TheSmallPrint (13 page)

“I-I don’t want to be dead,” she whispered. “But I know something’s wrong with me. I need help. I need
you
.”

He stared at her with his dark eyes. “What can I do?”

She took a deep breath. “Hold me. Make me feel wanted. Make me feel alive.”

Turner wrapped his arms around her and pressed his mouth to her ear. “You are so beautiful.”

And that was it. Four words and Matty was lost. Totally his. Heart, soul and body. Every bit of her. Even if she
was
dead. Though bits of her certainly didn’t feel in the least bit dead.

He lowered her to the mattress. “Annoying, aggravating and alarming yet intriguing, irresistible and incredibly beautiful.”

“Yes, you are,” she whispered.

Turner smiled. “Clothes off.”

“You first.”

“No, you.”

He removed her clothes as she struggled to remove his. The wrestling match was brief and he won, though Matty figured since he’d stripped the moment her clothes came off, she’d won as well. Turner held himself over her, his arms thick with sinewy muscles, pinning her in place with strong thighs, his cock a rigid length between them. Matty drew her fingers along the line of his jaw.

“I let you win,” she said.

“Of course you did.” His face creased with laughter.

“You are so gorgeous when you smile. I kind of like your scowl now that I’ve gotten used to it, but your smile makes me weak at the knees. Good thing I’m lying down.”

He pressed his lips at the junction of her shoulder and neck, and Matty shivered at the soft, wet caress. He licked, nipped, sucked until she writhed beneath him and then he kissed her into submission, his tongue teasing hers, his teeth— Ooh, that was sharp.

A deep groan burst from her throat as she surfaced for air. “You could kiss for England. If there was a competition for the best kisser, you’d win. ’Course, I wouldn’t want you go in for it because I only want you to kiss me. Especially don’t kiss Diana Rolfe. Even if she has ropes she’s dying to use. I wouldn’t trust her an inch.”

“Matty?”

“She’d probably tie you up and not let you go. Maybe she has a whip.”

“Matty!”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

But he didn’t say it harshly and she smiled. Turner scraped her neck with his teeth, and she trembled at the pressure against her skin. He seemed really keen on her neck. Why did she feel he wanted to bite her? Matty slipped down to put her face under his and tipped her head to kiss him. He moaned into her mouth and their tongues slid against each other.

Supporting himself on one arm, Turner cupped her chin with his other hand as he deepened the kiss. Their hips rocked together in a kiss of their own, his cock cradled between his hard muscles and her soft ones, wetting her belly with pre-cum. Matty felt as though she’d been plugged into a socket, her veins and arteries sizzling as they transmitted electrifying excitement through her body. Her heart pounded. There was something different between them now, something special gathering momentum, carrying them forward, binding them together. Her feelings for Turner were growing, strengthening to more than lust. Did he feel it? Was it just her?

Turner shifted to lie at her side and his hand drifted from her cheek to her neck, his fingers trailing over her skin, skimming the bony ridge of her shoulder and dropping to her breast. Matty wanted him inside her, but at the same time wanted him to touch her like this forever. He laid his palm over her heart and she felt it beat faster, throb harder. He groaned into her, and while his tongue explored, his fingers set out on a voyage of discovery around her navel. He found a magic place where her skin fluttered as if a butterfly were caught inside her and then his mouth followed his inquisitive fingers, licking and nibbling a wet path down her body.

He lifted his head from her belly and stared at her, his eyelids heavy with desire. “You taste delicious.”

“It’s all that icing you squirted on me.”

“You taste wonderful without it. Be a good girl, open your legs.”

Like a bad girl, she did.

Using one long finger, he traced the line of her damp slit, sliding back and forth in her cream before he parted her folds to slip deep inside. One finger became two and her muscles tightened in frenzied excitement. When his breath hit her inner thighs, Matty sighed and trembled. His fingers pulled back to tease her clit and circled the hard nub, pressing, rubbing, driving her crazy.

But it wasn’t only his touch that wound her so tight. Turner wanted her. He
wanted
her. Her head fogged as Matty climbed into the clouds, edging closer and closer toward the point of no return. Her breathing quickened and her chest tightened until she couldn’t take a breath. One caress by his tongue and she came. Pulsing waves swept over her, pleasure shooting along every nerve as Matty exploded in delight.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God.

She gasped and opened her eyes to find him staring at her.

Turner brought his fingers from her pussy to his glistening lips and licked them one by one.

“That’s you, not icing,” he whispered.

He shifted farther down the mattress and pushed her thighs wider apart. His hands lingered on her groin, thumbs playing in the creases.

“Touch yourself.” His voice was gruff.

“I’d rather you touched me,” Matty squeaked.

“Want to see you do it.”

She slid a finger over her clit and between her folds. She was so wet. Dripping.
Oh God.

Turner cupped his hand over hers and laid his finger on top of hers so they both pressed inside her. Matty couldn’t tear her gaze from his.

“Turner,” she whispered.

Two fingers moving, pushing deep, pulling back to thrust again and Matty felt herself climbing once more. When Turner curled his finger over hers, hooked upward and pressed in a circle, heat flashed through her.

“Oh f-fuck.” She could barely breathe, let alone speak.

Her fragility increasing every second like a bubble about to burst in the sun, Matty had no choice but to let herself go. Her back arched and she roared into the light, everything bright, clear and perfect. Then Turner’s head was between her legs, his hair tickling her thighs, and he was licking, sucking, stringing her orgasm out like a piece of spun sugar until Matty’s desperation to have him inside her rose like a fountain of fire.

