Uncut (Unexpected Book 4) (46 page)

“I’d rather not discuss it.” His arms lazily glide up and down my back. “I need you, baby.”

Janine is part of my family, and I witnessed those moments of loss. As much as I want to be strong for Tristan and help him, I can’t. There’s no way I can go through what I went through yesterday. He left my bed. He left me for the remainder of the night because he had a thing with his family. I certainly don't expect him to behave like Matt does, but I crave cuddling time afterward. One night tumbling in bed and he didn’t hug me long enough for it to feel . . . intimate.
Don’t be a chick, Thea, move it along.
Trying to be that girlfriend he loves, I take the friendly approach.

“What does that mean?” I’d rather talk for now, find out what happened with his father. “You weren’t in the mood. What really happened?”

“It means I don't want to talk about it, Thea.” He releases me and takes several steps backward. “Don’t start analyzing me. Not today, please.”

“Okay.” I pivot and walk up the stairs. “Consider everything dropped.” Who the fuck does he think he is? He can take his attitude somewhere else or fuck himself with it.

“In his room?” Tristan frowns, staying outside Matt’s room.

I spin around and realize he followed me. “Oh, you think we’re still fucking?” I release a humorless chuckle. “Drop the attitude, learn to treat me with some respect, and then we’ll talk.” I push him lightly outside and close the door in his face.

“Thea, baby, I'm sorry. I'm just having a shitty day.” He knocks on the door a few times.

“Shitty?” I growl. “Matt
had
a shitty day. He almost lost his grandma, and his boyfriend ignored him the entire fucking day. You had nothing in comparison. Try googling the definition of the word love. Perhaps head to the library and ask for an old encyclopedia.”

“I fucking love you, Thea.” He slams the door. “Let me show you how you’re my everything, Thea. Everything.”

I
lean against the opposite wall from the stairs, waiting for Matt to finish practicing. At least that’s what I think he’s doing on the third floor where his drums are. Playing them hard and fast helps him release the pent-up energy and frustration of the day. That’s what he always says. I wait for him, in hopes that there’s some energy trapped inside him. Energy that he can use to help me forget. Fuck, now I sound like a selfish bastard. A needy, selfish bastard. But I heard it in his voice—the commanding persona was talking over. The firm order he gave to Thea is part of the “I don’t care, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk again.” A version of him that my ass loves, that I need.

His heavy steps down the stairs announce his presence. Yep, still not calm. Is it only because of his grandma, or do I have a role in that raging mood? I should’ve joined them after I finished the conference call, but having my father announce my engagement to Victoria in the middle of that call made me fume. I had to call my mother, try to locate Victoria, and then have another long conversation with my father. In the end, I had to lend money to the man so he’d get off my back. I wasn’t in any shape to be upbeat while my boyfriend was going through his own hell.

My eyes finally find him, shirtless, his skin glistening from hours of banging the drums. The ripped muscles of his back hard as a rock, showing the majestic owl that occupies his entire back.

“You can’t go in there like that,” I caution as he’s about to open the door to his room. “Thea can’t help you release all that rage. She shouldn’t have to do it.”

“Are you volunteering as a tribute?” He rests his palms on the door, hanging his head. “Sacrificing for the greater good?”

“She needs to be loved, not fucked.” That much I learned from our long-night marathon.

“Now that you mention how we should make
love
to her, just because you made it slow, it doesn’t mean that you made it right.” He pushes himself off the door and gets in my face. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe, maybe she needed intimacy? You left her, you fucking left her after she loved you.”

I freeze, understanding what he says. I feel like a class-A asshole for leaving her for my father. Earlier she wasn’t talking only about Matt; it was about her too. Thea wanted to know what was so important that I had to leave them both hanging. Making it up to her might not be easy, but . . . my time to think about earlier today is over. Matt fists one hand tightly in my hair, forcing me to him, crushing his lips against mine. He kisses me like a thirsty man, quenching his thirst. I part my lips, letting his tongue penetrate with full force.

