Page 172 of Marry Me, Maybe?
A startled laugh slipped out of me. I fired back fast.
Hudson:No way. You’re not breaking your neck the night before our wedding. I’ll get the door.
I shoved the window shut and bolted quietly through the house, every creak in the floorboards sounding louder than it had any right to. When I eased the front door open, Matty was already on the steps.
He didn’t even give me a chance to speak. The second he crossed the threshold, his mouth was on mine. His kiss hit like wildfire, hot, greedy, and so overdue that I groaned against his lips and pulled him inside, then fumbled to close the door quietly behind him.
Like teenagers sneaking around, we tiptoed back to the guestroom. When the doors closed, I tugged him back closer, and we kissed some more.
“Can’t keep your hands off me for a night, can you?” I bit his bottom lip, really sinking my teeth in.
He groaned. “Not gonna apologize for being crazy about you.” Matty grabbed my hand and placed it over his crotch. “Feel how hard I am from sitting outside in the truck thinking about how close you were.”
“Hmm, where do you want to put it?”
Matty palmed my ass and squeezed. “Where do you think?”
We stumbled back against the bed and nearly jumped out of our skins when the old frame gave a squeak that might as well have been a cannon blast in the silence. We froze, then burst into quiet laughter.
“Floor,” Matty whispered, tugging me down with him.
The carpet was scratchy, the pillows we dragged from the bed not nearly enough to soften the hardwood underneath, but none of that mattered. His weight pressed me into the floor, his heat searing through our clothes, his hands tugging at my shirt like he’d die if he couldn’t feel skin.
Our kisses turned desperate, teeth clashed, tonguestangled. The sound of our heavy breathing filled the small room. My sweat pants hit my ankles fast, Matty’s shorts following. He’d come prepared. No underwear, and lube in his pockets.
Laughing, I got him lubed up, stroking him while he kissed my neck. “You can’t leave lovebites. Rowan will know you were here.”
He groaned but eased the pressure on my neck. “A man can’t even fuck in peace with that busybody wedding planner. He needs to find a man ASAP.”
I turned onto my knees, bracing on one arm and dipping my other hand beneath me to palm my cock. Matty spread my cheeks apart and spat. With one finger, he circled my rim and hissed.
“Matt, we don’t have time for you to write poetry over how fascinated you are with my ass.”
“Sorry.” He lined himself up, rubbing the blunt head of his dick over my hole. “But you’ve got the kind of ass that deserves a sonnet.”
I groaned, half-exasperated, half-wrecked. “Matt?—”
He grinned against my skin, voice low and teasing. “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…” He slid in slow, inch by inch, and I choked on a gasp. “One—this ass swallows me whole.” His hips rolled deeper. “Two—it squeezes me like it was made for me.” Another thrust, harder, sharper, until I was biting the pillow to keep quiet. “Three—I could die in it and call it heaven.”
“Christ,” I hissed, shoving back on him. “You’re ruining poetry forever. Now shut up and fuck me.”
We both groaned—low, muffled. He pushed his hips forward while I rolled mine back until he was buried deep, my forehead pressed to the pillow to smother the cry threatening to rip out of me.
“Jesus, Hud,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Still so fucking tight.”
I circled my hips, pulled off his dick, then rocked back onto him again. A moan tore out of him, rough and strangled, his grip bruising at my waist.
“I’m not gonna last long,” he gasped, forehead pressed between my shoulder blades.
“I swear to God, Matt. Fuck me already!”
The last word broke into a muffled cry as he slammed forward, dragging me back with every thrust, his cock burrowing deep. The floor creaked, the pillows shifted under my elbows, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was the wet slap of our bodies and our ragged breaths.
Matty’s fingers dug into my skin, pulling me open and closer. He snapped his hips faster, harder, each stroke tearing a sound out of me I couldn’t hold back. I bit my arm to muffle it, but it came out anyway, raw and needy.
“God, Hud,” he panted, his voice wrecked. “So fucking perfect.”
I pushed back on him, reckless, desperate. “Harder. Don’t stop. So close.”
