Matt's POV:

Why was it that when you were anticipating something, time seemed to stand still? I knew that wasn't physically possible, but damn if it didn't feel like it as she sat across from me at the small table in the back corner of the Italian restaurant. I watched as she practically inhaled her pasta, clearly in a rush to finish dinner. My only hope was that she planned on skipping dessert. Not that I thought she needed to—because hell no—but I didn't know if I could handle another minute of her moaning as the taste of the food blossomed on her tongue. Lord knows I'd done my own moaning tonight.

Even after eating the most delicious shrimp Alfredo I'd ever had, there was only one taste still on my tongue—the taste of her juices from earlier, when I'd dipped my finger inside her. No matter how hard I tried to think about anything else, that taste mixed with the image of her bare breasts in the middle of the parking lot had left me with a hard-on I was damn thankful the white tablecloth helped hide. Then again, with how desperate I was to have her beneath me, was it even arousal anymore? Or was it something much bigger? Is there anything bigger than arousal?

Need.
Yeah, I was in serious need—of her, of her body, of the pleasure I knew we'd give each other.

Sitting across from her as my mind raced with every delicious possibility, I watched her fidget in her chair. I was curious, sure, but that curiosity was quickly satisfied when she reached a hand onto the table, her fist closed.

"Give me your hand," she said softly.

Lifting my hand, she slipped something into my palm and then closed my fingers around it. Based on the feel of the fabric, I knew what it was. But just to confirm, I lowered my hand to my lap and opened it.
Yep. There it was. The tiny lace thong she'd been wearing just moments ago.

The animalistic side of me wanted to lift it to my nose and inhale deeply, but the gentleman in me shoved them into my pocket for safekeeping. Much like in the movies, I raised my hand to silently signal the waiter that we were ready for the check.

Can you blame me?

My girlfriend was sitting across from me, pantyless, and I knew for a fact she was just as ready as I was to take this little party over to the hotel and finally go at each other like we were both craving.

It might've only been a few minutes before the waiter returned with the check and ran my card, but time seemed to stretch again like it was messing with me. When I chanced a glance at Stormy, I saw the flush in her skin and a small, knowing smirk tug at her lips. She saw the hunger in my eyes. She thought she was going to win this little game.

Not if I had anything to say about it.

I couldn't have her in the middle of the restaurant, but the ride to the hotel and the elevator? Fair game. Just thinking about the elevator reminded me of those Fifty Shades of Grey movies I'd heard so much about and eventually caved in and watched. Boy, did Ebony have a field day with my ass when she found out—not only had I watched the movies, I'd read the books. She found them one day while helping me switch out my blackout curtains for some that were "more aesthetically pleasing," whatever the hell that meant.

When the waiter returned with my card, I nearly snatched it out of his hand and scribbled my signature across the line, tossing in a generous tip. Anyone who saw the way I reached for Stormy's hand and tugged her behind me knew exactly what was on my mind. Ask me if I cared.

With her small hand in mine, I wove us through the tables and out to my truck. Every fiber of my being wanted to rip that dress off her and take her right there. But that would mean she'd win this round—and I wasn't a quitter. I damn sure wasn't a loser. So instead of slamming my mouth down over hers, I opened the door and lifted her into the seat, forcing myself to pull my hands away before my dick told my brain otherwise.

Once I climbed in beside her, she looked at me with a teasing smile.

"You're in a hurry," she said. "Guess that means you're about ready to beg, huh?"

"No begging from me, darlin'," I said, easing the truck onto the road toward the hotel. "And if I remember right, I told you it'd be you doing the begging."

Flipping the center console up, I reached across and placed my hand just below where her dress stopped. Letting it glide up until it slipped beneath the fabric, I dug my fingers into her soft thigh. She inhaled sharply, and the sound only made me harder.

Pulling her closer, I dragged her across the seat until her hip pressed against mine. My hand traveled between her legs until I found her bare pussy, my fingers slipping through her folds. She was already so wet, it made concentrating on the road damn near impossible.

Focusing on her clit, I rubbed slow, deliberate circles over her hardened bud. Her hips bucked in response, chasing every stroke. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her head fall back as she thrust upward, seeking that high just out of reach.

Not yet.

I eased off the pressure, and she growled in frustration.

"Matt, what are you doing?" she asked, her tone breathless.

"Adding to the anticipation," I said, letting my hand trail back down her thigh.

"Matt..." she growled again. So close. Just a little more torture, and she'd be begging.

"Ready to beg yet, darlin'?" I asked as I pulled into the hotel parking lot.

"I—I'm not begging you for any—oh God, that feels amazing..." she gasped as I slipped my finger back over her clit, cutting off her defiance. She was right there. I could feel her throbbing with need, her body sucking at nothing, desperate to be filled.

I forced myself to stop as I parked the truck. The groan that tore from her lips was enough to almost make me forget everything and take her right there... almost.

"Come on, darlin'. Your room awaits," I said, cutting the engine and grabbing our bags.

She was already waiting for me at the front of the truck, waves of desire coming off her. "Who's in a hurry now?" I teased.

"Shut it and take me to bed before I spontaneously combust," she muttered.

"Your wish is my command," I said, gesturing toward the hotel doors.

It could've been seconds, minutes—who the hell knows?—but the desk clerk seemed to move in slow motion. I silently cursed time again for standing still when you wanted it to move the most.

"Here you are, Mr. McGraw," the clerk said finally, sliding the key cards across the counter. "Room 421. Do you need assistance with your bags or help finding your room?"

