Page 87 of My Undead Heart
He’s different tonight. Still tender and sweet, but rough around the edges. Real. Every thrust, touch, and kiss is filled with so much damn emotion. We aren’t just fucking. What he’s giving is more ... and for the first time, maybe ever, I indulge in the idea thatmoreis something I’d like.
We don’t talk about Zig’s. Or why I canceled our training. We don’t do anything other than strip the other of our clothes and strive for pleasure. Somehow in this moment that’s even more significant. I don’t know what it means for us exactly, but I’m too caught up to analyze it.
We break apart long enough for Matt to peel off his socks, and I crawl onto the bed on my hands and knees. Before I can turn around he’s at my back, one hand working between my legs. His other presses between my shoulder blades and forces my ass in the air. With anyone else it’d be uncomfortable, but with him it only makes me wet.
He doesn’t waste much time before his mouth replaces his fingers. Licking between my folds, he spreads my cheeks wide. My fingers dig into the bedding and I press my face into my pillow to moan. His lips, beard, and tongue all work in well-practiced unison to stimulate my clit and lap up my juices. It’s so good and yet it’s almost too much. Every time my legs try to squeeze together he presses them apart. His fingers dig into my flesh so hard I’m going to have bruises, but that only heightens the sensation.
His mouth leaves my center and the bed dips as he joins me. Firm hands grip my hips, holding me in place while his lips move up my spine until his entire body frames mine. He brushes my hair to one side and it exposes my neck and shoulder. God, I love the feel of his lips there. His breath is hot and heavy, shattering goosebumps over my skin.
“Mia.” My name leaves his lips in a groan that teases the shell of my ear. I push up onto my hands so I can arch back against him. It aligns his cock against where I want him most and without any hesitation he slides inside.
“Yes, please. More.” My demands are met with every thrust, and he leans back to fuck me at a more vigorous pace. There’s nothing soft or sweet about this. Powerful. Hard. Punishing. This is what he gives, and I continue to beg for more.
Matt’s hands leave my hips, one to cup my breast and squeeze, while the other weaves into the hair at my nape. “Fuck, Mia. I’m close.” He fists my hair, licks my earlobe, and moans into the crook of my shoulder. His drives come deeper, harder, and his breath hits my ear with each thrust.
Yanking at my hair, Matt straightens his spine so my hands come off the bed. I’m completely at his mercy in this position, his hands holding me upright on my knees. Usually that’s enough to make me want to run, but with Matt’s strong arms holding me up, his cock thrusting inside, and his mouth at my ear, I give over to the ecstasy of it all. My pleasure surges with each touch, each breath, and I come hard and fast.
Matt doesn’t relent, even after my body comes down from the aftermath of my orgasm. He’s too consumed with chasing his own release, and even though I didn’t think it possible, his thrusts come harder and faster. It’s enough to make me all hot and bothered again.
“Mia ... I need ... I want ...” The words rush from his lips in a mess of nonsense but that only shows me he’s almost there.
“I know, Matt. I know.”
“I’m gonna ...” He tries to pull away but I reach back and grab his legs to keep him close.
“Come inside me.” The words fly from my mouth, urging on his visceral reaction. I’ve never asked for that before. Never. But as Matt groans into my ear, peppering kisses down my neck as he lowers us both back to the bed I’m filled with more than just his release. Intimacy so powerful wraps around my heart, it’s enough to take away my breath.
He rolls us both to our sides, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist. Maybe it’s accidental, maybe it’s comfort. But I read his actions as a silent plea that I won’t pull away and run. I loathe snuggling. I don’t generally want to be touched post-sex, but this doesn’t feel suffocating. I remain lying next to Matt, my back to his front, for as long as I can.
Needing to clean up in the bathroom, I slink from the bed and take care of business. Matt watches me from the bed but he doesn’t speak or make a move. “Be right back,” I whisper, almost too afraid to speak too loudly and break this moment between us. Whatever this is.
After using the restroom and double checking the lock at my door, I tiptoe back to my room. The lights are on and Matt hasn’t moved from my bed. The only change is he’s pulled on his boxer briefs, and his chest rises and falls with his slumber. I should probably wake him. We should probably talk. At the very least, I should make him leave, but instead I flip off the lights and creep back to my bed.
Climbing onto the mattress, I drag the bedding off the floor from where it fell and cover us both.
“Thank you, Mia,” Matt whispers and his hand finds my body under the covers.
“You’re welcome,” I say but I’m not exactly sure what for. I turn away and prop my head on the pillow, curling my body into a letter S. It’s not a formal invitation to sleep over but I’m glad he doesn’t require one. Instead, his hand runs over my hip, tracing imaginary circles until his breath falls as heavy and slow as mine. I don’t even know who drifts to sleep first, but I do know this feels like the most right thing I’ve done all week.
Meow.
Oh, Rick Grimes, please don’t attack my feet. I wake with the buzz of my alarm, and as per our morning ritual, my dick of a cat is waiting for my retreat from the safety of my blankets. Only as I blink and clear the sleep from my eyes, it’s not me Rick is meowing at.
“You’re a good kitty cat, aren’t you?” Matt murmurs in his deep rumble. Oh. Right. Matt Haywood is in my bed. He slept over last night. I don’t know which is more alarming; that or the fact Rick is actually purring as Matt rubs behind his ears.
I turn on my side and tuck my arm underneath my head as Matt lifts his gaze from the cat. His hair is wet, making the locks appear darker. They even curl a little from where they fall into his face. He’s dressed in only his boxers, and I soak in the view of his naked chest while resisting the urge to sigh. He’s a gorgeous man.
“Morning, sleepy. Hope it’s okay I used your shower.” His lips pull up on one side and I swear Rick’s purring gets even louder. “Cute cat.”
“His name’s Rick.”
“Rick?” Matt quirks his brow.
“Rick Grimes, yeah.”
“The show.” He chuckles, getting the reference, and stands from the bed. “Nice.” Rick jumps off the bed and follows Matt over to the corner of my room. I watch as Matt retrieves pieces of his clothes from last night one by one.
“Now who’s doing a walk of shame?”
