Page 121 of Matlock
“Tony,” I gasped. “Fuck, Tony—”
He took me deeper, and my hands gripped his hair, my breaths coming in desperate pants as I tried to hold back my release. He pulled off me with a wet sound, his hand still stroking me. Then his tongue licked my balls. He sucked one into my mouth and my knees almost gave out.
“Tony,” I gasped. “I’m close. I’m so fucking close.”
His lips wrapped around my cock again, and he sucked me into his throat. His hands went to my ass, and he worked his finger into me, thrusting in and out. He hit the tender spot inside me—the button he knew would detonate my orgasm.
With a shout, I came in his mouth, my hand holding the back of his head in place, ensuring he took every fucking drop. His hands went to my hips, holding me up while he licked me clean.
He stood, and I reached for him, pulling at his clothes with desperate hands. He helped me, shrugging out of his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt, kicking off his shoes.
When he was finally naked, I took a moment to just look at him. He was beautiful. All hard muscle and scarred skin, a bodythat had been through hell and survived.
I reached out and traced the scar on his shoulder, the one from the motorcycle accident in Arkansas years ago. “I love you,” I said again, because I couldn’t help myself.
Tony’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he took my hand and led me to the bedroom.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Simon
We fell onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses. Tony’s hands were everywhere, stroking, caressing, claiming. I gave myself over to it, to him, to this moment that I knew would be our last.
He reached for the nightstand, pulling out the lube, and I watched as he slicked his fingers. He pressed one inside me, and I gasped at the intrusion, my body opening for him the way it always did.
“Relax,” he murmured, his mouth against my ear. “I’ve got you.”
He worked me open slowly, carefully, adding a second finger, then a third. By the time he pulled them out, I was trembling, my cock hard again, leaking against my stomach.
“Please,” I gasped. “Tony, please—”
He positioned himself between my legs, his cock pressing against my entrance. He looked down at me, and I saw the question in his eyes.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, Tony. Please.”
He pushed inside me slowly, inch by inch, and I felt myself stretch around him. It burned so fucking good, a familiar burn I welcomed.
When he was fully seated inside me, he paused, his forehead resting against mine. “Fuck,” he breathed. “You feel so good. You always feel so fucking good.”
“Move,” I urged. “Please, Tony. Move.”
He pulled out slowly and thrust back in, setting a rhythm that was slow and deep and devastating. Each thrust made me see stars, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling himdeeper.
“Look at me,” Tony demanded, and I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me. “I want to see you. I want to remember this.”
I held his gaze as he moved inside me, and I saw everything in his eyes—the love, the regret... the desperate need to hold on even as we were letting go.
“Simon,” he gasped, and my name on his lips felt more like a goodbye.
“I’m here,” I said. “I’m right here.”
He kissed me again, and this time it was soft, tender, filled with all the things he couldn’t say. His hand wrapped around my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts, and I felt the pressure building inside me.
“Tony,” I gasped. “I’m... I’m gonna—”
“Come for me,” he said. “Let me see you.”
And I did. I came with a cry, my body arching off the bed, my release spilling over his hand and my stomach. Tony followed moments later, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself inside me.
