Last Light (12 page)

Either I felt hysterical or this was seriously funny, because I found myself hugging my belly and fighting new waves of laughter.

Matt backed into the cabin. He hefted Laurence’s cage and kicked snow from his pants. “Let me explain.” He slid the cage onto the coffee table. He was half laughing, half crooning to the terrified rabbit. “Hey, little guy. It’s okay. Too hot for you? You’re too fat, is what it is.”

Matt adjusted the thermostat, then pulled me back into the circle of his arms.

I smiled up at him. Dear God, I’d missed this handsome face, this strong grip.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, the edges of laughter in his voice, “and happy Valentine’s Day. I made a snack.” He hooked a thumb toward the table. I glanced over his shoulder. It
was
Valentine’s Day, wasn’t it? I had forgotten.

In the candlelight, I saw two paper plates, a bag of Wonder Bread, a jar of peanut butter, and one spoon. I pressed my lips into a line to keep from laughing.

“Oh, sweetie. Wow. And … a tree.” My mouth twitched. “Did something burn?”

I was still acutely aware of Matt’s arousal pressed against me. His fingers gathered up my coat as we spoke. I trembled against him.

“I was making pasta. I threw it out. It came out all … weird. Hannah, what—” Matt’s fingertips trailed over the tops of my thigh-highs. Again, confusion flashed through his eyes. He began to undo my coat, freeing one button after another and finally throwing it open. I swayed on my heels. Fuck …

Matt’s expression grew serious, and my own giggly mood floated into oblivion. Already, my chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. My nipples stood stiff against the mesh cups of my slip. I lowered my eyes.

“Do you … like it?” I whispered.

How did this work? Matt’s desire seemed to suck the sound out of the room, and the breath out of my body. And he was only staring. I peeked at him through my lashes.

The look I found on his face is with me forever. It was need mingled with satisfaction. A hunger in his eyes, a thin smile on his lips.

Matt wanted me, and Matt already had me. I was his.

He pushed the coat from my shoulders and it flopped to the floor. I dropped my purse. Matt shucked off his T-shirt and I stared at his torso.

I came alive then, flattening my palms to his chest. His heart knocked under my hand.

“Yeah,” Matt said. He nudged me toward the wall. I let him move me; I yielded easily and started to pant. Heat gathered between my legs. “Yeah … I like it, Hannah. I like this…”

He pinched my nipple through the polka-dot fabric. I moaned. My hands flew to the drawstrings on his pants. He grinned down at me as I fumbled with the knot.

“I like this,” he whispered, shifting out of my reach and slipping a hand between my legs. My thong was soaked. Matt pulled it down. He unclipped my garters and let my panties slide down my thighs.

“This.” He squeezed my ass with both hands. I squirmed.

“Please.” I reached for his pants again. It was humiliating, being the only one exposed, and I wanted … I wanted to see Matt’s need. I wanted him naked.

Again, Matt moved his hips out of reach. He chuckled and pressed my back into the wall. I stamped my foot.

“So precious, Hannah. So fucking sexy. Touch your breasts … your nipples.” Matt trained his green eyes on my chest. “Do it, and I’ll take off my pants.”

I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes, lifting my hands to my breasts. Matt
always
embarrassed me during sex. And some part of me … loved it.

“Eyes open, look at me.” His voice tickled my ear.

I forced myself to meet Matt’s gaze as I squeezed my breasts. He tilted his head. The tent in his lounge pants said he was enjoying the show, but fuck, I wanted to see his body. When I rolled my nipples between my fingers, I gasped and Matt’s mouth dropped open.

“God, Hannah.” He pushed off his pants. He braced a hand against the wall and gripped his shaft. My eyes broke from his. I drank in the sight of his sculpted body, his stiff cock, his strong thighs. “This … is how it was, wasn’t it? You touching yourself … me touching myself.”

My eyelids fluttered.

“It was,” I said. “Not anymore.”

“Not anymore.” Matt touched my face. He turned me gently to face the wall and rested his shaft along the cleft of my backside. “Can you tell, Hannah?” Matt gathered my hair with one hand. He kissed my ear. “Can you tell I like it, your tight little lingerie?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

“How? How can you tell?” Matt slid his sex up my crack. I pushed out my bottom and clenched my cheeks to grip him. Matt hissed. I grinned. Two could play at this game.

“The way you stare,” I said.

