Night Owl (The Night Owl Trilogy #1)

Night Owl (The Night Owl Trilogy #1) Page 13

"Mm, fuck," I hissed. "Good baby, fuck. That's exactly how they bounce and shake when I fuck you. It makes me want to fuck you harder. Are you getting wet showing off for me?"

"Yes," she whispered. Her eyelids fluttered.

"Let me see the toys."

Hannah pulled two black boxes onto her lap and fumbled with the lids. She displayed the toys one at a time.

I had gotten her a large plum-colored waterproof vibrator, the largest one LELO sold, and a small high-powered clitoral stimulator. As Hannah handled the larger vibrator, she stroked her fingers over it.

"You like it?" I said.

"Matt, it feels so incredibly silky. I don't even know how they can make something feel this luxurious. Oh, and it has a ridiculous number of speeds and settings. And this little one? The vibrations are so strong!"

Hannah's blush darkened. I reached into my boxers, glad she couldn't see me doing it.

"So, you already played with them?"

"No! Er, not like that. I tested the speeds."

"Good. You'll use them for the first time now, with me watching. You're keeping them, Hannah. They're yours, but I'm going to get a lot of pleasure out of them. Position your laptop so I can see your pussy. Get out of your shorts and panties. Let me watch."

While Hannah was busy positioning the laptop and shimmying out of her shorts and a thong, I pushed off my boxers and squirted lube into my palm. I glanced at my cock. It stood stiffly from me, nine thick, smooth inches for which I didn't thank God often enough. I tensed as I began to spread the cold lube along my shaft.

On the screen, I watched Hannah struggling to position her laptop. She spread her legs and I got a beautiful shot of her pussy, open like a rose and glistening.

"Damnit," I whispered. "Look how wet you are, you gorgeous slut. I love the color of your cunt."

I heard Hannah moan softly. She closed her legs a little.

"Spread them," I snapped. "Spread your legs for me. Are you embarrassed? Are you embarrassed to know I'm staring at the most private part of your body? God, look at it Hannah."

"Yes," she admitted quietly.

"And you like it, too. You like how filthy I am. You like it when I embarrass you."

"Yes."

I laughed. Hannah's vocab dropped radically when we got intimate. I loved it. She turned from my silver-tongued sparring partner into my docile minx.

With a shudder, I remembered that I was recording this video call.

"Slip that vibrator into your tight body, Hannah. Work it in. Don't use any lube. You shouldn't need any, you're so wet. Turn it on."

I stroked my cock and massaged my sac as Hannah tried to maneuver the phallic toy into her sex. I watched her lips spread around it.

"Nn... too big," she murmured.

"Get it in," I snarled. "I'm bigger than that, and I'll be fucking you tomorrow. Do it."

"Oh, Matt, Matt..."

I forced myself to jerk off slowly. I could have come then and there, watching Hannah wriggle the vibrator into herself. She kept pulling it out and then pushing it deeper.

"Look at you, fucking yourself with it already. A girl and her toys..." I smirked. It felt good to be cruel, to mock her at moments like this. "Faster, Hannah. What do you need to get off, hm? Something inside or just something on your clit?"

She shoved the vibrator in deeper, turned it on, and began to fuck herself with it.

"Ohhh," she groaned. "B-b... both, I... I need both."

"Ah, god." I let myself moan. "You're making this so good for me Hannah. It feels so good. I knew you needed both. You love to have my dick inside of you, don't you? You need it."

"Yes, god yes," she panted.

"Hannah, baby, you make it easy for me to come. Use the other toy on your clit. I'm going to watch you come. Make it good, make a big mess and I'll go easier on you tomorrow. Tomorrow I'm going to teach you a lesson. I wanted to fuck you in the Dynamite Club and you sucked me off, you filthy girl. Couldn't wait to get your mouth on my cock, could you?"

I couldn't stop the dirty talk spilling out of me. Damn, I really was depraved. All I knew was that arousal worked on me like a drug. It took my mind and body to another plane.

"Let me see it," Hannah pleaded as she sped up the vibrator inside of her. She added the smaller toy, fitting it against the hood of her clit and dialing up the speed.

She began to gasp and writhe. I couldn't tear my eyes off her tight sex clamped around the vibrator.

"Please," she rasped. She fiddled with the setting on the toy inside. I heard its two motors firing in a fast alternating rhythm.

"You want to see my cock Hannah? Look at you, playing with your toys. How's that setting, are you making it pulse? You want me inside, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, please, yes."

My hand worked furiously. I wanted to wait for Hannah, but I didn't know how much longer I would last.

"Look what you do to me," I gasped. As I angled the webcam down at my lap, I felt a fringe of the shame Hannah must have been feeling. It was so intimate, to let her see me pleasuring myself.

"Matt, fuck," Hannah moaned. "I'm coming, god... oh god."

At that, I stiffened in my office chair and grabbed a tissue just in time to come into it. Holy fuck, had seeing my cock pushed Hannah over the edge? As pleasure tore through me, I watched Hannah squirm and clutch her toys, fluid spurting around her fingers.

