Page 37 of The Summer Intern

“You’re going to be teaching the kids guitar, right?”

The case was thick and sturdy, bearing the mark of a small bespoke guitar company, which meant he’d spent more than he had any right to.I gasped as I pulled it out, my fingers skimming over the intricate inlay.It had a gorgeous rosewood neck and Sitka spruce body, with a mother-of-pearl fretboard inlaid with blooming cherry branches—pink petals swirling through iridescent white.It was fucking beautiful, and I was crying.Again.

"Matt, this is too much."I stroked my hand over it, blinking back tears.

"I know the guy who makes these, and I asked him about your old guitar.He said it was in rough shape, and the only thing I could think was that you deserve better."Matt scuffed his socked foot against the floorboards.Then he looked up at me and winked.“Figured if you’re gonna write songs about me…”

“About you?”I laughed, pushing playfully at his chest as I set it in my lap and strummed a few chords.Fuck, the sound was beautiful, deep and rich and perfect, and my tears were flowing freely."I've never had an instrument this lovely."

“Okay, okay, you can use it to write queer rights anthems.Whatever suits you.Either way, the look on your face right now is so worth it.”

I met his eyes for a beat, then gently set the guitar on the counter with a hollow thunk and launched myself at him.Our teeth clacked together, my legs locking around his waist as he staggered back against the fridge.Pine-scented hair filled my fists when I deepened the kiss, pouring every ounce of what I was feeling into it.He remembered.He cared.

“Next year,” I panted against his lips.“At least tell my brother instead of trying to make it a total surprise, okay?”

He blew out a shaky breath.“There’ll be a next year?”

"I have birthdays every year, asshole."

He grabbed my ass and hauled me against him, carrying me to the couch.I whimpered, arching up to press my body against his.“Eager little slut,” he rumbled against the back of my neck, as he positioned me on my hands and knees, his hands rough as they skimmed over the dip of my spine, exploring my bare skin, pinning me against him.He let go for a moment and reached for the big bottle he'd bought me.

The plastic cap snapped loud enough to make me flinch, and I knew what was coming I moaned as Matt’s blunt fingers slicked themselves between my cheeks.I'd waited for so long for this, and it was beyond perfect that it was him.

“You sure you’re ready for this?”he asked, teasing at my hole.“We could stop and just do something—”

My hand shot back, fumbling for his wrist.“Don’t you fucking dare.”

He chuckled—that low, predatory sound that liquified my joints—and pushed a finger into me without warning.

I saw stars.

“Damn, Casey.”Matt’s forearm corded beside my head as he worked the first knuckle deeper.“This needy fucking hole is so tight.”

The stretch burned gloriously, every ridge of his fingers magnified.“F-fuck you—” I choked when he crooked his finger, sparks shooting up my spine.“Finger isn't enough.I need all of you.”

His free hand slid under my chest, palming my nipple through damp cotton.“Ask nicer.”

“Matt.”I rocked backward, impaling myself further.“C’mon, I’m not — oh god — fuck me.”The second finger stung, delicious, and white-hot.His thumb found my perineum, rubbing firm circles that turned my threats into gibberish.

“There we go.”Satisfaction dripped from his voice as I melted into the cushion beneath me, keeping my ass arched up as an offering to him.“Knew you could shut up if—”

“Stretch me.”My nails dug into the couch cushions as I went up on my hands and knees and arched for him.“Do it.Now.”

“Or what?”He reached for a drawer and I shook my head frantically.

“No condom, I’m allergic to latex.I’ve never…”

He stilled.Breath puffed hot against my sweat-slicked shoulders as the hand on my ass tightened, unmistakably possessive, and the fingers inside me stilled.“I’m your first?”

“First in my ass, not first guy,” I said, looking over my shoulder at him.He looked wild, almost feral, and it made me want him more.Which might have been a little unhinged.He curled the fingers inside me, like he was coaxing more information out of me, and I squeaked.“I usually do blow jobs and stuff, you know.Because of the latex allergy.”

“We don’t have to do this, if you’re not ready.”Matt’s voice was steady and calm, even as his third finger slid in with the others, working me open.“I want to keep you safe.”

“We’ll be safe.Do you get… tested?”I was having trouble finding the words.“I do.Need your cum in me.”

“I do get tested,” he murmured, thrusting in and out of my hole now.“And I'm negative.And I really want to stuff myself in this slut hole.”

“Oh fuck!”The cry punched out of me, half pain, mostly triumph.He scissored fast—too fast—stretching me wide around brutal thrusts that I never wanted to stop.“S’good, s’good, just—”

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