And maybe, I realized…right now…that was for the best.
For all his warmth, Matthew was really just a blazing fire. He had burned me once, and he would burn me again if I let him.
If I let him.
The choice, in the end, was mine.
Somehow, without even thinking about it, I managed to tear myself away. His heavy breathing sent feathery plumes of white into the night air while he gazed at me, taking in my dress, my legs, my heaving chest. He had spent long enough examining the lace of my dress that he was perfectly aware it wasn’t lined.
Had I chosen it precisely to see the expression on his face when he figured that out?
Perhaps.
But now, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be viewed that way. I turned around, content to remain in his arms, but facing my back toward him so I could look out to the city and reassemble my good senses.
Just below, cars raced up and down Central Park West, one of the few thoroughfares in Manhattan with two-way traffic. It was a behemoth that stretched down to Lincoln Center, only fifteen or so blocks south, an explosion of light and color marking the beginning of Central Park’s chasm of darkness in the night.
As Matthew’s hands tightened at my waist and his lips feathered kisses up and down my neck, I gripped the railing and remembered those moments—twice—that I had run into that darkness with this man at my heels. Reckless, skittering into the park at night. But he had said he would chase me anywhere. Until, of course, he wouldn’t.
His teeth found my ear and sank down softly before the warm slip of his tongue curled around my lobe.
I shivered with desire as one of his hands cupped my breast. Brazen as always.
Though he had tried to respect my need for discretion, Matthew had never really cared where we were when it came to demonstrating his desire for me. The family’s seats at the opera, for crying out loud. He had taken some part of me wherever and whenever he wanted.
You’re no different, a small voice pointed out in the back of my mind as he found my other breast, pinching and toying with my nipples through the thin silk while he continued that delicious torture of my ear.
“Ah!” I gasped, as much at the sudden bite below my jaw as the memory of sinking to my knees for him in the middle of the park, pulling down the top of my dress, and forcing him to take his pleasure out all over my skin.
No, I had never really cared where we were either.
“Please,” Matthew whispered, his smooth, deep voice croaking slightly; from cold or want, I couldn’t say.
His right hand left my breast, and then I heard the telltale clink and zip of his belt and pants zipper. Then both hands dropped, and my skirt was pulled up my legs, crinkling around my waist so I was bared to him from behind.
In front of me the city glimmered. I closed my eyes, wanting nothing else than to feel his body close.
Matthew slid between my legs, and the slick welcome there might have told him everything he needed to know. Still, he remained poised at the entrance, waiting for my consent.
“Please, Nina.” His voice rumbled at the base of my neck, his stubble scraping over my skin. He wanted me to turn. Wanted me to kiss him. But he was waiting for me to choose. “Say you forgive me, baby. I’m begging you.”
I arched my neck as he sucked deeply over my pulse, like he was eager to take any sign of life from me. Honoring each beat of my heart that was for him.
But the words he wanted…I wasn’t capable of them. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
How could I explain to him the betrayal I still felt? I loved him, yes. I was fairly sure at this point I would love this man always. But in my moment of need…he had failed me. He had believed the other side. Searched for the worst in me instead of taking my best.
But that didn’t mean I didn’t want him. It didn’t mean that right now, on this rooftop, I didn’t need him. In fact, I had never needed anything more.
I reached around and grabbed his hand, then pulled up my dress in the front so he could feel me on both sides. His fingers followed my lead, slipping around to find the bare skin and sleek, groomed remnant of hair, then pressing deeper to find that concentration of pleasure I could almost swear was made for his touch alone.
My clit. Yes, my clit, I thought to myself. No more euphemisms. No more veiled language. I didn’t want to be afraid of my own body anymore, of my own pleasure. Matthew’s fingers were on my clit, and they were rubbing and pinching and moving in that rhythm that I had thought at one time only he could find, but now I knew I could find on my own too, maybe teach someone else, another man, someone worthy of me, someone who loved me, someone who would never hurt me…
The idea sliced. I groaned. No, I couldn’t think about that. Right here, right now, there was only Matthew, and how badly I needed his touch, even if I couldn’t accept his love.
“Do you feel that?” he asked. “Do you feel how badly I need you, Nina?”
His cock slipped between my thighs, back out, and in again. Another word I whispered silently to myself, embracing the crass, carnal beauty of what we were doing, what we were about to do.
Cock.
Pussy.
Ass.
Clit.
I wanted them all. I wanted him to take them all. I wanted all of him, and I wanted him everywhere.
And so I straightened my arms against the railing, pressing myself back into him, allowing him to take a solid grab of my hips with both hands and slowly, slowly, to press his considerable length deep inside
