Page 38 of Texting Mr. Stranger

“Good,” he growls, leaning down.

Time slows as I try to figure out what he means. Why would that be a good thing? So that nobody else can call me beautiful? Because he wants me all to himself?

Be in the moment.

Our lips touch. Lust- and warmth-filled music swell inside me with notes even more beautiful than the greatest symphony. He groans through the kiss, sliding his hands down my body. I grab his shoulders and hug closer to him, scared to end the kiss in case I realize what I’m doing and let nerves get involved.

He pushes firmer against me, his hand on my leg, my bare thigh. My body buzzes and sizzles. I try to stop myself and tell him we can’t dothathere. Maybe tell him why, too.

Then he pushes his tongue into my mouth, and I can’t think about anything else. Just the sensation of our tongues stroking together, eagerly finding each other. His hand slips higher and higher up my leg, under the hem of my dress, and then he keeps going.

“Ah,” I moan and then quickly kiss him again.

Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think …

When he breaks off the kiss, I think he realizes he’s gone too far, but then he looks around. He’s making sure nobody can see us.

Kissing me again, he slides his hand to my underwear. He presses his down firmly, making my core ache and my clit throb with pleasure. He pushes his palm against me, rubbing up and down, smearing my wetness all over myself.

The tingles are insane now, like nothing I’ve ever felt. I shift my hips with him entirely on instinct, not even having to think about it. It’s the bubbling tension in me directing my movements. I never thought lust was going to feel this natural. Then again, I never imagined a Matt DeLuca before.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me. So hot. So perfect.”

He gently pushes my underwear aside. When his finger brushes against my core, I let out a moan. I can’t keep it inside. I don’t think it will be loud, but the silence of the park makes it dominate the whole area.

“That makes me so hard,” he snarls. “The way you moan … It’s music.”

Slowly, he pushes his finger inside of me. An entirely new feeling grips my whole being. Pleasure swims up from his fingertip as he pushes it deeper. The groaning noises he makes are just as hot as the physical feeling like he can’t believe how good it feels forhim, somehow.

When I moan again, a shudder moves through him. I can feel it in his hand, the way it subtly vibrates deep inside of me, his fingertip caressing a spot of pure pleasure. He moves it in circles, causing my hips to follow the feeling, to chase the release.

“Keep going,” he growls.

“I was … about to … tell you … the … suh-same … thu-thing …”

He presses his lips against mine again, snarling as he kisses me, then leans back so he can look down at me. My vision blurs, but I can see the intent in his focused expression. He wants—oh, God, maybeneeds—to hear my moans and see the pleasure on my face.

“You’re going to come so hard for me,” he growls. “All over my hand. I can feel it.”

“You … can?”

“I can feel your pussy getting tighter around my finger. Wetter. I can feel your clit swelling, all needy and horny asfuck.”

Yes, I try to moan, but no words come out.Yes, yes, yes …

He moves his hand even quicker, fucking me with his finger now, making me wonder what a dick would feel like. No, no, notadick.Hisdick.

Soon, it becomes too much to handle. It’s like he’s going to make me freaking take off with how much pleasure he’s dishing out, the constant movement of his hand sending thrumming signals through me that has my clit burning and something deep inside trembling.

I can’t think or question or doubt as he swirls his finger even faster inside of me. Right as the orgasm grips me, I squeeze my legs together around his hand, trapping him there like I’m afraid he’s going to take away the bright, soul-aching feeling.

He kisses me again like he wants to capture the pleasure. Our teeth butt against each other. I gasp as wave after wave of euphoria washes through me, my thighs tingling.

As the orgasm ends, Matt suddenly stands up, staring down at me with moonlight shimmering in his eyes. He looks suddenly torn, almost as though he regrets what we did.

“Fix your clothes quickly,” he says, voice harsh.

Is this all he wanted me for, then? He didn’t want any real closeness, any real?—

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