Shame on Me

“Take your pants off,” I order him.

Matt doesn’t waste a second. His pants are pulled down in record time, and as he struggles to get his shoes off with his pants wrapped around his ankles, I reach my thumbs into my thong and slide them down my legs.

When I start to pull one of my shoes off, Matt’s hand comes out and grabs my wrist. “Nope. The shoes stay on. Those shoes are fucking hot.”

Is this guy for real? He likes me better without makeup and he loves shoes? Am I dreaming?

Before I can tell him how awesome I think he is, his hands are on my ass and he’s lifting me up, pushing my back against a shelf. My legs automatically wrap around his waist.

He attacks me with his mouth while his hands are everywhere, touching me, stroking me, and making me burn with need for him. My arms move above my head to grasp onto the shelf while one of his hands slides between my legs. Two of his fingers slide through me achingly slow, circling my clit before plunging inside of me. My hips thrust forward to pull him in deeper; his tongue pushes into my mouth, matching the rhythm of his fingers moving in and out of me, and it’s all I can do to hold on to the shelf when I feel my orgasm quickly approaching.

“Fuck, Paige. I love the way you feel,” Matt whispers against my mouth.

My hips move faster while his fingers pump harder, his thumb circling me and driving me wild. I squeeze my thighs tighter around his hips as I tumble over the edge, my release exploding around his fingers with his name on my lips.

“Matt, Matt, oh, God!”

My orgasm is still tingling through my sex when his fingers are quickly replaced with his cock. He slides into me hard, our bodies crashing against the shelf and sending photography equipment clattering to the floor. His hips thrust against me roughly, and my body takes everything he has to give. I should feel guilty right now that I’m floating on a cloud of lust and ecstasy when my ex is most likely tied to a chair somewhere crying for his life, but I don’t. Matt makes me forget everything. He makes me feel special and smart and I never want this feeling to end.

His hands clutch tightly to my hips and he helps me move my body faster and harder against him. The angle I’m in forces my clit to slide against his pubic bone with every single thrust and I already feel another orgasm within reach. This has never happened before, and I’m a little mystified at the way my body reacts to Matt; I can’t get enough of him.

“Jesus, Paige. You feel so good around me,” Matt mumbles, burying his face into the side of my neck, licking and sucking the sensitive skin right below my ear into his mouth.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I chant.

I feel myself coming apart around him for a second time as the shelf against my back rattles with our thrusts and a camera falls to the floor, breaking into pieces.

When he feels me coming, it pushes him over the edge. He drives himself into me two more times before holding himself still, his release spilling inside of me while he shouts my name and clutches my hips tightly against him.

Our skin is slicked with sweat and we pant against each other, trying to catch our breath. Matt moves his mouth away from my neck, kissing his way up to my lips. He kisses me softly, bringing his hand up to cup my cheek.

I want to stay in this storage closet and never leave. I know as soon as we walk out that door, real life will come calling and I’ll have to deal with the mess surrounding us. At least for right now, we’re alone and happy and nothing can ruin that.

“Matthew? Are you in there?”

There’s a knock at the door and our lips pull apart as we stare across the room.

“Oh, my God, is that your dad?” I ask in a panic.

“You locked the door, right? Tell me you locked the door?” Matt whispers frantically.

“MATTHEW! I have to be at my doctor’s appointment in thirty minutes. If I’m late, all the good magazines will be gone from the waiting room,” he shouts from the other side of the door.

We hear the handle rattle and I know it’s only a matter of seconds before Mr. Russo throws the door open.

With my arms and legs still clinging to Matt and his penis still inside of me, he quickly shuffles us over to the door and slams his hand against it right as it starts to open.

“Dad! You were supposed to stay in the truck!” Matt yells.

“The truck was on fire!” Mr. Russo shouts back.

“The truck was not on fire, Dad.”

We hear Mr. Russo huff. “Well, it could have been.”

There’s silence for a few minutes and I assume Mr. Russo finally walked away.

“Do you think he knows what we were doing in here?” I ask, unwrapping my arms and legs from Matt and sliding down from his body.

“No, definitely not. He probably thinks this is the bathroom,” Matt assures me.