Reparation

By Sawyer Bennett

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2014 by Sawyer Bennett

Published by Big Dog Books

ISBN: 978-1-940883-09-0

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

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www.sawyerbennett.com
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

Monday’s
usually suck, but not today. I step off the elevator, and I have a
bit of a spring in my step. I’m looking awesome in my black
pencil skirt with a white, silk, wraparound blouse. I’m wearing
the Louboutins that Matt first fucked me in, and I’m on top of
the world.

Bea does a double
take when she sees me. “Damn, Mac… you look fantastic.”

Yes, I curled my
hair today, put on a little extra makeup, and fine… I actually
put on a darker shade of lipstick to accentuate my mouth so that when
Matt looked at it, he would think of a wet blow job.

But I can’t
help it… I want to be pretty for Matt today. I want him not to
have a doubt in the world that I’m the best damn risk he’ll
ever take.

“Thanks, Bea,”
I chirp at her and sashay by.

“He’s a
negative five by the way,” she calls out.

I stop and turn
around to look at her, my eyes wide in wonder. “A negative
five?”

“Yeah, it kind
of freaked me out. He came in with boxes of donuts for everyone. He
smiled at me, and I swear a freakin’ rainbow shot out of his
butt. He even complimented the scarf that I’m wearing.”

I giggle because Bea
sounds totally shell shocked by Matt’s behavior. It was only
last week he was cursing at the staff, causing them to run from the
office in tears. But just this weekend… he and I made our
amends, and Matt asked me out on a date.

I squeal inside like
a high school drama queen.
Yay, me!

Matt had called me
Sunday as soon as he got home. We talked for almost two hours and he
did, indeed, ask me out for a date on Friday night. I’m not
sure what exactly changed for Matt, but he seemed to let go of all of
his fear and anger, and he actually seems to be embracing this
attempt to have a real relationship with me.

I’m on fucking
Cloud Nine.

When I get in my
office, the first thing I spy is the white daisy laying on my desk on
top of a cream-colored envelope. Picking up the flower, I hold it to
my nose and smell its wildness. I set it back down and open the
envelope. There’s a cream, linen card on the inside that says:

I don’t
think I can wait for Friday to take you on a date.

How about
tonight?

Matt

The swelling of
elation inside me is overwhelming. I hum with unbridled energy, and I
feel like I could conquer the world. Because Matt Fucking Connover…
the man that is relationship averse and emotionally closed off…
cannot wait until Friday to go on a date with me.

It’s like I’m
in high school and just got asked to the prom by the star
quarterback. I want to jump around my office and do a little dance.

In fact, I think I
will. Hopping back a few feet from my desk, I bend my knees, stick my
ass out, and shake it all around, while waving my arms in the air.

I’m pumped up…
high on Matt.

“That’s
some pretty funky dancing.”

Yelping, I spin to
the doorway and see Matt causally leaning against it, his hands in
his pockets and the cutest grin on his face, making his dimples extra
deep.

My face flushes hot,
but then I decide to own it. Sticking my chin up, I say, “I was
just excited. It appears I might have a hot date tonight.”

Matt does his quick
look left and right down the hall, and satisfied that no one is
around, steps into my office. He shuts the door and walks up to me
with purpose, a cocky grin on his face.

He is spectacular
today, wearing a dark gray suit with a blue power tie. It’s
tailored so well, I can practically see the muscles in his shoulders
straining against it.

Matt takes his right
hand and skims his fingers along the side of my neck, all the way
around to the base of my skull. I feel his hand open wide and then he
grabs a handful of my hair, twisting it several times around his
wrist. When he has me well and truly captured, he pulls slightly,
causing my head to tilt back and expose my throat. Bending over, he
places light kisses along my jaw, all the way to my ear, where he
murmurs, “I take that is a yes to my invitation to go out
tonight?”

I nod my head, even
though he has my hair tightly fisted.

“Good,”
he says roughly against my ear and then pulls away, releasing his
hold on me. My knees are shaking slightly, and I guarantee you I have
an utterly stupid look on my face. Yes, with just a few whispered
words and light kisses, Matt has rendered me the village idiot.

“I’ll
pick you up at eight. The restaurant I’m taking you to is
dressy,” he says as he opens my office door to leave. “Oh,
and Mac?”

“Huh?”

Yup… still
the village idiot.

“Do me a
favor… wear those white, lace boy shorts tonight under your
dress. You know… the ones that drive me crazy?”

I just nod at him,
the power of speech gone… obliterated… destroyed.

I almost collapse
when he shoots me a radiant smile, which causes his dimples to pucker
deep. He gives me a quick wink, and then he’s gone.

He told me Sunday to
have patience with him… that he wasn’t sure that he was
very good at this dating thing.

Who is he kidding?

He’s fucking
fantastic at it so far!

Our first date could
not have gone off any better if a Hollywood screenwriter had
choreographed it.

