Night Owl

CHAPTER 8

Hannah

I COULDN'T SLEEP.

I was tired and wired.

How does that work?

I got up at the butt-crack of dawn, took out Wyoming in a marathon drive, and capped the night with a super strong Long Island Iced Tea. I should have been asleep before my head hit the pillow.

But Matt wasn't answering my calls. And then there was the weird encounter outside of the bar. Call me crazy, but as I tossed and turned in bed I began to feel like I had broken my Matt spell with that intense jolt of attraction.

Like I said, call me crazy.

Still, it kept bothering me. There were plenty of good-looking guys at the bar, some of them eyeing me, and I wanted nothing to do with them. I wanted to dance and think about Matt. Matt watching me, Matt touching me, Matt whispering in my ear.

F*ck.

No one ever made me shiver with desire the way Matt did with his voice alone—until a stranger outside a bar made me feel the exact same thing.

So it wasn't something special about Matt. It wasn't Matt and I together, insane chemistry. It was just me being horny. God, I couldn't stand to cheapen that feeling... that feeling I got when Matt's voice faltered with need...

I have to. I can't help it. Hannah... god, do it. Come with me.

I sat up in bed and checked my email. Nothing. I opened Safari. What was that weird phrase Matt said on the phone? Optima... something. He said it was Latin.

I Googled "optima latin phrases."

There it was. Optima dies. Optima dies, prima fugit. The best days are the first to flee.

My eyes began to sting.

Why would he say that? Was it some kind of hint? Had he intended all along to drop me like a bad habit when I reached Colorado? The best days... the first to flee.

Matt said he was scared to have me close. He told me not to make plans. Suddenly, I knew it was over. Whatever it was—our silly flirtation—was over.

I looked at the webpage again. The quote was from Virgil, popularized as an epigraph in My ántonia by Willa Cather.

Huh. Cather. Why did that name sound familiar?

After racking my brain for a few minutes, I Googled "M. Pierce epigraphs."

I knew it. The epigraph to The Silver Cord was a Willa Cather quote: "Whatever we had missed, we possessed together the precious, the incommunicable past." And it was from the novel My ántonia. What a weird coincidence.


Did Matt read Virgil or Willa Cather? Or both? He obviously read quite a bit. And given our collaborative story, I knew he liked to write.

My phone chimed and I jumped.

Who the f*ck was texting me at 1:00 a.m.?

That was my first thought.

My second thought: please let it be Matt.

Come outside.

I swallowed thickly. I couldn't move. Come outside...? Oh... my god.

Matt was outside. Either Matt was outside, or he was weirdly ordering me to have an orgasm on the lawn. F*ck. Obviously Matt was outside. Oh f*ck oh f*ck oh f*ck. Brain, work!

I scrambled out of bed and stumbled toward the door. I was wearing a pair of Aerie boxers that barely covered my ass and a lacy white cami with a shelf bra. Oh, and the blue satin thong, because on some pathetic level I still wanted to be wearing it when Matt called.

I grabbed one of dad's old coats and threw it on before going out by the sliding door to the patio.

F*ck f*ck f*ck. Matt had come over. He was here. I was about to see him. If he was ugly as sin, what would I say? Um... hi... yeah... I need to sleep.

Awesome plan. And way to have the shallowest thoughts ever, Hannah.

I was on autopilot as I padded around the side of the house. I wanted to see Matt before he saw me. That turned out to be easy, because Matt had his back to the house and his hands braced against a black Lexus. Holy f*ck.

This was textbook sketchy. Black car, strange man, middle of the night. Maybe I was about to be abducted. Maybe I was about to become one of those news stories that makes people say, "I feel bad for the girl, but she was asking for trouble."

Was I asking for trouble?

Tonight, trouble was a beautiful body standing next to a beautiful car right outside my house, waiting for me.

I didn't feel a single twinge of fear.

I felt raw elation.

I hadn't broken the spell. Screw the hottie outside the bar. Matt was here and I hadn't even seen his face and I was already wet.

I jogged across the lawn, unable to compel my feet to walk. My breasts bounced as I moved. The joys of being a double D.

"Matt!" I called.

He turned. I'm a little blind without my glasses, but I knew immediately what I was looking at. The rabbit guy. The young god. The dude outside the bar.

