Page 113 of Fierce-Matt

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HE WAS EVERYTHING

“Idon’t want to go back to the real world today,” she said on Sunday morning.

Matt rolled and pulled her into his arms. “I know. I wish we could stay like this forever.”

“This was the best mini vacation I’ve ever had.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “I’m thankful we got to have it together.”

“Me too.”

“What was your best part of it?” he asked, his hand resting on her belly, as he was the big spoon in the bed.

She’d never been one to cuddle, but Matt made her do a lot of things she didn’t normally.

Like give a blow job and swallow.

She’d never even wanted to try before, but she was ready to make him cry defeat on Friday night.

Watching his limp body against the cool tile wall in the shower had done it.

He wasn’t about to be one upped though and repaid the favor yesterday morning.

Her eyes hadn’t even opened for the day when she felt this slow gradual pleasure building in her body.

It started in her belly, a progressive warmth, turned to a tingle, then swiftly resulted in a dampness between her legs, with a cross between sensitive nerves and swelling tissue.

When cool air hit, she’d opened her eyes and seen the bump in the covers.

She lifted the sheets and there was the dark head of Matt between her legs nourishing himself while transporting her to the same space she’d taken him the night before.

Her screams were loud enough she worried there’d be a noise complaint, so she muffled her face with his pillow.

It came as no shock when her body had slumped into the mattress that the sheets went flying off her as Matt yanked them away in his excited fist pumps while chanting, “I’m the victor of the room.”

She’d experienced no relationship in her life like the one she had with Matt.

He was playful and funny, annoying and cocky, but sensitive and trustworthy.

He was everything that any woman would want and she was lucky enough to get him by being herself.

He hadn’t even run when she’d been afraid to let her walls down.

“The best part of the weekend?” she said, tapping her chin. It wasn’t as if he could see her with her back to his chest. “I think the fireworks last night were pretty special. Romantic. Or you made the night romantic.”

Strawberries and champagne.

She’d thought it was him joking again, but he hadn’t laughed once.

It was more about a vulnerability he brought out of her. Maybe one she brought out of him.

No words were said, but the meaning had been the same.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d rather have that or hot fudge sundaes.”

She turned quickly in bed. He’d trapped her under him when she made that move. “Seriously? That was my other choice?”