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I screamed his name as rope after rope of cum spurted on my chest, stomach, and over my fist.
He grabbed my legs to steady himself. Matty spasmed before he went still inside me. He yelled “Ciaran” over and over until my name was nothing more than a hoarse whisper.
His panting filled the room and his wondrous expression was full of rapture as he filled the condom deep inside me.
“Ciaran, baby,” he grunted. “That was…” Matty collapsed on my chest, commingling our sweat and my abundant release. His forehead pressed against mine before he kissed me. “That was…” he said again as he fought for air.
“Perfect…amazing…wonderful,” I offered. My heart was still racing.
Happy endorphins coursed through me. The room smelled of sex, sweat, and exotic flowers. Everything was right with the world as far as I was concerned.
“Yes. All of the above. Did I hurt you?” Worry crossed his face.
“No.” My fingers threaded through his hair. My ass was tender, but it didn’t hurt. “I’d like to do it again soon.”
Matty sighed with relief before snagging my lips into a kiss. “You’ll be sore for a day or two, but yes, we are absolutely going to do that again.” We both shuddered when he slowly eased himself out of me and hopped off the bed. “Let me take care of this,” he said, referring to the full condom.
Rolling to my side, I was able to review the bedroom from this angle. During sex, all I’d concentrated on was Matty.
The soft lamplight cast a cozy glow over the bed, credenza, and the lounge chair near the balcony windows. Shadows formed in the corners. It was still dark outside, the sky umber with a hazy moon hidden below the mountains.
The sun would be up in a few hours, which meant we had enough time to sleep before heading back to Malibu to return the statue and get Matty out of his coach’s blackmailing scheme.
When Matty returned from the bathroom, he came back with two warm washcloths and proceeded to wipe my stomach and chest with one of them.
“Pull your legs back for me,” Matty said softly.
He carefully cleaned my crease with the second washcloth. I didn’t protest nor did I feel self-conscious. Matty had seen everything there was to see. It felt nice to be taken care of like this. His movements were gentle, his eyes loving and indulgent. Truth was, my entrance was achy and the warmth felt luxurious.
When he used the pad of his thumb to rub soft circles over my hole, I shivered, though not from pleasure or pain. It was surprise.
The contact was delicate, featherlight, and velvety. Affectionate. It didn’t invite anything other than a calming, almost healing, palliative touch.
“Is this okay?” Matty asked as he kneeled beside me. With the contusions from the earlier fight growing more pronounced on his forehead and jaw, his silky caresses were at odds with his bruiser image.
Something tugged loose in my heart.
“That feels…” I struggled for the right word. Matty’s eyebrows lifted in question. “Soothing.”
He beamed. “I want to take care of you.” There was a trace of bashfulness in his voice, which I found charming. “Especially since I’m the reason for your discomfort.”
My smile morphed into a yawn. “I like it. It’s sort of cozy and homey.” He was about to take the washcloths back to the bathroom, but I held out my hand. “I’ll take them. I need to pee.”
He kissed my shoulder as I pushed off from the bed. After I’d taken care of business, the bedroom was dark, the lamp extinguished, but I could make out Matty’s figure on the bed, beneath the duvet.
Matty lifted the blanket in invitation—as if I was going to sleep anywhere else—and I slid in beside him. Our sides touched in a way that was a balm for my soul. He did that to me and I was grateful, considering the shit day I’d had until we’d come here.
Matty spooned me, his breath warm and steady on my shoulder, as his arm draped over my front, trapping me in place. Not that I was complaining when he plastered his naked self to my backside.
“Thank you for tonight,” I said into the darkness. He seemed to know I meant all of it—driving me to Vegas, confronting Drew, making love to me, taking care of me afterwards.
His fingers interlaced with mine and my eyelids grew heavy.
“Anything for you, Ciaran.”
62
MATTHIAS