"Nah, we've got it," I said, already walking away with Stormy close behind.

The elevator dinged almost immediately after I hit the button, and I sent a silent prayer of thanks to the man upstairs. The doors had barely shut before I dropped our bags and slammed my mouth onto hers. Her back hit the elevator wall, and her hands found my body as mine explored hers.

But I needed her closer.

Lifting her thigh over my hip, I slipped my hand between her legs, finding her pussy again and thrusting two fingers inside. Her nails dug into the back of my neck, her teeth sank into my collarbone, and my cock ground against her through my jeans.

Hooking my fingers just right, I found that spot that drove her crazy.

"Don't you dare cum," I whispered against her ear.

"Matt, I—oh God, how am I supposed to—fuckkkk—hold back?" she moaned.

"You know what you have to do." I bit gently into the fleshy part of her ear.

"Fuck it. I quit. I'm begging you, Matt. Please! For the love of God, make me cum," she moaned. "I fucking need it."

"Not until we get into that room."

As if the universe agreed, the elevator dinged. Fourth floor. Perfect.

I released her leg and grabbed the bags, dragging her by the hand down the hall. When the first keycard didn't work, I growled, cursing the heavens. When the second one finally did, I muttered an apology and pushed into the room.

The door had barely shut when her hands landed on my chest, yanking my shirt apart and sending buttons flying.

"I've been wanting to do that since you showed up at my place," she said, admiring the skin she'd just exposed.

"And I've been wanting to do this."

I cupped her face and kissed her hard. My hands trailed down her body, leaving goosebumps. At the top of her dress, I slipped my fingers into the neckline and tugged. The fabric fell to her waist, revealing a white strapless bra her tits were barely contained in.

"You're so fucking beautiful."

Without waiting, she reached back and unclasped the bra, letting it fall away. Her full breasts were mine now—no more breastfeeding. I didn't care if there was milk left. Milk does a body good, right?

I lowered my mouth to her nipple, flicking it with my tongue before grazing it with my teeth. The sounds she made nearly undid me. Lifting her into my arms, her nipple never leaving my mouth, I carried her to the bed and crashed down with her.

She worked my belt while I worshipped her other breast, growling when the buckle wouldn't cooperate.

"Here, let me," I said, sitting up to unfasten it.

She didn't waste time. Her hand slipped into my jeans, wrapping around my cock. I had to count to ten not to come in her hand.

Grabbing her wrist, I pulled her hand away and pushed her back onto the bed, pinning her wrists above her head.

"Don't move. If you move, I stop."

"I won't," she promised. But her hips rolled, grinding against me.

"I seem to remember you begging to cum. And I'm starting to think you believe I'm all talk and no action."

"Oh, I know you've got action, darlin'," she said, her tone daring.

Pushing my jeans off and kicking off my boots, I asked, "Are you a fan of this dress?"

"Actually—hey!"

Too late. I fisted the fabric and ripped it down the middle. The sound was so loud it could've been heard from space. But the look in her eyes? That was everything.

Aligning myself with her entrance, I slid into her in one deep thrust. Her walls clamped down around me, trying to pull me deeper.

I started slow, grinding into that spot that made her unravel. Her nails dug into my back, leaving pleasure-pain marks I'd feel tomorrow. But I didn't care. I was too close.

Slamming into her harder, I gritted my teeth. "Need you to cum, darlin'."

And she did. Her body trembled beneath me, and I followed her over the edge, spilling every last drop into her.

Spent and breathless, I collapsed over her, wondering—again—if it would always be like this with her. Addictive. Earth-shattering.

I sure as hell hoped so.

When I could breathe again, I kissed her and whispered, "That was round one. Hope you're ready for more, darlin', because I'm just getting started."

"Bring it on," she challenged.

"Your wish..."

"...is my command," Stormy finished, grinning.

Stormy's POV:

Was it humanly possible to die from having too many orgasms in a short amount of time? And how many would it take for someone to actually die that way? Whatever the number, apparently, I hadn't reached it yet—because while I felt like I was floating up in heaven from the delirium multiple orgasms bring, I knew I was still alive.

I could feel his hands trailing over my body, his tongue making a lazy path from my belly button upward.

"Welcome back," he said with a smug look on his face, seconds before kissing me—a slow, lazy kiss that melted into my bones. "You were out for a minute there."

"Well, someone fucked me unconscious," I said, stretching and savoring the delicious soreness deep inside me. It was a feeling I was starting to get used to when it came to Matt. I knew for a fact I'd be walking funny tomorrow. I just hoped whatever he had planned didn't involve a lot of walking.

If I'm being honest, I'd be perfectly fine hanging out in this room all day and seeing if I could wring as many orgasms from him as he had from me.

Now... if only I knew the number.

"Well, you did beg me to make you cum. But you didn't specify how many times," Matt said with a cocky grin. "That was what—eight?"

"I lost count," I replied sleepily.

"I didn't," Matt said. "Think I can wring a couple more out of you before you pass out from exhaustion? Or are you already too tired?"

"I think I just need some sleep first," I murmured, a yawn slipping past my lips.

"Then sleep it is, darlin'," he said, lying down beside me and pulling me against him so my head rested on his chest. I draped an arm over his hips as I settled in.

"Goodnight, darlin'," he whispered.

"Goodnight," I echoed, sleep already pulling me under.

That night, I dreamt of a private island, white dresses... and a little boy with black hair running along the beach, laughing as he played with Sadie.