“No,” he rasps.
I slide my fingers up his jaw, the stubble abrading my fingertips as I rise up on tiptoe and kiss him. No tongue, just a kiss. “I don’t know what I can do. The whole country is crying. I feel a pain like I’ve never experienced, as if the whole world’s pain is mine now.”
“It is. It’s ours.” His eyes hold mine. My lungs feel like rocks; no amount of air is able to fill them.
“Let me just . . .” I glance down at myself, sure that my eyes are swollen and I look a sight. I want to look pretty; I want him to lose himself in me. I want him to take whatever he needs.
I head to the bathroom. I inhale and put water on my face, brush my hair. Try to look pretty for him. I pry the nightgown off—stripping. Stripping for him.
I step out, and he’s gone.
I fasten on a robe and head out of my room. He’s sitting in the Oval, his head in his hands, staring blindly down at some papers.
I walk in and he lifts his head, and I open my robe. “If you think I can’t handle what you have to give me right now, you’re wrong,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
His jaw starts ticking as I shrug my arms from my robe sleeves.
He comes to a stand and I throw the robe at my feet. He catches me when I approach, boosts me up to his desk, spreads my legs open, and licks me.
Right there.
I come.
I come.
A moan of ecstasy slips past my lips as I jerk beneath his mouth, coming with his mouth pressing tighter and deeper on me, Matt drinking up my orgasm like a starved man.
I sag with a soft cry.
Matt eases himself up and looks down at me, his pupils so dilated I can hardly make out the color of his eyes.
He scoops me up and covers me with my robe.
And steps outside.
“Sir,” Secret Service says as he steps forward.
“I’ve got her,” he tells both the agent and the doorman who walks him to his room every day when he also steps up to help. He motions to me to follow.
The staff that we pass on our way there? They smile under their gazes, and too late I worry that this will erupt into a media frenzy.
“My bedroom is that way.” I point when we reach the residence.
“We’re not going to your bedroom.”
The doorman opens the door to Matt’s bedroom, and Matt thanks him. “Go to bed, Bill—we’re done here.”
The door shuts behind us as he drops me down on the bed. I cling and kiss him, burning for him.
He strips quickly and I look at him. All that strength. His muscled arms with silky, dark hairs running along the backs of his forearms. The soft mat of hair on his chest and the line tapering beneath his pants. My gaze following the arrow of hair from his belly button down to the cock beneath.
He crawls on the bed over me, his body hovering over mine, and we’re eye to eye.
He trails his tongue along the seam of my lips. I mewl. “Tell me you want it.”
His erection is heavy against my abdomen as he grips my hip with one hand and my face with the other. He dips his tongue into my mouth with a slow, wet, powerful flick. “Tell me.”
“I want you,” I breathe, arching beneath him.
He slides his hand from my face downward.
Down my throat.
Down my cleavage.
Across my belly button.
Down.
To cup my sex.
And penetrate me with two fingers.
His features tighten with raw passion.
A groan vibrates up his chest. A groan just like the one that vibrates up my own chest.
I shudder beneath him.
He watches me for a moment, eyes darkening by the second as he takes his cock and teases my wet entrance with the head. I’m waiting for him, panting. Wanting. He rocks back and then starts filling me, not with a fast thrust, but with a slow, deliberate drive of his hips that makes me aware of every inch of him entering—every inch possessing me.
He fills me—no condom, all bare, just him—as if he doesn’t plan to leave an inch of me unclaimed, unfucked, or empty. He fills me as if he’s home. He tenses when he’s fully inside, and groans when my body clutches him greedily—my channel gripping his hot length, not wanting to let him go.
We’re both fighting for control, to take it slow, his body shaking with his need. I rock my hips and he does the same, a low growl rumbling up his chest as he lifts his head from my breasts and kisses me, kisses me as if I’m all there is right now, all he wants.
“You’re everything, everything good and pure and right,” he rasps into my mouth. He seizes me by the hips and pulls out only to drive in, so deeply I feel him in my heart.
“And you’re all I want,” I gasp, and he slips his hands under the small of my back and grabs me by the ass, holding me there as he starts pounding me harder. He lowers his head. Forehead hovering above mine. Pounding inside me.