in my ear.

“Baby, so sweet. So fucking adorable.”

Yes. You too
. I grip him harder, then harder still as my body bubbles once more with impending climax. I don’t want this to be over, but neither can I stop the tremors again taking control of my body. My senses are spiralling, spinning beyond my control as I come. This second orgasm is even more powerful than the first, my pleasure reflected back at me in the knowledge that he is sharing it. I lift my head and latch onto the top of his shoulder to stifle my scream as the convulsions rocking my core spread out to reach my limbs, and send tingling shafts of pure delight out through my fingers and toes.

My own orgasm spent, my body relaxes a little, but it’s enough for me to fully experience and savour Matt’s release as he drives his cock balls-deep inside me, then holds still, his breath rasping against my cheek as his entire body tightens and tenses. He lets out a guttural moan as his semen erupts into the condom, then sinks down onto me for a moment before rolling onto his side. Still inside me, his arms locked around my shoulders he carries me with him as he completes the turn to roll onto his back. I am sprawled across his chest, my breasts flattened against his solid body. He caresses my sides, then my bottom, and again I shiver with the beautiful intimacy of his after loving.

“Fuck, that was good.” Matt mutters the words then bends his neck to kiss the top of my head.

“Yes.” Somewhat lacking in imagination, but I hope captures the essence.

“You okay?”

“Oh yes.” Similarly succinct.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Yes.” My post-coital conversation needs work.

“Sleep now?”

“Do you want me to go?”

“I told you, you can stay. As long as you like.”

“I mean my own room. Do you want me to go back to my own bed?”

“Idiot.” He lifts me from him, at last breaking the connection between us. I groan at the loss as he positions me beside him. “Your bed’ll be cold by now.”

“I suppose so.” I snuggle up to him and he loops one arm around me as he uses the other to do whatever’s necessary with the condom.

I’m asleep before the latex hits the carpet.

“Wake up. Santa’s been.” The soft voice is right in my ear, tickling me. Nibbling, nuzzling, tracing a feathery trail across my shoulder…

“Mmm, that’s nice.”

“No more until you open your eyes.” The pleasant sensations stop and I’m tugged over onto my back.

I open my eyes. Matt’s nose is nudging mine, his eyes a brilliant blue in the thin wintry morning light. I squint up at him.

“I was asleep.”

“Noticed that. You can’t sleep now, it’s Christmas.”

“Did someone make a new law?”

“I make the laws here, and I say it’s time to wake up, I can’t fuck you when you’re asleep.”

“You could…”

“Oh no. I want you conscious, consenting, and coming like a bitch in heat. That means awake. You ready?”

“Ready?”

“Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

Ah, that sort of ready. I’m amazed to admit that I am. Entirely ready. Even so, Matt slides two fingers inside me, by way of making sure.

“Sweetheart, you’re so hot, so fucking tight. And wet.”

I moan, stretching, loving the sensations coursing through me. I could wake up like this every day. “Don’t stop doing that.”

“Roll over.”

“Why?”

“No questions, just do as you’re told. On all fours. Now.”

On reflection, I have no further questions anyway. I wriggle into position, a little nervous as this will be my first time doggy style. I’ve heard it’s deeper, more…

“Oh. My. God.”

Intense. Yes, that was it, more intense.

It is. Much more. I clutch the pillow under my face and hang into it as Matt thrusts into me from behind, his strokes long and deep, setting up a fast rhythm. He reaches around and under me to lay the pad of his middle finger over my clit. A couple of sharp rubs later and I’m climaxing, my scream muffled as I bury my face in the bedding. He’s not far behind, his own orgasm signalled by a sudden tensing followed by a sharp, hard jerk of his thick cock inside me.

We both collapse, face down on the bed. Matt rolls off me and onto his back.

“I’ve got a present for you.”

“Oh. Oh, but I haven’t got you anything. Well, not a real present. I did make you something though.” I have no cash to go shopping, but I found myself watching one of those cookery programmes on daytime television a few days ago, and they had a recipe for chocolate fudge. Matt has a sweet tooth so I raided his cupboards and found the ingredients I needed to make him some. The little cubes are wrapped in silver paper, safely stashed under my bed. “It’s not in here though. Shall I just go and…

“You’re going nowhere, at least not yet. I’m sure whatever you made is gorgeous, but for now you are my Christmas treat, Beth. And may I say, you’re turning into a seriously fun date.”

