Matt complied. In rare moments, he let me call the shots. He gathered his coat and T-shirt up his chest, and I leaned in to flick my tongue over his nipples.
His cock strained into my hand. Now I could grip it through his jeans and boxers, a taut prison of fabric. I handled him gently as I sucked on his nipple. He began to tremble, but he wouldn’t ask me to stop. So proud. I knew how sensitive his nipples were. Almost too sensitive, he told me once. I bit down and pulled on his other nipple. He hissed. His cock tightened.
“H-Hannah. Take it out…”
“Look at it with me,” I whispered. I tongued saliva over his nipples and lifted my head. His expression was tense—jaw clenched, brows knit, nostrils flared. He nodded and my fingernails scraped against his scalp. I wouldn’t let him go. I wouldn’t let him hide.
While Matt held his jacket, exposing his toned abs and chest, I undid his jeans and tugged at his boxers until his cock sprang free. He sighed again and closed his eyes. If he were given to blushing, I think he would have blushed then.
“Matt, I love it,” I said. I palmed his smooth sac and he groaned. “Please, don’t close your eyes. Look at it with me. I miss you. I miss this.”
His eyelids lifted partway. He watched my hand and his erection, which stood out like a ramrod between us. The golden hair around the base was neatly trimmed. Here, even here, Matt was beautiful. The skin of his shaft was velvet, subtly veined, and thick and long. It ended in the sleek bell of his head, which leaked cum at the slightest attention.
I watched the fluid gather on his tip.
“Look,” I said. I trailed my hand up his shaft to his head and rolled my thumb over it, smearing the cum. He trembled. I brought my thumb to my mouth and spread Matt’s desire like gloss on my lips. I licked them clean while he watched.
Again, I gathered his cum on the pad of my finger. I rubbed it on his nipple and he moaned. “Hannah, enough.”
I wanted to jack him off and watch him while I did it, but Matt wanted to be inside me again. My hold over him broke. He dropped his shirt and took my hand. He rose unsteadily.
Without a word, he led me to our bedroom.
Chapter 28
MATT
On Saturday evening, Hannah dressed in a black-and-white skirt suit for the release party. I tied a silk scarf around her neck to hide my love bites. We’d been in bed almost nonstop since my impromptu arrival, emerging only to bathe and eat.
And the sex was different—tinged with violence. Hannah struggled every time, and I fucked her hard while she begged me to stop. It gave me a terrible thrill.
“Why do you have to go so early?” I pulled her into my arms. “It’s my book you’re celebrating. I should have some say in this.”
I kissed her neck and cupped her ass. She wriggled against my hands. Such a tease.
“Because,” she said with a sigh, “I promised Pam I’d help set up, like I said. Several times.”
“Let me look at your ass.” I turned Hannah around and bit the back of her neck. I tucked her bottom against my groin. “You wouldn’t leave me alone with a hard-on, would you?”
“I might.” She grinned over her shoulder. “Lube’s in the bedside table.”
“You’re a bad bird.”
We fooled around halfheartedly, and then Hannah left. I was instantly miserable.
I wandered the condo, trying to comprehend Hannah’s life apart from me. Nothing looked different. There was her yoga mat, her exercise ball, a few manuscripts from work. The rooms were tidy. I found leftovers from various meals in the fridge.
I checked the wall safe. Everything was in order: the cash, her TracFone, the unit cards.
Hannah’s life went on without me.
I peeked through the blinds at Denver by night. The shops were lit. I saw friends barhopping and heard car horns honking. People rushing to their Saturday evening plans.
And me with nothing to do, dead to everyone but Hannah. And Melanie … my “cab.”
I called her.
“’Sup, Cabin Fever? Hey, can I call you that?”
I sneered. The new nickname was too apropos.
“Checking in,” I said.