Page 7 of The Devil We Know

His sandy blond hair gleams in the dim light. Long overdue for a trim, the silky-looking locks fall onto his forehead, accentuating the fall of his lashes on his cheeks as he sleeps. High cheekbones, full lips, and a strong neck, my eyes scan down his body until my view is disrupted by the sheet covering him from his midsection down.

He’s kind of hot in a boring Midwest kind of way.

Sighing, I adjust my position on the mattress so I’m turned to face him, my bottom leg bent at the knee to keep me from rolling into him completely.

He sighs, his hand closest to me slowly moving until it settles on my bent leg, his hand warm on the skin of my inner thigh.

Emotion builds in my chest with such sudden ferocity that it barrels up my throat and out of my mouth before I have a chance to temper it. The sob is violent and guttural, and I choke as I roll onto my back, fully intent on rolling to the floor to make an escape.

A hand on my shoulder stops me, and I look over just as Matt sits up. His hands hook in my armpits, and then he’s lying back in his original position, using his momentum to yank me over on top of him.

I struggle halfheartedly, and he wraps his arms around my torso, trapping my arms to my sides and pulling me into him so my breasts are pressed firmly against his chest.

He holds me steady, waiting patiently for me to stop fighting, and once I do, he lifts his head, forcing me to meet his eyes as he whispers, “I’ve got you, Jess.”

Another sob breaks free, but this one is quieter and more controlled. Slowly, I allow my body to relax until I’m lying limply on top of him, my face pressed into his neck.

Shivering, I work to control my breathing, taking deep inhalations followed by slow shuddering exhalations until, finally, my heart rate slows, and the only sound in the room is our mingled breathing and that eery silence.

Shivering again, I burrow closer, and he sits up slightly, jostling me around as he reaches down and yanks the sheet free from where it was stuck, pulling it over us.

Matt settles back down, his arms around me firm and comforting, and I squirm, my legs bracketing him snugly as I get as close as possible to him.

And that’s when I realize I’m naked.

Naked and straddling the hips of an obviously interested man.

An obviously interested man, who is also obviously naked.

I giggle, watery as it may be, and he shakes his head as he mutters, “Ignore that. It doesn’t mean anything.”

I giggle again and then reply against his neck, “So, you’re saying it doesn’t mean your dick is happy to see me?”

Chuckling, he replies quietly, “Well, no. But he’s not the boss, so ignoring it is always an option. He’ll live.”

I lie there for a few long moments, enjoying the easy silence, but then I whimper, frustration quickly building inside me as I struggle to manage the quietness I seek.

Matt’s hands move to my upper arms, then to my shoulders, and he pushes me gently until I sit up. His eyes remain on mine,even as his hands glide across my collarbone, down my arms, finally settling on my hips. “What is it? What do you need?”

I shake my head, my words stuck in my throat as I attempt to answer and fail. He waits patiently and then adds, “You can tell me. It’s okay.”

“Please,” I manage to whisper brokenly. “Please help me forget.”

He smiles softly, his gaze warm as his hands gently stroke my hips. “Take what you need, sugar. Take it all.”

I frown, unsure how I’m supposed to know what I need, but then he presses his hips up, and the slide of his dick against my slippery pussy awakens a new kind of tension.

White-hot arousal.

Rocking my hips, I slide my cunt along his hard length, enjoying the contrast of hard and slippery against my aching clit. He remains passive beneath me, watching me calmly as I try to decide how much I want to take from him.

How much I’m willing to give of myself in the process.

Matt moans softly, lying completely still on the mattress, but heat burns in his eyes as his gaze flits from my face to my breasts to the spot where I’m rubbing against him shamelessly.

I stroke my hands down his chest, fluttering over his toned stomach as I say, “Touch me. Put your hands on me.”

Without hesitation, his hands tighten on my hips, his touch a tad less gentle, his eyes on mine questioning, and I slowly raise my hands, gliding my fingers up my stomach to my breasts. He’s watching me, his eyes now intent on my breasts, and I cup them, my fingers playing with my nipples as I rub my clit against his cock.

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