Night Owl (10 page)

When we were seated, I smirked and nudged his foot under the table.

"You're so cocky. How did you know I'd agree to go out with you?"

"Oh, I didn't," he said. His serious eyes skimmed the menu. I loved the way he looked at things—with withering dismissal or raw hunger.

I wanted to be the center of his attention.

Shit. Was I falling for a stranger? This was not in line with my productive summer plans.

He sighed and closed the menu.

"If you'd said no, I would have had to bring Laurence I suppose."

I snickered.

"What, don't you have any friends?"

"Not many," he said. He leveled me with a stare and suddenly I felt so... sorry for him. My heart knotted up. Who the hell was this amazing looking guy who lived alone with a rabbit and wrote stories with strangers online?

The restaurant's cheapest plate was thirty dollars and I had my eye on it. Matt had other plans. The waiter arrived and Matt fired our order at him before I could open my mouth.

"She'll have the seared scallops and a glass of your best white; I'll have the steak roulade and a Coke." He smiled at me. "We'll trade if you don't like seafood. The white will go well with the scallops, trust me."

"I love seafood. You don't want a drink?"

"Quit five years ago," he said negligently.

Sexy god is also sober. I tucked that information into my Matt file.

Our plates arrived and they were works of art, mine an arrangement of fat scallops with shallots and a buttery sauce swirled over the plate, Matt's a cascade of rolled spinach-stuffed steak. We shared. The flavors were exquisite and Matt was right, the white wine complemented my meal perfectly.

The wine got me buzzed and I fell under Matt's spell, talking and laughing with him like we had on our nighttime drive.

Matt got me chatting about the work I'd done that afternoon.

Yeesh, for someone who felt uneasy in formal environments, Matt could carry conversation effortlessly—and he looked like he belonged in this restaurant, whereas I felt out of place.

The waiter returned to check on us.

I planned to insist on paying for my part of the meal, though I had a dreadful feeling about the cost, but Matt only smirked when I mentioned it.

"Another time, Hannah. I already paid."

How the hell had I missed that? Ugh, drowning in Matt's sexy smile, that's how.

He took my hand as we left the restaurant and strolled up Pearl Street.

If he was in a rush to get inside me, he gave no indication. His eyes trailed over the shops. Sometimes he smiled down at me. Holy height discrepancy. Good thing I love tall men.

I caught people watching us. Oh... we obviously looked like a couple. A good-looking couple, I hoped. I felt eclipsed by the elegant man at my side.

Matt stopped.

I followed his gaze to a neon sign at the entrance of an alley. It read DYNAMITE.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said dryly.

"Ha. Wow." I shook my head. "I guess it's good I know where the place is. My sister's going to be begging rides off me, I know it."

"Kind of a long haul from Denver," he said. His tone was inscrutable. His eyes were trained on the glowing orange letters. What was he thinking, looking so somber? "Mm. Let's go in."

"Wait, what?" I laughed.

Matt tugged me down the alley and I traipsed after him, struggling on my heels. I'd never been inside a strip club. This was about to get interesting.

"You're crazy," I said as he paid our cover.

He smirked down at me. Uh-oh. I recognized that smirk.

One hundred percent trouble.

Inside, the club was surprisingly busy. I couldn't think over the music. The lighting was garish, red and yellow. A beaded curtain hung in front of some booths and there were red velvet chairs arranged beside a stage.

Three topless girls were strutting along the stage, floating towards men with bills. Everyone I saw had a drink.

I got on my tiptoes to whisper in Matt's ear.

"I think we probably have to buy drinks."

Matt glanced at the girls, then smiled down at me.

"Now
this
is seedy as fuck," he whispered back.

"I'm glad you think so! It really is. What are we doing here?"

"Having some fun," he said. He pulled out his wallet and headed for the stage. He'd caught the eye of an attractive dancer with chin-length blond hair. I watched them lean together and chat briefly, and I saw Matt pass the woman a bill. Her eyes widened and she smiled. Shit, how much money did he just give her?