What an incredible orgasm.

We laughed as we cleaned up and came down.

I stopped recording the video call and pulled on my boxers. Hannah lounged on her belly, propped up on her elbows. She hadn't bothered to fix her cami. Her bust rested on the quilt. It was beautiful to see her looking so relaxed; I only wished she were in my bed.

"Hey," I said, smiling and sinking into my office chair.

"Hi." Hannah smiled. She was a goddess wearing nothing but her glasses. "So Matt, where are you going to have your way with me tomorrow?"

"At my place," I said, "If you'd like to see it."

"I'd love to."

"Good. You going to be busy at all?"

"Not by the time you get off work," she said. "I'm sure I'll have some work from mom. It won't take me long. I should probably spend some time looking for a real job."

"I'll take a day. I'll pick you up around noon. Will you be free then?"

"I should be, yeah."

"Good. Hannah, have you ever thought about a career in publishing?"

"Seriously?" Hannah laughed and tousled her hair. The longest pieces reached to the middle of her back. I wanted to yank on those dark curls while I spanked her. "That would be my dream job, hence the English and business double major. It's so tough to break into though. I can't afford to do an unpaid internship right now."

I paused before speaking.

"Mm. I'll keep that in mind. I have a few connections in the city."

"Matt, if you don't stop doing me favors, I'm going to start feeling like a kept woman."

"Hey, I like the sound of that. I'll keep you tied to my bed and let you suck on me when you're hungry. What do you think?"

Hannah giggled and bunched up a pillow beneath her chest.

"I'd smack you with this if I could," she said. She stifled a yawn. Fuck, she was precious. "Oh, hey. Will you do me a favor Matt?"

"Anything."

"This is easy. Just repeat after me. 'It was nice talking to you, Hannah. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.'"

I gave her an incredulous look.

"Don't give me that look. I'm trying to teach you this mysterious skill, one that you seem to lack. It's called how to say goodbye."

I smiled and rubbed the back of my neck.

"What are you grinning at?" she said.

"I never want to," I said.

"What? Never want to what?"

"I never want to learn how to say goodbye."

I closed Skype and then closed my eyes, laughing into the silence of my apartment.

CHAPTER 12

Hannah

"YOU HAVE PLANS for the Fourth?" Matt asked as we drove through the city. He'd arrived at my house at noon sharp and stood by his car waiting for me. I got the definite impression that he was avoiding my family—or humanity in general.

He looked edible, as usual.

He wore a light pair of charcoal gray slacks and a pale dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I felt reasonably sure his shoes were Ferragamos, though I wasn't about to ask, and the timepiece on his wrist could have doubled as an anchor.

I, on the other hand, was wearing a tiny yellow sundress from Macy's. Excellent, I probably looked like Matt's niece.

I was carrying my big slouchy purse because Matt had insisted I bring the sex toys. God, I had to find out what this guy did for a living. He dressed like sex, drove the sexiest car I'd ever been in, and bought me the Cadillac of sex toys without blinking.

Besides, it was starting to feel weird to have these repeated intimate encounters with a man who was still so much of a stranger.

"The Fourth?" I said, trying to peel my eyes off his bare forearms. "I don't think so. We can see one of the shows decently well from our deck. I guess we'll do brats and hamburgers, that's all we usually do." I had honestly forgotten about the Fourth of July, along with everything else in the world, thanks to Matt. "What about you?"

"No plans."

"You have any family around here?" I said, watching his face.

Matt kept his eyes on the road. Nothing changed in his expression.

"No, not around here. Two brothers on the east coast."

"Brothers? That's cool. You guys get along? Are they older or younger?"

I wanted to fire a zillion questions at him.

"This place is good," Matt said. We had pulled up near a Mediterranean deli. Conversation over.

After lunch, Matt took my hand and began dragging me along the sidewalks of Denver with trademark impatience.

"Matt," I huffed. "Short legs over here."

"Don't I know it." He winked at me.

We stopped suddenly outside a midsized corner building. Stylish landscaping drew my eyes toward a statue near the stairs. It was a stone wing jutting up from a small fountain.

No. Way.

I looked to the lettering engraved above the doors.

The Granite Wing Agency.

"Matt, what are we—"

He didn't hear me. He'd moved off a few feet and was on his phone. I heard him laugh.

"Yes," he said. Then, "Right, right. I didn't want to deal with your secretary. Oh, moving down in the world?"

After some more banter and a terse laugh, Matt dropped the phone into his pocket. He took my hand and led me into the building.

I was babbling wildly. I don't think Matt was listening, though he smiled down at me from time to time. Was it his smile making my knees weak, or being inside the agency rumored to represent M. Pierce?

And the M. Pierce rumor was only a footnote to the agency's reputation. Pamela Wing and her partner, Laura Granite, represented some of the biggest names in literary fiction. They were notorious for calling talent in the air and cutthroat in their negotiations. Oh, and they ruthlessly poached writers from other agencies, all from their humble Denver hub.