Home > Night Owl (The Night Owl Trilogy #1)(10)

Night Owl (The Night Owl Trilogy #1)(10)
Author: M. Pierce

"Okay going now bye!" Hannah waved frantically at me and hauled her sister back toward the house.

I waved and then sat motionless behind the wheel.

What the hell...

The night had been surreal, but Hannah's crazy sister beat all. I was laughing as I pulled away from the curb. In a way, I was grateful for Chrissy's interruption. I didn't know if anything else could have pulled me from Hannah.

When I got home, I refreshed Laurence's water and went straight to my desk.

Sleep could wait.

My latest project was open on the computer screen—a pseudo dystopia titled The Surrogate. Until Hannah, the writing was going really well. Even though I had never written science fiction (in fact I hated the genre, until this story got hold of me), I knew The Surrogate could turn out to be my most important work.

But the novel could wait.

I minimized Word, opened Firefox, and navigated to lelo.com.

I had some shopping to do.



I FROWNED AT the list I was supposed to be preparing for my mother.

Geez, she hadn't been kidding about delegating some of her work, but did I have any say in when I started? Evidently not, because I could have picked a better day.

I'd slept in until 2 p.m. and woke up horny. I remembered dream fragments—Matt's strong arms pinning me to him, the urgent press of his head to my slit—and for a panicked moment I thought I might have dreamed the whole night.

But I hadn't. I felt the ache in my back and limbs thanks to sex in Matt's car and sex in a lumpy field. Plus, when I staggered into the main area of the basement, Chrissy immediately assaulted me.

"Morning sunshine!" Chrissy and Jay were playing the PS3. She tossed her controller. "Are you going to tell me if you banged that babe yet? Because if he's just a friend, I would reallllly like his number."

I glared at her. The thought of Matt with my sister—the thought of Matt with anyone, actually—made my hands tighten into fists. Still, I knew Chrissy wasn't Matt's type. Chrissy was too abrasive; Matt was too bossy. Watching their interaction that morning was like watching a cage fight, and given enough time, I think they'd go Highlander on each other.

"He's mine," I announced. "Um, sort of. He's also seven years older than you."

"Hey, there's a manther in all of us!" Chrissy called as I left the basement.

Okay, I had forgotten the PS3 and Xbox360 in the basement. So much for privacy. Then again, I didn't plan on bringing Matt into my room. Not for... not for sex, at least.

My skin tingled pleasantly and I hummed as I made my coffee. Not for sex, who was I kidding? I'd f**k that guy in a coat closet.

My thoughts drifted back over all the ways he'd touched me. My ass, my br**sts, my sex. God, I loved the way he handled me, like he had a right to my body. Like I was his. I loved his voice, demanding, dictating, demeaning, and, in the end, desperate.

That had to be my favorite part—hearing Matt go crazy.

I need to come. Baby I need to come.

I wished I could wield a little feminine power over him.

Too bad I turned into a total ditz in his presence. I had to work on that.

I shuffled into the office.

Dad must have unpacked and set up my desktop before leaving for work. I frowned when I saw it. First my bed, now the computer. I had to do some unpacking before dad did everything for me. I felt like enough of a mooch just moving home.

I had to show my parents that I was going to be productive. In other words, I had to be useful around the house, start looking for a job, and not lunge into the first shitty relationship that came my way.

So... going out for drinks, staying out all night, getting laid, and sleeping in until 2:00 p.m. was an awesome start to my bum summer. Ugh.

Guiltily, I picked at the work mom had emailed. She needed every bit of this. She worked part time as a nurse, part time from home doing transcription, and she was still paying off loans for her nursing degree.

Maybe when she tried to pay me I would refuse the money.

I wondered how long I could gas my car and pay for food with the seven hundred dollars in my checking account. And what was I going to do about insurance?

It took me two hours to complete the simple tasks mom had given me.

Too much daydreaming.

I opened my email and cracked my knuckles, grinning like an idiot. Now I could write the next installment of my collaborative story with Matt. God, I missed this.

Lana and Cal were making camp by a river in the middle of nowhere. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part, but I thought I could feel the sexual tension building between our characters. Would it weird Matt out if this turned into smut?

Well, if it did, he was tactful enough to segue to the fluttering curtains—or the fluttering field grass, in this case.

Mmm, the field. I spaced for a moment as I remembered the way Matt stared at me when I sprawled on his blanket and bared myself to him. With looks like his, he couldn't possibly be sex starved—but he'd looked starved. Starved for me.

Suddenly the office felt hot. Damn.

I began to write.

I moved Lana and Cal summarily through a campsite routine—hitching the horses, building a fire, spreading the bedrolls—and then I focused on Lana. She was sore from riding and grimy with the dust of the road. The river looked cool and dark, swirling gently in a deep pool. She unpacked a lump of soap and began to undress as discreetly as possible.

After she slipped into the river and cast a glance back at Cal, I sent the paragraphs to Matt. An email from Matt appeared almost simultaneously. I couldn't help but smile as I noticed he'd used a different email account. His main account, by the look of it.