Matt made his way back to me and took my hand. We followed the blond stripper toward the back of the club and down a hall. It got dramatically quiet when we stepped into a midsized room with mirrors on every wall. There were a few ottomans, a black velvet couch, a simple armless chair, and a table. I edged closer to Matt.

"Hi hun," said the stripper. "I'm Kelly. Don't be nervous darlings."

Darlings? The girl looked maybe twenty-five. She was pretty, though, and amazingly calm for someone wearing only a G-string and stilettos.

"Your boyfriend said you two wanted to have a little fun," she said, looking meaningfully between Matt and I.

Boyfriend? I glared at Matt. My glare dissolved as soon as I met his eyes. Oh... no. There it was—that starved, absorbing look that made me wild to please him. My heart went double time. I smiled faintly.

"Yeah," I said quietly.

Matt squeezed my hand, then prowled over to lean against a wall and watch us. Typical, he couldn't even sit. Restless... controlling. Intoxicating.

"Sit," he ordered, nodding at the chair. "Give her a lap dance," he said to the stripper.

I sank onto the chair. I was agonizingly aware of Matt staring at me, but I couldn't meet his gaze. I knew I was beet red.

The stripper straddled me and began to dance. She ignored Matt. She winked at me, ran her tongue along her lips, and brought her breasts close to my body as she ground her ass against my thighs.

I realized with a jolt that I was getting wet.

I wasn't into girls, not really, so what gave?

It had to be Matt. Matt watching me, enjoying my discomfort. Probably getting hard.

"Touch her," he said softly.

When I gave the stripper a questioning look, she took my hands and brought them to her breasts. I squeezed and she moaned.

Okay, I thought, I got this—but Matt's next order brought me up short.

"Show her yours, Hannah."

The stripper went right on grinding into my lap.

Show her mine? He wanted me to...

"Do it," Matt growled, leaning forward, "or I'll make you. Show her your nice big tits Hannah."

With shaking hands, I unzipped my dress enough to peel it down. Thank god I'd chosen a strapless dress. I rolled down my bra without unclasping it. My nipples were hard. I heard Matt exhale roughly.

"Good," he said.

The stripper lifted my heavy breasts and pressed them to hers. I moaned. Fuck, there was definitely a wet spot on my dress.

Matt stalked toward us suddenly.

"Get out," he snarled at the stripper.

Unfazed, the stripper accepted another bill from Matt, smiled at us both, and breezed out. The door clicked closed behind her. Matt stared down at me, tilting up my chin as if I were a disobedient child. My legs trembled.

"God, Hannah," he whispered. "You're perfect. Did you like that? Did you like making me hard like that? Look at my cock."

My eyes traveled down the buttons of Matt's shirt to the tent in his slacks. I swallowed.

"Looks good, right?"

I nodded.

"Did you enjoy showing your tits to that woman?" He chuckled and reached for my breasts, squeezing them mercilessly. "You're a slut for me, aren't you Hannah?"

"Yes," I gasped. I covered his hands with mine. My brain screamed: feminine power, feminine power! It was
my
turn to drive Matt crazy, god damnit.

I slid off the chair and fell to my knees at Matt's feet.

Before he could react, I yanked down his slacks and boxers, grabbed his cock—damn, I'd forgotten how huge it was—and began to suck hard on his head.

"Mm!" Matt groaned. "Ohhh... fuck..."

Success! His noises spurred me on. I swirled my tongue around his head and stroked his shaft with one hand, fondling his balls with the other.

"H-Hannah," he stammered. "Oh, god... what... are you doing..."

I looked up at him. His eyes sent a shiver through me. He was gone, totally gone. A soft shock of hair swept across his brow. His head was lowered, his lips parted slightly. He watched in a stupor as my tongue and mouth made his cock glisten.

"Mmm," he moaned again. He clenched his teeth. Fuck, he was fighting it—fighting his pleasure, fighting for control. So hot.

I worked faster. With long, deep sucks I drew his head into the back of my throat. I ignored my own little gagging sounds as his huge member filled my mouth. I could never have taken the whole thing, but I did the best I could with my hand and the seal of my lips.