My steps faltered.

I couldn't process this revelation.

Had he... followed me home?

He came to me, pushing away from the car, and his dark eyes were hungry. He closed the space between us in a stride.

The rabbit guy. Was Matt. Was the young god. Was the man I wanted.

"Yes," he said as if reading my thoughts. "That was me outside the bar. It was an accident. A coincidence."

Somehow, improbably, Matt's real voice was sexier than his phone voice.

He pulled me into his arms, shoving the coat from my shoulders. It fell to the grass. Oh god. Oh god, this was happening.

"Matt," I whispered.

He crushed my body to his. I was hyperaware of my hard nipples pressing into his chest. He stood a head taller than me and nestled his chin into my hair easily. I wrapped my arms around his waist. He was all lean muscle, heat, and a racing heart. I thought I might faint if I didn't cling to him.

"Hannah," he growled. He explored my body roughly, an arm keeping me pinned to him. I couldn't have escaped if I wanted to. That realization—and Matt's force and strength—made me tremble with excitement.

He wasn't shy.

I wouldn't be gentle, he'd told me on the phone.

He wasn't lying.

He raked his hand over my side and down to my ass, which he squeezed and rubbed. I could hear his breathing grow ragged as he touched me. Abruptly, he yanked my tiny boxers into my crack—worst wedgie ever—and slapped my bare ass.

"Uhn!" I gasped. I rocked into him. Holy shit, was he already hard?

Move hands, move! I wanted to meet his hunger; I wanted to tease him with my fingertips, to have the courage to feel his erection.

Instead, I was mewling like a kitten and clinging to him.

"My f-family," I bleated, my mouth leaving a wet spot on his chest. His t-shirt was so soft, his chest so firm. But god, if someone in the house happened to look out a front window, they were going to get an eyeful of my mostly bare ass (and a stranger fondling me).

"Oh yeah?" Matt whispered into my ear. There it was—the cruel, sweet voice. The devil would have a voice like Matt's. My legs turned to jelly. "You think they might be watching? How about your neighbors?"

As he spoke, Matt tugged my little boxers tighter and tighter into the cleft of my bottom. He wanted me to be uncomfortable. And I was enjoying it.

"God, I hope they are," he said. "You deserve it, Hannah. You deserve to be humiliated for driving me so insane. Do you have any idea?" Again, the flat of his hand came down hard against my backside.

"Oh!" I lurched against him and he groaned.

"F*ck," he rasped. "Show me everything. God, show me."

Without waiting for my participation—which was just as well, since I couldn't seem to move—Matt yanked my cami up until my heavy breasts popped out of the shelf bra. I felt my skin glowing. I knew I was a violent shade of red.

Matt twisted me around, trapping my back to his chest and my ass to his groin.

Yes, he was definitely rock hard in his jeans. I felt my ass gripping the shape of him.

I wriggled as he began to grope my breasts and he moaned softly.

"Now anyone can see," he whispered, his breath fanning over my ear. "Anyone in any of these houses. What would they say?" He chuckled. "Look at that slut, they'd say, letting that man do those things to her right outside."

I moaned. Feebly, I lifted my arms to try to cover my breasts. Matt brushed my hands away. He cupped my breast and pinched my nipple, twisting it between his fingers. I gasped. My head rolled back onto his shoulder; my arms fell slack at my sides.

"That's it baby, give into it. You like it. I know you do."

He rubbed his hands over my breasts, his palm and fingers grazing my nipples. I twitched each time he touched the sensitive buds.

He was right, f*ck, he was right. The thought that any one of my neighbors could be watching Matt manhandle me thrilled me darkly.

I licked my lips. My mouth felt like it had been stuffed with sawdust. I had to do something, at least let him know what I was thinking.

"I do," I whispered. The words came hoarsely from my throat. "I like it, I... please, Matt... please."

Matt relented suddenly. His iron arm loosened and his possessive touch turned gentle, caressing my belly. He leaned down and kissed the corner of my mouth.

A crackle of pure need shook me at the touch of his mouth. My tongue slipped out and flickered over his lips. God, give me more...

"I know," he said. "I know what you want, and I don't want to share you with the neighborhood."

Could have fooled me. The comeback died on my lips.