“Mm, what else?” He kissed the corner of my mouth. Lightly, he teased a fingertip over my sex. My desire oozed down his finger.

“Your cock,” I said quietly. I knew that was the answer he wanted.

“Yes. What about it?” Matt rewarded me by lazily circling my entrance with his finger. He pushed his chest against my back, and my heaving breasts met the wall.

“Hard,” I mumbled.

A whisper of laughter crossed the nape of my neck. I reached back and gripped Matt’s hips, trying to draw him closer to my body. His cock throbbed against my bottom.

“That’s right, Hannah. You make my dick so fucking hard.”

I moaned and tried to drive my body onto Matt’s finger, but I couldn’t move.

Matt released me suddenly. My heavy hair fell around my shoulders; the pressure of his body eased and air rushed into my lungs. And then he dragged me down.

Chapter 18

MATT

Fuck … the lingerie. Fuck.

My brain went haywire when I looked at Hannah.

“On the floor,” I said, pulling her down with me. Not for a moment did I let my cock lose contact with her skin. Hannah’s pert ass gripped me—that little devil—as I pressed her onto her hands and knees. I climbed over her.

It was easy, that position, and so intimate. My limbs were longer than Hannah’s. I was stronger, firmer, taller; she fit under me perfectly.

Hannah tried to part her knees on the floor, but her thong constrained her. I tugged on her hair. She moaned and lifted her head.

“I’m going to fuck you on the floor,” I told her.

She stilled beneath me. “Yes, please,” she said in her softest voice.

“I’m not going to come. Not here. But I have to remember…” I reached between my legs. I positioned my head against Hannah’s sex. That touch—her wet cunt brushing the most sensitive part of my body—sent a violent shiver through me.

“Get on my dick,” I growled.

“Matt…” She began to rock back, the tiny motions sliding her onto my cock.

I have to remember how this feels.

“Good, that’s good,” I whispered. “Come on. That’s it…” I didn’t move. I let Hannah take her time, and she took her time. She pushed backward, then slid off me, then back, again and again. Our harsh moans mingled.

At last, Hannah sank onto me fully. Her satin thighs pressed at mine. Her ass fit snugly against my abs. And her tight pussy held my cock. She quivered below me.

“I love you,” she murmured.

“Hannah, I fucking love you so much.” I bit her shoulder.

We didn’t move—not much. I reached under Hannah and lifted her tits. She circled her hips subtly, moving my dick inside her.

I pinned Hannah’s hand to the floor. I thrust into her once, slowly, and we moaned. Goddamn … I should have rubbed one out earlier in the day. I was never going to last.

Hannah met my second stroke with a backward push. I snarled. “Fuck. Hannah … fuck. I changed my mind. We’re going to come. You’re going to make a mess for me.
Right here.
”

I began to move in earnest. I got up on my knees and held Hannah’s hip; I snaked a hand beneath her to tease her clit.

Her sex clamped around mine. Already? I gazed down.

One look at Hannah’s body in that tight getup and I needed to come. I thrust frantically, watching my cock and her ass, the curve of her spine, her swollen pussy. Excitement rushed through me. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop moving. Hannah was here—under me. For one weekend. Not long enough.

My pace grew punishing, my thrusts brutal. I poured my anger and frustration into that fuck, and Hannah bucked and moaned in response.

How could she live without this? I couldn’t.

“I need … to come,” I managed. “Come for me, Hannah … come.”

“Don’t stop,” she panted. “I am—I am—” And she did. With a cry, she convulsed and tightened, the pressure of her body practically painful on my dick.

I swore and released. My pleasure spilled into Hannah; her pleasure dripped over my hand and ran down her inner thigh.

She always made a mess for me.

We collapsed across the floor. I rolled Hannah’s body onto mine and lay there gasping. She curled on top of me and held me.

“I was…” I laughed. Some of my anger evaporated in our afterglow. “I was … planning to draw that out a bit more.”

Hannah giggled. “Me, too.”

“Oh, yeah?” I tugged on a garter strap. “Is that why you wore this? I just about spontaneously combusted, Hannah.”

“I think that’s exactly what you did…”

“Hey, now.” I slapped her bottom. “I wouldn’t put too fine a point on it.” I stood and lifted Hannah easily. She wrapped her arms around my neck.

“We have plenty of time,” she murmured.