When Matt picked me
up at my apartment, he didn’t bring me flowers. Instead, he had
a full carton of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Peppermint Crunch,
because I had made some obscure reference to it one night after we
had sex. He walked into my kitchen and put it in my freezer, telling
me that it was for dessert later.

He then took me to a
lovely restaurant that was quietly intimate. I’m not sure if he
arranged it ahead of time, but we got seated in the back in a tiny
corner that sort of cut us off from the rest of the patrons. The wine
was spectacular, the waiter unobtrusive, and the conversation flowed
with such ease that I felt like I’d known Matt for years.

I was worried about
it honestly. Whether or not we could have normal conversation that
didn’t revolve around phrases such as, “That feels so
good” and, “Harder, please.”

Turns out, we
converse quite well. We laughed, we joked, and most special of all,
Matt told me about his son, Gabe. He spoke with such pride, such
love… such unconditional emotion, that I almost had tears in
my eyes. Matt the Cold-Hearted—which would have been his Viking
name if, well if he were a Viking—had the squishiest, warmest
soft spot for a little seven-year-old boy.

He didn’t say
much about his ex-wife, Marissa, other than she had primary custody
of Gabe, but he had liberal visitation. In fact, he reminds me of the
day I had asked him if he had plans one weekend, after we had
returned from Chicago. He reminds me with a soft laugh that I looked
green with jealousy when he had told me that he did, in fact, have
plans all weekend. He assured me tonight that said plans were with a
little, brown-haired boy, and that was the only thing that would have
kept him away from me.

My skin went all
warm when he told me that, and my heartbeat hummed out in
appreciation.

Now dinner is done,
and we are back at my apartment. I unlock the door and open it,
stepping into the foyer. Matt grabs ahold of my wrist and stops me.

“This is where
I give you a kiss and say goodnight,” he says as he pulls me
close to his body, wrapping his arms around my waist.

My hands dig into
his chest muscles slightly with surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.
Kiss me good night, and then I’m heading home.”

“Oh, hell no,”
I say with sass and gumption. “You had me specifically wear
lace panties for you, and I’ve been thinking about you peeling
them off me all night. There’s no way you’re going home,
buddy.”

Matt leans in to
give me a quick kiss, smiling with amusement when he pulls back. “You
are adorable, but I’m being a gentleman tonight. I’m
showing you that you are more than just sex to me.”

“You’ve
shown me that already,” I whine like a big baby. “I want
sex… tonight!”

Chuckling, Matt
says, “Are you pouting?”

I stick my lower lip
way, way out.

“No,” I
grumble and stomp my foot down.

“Did you just
stomp your foot?” he asks with a smirk.

“I’m a
grown woman,” I snap as I stomp my other foot. “I would
never do something as childish as that.”

Matt releases my
waist and brings his hands up to clasp my head. He presses his lips
to mine, and I can still taste the smoky peat of the Scotch he drank
tonight. My mouth opens, and his tongue slips in. I sigh, and my body
melts into his.

Then he kisses me
deeply… with quiet hunger.

I feel starved for
him, and I whimper when he pulls away.

“Tell you
what,” he says, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear and
looking me straight in the eye. “How about I tuck you into
bed?”

My eyes alight with
victory, but he squashes it instantaneously.

“I will not be
fucking you though,” he says firmly.

My lower lip goes
back out, and he reaches down to nip at it.

“However,”
he says with a lecherous smile. “I could be persuaded to peel
those panties off you. I mean… if it’s really that big
of a deal to you.”

I jump up and down
like a schoolgirl, clapping my hands in excitement. “Yes,
please. Panties
and
bra. Tuck me in, tuck me in!”

Matt busts out
laughing and scoops me up in his arms. Kicking the door shut, he
walks through the living room. Macy is on the couch, watching CNN.
She glances up at us, her mouth hanging open, as Matt carries me by.
I shoot her a quick wave and a broad grin as he takes me to my
bedroom.

I bounce on the
mattress slightly when Matt drops me there. He’s efficient…
wasting no effort and, within seconds, I’m lying there in only
my white, lace bra and boy shorts. His eyes feast on me, roving over
every part of my body.

Looking up at him
with my most seductive stare, I stick my foot out and run it up the
inside of his leg, causing his gaze to move from my breasts down to
where I’m getting perilously close to his cock. “Matt…
please don’t leave me like this. I’m dying here.”

I can see his
erection pushing hard against his pants, and I move my foot to gently
rub over it. He hisses out in pleasure, but then grabs my foot and
lowers it to the bed.

“I’d
never leave you wanting, McKayla,” he tells me with lust
flooding his words.

Crawling onto the
bed in between my legs, Matt does indeed peel my panties off me. He
lays his fingertips in the center of my chest, and then lightly drags
them down my body, straight down in between my thighs. I arch off the
bed like a cat stretching after its morning milk when he slips a
finger inside of me.