away.
Nothing is stopping you from going to him now.
Her eyes snapped open. For a second her eyes darted around to see if someone else had actually made the comment. When she realized she was still alone, she sighed in relief.
But the bud of her femininity began to ache for fulfillment.
“I could go,” she whispered, warming to the idea. Heck, who said that she had to apologize in order to get laid? Hell, she didn’t even have to talk.
Chanté sucked in her bottom lip and nibbled for a little while. There’s the danger of Matthew thinking that sex would be some sort of peace offering.
The ache between her legs intensified.
Then again, I could correct him in the morning. Chanté liked that idea and bounded off the bed, in search of the perfect negligee to seduce her husband.
Chapter 7
After a half bottle of Jack Daniels, Matthew dreamed of his wife’s creamy thighs, firm breasts and perfect apple bottom. He tossed and turned and even smacked his lips while remembering her distinctive taste. The wanting, aching and longing had stripped him of his sanity.
No matter how many times he tried to think or concentrate on something else, Chanté’s teasing body would crystallize in his mind. If he thought about work, Chanté would materialize as a naked cue-card girl. When writing material for his next book, Chanté would be the naked girl on his Internet pop-up, asking him if he wanted to see her in action.
It was maddening...and a complete turn-on.
In need of relief, Matthew grabbed hold of his erection and tried to assuage the ache. Even at this desperate hour, his hand was a lousy substitute.
You could always go back and knock on the door again.
Matthew’s hand stilled. The thought had possibilities. But then he remembered how Chanté had turned him down the other night and how she closed the door in his face tonight. How many times could he face her rejection?
Knock. Knock.
Matthew remained frozen in the bed with his erection still throbbing in his hand.
Knock. Knock.
Buddy barked from his crate.
“Yes?” he asked sluggishly.
Instead of an answer, he listened as the doorknob turned and the heavy door creaked open. Pushing himself up, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect—an intruder, his wife, or an intruder impersonating his wife.
He waited until the curvaceous figure illuminated under the silvery moonlight. Even then he wasn’t sure he believed what he was seeing or if his old buddy Jack now had him hallucinating.
“Chanté?”
She glided toward the bed and pressed a slender finger against his lips. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to catch her meaning—and he was only too willing to oblige.
Damn it, it’s been five months.
Wait, his brain screamed. Something wasn’t right. Matt eyed her suspiciously. “Is this a trick?”
Again, she didn’t answer. Just gave him a slight shake of her head.
Matthew weighed whether to believe her. Then again, if this was a hallucination, what harm was there in having a little fun?
A bright smile bloomed across Matthew’s face and glowed in the moonlight. “Hey, baby. You finally decided to come pay Big Daddy a visit?”
Chanté frowned. “Have you been drinking?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. There’s no law against a man drinking in the privacy of his own home, is there?”
“Never mind. This was a mistake.” She turned.
Matthew hopped out of bed and clutched her arm. “Don’t go, baby. You know we’ve both been waiting for this for a long time,” he slurred.
She hesitated, giving Matthew all the confirmation he needed.
“Why don’t you give me a big, fat juicy kiss to seal the deal?”
Eager, both Chanté and Matthew leaned forward, only to bang their foreheads together.
“Ouch.”
“Oh. Sorry about that.” Matt fluttered a nervous smile before trying again. This time, their lips connected and their bodies sagged with relief.
However, when Matt leaned her back onto the bed, he’d forgotten about his laptop and piles of paper occupying the other side.
“Ow, ouch.” Chanté shoved him off.
“Oh, just a minute.” Matt pitched everything, including the laptop, over the side of the bed. “See? All gone.” He flashed another toothy smile and clumsily reached for her again.
Buddy barked.
“Shh. Buddy, be quiet,” Matthew warned. “You’ll scare my dream girl away.”
Chanté hesitated.
“Don’t worry, no more surprises,” he assured, patting the empty bed for emphasis.
After another beat of hesitation, Chanté decided to give it another try. She glided effortlessly into his arms and imagined herself cast into her own romance novel. But everything didn’t play out quite the way she’d hope.
Matthew grabbed for her like a starved man before an all-you-can-eat buffet. He fumbled and cursed while he tried to pry her out of her lingerie.
“Here, let me do it,” she offered before he had a chance to destroy one more thing of hers. Three snaps later, she chiseled on another smile and then lay back on the bed in all her naked glory.
That was when the real pawing began.
Matt’s once tender and caressing hands were now rough and forceful. Lips that once gave loving worship to her sensitive nipples now seemed determined to chew the damn things off.
“Easy. Easy,” she coached, wanting him to slow down and enjoy the ride. Instead, her husband skipped foreplay and went straight for the main attraction.
He entered with one mighty thrust and nearly split her in two.
What the hell?
Chanté gripped his bulging biceps and tried to hold on during the ride. However, she was nearly rendered senseless several times as her head was rammed into the headboard. Meanwhile, Buddy continued to bark his head off. This was like nothing she’d ever experienced before.
“Shh, Buddy. Shh, Buddy,” Matthew hissed in between his “Oh, Gods.” His hips hammered away while his eyes damn near rolled to the back of his head.
Chanté watched
