Page 118 of The Matchmaker
“Off,” he finally says, the word ragged, and I do as I’m told, undoing the clasp and dropping the bra to the floor as he encourages me to lean back. When I do, my chest rises as though I’m offering myself up to him, and he wastes no time in dipping his head, sweeping his tongue along the underside of my breast before dragging it across my nipple. A bolt shoots through me and I stiffen in his arms as his lips close around the bud, sucking with just enough pressure that I cry out, cupping the back of his head to hold him to me. He gets my very subtle hint, lavishing it with attention and stopping only to show the same due deference to the other one until I’m panting in his arms.
Only then does he twist, laying me back on the bed so that my head rests on the pillows. My belly tightens as he drags a hand down my chest and my stomach, catching the lacy hem of my underwear around my hips. Just like he did before, he slides them down my legs, and just like he did before, he slips the material into his pocket. Only this time, he stays right where he is, running his broad palms up my thighs before parting them gently.
I prop myself up on my elbows, bending my knees as I gaze down at the man between my legs, and he doesn’t move until I do, keeping his eyes trained on me as he nips the soft skin of my thigh before turning his face an inch to the right.
The elbow thing doesn’t last long. I collapse back at the first kiss, crumpling to the bed and closing my eyes against the onslaught of sensations. Callum doesn’t seem to mind, content to torture me at his leisure until I’m digging my heels into the mattress, twisting the sheets between my fingers.
It does not take long.
Like…at all.
I can feel the smugness radiating from him as he waits for me to return to earth, but I’ve become nothing but a boneless mass on the bed, so I couldn’t care less right now.
It’s only when he begins to kiss his way back up my body that I register the coarse sensation of his jeans against my legs, reminding me how very naked I am and how very much he is not. And that just won’t do.
That won’t do at all.
The promise of bare skin against skin gives me a second wind and I sit up, almost bumping heads as I take him by surprise. I press a hand against his chest, pushing him until we’re both kneeling, and then I reach for his belt, undoing it with impatient fingers. The rough slide of the leather sounds very loud as I pull it free, as does the clatter of the buckle as I throw it to the ground with zero finesse, but Callum doesn’t seem to mind, standing to shuck off his jeans before reaching for the black boxers underneath. The sight of them sends my pulse racing, and he groans when I touch him, allowing me only a few seconds before gently brushing me away.
“Condom,” he whispers and leaves me briefly to grab a packet from the dresser. I rise up on the bed as he rolls it on and he pauses at the sight, staring like he’s trying to commit me to memory.
“I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he says, and I still at the simple truth in his words. The utter sincerity of it.
“Callum?”
“Yeah?”
“Get back on the damn bed.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
I yelp as he grabs me by the waist with one hand and throws back the sheet with the other, making it billow around us. My head hits the pillow, my hair flying everywhere, but he doesn’t wait for me to catch my bearings as he gathers me in his arms, his erection rocking against me until I feel like I’m about to snap.
“You’ve gone quiet,” he murmurs, dragging his teeth across my bottom lip. “You going to talk to me?”
“I’m fine. I’m just…” Trying not to implode.
“You want to slow down?”
“No,” I say quickly, and he laughs.
“Keep going,” I tell him, drawing his face back down to mine. “Please keep going.”
And he does, dipping his head to kiss me again and again and again, deep, drugging, endless kisses that leave me squirming beneath him, desperate for the release that remains just out of reach. A part of me almost wants to keep it there so I can carry on feeling like this forever. I’m pretty sure I never want him to stop touching me. Like ninety-nine percent positive that I would simply cease to exist if he did, like he’s the only thing tethering my soul to this body.
But the pressure grows more insistent, the ache too much. I’ve never wanted anyone like I’ve wanted him, and I try to hurry him along, but he remains just out of reach, seemingly content in the cradle of my thighs even though I feel how ready he is for me, can sense it in the growing desperation of his movements, less skillful than before.
Eventually, I stop fighting it, letting him touch and tease until the nerves in my belly start to melt away and my body relaxes against his, and it must be what he’s been waiting for because it’s only then that he lines himself up, kissing the whispered yes from my lips as he eases himself inside.
The noise I make doesn’t sound human and his expression heats at the sound of it, his jaw clenching as he moves inch by inch, working his way into me. My nails dig little crescents into his arms, fighting the pleasure at the same time as I chase it, and all the while, Callum takes me in, his gaze roaming from my hair to my mouth to my lips like he’s determining that this is real, that I’m not a mirage, that I’m right here,we’reright here.
And though he dips his head down to kiss me, though I slide my hands around his back, kneading the firm muscles I find there, it’s still not enough.
He drops his forehead to mine, his face creased in concentration, and I know he’s holding back, I know he’s keeping himself in check because this is still new and we’re still learning each other, but I don’t want him to. I want him, I want all of him and all he has to give me.
And I want it now.
“I can take it,” I tell him, urging him closer. “I’m good. I feel good.”