"Another time I'll make you ask. I'll make you say it and beg for it. But Hannah..." His voice faltered. F*ck, I loved that. "I need this, too."

Matt reached past me smoothly and opened the back door of his car.

"In you go, little bird. Get on your hands and knees. I'm going to take you from behind."

I swallowed. Why were those frank words so hot?

I didn't hesitate—but I could have. I could have turned and walked back to the house. Matt wasn't pushing me. He wasn't touching me at all.

Despite his strength and insistence, he was leaving this decision entirely up to me.

I brushed past him and climbed into the cool leather interior, struggling to master my shaking. Matt was right behind me. I could practically feel his eyes on my ass.

The car smelled brand new and was ridiculously spacious. Matt pulled the door closed behind us. I knelt over the large center console, knees on one side, hands on the other, and glanced sheepishly over my shoulder. My mouth fell open.

Matt was shoving down his jeans enough to free his cock. I strained to see as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. He got it out and I must have made some noise, because his eyes snapped up to mine. He smirked at me.

"Like what you see?" he murmured.

My eyes strayed helplessly back to his cock. Yes... please. I could only nod as I watched Matt stroke himself, his hand traveling lazily up and down that thick, intimidatingly long organ. His burning gaze was glued to my expression.

"Stare all you want," he said softly. "I'm hard for you. I saw you dancing, Hannah. At the bar. When will you dance for me? When will you put on a show for me?"

I hung my head and exhaled. My long curls spilled over the seat.

"I want you," I breathed.

He slid my tiny shorts down my ass and left them around my thighs. I heard him inhale sharply. Of course, I was still wearing the thong.

"Oh, you're bad, you're wicked," he groaned, spreading my cheeks and massaging my ass. "God, you're perfect. Look at you."

I parted my knees farther and was satisfied to hear the gesture drag another groan out of Matt. He was crumbling.

He pressed a finger to my sex, digging the satin thong into it and making me roll my hips back helplessly.

"F*ck, Hannah, f*ck."

Note to self: wear thong, render Matt speechless.

He began fumbling for something in his pocket. A condom, I realized.

"No, I—" I stammered. "I have an IUD, I..."

I wanted it skin to skin. I wanted Matt to give it to me, now, hard. I wanted to be able to say these things, but all I could do was struggle not to drool.

Matt's eyes flickered to mine. In one motion, he pulled down my thong and climbed over me. My only warning that he was about to enter me came when I felt his plump head against my lips, his hand hastily positioning it.

"Ah, god!" I cried out as he slammed into me, burying himself to the hilt. I was so tight around him, or he was so big, or both—I felt like he might split me apart.

Matt gave a jagged moan as he entered me.

"Hannah! Ah f*ck, Hannah."

My name fell from his lips endlessly, mixed with strings of expletives. He planted a hand against the seat and held one of my breasts as he f*cked me. Every time he slid into me, his fingers squeezed at my breast.

He talked dirty the whole time. Each stroke of his cock drove me higher. He told me I was wet and tight for him. He told me it almost hurt. He told me I needed a good long f*cking and that I was his—his slut, his baby, that I made him so hard, that he was going to f*ck me again and again and again.

I wanted to meet Matt's thrusts, but our close quarters and the pressure of his hips kept me jammed against the console. My * pressed into the blunt edge of it.

I started to writhe—back onto Matt's cock, down against the console.

"Oh, god, Matt, I..."

Later there would be time to feel mortified about humping a piece of Matt's one hundred thousand dollar car.

At the moment, Matt wasn't in much better shape.

"I need to come," he moaned. "Baby I need to come."

"Do it," I panted. His simple admission sent me over the edge. My body squeezed and soaked his sex. He shuddered against me, crawling close to come deep inside.

Reality floated away.

Sweat dripped from my chin to the seat.

When the pleasure released me, I sagged against the console and lay there gathering my breath. Matt's strong hands dragged me onto his lap.


His arms enfolded me. I nuzzled into him, heedless of my tangled clothes.

"Little bird." He kissed the top of my head. "My little bird."

My motor skills had finally returned, though my powers of speech were still at large. I brushed my fingers over his chest and kissed his neck. I breathed in the clean scent of him.

Little bird, he called me. His little bird. And somehow, it made me feel like the most precious thing in the world.