Soon I tasted cum. I moaned onto his cock.

Matt staggered back. He pressed himself against one of the mirrors. I eyed his shaft.

"Hannah," he growled.

I crawled forward, smiling up at him. My breasts swayed pendulously.

"It's okay Matt," I whispered, licking my lips. Oh, it felt good to have control this time. "I know you need this. Come on. I bet you're already about to explode."

I was teasing him, but when I took him back into my mouth, I realized with surprise that I was right. After just minutes, Matt was close to coming. His balls were tight in my hand. His shaft throbbed in my mouth.

I saw him glance aside and then I saw what he saw: us, reflected in a mirror.

His chest rose and fell fiercely. He looked stricken and delirious. God, I loved it.

"My cock, god, my cock Hannah," he pleaded.

I began to bob my head on it, looking up at him.

"A-ah, yes... fuck... no... not yet, f... fuck not yet, Hannah, don't."

I would have crowed in triumph if I could.

His protests notwithstanding, Matt was giving tiny, helpless thrusts into my wet mouth. I squeezed his shaft harder and picked up the pace. He arched away from the wall, tugged at my hair, and came hard, coating the back of my throat with cum.

"Fuck!" he rasped.

I had no doubt Matt's moan was heard beyond the door.

I swallowed and sat back on my heels.

"You taste amazing," I murmured.

Matt swayed against the wall.

Before he could turn the tables on me, I yanked up my bra and dress, gave Matt's tight ass a squeeze, and scrambled for the door. To be honest, I was afraid to linger in the room with him. He was watching me with his steady green eyes, though he had yet to do up his slacks, and I felt precisely like I was standing in a cage watching a tranquilized tiger wake.

I blew him a kiss at the door.

"I'll meet you outside," I said, and then I got the hell out of there.

CHAPTER 11

Matt

_____

HANNAH-PROOF THE APARTMENT

1.  Buy time (a day)

2.  Frozen food (Pam?)

3.  Pictures, photo albums

4.  Bethany's clothes & shower stuff

5.  Girly things (esp. in the bathroom)

6.  My books

7.  My writing

I reread my list.

I glanced at the TV.

How disturbing. My list seemed infinitely more important than the coverage of the riots in Brazil, where my girlfriend happened to be traveling.

I knew Bethany was safe, though. She'd sent me an email that morning.

In case you were wondering, which I'm sure you were since I can feel your concern all the way in South America (sarcasm), my parents and I are safe. We narrowly missed some rioting in Florianopolis but now we're far from any of it. I'll start calling if you don't write. How are the meals? Kisses, Bethany.

Her threat to start calling felt very real, and very menacing.

I couldn't deal with Bethany calling while I was with Hannah, and I wanted to be with Hannah all the time. Dropping her off last night had been hell.

I had driven Hannah home in stunned silence—no girl ever made me come that fast and that hard with her mouth—and maybe her boldness angered me, but I liked it too. I liked being caught off guard. I liked being provoked. I wanted nothing more than to blow by Hannah's house, drive her to my apartment, bend her over the kitchen counter, and spank her until she cried. And fuck her hard and make her come, too.

Damn. This girl was getting under my skin.

The worst part was, I could see Hannah's disappointment when I pulled up to her house. She tried to play it off, but she was a shit actress. She'd just given me the blowjob of my young life and I must have seemed annoyed about it.

Why else would I end the night so abruptly? Why else wouldn't I take her to my place?

The questions were plain in her eyes, and the hurt.

She thanked for me dinner.

I barely replied.

My mind was already churning.

How could I have Hannah over when every corner of my apartment screamed, "I have a girlfriend! A female resides here! Look, tampons!"

Step one: buy time.

Subject:  Dynamite

Sender:  Matthew R. Sky Jr.

Date:  Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Time:  8:15 AM

Morning Hannah,

I have plans after work that will go on indefinitely, so if you don't hear from me tonight you know the reason.

Matt

I sent the email and called Pam.

Step 2: get rid of the suspicious labeled food in my freezer.