“See, told you.”

“Careful, no one likes ‘I told you so.’ Do you want your present?”

I sit up, heedless of my nudity. Matt lifts a hand to caress my naked breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers. I had been about to demand my gift right this minute, but instead I arch my back and moan as his delightful touch sends sparks of desire straight to my pussy.

“You were right. You are a slut. So, do you want your present or not?”

“Yes, but…”

He abandons my swollen nipple and rolls from the bed. “Wait there.”

Where else?
I lie back, dampening down my frustration at the insistent throbbing in my nipple but determined to have my way with him again when he comes back.

I don’t have long to wait. A couple of minutes later Matt returns, a tray of tea in his hands, and a large, gift-wrapped box balanced under his elbow. I grin at him, thinking he looks sort of comical. Being naked is probably the main reason, though the little Santa hat perched on his head helps.

He dumps the tray on the bedside table, and the parcel on the bed. I can see another, much smaller gift on the tray, too.

“Are those both for me?”

“Yeah. Open the big one first.”

I kneel up and attack the wrapping paper. I feel like a kid again, all excited and giddy. I gasp when I see the box inside. A pair of Merrell hiking boots. The box claims these particular beauties to be sturdy, lightweight and guaranteed waterproof. Not the most romantic of gifts, but utterly practical and totally me. These are shoes to die for, and certainly never to take off. I have invariably slept in my shoes the last few months—someone would swipe them otherwise—but these would be a pleasure to wear in bed.

“Oh. Oh, wow. Matt, they’re gorgeous. Lovely. They must have cost a fortune.”

“I bought them for you the second day you were here. I chucked your other ones in the bin that first night.”

“Right. I had wondered.” Although my clothes came back from the laundry more or less unscathed and a whole lot cleaner, my tatty old shoes had disappeared. They were just about knackered anyway, and when Matt presented me with a pair of new trainers to slop around in I decided I could do without. But these, these are something else entirely. These are shoes to last a lifetime.

On impulse I throw my arms around him and hug him. His Santa hat flutters to the floor but neither of us cares as we sink back onto the mattress.

“What about your other present. You need to unwrap that too.”

“Later.”

“Now.”

His tone has taken on that edge, that elusive quality that says, ‘do it, and don’t keep me waiting.’ I reach for the tray bearing the smaller parcel.

I shake it, and it gives a promising rattle. Something solid, in a box. Not especially heavy. I peep up at Matt.

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

Right. Good strategy
. I peel back the gold crinkly paper to reveal a small, white box. It’s plain, offering no clues. I lift the lid, and gasp.

It’s a watch, on a pendant. The chain is dark gold and sturdy, and the watch is moulded in the shape of a cheerful little owl, whose wings drop down to cover the watch face. His features are wise, characterful. I fall in love on the spot.

“He’s so sweet, I love him.” I lift the pendant from its box intending to slip it over my neck

“Look at the back.” Matt gestures with his finger that I should turn the owl over. I do, and at first can’t see anything out of the ordinary. The gold casing is moulded to imitate feathers, the pattern delicate and sharp. I glance back at Matt, puzzled.

He flicks a tiny ridge on the edge, and the back flips open to reveal another watch. No, not a watch. I look more closely to find it’s a compass, the north arrow swivelling fast as I turn it in my hands.

“Oh! Oh, that’s gorgeous. And so clever.” The gift is both pretty, and practical.

“I thought it would help with your planning. It’s good to know where you are now, and where you’re headed. Yes?”

I nod, my eyes tearing up. A simple idea, but so thoughtful. And so right for me.

“I wish I had something more for you. Something valuable.”

“You have. Your company is valuable to me, and you now have the means to find your way back. That’s all I want.”

I look up at him, my vision hopelessly blurred. “Have I told you that you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met?”

He wipes my tears away with his thumbs. “Not yet.”

“I will. I so will.”

“Looking forward to it. Have your tea first though.”

* * *

The rest of Christmas Day passes in a haze of hot sex, glitzy television, and rich red wine. I present Matt with his fudge, feeling somewhat embarrassed in the face of his generosity. He’s having none of that though and insists I feed him his Christmas sugar rush naked. A piece at a time. He even convinces me it might be fun to place a cube of fudge between my pussy lips for him to nibble away. He’s right, naturally. I wonder if I should send the serving suggestion to the television cookery show which first inspired me.