Page 32 of All I Desire

“Look. At. You.” He lightly bites a nipple. I gasp.

“Kiss me, please?”

“Of course.” Grinning, he captures my mouth. Again and again.

I match his urgency, clutching at the fabric of his shirt with one hand. My other hand’s in his hair, pulling, tugging, yanking. I can feel his hardness through his jeans, pressing into my core. My legs snake around his, and we’re thrusting and mimicking something that’s probably a staple scene in countless porn movies.

And I’m loving every freaking nanosecond. This sweet, kind guy has turned into a ravenous, dominating — yet totally respectful — hottie. Am I dreaming?

“Take my shirt off. I have to feel my skin against yours. Now,” he demands.

We grin at each other. He thrusts his hips into mine. I am definitely not dreaming.

So, I rip open his shirt, the pale, blue buttons pinging against the sofa cushions and clattering to the floor. I’m vaguely aware that Mister Sinister is chasing one across the tile, but I’m too busy pawing Matthew’s naked chest to care. He shrugs off his shirt and tosses it over the back of the sofa.

He dips his head to kiss my neck. His chest is so close to mine, and I can feel the heat coming off his skin in waves.

And then, his phone goes off.

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