“Look at me,” he demands.
My eyes find his above me. He pumps into me twice, three times and then stills, groaning with his release.
He’s panting and sweating, still inside me as he pushes his hands up my arms to my wrists and pulls them down. He methodically unties the ribbon—I won’t be wearing that one in the shop again—and gently massages my wrists, hands and shoulders, then pulls out of me and climbs off the bed to take care of the condom.
When he returns, he doesn’t join me in bed. He simply holds his hand out to me with a smile, and when I take it, he pulls me out of the bed and into his arms for a long, soft kiss.
“How was that?” he asks quietly.
“It was…” I tilt my head to the side, thinking about the amazing experience we just shared. “Yeah, it was good.”
He grins, relieved. “Good. For me, too.” He grabs my robe from the end of the bed and wraps it around me, bundling me up, then pulls on his boxer-briefs and grabs my hand in his, lacing our fingers.
“Come on, I’ll make you breakfast.”
“You cook?” I ask with a raised brow.
“Quite well, actually.”
“I like all of these hidden talents,” I reply with a smirk.
“Oh, honey, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
***
“Tell me about your ink,” I request as Matt bustles about my kitchen.
I’m seated at the breakfast bar, wrapped in the robe that Matt draped around me, holding a cup of steaming coffee, an empty glass of orange juice at my elbow, also thanks to my bossy cop. He refused my offer of help, instead insisting that I sit and keep him company.
If this is what’s involved in being submissive, I should have signed on long ago.
Although, maybe it’s just this guy who works this way.
“This”—he points to the tattoo on his side, over his ribs—“is the Chinese symbol for truth.”
I nod, admiring the black symbol, having an excuse to allow my eyes to roam over his perfect body. His arms are thick, the muscles clearly defined. When he lifts the pan to flip the pancakes, the muscles flex and bunch, and I can’t help but squirm in my chair.
God, I want to touch him.
I wonder if he’ll ever let me touch him when we have sex.
He turns his back to me, and my jaw drops. Jesus Christ on a motor bike, his back is blessed with more muscle, and it tapers down to his hips, where of course he’s sporting two of the hottest damn dimples sitting right over his tight ass, currently covered in his low-riding shorts.
I could most likely bounce quarters off that ass.
It’s something to write home about, that’s for sure. Of course, my mom might not want to hear about my guy’s ass.
Then again, maybe she would.
He’s talking as he moves about, cracking eggs and checking on the bacon in the oven, but I have no idea what he’s saying.
“Nic?”
My gaze whips up to his.
He’s smiling, watching me. “Where were you?”
“Um.” My cheeks heat, and I dissolve into a bubble of giggles. “Sorry. I was checking out your ass.”
He chuckles. “First time you’ve seen a man mostly naked?”
“This is the first time I’ve gotten a good look at you.” I shrug. “It’s nice.”
“Nice?” he asks and pulls the eggs away from the heat.
“You don’t like nice?”
“Hmm…no. Nice isn’t the word I’d like to hear you use to describe me.”
“Well…” I tilt my head, like I’m pretending to come up with something, enjoying this banter. “I guess I could say sexy. Or crazy hot. Or even better yet, oh my God.”
He walks around the breakfast bar and kisses me silly, his hands in my short hair, holding on tight as his lips nibble and explore mine. I plant my hands on his back and let them roam over his skin down to his ass, where I slip them under the waistband of his shorts and grip him firmly.
“So you’re an ass girl.”
“I am now,” I agree with a laugh.
He laughs with me as he lets me go and finishes preparing breakfast, then loads only one plate of everything onto a tray and motions with his head for me to follow him.
His eyes are warning me not to argue, so I quietly climb off my stool and follow him back into the bedroom, where he climbs onto my bed, sits against the headboard and pats the space next to him.
“Join me.”
I plant my knee on the edge, but before I can climb on, he adds, “Without the robe.”
I bite my lip, watching his face, as I slowly pull the tie loose at my waist and let the satin fall open, push it off my shoulders and let it fall to the ground, leaving me naked.
Matt sucks in a breath, his eyes wide as they rake up and down my body. “Jesus, Nic.”
“Can I join you now?” I ask sarcastically.
“We’re in the bedroom, so watch yourself, little one.”
I grin and climb on the bed, sit next to him with my knees pulled up to my chest, and wait for him to decide what to do next. He takes a bite of bacon and then a sip of OJ, and then offers me a bite of pancakes.
I blink in surprise and open my mouth, allowing him to feed me the pancakes, and then chew as he continues to also feed himself.
“Bacon?” he asks.
I nod, and he feeds me the bacon, patiently waiting while I chew. Finally, I start to laugh.
“Something funny?”
“This is incredibly funny,” I confirm. “You’re feeding me.”
“I am,” he agrees and then smiles widely. “It won’t happen often, but I feel like spoiling you a bit. Humor me?”
“You’re the boss.” I shrug and lean back, letting him feed us both. “How are Brynna and Caleb doing?”
“They are almost a week into their honeymoon, so I would think they’re fucking like rabbits and having a great time.”
“Oh! Brynna said she didn’t think they’d be able to get away.”
Matt offers me some juice, and I gratefully accept.
“It was a gift from the family.”
“That’s awesome.” I lean over and kiss Matt’s bare shoulder, then remember myself and ask, “Am I allowed to do that?”
“To kiss me?”
“Yeah. You didn’t give me permission.”
“We’re just sitting here, having breakfast and chatting, Nic. You can touch me whenever you want, unless I give you direction that says otherwise.”
“Oh. I like that.”