I carried her around the room. My sweet little bird.

“Mm … plenty of time.”
One weekend.

Laurence watched us in a mild state of alarm, and when we noticed him watching, we laughed all over again. The things that rabbit has seen …

I set Hannah on the couch, dressed, and retrieved her things from the car. It took three trips. She had a suitcase, a cooler, and about seven loaded grocery bags.

She smiled each time I returned.

“Hannah.” I frowned at the pile of stuff. “You know I have food, right?”

“Hm?” She shrugged and hopped off the couch to inspect my tree. The fucking tree. After I cut it down and hauled it into the cabin, I realized I had no base for the massive thing. Hence standing the tree in the corner. It looked like a joke.

But Hannah didn’t seem to care. She buzzed about, bending over and examining the gifts. “Presents!” she said.

“Mm…” I stared at her pussy. She was trotting around in the slip and thigh-highs and no panties. I walked into the coffee table and nearly ate it. “And—
fuck!
” I rubbed my shin. “And flowers. Here. For you.” I tapped the vase of roses on the dinner table.

Hannah flew over and hugged me tight. “So sweet, Matt. Thank you.”

I brushed my hands against her ass while she clung to me.

“Oh, hey, before I forget. I’ve got a new number. Did you try to call?”

“No.” Hannah’s brow knit.

“Yeah. Here.” I’d written my new TracFone number in my notebook. I tore out the page and brought it to Hannah. “I dropped my phone.”

She blinked and accepted the paper. “You dropped your phone? And it broke?”

“Yes. In … water.” I nodded. “Rushing water. Icy cold. Outside. A stream.” I made a streamlike gesture with my hands. Hannah was not buying this shit.

“In a stream,” she deadpanned.

“Mm.” I did the hand gesture again. A smile tugged at her lips.

“Okay, Mr. Mysterious. I’m guessing you dropped it in a stream called the toilet and you’re too embarrassed to tell me.” She fetched her phone and began changing my contact info, then paused. “Hey, how did you get a new phone?” She surveyed the room. “Actually, how did you get all this stuff?”

“I’ve been hiking into town.”

Hannah’s eyes widened. “You have?”

“Yeah. I mean, I dyed my hair.”

“Matt … you still look exactly like yourself with black hair.”

“Okay, okay, wait.” I disappeared into the bedroom, emerging some minutes later in my incognito ensemble: hat, jacket, sunglasses, scarf. “How about now?”

Hannah fought her amusement. Her dark eyebrows drew together. She wanted to be pissed, I could see that.

“It’s just … Matt, if you get found out”—she laid a hand on her chest—“I get found out. Your family will hate me. Your fans will hate me. Everyone. Have you thought about that?”

“Hannah, I’m not going to get found out. I promise. Believe me, I want that less than you. I have to go out sometimes, you know?” I returned to the bedroom and pulled off my winter clothes. Hannah followed me to the door.

“As long as you’re careful,” she said.

“I’m a paragon of caution.” I balled up a shirt and tossed it to her. “Bird, if you don’t put your cute little butt away…”

Hannah snickered and pulled on my shirt. The sleeves flopped over her hands and the hem reached her thighs.

“Maybe I was hoping for an encore.” She lifted a brow.

“An encore, huh?”

Hannah leaned against the doorway. Even in my oversized shirt, she was a bombshell. Her sumptuous curves, her heavy hair, her plump lips …

“Mm, you.” I padded across the room. Hannah was here, finally, with me—and we were alone. The knowledge went straight to my head.

I took her hand and drew her toward the bed.

“Let me see,” I said, “what I can do about an encore…”

Chapter 19

HANNAH

It was eleven at night by the time Matt and I finished in bed. Or maybe we were just taking a break.

My hair was a nest and the sheets smelled of sweat and sex.

I curled against his side.

“
Mm,
” I hummed. “I’m spent.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” Matt said. “I don’t want to waste my time with you.”

“Then let’s stay up as late as we can.” I kissed his temple.

Sadness overlaid everything and I couldn’t ignore it.
Whatever else life contains,
Matt once said to me,
it’s sad because it has to end.
At the time, I thought he was strange and morose. Now I understood. No happiness that weekend would go untainted because on Sunday I had to leave. And maybe I could see Matt the following weekend, but I was still looking at another week without him—and another, and another. How long?

I sat up and stretched. A paperback lay on the bedside table.