“Never fake some kind of sacrifice to get laid,” he says between raspy breaths. “Thea told me that your family is on your case. I know what you need. You need me to give you a good fuck, hard, fast. And lucky for you, I’m in a giving mood.”

He opens the door, the light is off, and Thea is in the bed fast asleep. “Let’s get in the shower.”

The loud sound of doors opening and closing wake me up. I check my phone, eleven twenty-five. Matt hasn’t come back to bed yet. Tristan gave up on me only minutes after saying I was his everything. Unless there was something more pressing, like work, his parents,
or work
. This is why I failed my paper on modern-day and loving relationships. After reading the case of a couple that were better off separating than staying together, I recommended divorce. My teacher recommended I pick up the slack and try harder. As a marriage counselor I’d get paid to identify issues, then suggest strategies the couples can try to fix their own marriage, not to give up during the first appointment.

Hence, I’ll never consider going into marriage counseling or couples therapy. Those have a lot to deal with, like my own counselor who keeps asking, “Where is Tristan?” Or the best one is, “Are you sure he wants to work this out?” Nope . . .

“What do you want?” I hear a loud voice. Matt?

I rub my face and walk to the bathroom. The door is slightly open and from where I stand, I see my two men in the shower. The glass door is closed but it does little to hide the perfection of both bodies. Matt’s flying owl is visible, painted over the lines of his broad, well-built back. His wide, broad shoulders hover over Tristan. They kiss under the shower in a way I’ve never seen before. Rough, passionate, consuming. As if they’re fighting for some kind of power. Matt’s fingers are interlaced in Tristan’s hair. They look so beautiful together. I want to watch them forever.

Matt pushes Tristan over the tile wall and my eyes land on the lines of Tristan’s firm eight-pack. He’s leaner than Matt, but just as beautiful. Watching them makes me want to touch myself, to join them, or just continue to stare in awe.

I am admiring Tristan who leans against the wall, the shower hitting his suntanned chest, water cascading through the lines of his rippled muscles. He looks flawless, stunning with his eyes shut and his facial features burning with desire. Matt moves closer again, running his mouth over his jawline. He bites his way down, from his neck to his hard chest, his abdominals, and finally he’s down on his knees, looking up at Tristan.

I bite my lip as my body fills with desire. My panties are drenched, and the ache between my legs increases each time Matt’s calloused fingers and insistent mouth slide over Tristan’s slick, wet skin. My pulse beats erratically, and doubles its speed when Matt sticks out his tongue and licks Tristan’s length like it’s the first taste of an ice cream during a hot summer’s day. His mouth goes wider and swallows the long thick cock, taking him deeply over and over, while his hand cups his balls and follows his luscious mouth.

My insides clench with desire. I want to be Tristan and feel Matt’s mouth on me, but also want to be Matt being the one making Tristan moan with such desire, screaming with a primitive sound while arching his back and thrusting inside Matt’s mouth.

“Please, fuck me. I need you inside,” Tristan begs the same thing I’m begging inside my head. I need one of them so badly.

Matt stands up, turns Tristan around, and rolls down a condom after opening the square foil. It’s beautiful to watch Matt lean against him while whispering in his ear and pushing inside Tristan. It’s awe-inspiring to watch the striking display, as they furiously slam against each other searching for their mutual release. The raw emotion between them, anger and love, collide within each wave. The grunts and moans are like an orchestrated symphony, a prelude to a tidal wave. The moment the crest of the wave reaches its highest point, the surge of energy it causes creates a loud quake coming from both men, causing their bodies to shudder from the climax.

I let out a big breath. The haze caused by watching that beautiful moment makes me realize I’m invading their innermost private moment. Like a mouse pilfering a piece of precious cheese, I walk back to the bed, touching myself, replaying in my head every second I watched, sending a rush of ecstasy through my body, as I imagine them touching me, loving me the way they just did.

It isn’t long before Matt makes his way next to me, pulling me to his hard body, placing his lips right behind my ear. “Did you like it?” My back stiffens at his question. He saw me? “Next time you should join us, Butterfly. We’ll make sure you enjoy it.”

I turn my body around to face him. “How . . . ?”