Subject: Frostypants

Sender: Matthew R. Sky Jr.

Date: Monday, July 1, 2013

Time: 5:32 PM

Hi Hannah,

We'll do dinner at 8ish. I'll pick you up at 7. I need to be inside of you.


* * *

I wilted in the office chair. Fuck. There is was again, that crazy sexy candor.

Get on your hands and knees. I'm going to take you from behind.

Not to mention the bossiness. It should have annoyed me—this wasn't a gentlemanly invitation, it was an order—and yet I felt giddy. I could see Matt again. I could make sure he was real and that this was actually happening to me.

And maybe this time I could act like the smart, confident woman I was, not the blushing brainless mush of last night.

I spent the next hour and a half prepping. I unpacked a few boxes of clothes, showered and shaved, borrowed some of my sister's perfume and makeup, and dressed in a short strapless blue dress. Underneath, I wore a strapless gray pushup with creamy trim and a matching thong. At the last minute I threw on dangly earrings and a silver bracelet.

Matt arrived promptly at seven. I peeked at him from a front window. He stood leaning against his car, looking bored.

Holy. Fuck.

He wore pale gray slacks and a crisp white dress shirt. His wild hair was wet and pushed back. As I studied him, he glanced at his watch, then smirked toward the house.

Fuck, he looked right at me! I lurched away from the blinds. So uncool right now.

When I went out to meet him, I thought I saw his cocky smirk falter. Success! Maybe. It was hard to tell. Matt's smirks came in flavors—two parts kindness, one part wicked amusement, a little lust in the mix. Oh, and one hundred percent smug bastard.

Matt moved to meet me and I thought he might grab me and start groping my ass again. I wanted him to, even if Chrissy was watching from her window. Matt looked edible in dress clothes.

Instead, he hugged me gently and kissed my cheek. The air went out of my lungs. Oh lord, the way that shirt tucked into his slacks, showing off his trim hips. I caught a whiff of cologne.

When he opened the door for me, I nearly fell into his car. Déjà vu.

"There's a place in Boulder I like," Matt said as he drove. He stared ahead, serious and unsmiling. Totally unlike the man who'd driven me for hours through the nighttime prairie. "The Number Nine. Great food. I hate formal stuff, but what the hell."

I frowned at him.

"So what, you're just doing this for me?"

"Sure." He glanced at his iPhone. "I figured you'd like a meal."

"Well that's kind of shitty Matt," I snapped.

"Excuse me?" He was scrolling through his Pandora stations and driving too fast, with an unnerving amount of inattention. He didn't even look at me.

"I'm not some idiot girl you have to wine and dine before f**king. God, I'm sorry you feel the need to endure a nice dinner with me."

Matt chuckled. What a prick!

"Hannah, I enjoy eating." He'd settled on music. I recognized The Lumineers. Of course this jackass had great taste in music. "And I'll enjoy eating with you. I only meant that formal things... make me uneasy, okay? Don't worry, we'll do something I really enjoy afterward."

He reached for my hand. I held it stiff on my lap for all of three seconds.

"I love when you're feisty," Matt murmured. He pulled my hand onto his lap and pressed it against his thigh. Oh god, oh god, not again. I felt my ability to articulate myself gliding away. "You look amazing, Hannah. I know you want to get f**ked, wearing a dress like that. I'll deliver, don't worry. I held back last night, but not this time. You're bad to wear that. I love it."

Matt slid my hand a little closer to his c*ck and left it there. He was watching the road with a stony expression. He reached over and squeezed one of my br**sts, slipping a few fingers into my cl**vage. I heated from head to toe.

"Matt," I squeaked. Cars were passing us and we were passing them, and I knew people must have seen Matt with his hand on my breast.

"What? This is what you want, Hannah. Don't try to deny it. You want to be used. I'm enjoying you, little bird. God, I love your body..." He shifted in his seat. The music seemed to dissatisfy him and his hand left my breast to switch to a dubstep station. Then, as if it were nothing, he retook my breast and wriggled his fingers into my cl**vage again.

We rode most of the way to Boulder like that. When I tried to inch my fingers closer to his cock, he brushed my hand away and started to tease me. He said he wasn't surprised I wanted to touch his cock. He pushed his fingers into the cup of my bra, pinched my nipple, twisted it, and held it that way.

"Nn... no," I gasped, but I didn't try to stop him. Why? I was getting so turned on I'd started to worry about leaving a wet spot on my dress.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay," he soothed. "Don't fight it. I'm going to f**k you so hard tonight. Just think about that."

I closed my eyes. My nipple was quickly going numb, but Matt kept readjusting his fingers, twisting it tighter and pinching it to keep stimulating the nerves.

I was in a daze by the time we parked and walked to the restaurant. I couldn't understand how Matt kept his cool. Fuck, I wanted to drive him insane tonight. What happened to my feminine power?

At least he couldn't tease me in the restaurant. I would use the time to refocus.

The No. 9 was small and dimly lit, and I could tell right away that it was crazy expensive. Matt had made reservations.

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.

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