He raised his head, his eyes black as ink and a lump rose in her throat. The moment his cock nudged her folds, she jolted as if she’d been hit with a bolt of lightning. He never took his gaze from her as he hovered at the entrance to her body.

“Before when we— I should have asked. Sorry. I don’t have any condoms. You’re the first for twenty years.”

“Twenty years?” Matty gaped at him.

He blanched. “Twe…twelve—two, I mean.”

“Wow.”

Turner was finding it increasingly difficult to think straight. Matty lay splayed in front of him, eyes wide, pink folds unfurled, and he thought he’d never wanted any woman so much in his life.

“Please,” Matty begged. “I’m desperate to have you inside me. No condom is fine. Seems a bit late to worry about it now. Anyway, I’m not going to get pregnant.”

He found every part of her fascinating, mesmerizing, enticing. She was so soft, so smooth, so curvy, so different to Catch—
Fuck.

Not the time to think about a guy long gone when he had this woman beneath him.

“Anytime now would be good,” Matty whispered.

“I’m savoring the moment.”

“I’m going off the boil.”

“Fibber,” Turner growled. “I’ve licked you and sucked you. Please let me just look for a minute.”

“One, two, three…fifty-nine, sixty. Time’s up. Get inside me now.”

“Wait.”

She groaned. “How come you’re so controlled? You must be superhuman.”

Er, yes, he was. “Hardly. You’ve shot my control to hell. I’m worried the moment I slide inside you, fast and furious will become my middle names.”

“Nimrod Fast Furious Turner. Crumbs, what were your parents thinking giving you a name like Nimrod?”

Nimrod?
What the fuck had
George
been thinking? Turner would be having words with his smartarse of a valet if he survived the Chilean desert. The last birth certificate George had come up with had Turner’s Christian name as Hiawatha. Not funny.

“Mind you, my parents weren’t very inventive. I just got the same first name as my mother and you can imagine the joy of being called Hobsbawm. I was frog spawn and worse from day one at school.”

Ouch.
Turner opened his mouth.

“Don’t say it hadn’t occurred to you,” Matty said.

“Matty?”

“What?”

“Shhh.”

“Make me.”

Her fingers dug into his arms, her legs curled around his waist and she pulled herself onto him. Watching his cock slide slowly into her moist heat started his balls dancing and when he felt the clasp of her muscles tightening around him, Turner gave in and began to move. At least her chattering had given him a brief reprieve. He might manage a few more seconds of gentle motion without exploding.

Maybe not.

He couldn’t help but pound into her and she jerked up to meet his every lunge. Wet flesh smacking, lungs struggling even though he didn’t need to breathe and neither, he suspected, did she, their gasps, cries and grunts of pleasure filled the attic. Arms and legs entwined, hands flailing, grabbing, squeezing, they rutted together in perfect rhythm, then in no rhythm at all, but they never stopped moving.

Mouths joined, mouths apart, heads together, heads apart, backs arched, they worked themselves off the mattress, back onto the mattress, him on top, her on top, side by side, Matty’s legs up and then down, and Turner could think of nothing but ramming every inch of his cock into her as deep as he could, as fast as he could, for as long as he could, in every possible position. With Matty lying underneath him, he fucked her so fast, his cock blazed from the friction. Their wild and desperate ride to oblivion didn’t stop until Matty’s spasming pussy yanked him to orgasm and his world erupted in a shower of sparks.

Turner thought his brain had exploded, except it was just his balls. Oh God, would he ever stop coming? His cock kept jetting and jetting. How much cum did he have inside him? The last wrenching contraction died away and Turner groaned.
He
had
managed to last more than a couple of minutes, hadn’t he? He really hoped it wasn’t just in his imagination that he’d performed like a wild stallion.

Fuck, he’d really lost it. A stallion?

God, what if I hurt her?
He opened his eyes to see her panting below him.

“Seventy-three, seventy-four,” she whispered.

“You’re still counting?” His jaw dropped in horror and the little tadpole laughed.

“You’ve ruined me,” she said.

Instant lump in throat. What did she mean?

“I had no idea men could do that,” Matty said. “Fast and Furious are definitely your middle names. How can I ever be satisfied again?”

Every muscle tensed. No one was going to touch her.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
The word reverberated in Turner’s head like a hard struck bell.

Ah, well no one
could
touch her. No one else could even see her. He felt sad that her life had been over so soon. He wondered what had happened. Did he want to know the details of the accident that killed her?

“We’re both sticky now.” Matty pulled him down on top of her, his cock still semi-hard inside her and getting harder.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Happy,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

The lump in his throat grew to the size of a football.

“Like a shower?” she asked.

“Mmm.”

Turner eased out of her and rolled to sit up. He stood, amazed his legs cooperated, and held out his hand. Matty reached for him then cried out as she fell back. Turner dropped to her side. “What’s wrong?”

“’S’okay. It’ll stop…in a minute.”

The color had leached from her face. Ashen, she curled up and dragged her knees to her chest.

Turner stared at her in horror. “What have I done?”

“Not you.” She groaned and he sank his fingernails into his palms. Her pain became his pain. The agony of seeing Matty suffer immobilized him. He wanted to help, but he didn’t know how.

“Where does it hurt? Show me.”

Her hand clutched her chest.

Heart attack?
How could a ghost have a heart attack? Why could he hear her heart beating, sense the blood flowing in her veins? Though there was something off about that, his teeth knew it even if he didn’t. So not a ghost but he didn’t have a clue what she was. Turner brushed her hair from her forehead and then held her hand, willed her to feel better.

Matty blinked, the stiffness went out of her body and she gave a heavy sigh. “I’m okay now.”

Turner wasn’t. “How often does that happen?”