I WASN’T USED TO making promises to anyone. My niece, however, was the exception to the rule. One look into those pretty green eyes, or hearing her soft voice say Uncle Matt—I’d rob a bank, go on a jewel heist, or steal precious artifacts from any museum. Okay, so I wouldn’t do those things for real.
Nothing and everything made sense all at once, a contradiction of epic madness. No expectations, I wasn’t prepared to hear those words from Tinley. So it was even more surprising that I promised to give her what she wanted. At present, I wanted to stay in this bed all day—maybe every day until I had to be on a plane. My assistant could oversee the movers and handle the task of packing up my apartment.
I didn’t know what time it was, all I knew was that the sunlight had shifted its position in the room. Holding her in my arms, Tinley slept peacefully. I had zero desire to move, unless it was to pin her beneath me and fuck her again.
Nothing about what happened between us last night seemed like it should be shelved into the “casual friends” category. The truth that I’d be leaving in a few days was a glaring reminder that Tinley and I would be in different time zones. Knowing my track record for long distance relationships it was only fair to both of us.
Tinley stirred, murmuring something incoherent in her sleep. It had been a long time since I was the guy who stayed the night. More surprises. There was no way one night, one weekend, or even one week was going to be enough with Tinley. An adorable sigh dropped from her lips, and my dick snapped to attention on cue. On a moan, she stretched her limbs like a sleepy kitten.
I rolled Tinley off me, and then positioned myself between her legs. My tongue circled her clit, and her hips stirred. I nipped her skin, alternating kisses between her thighs. Teasing her, my breath fanned over her impossibly soft skin. Her arousal filled my senses, my dick hardening to the point of pain.
She arched against my mouth, and my tongue circled her clit once more. I was rewarded with a raw moan. It was beautiful and perfect. Wrapping my lips around her clit, I sucked harder. Looking up, I found her watching me, her teeth sinking into her plump bottom lip.
Dragging my tongue through her slit, she cried out, and I slipped two fingers inside. Tinley moaned and shifted her hips. Her nails scratched against my scalp.
“Oh, Matthew, please.”
Twisting my wrist, I thrust deeper. “I love hearing your moans, beautiful,” I groaned against her skin. “Tell me more.”
Tightening her grip on my hair, she rubbed her gorgeous pussy against my face. My shoulders spread her legs further, I tongued her hard, licking inside her. Pleas and whimpers slipped from her lips between airy moans. My senses were overloaded, and her body was a live wire, everywhere I touched her prompted a reaction. I pulled her clit between my teeth, pumping my fingers deep inside her, hitting all the right spots.
“Matthew, your mouth . . . fuck, oh fuck . . .”
I withdrew my fingers, and pinned her hips against the mattress. Dragging my tongue through her wetness, and then over her clit, her fingers tugged my hair. Moans and whimpers bounced off the walls driving me crazy with need. I licked and sucked until she came against my tongue.
“Fucking spectacular.” I sat back, ripped open the foil packet that was in reach, and rolled the condom down my cock.
I cupped her ass, angling her body and sliding my cock through her wet folds. Tinley gasped, and churned her hips, as I pushed inside. Spreading her wide, we rocked together finding a natural rhythm. Sighs and hums vibrated throughout the room. Moaning my name, her head dropped back onto the pillow.
Sliding my thumb over her clit, her eyes snapped up to meet mine with a blistering heat. “Oh, Matthew . . . what are you doing to me?” she groaned, clawing at the sheets.
Enthralled with her question, I glanced at the unison between us and I stared at my cock pumping in and out of her with piston like strokes. Carnal thoughts ran through my mind, which amped me up. That was all it took for me to lose control. My hips crashed against hers, as I drove into her, feeling her walls tightening around my cock.
I pushed up, and stared into her eyes. “I want to watch you fall apart, Tinley.”
Her body tensed and twisted. Screaming my name, she came. Leaning forward, I gripped the fabric of her headboard for support as my orgasm charged through my body. Once I regained focus, I rubbed my sweat-slick forehead against her stomach. For whatever reason, I had a primal need to mark her with my scent.
Wrapping myself around her, I held her against me, kissing every inch of her that I could reach.
“Okay,” she breathed. “I need a break from your cock.”
“What?”
“You’re the first man”—she covered her face with her hands—“I’ve been with in months. My thighs, my girly parts, my muscles in general need some ibuprofen and a hot towel.”
I wanted to laugh, only because she was completely adorable. Instead, I offered, “I’ll massage your thighs if you want.”
After breakfast, Tinley and I drove into East Harbour to purchase what she referred to as, “manly essentials.” She continued to be adorable as she ticked off the items on her checklist. Deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, shave gel, razors, lotion, and a toothbrush. I went about picking out the styling products for my hair while she went on a search for ibuprofen and a heating pad.
God, it’s me, Matt. If you’re listening, please let her pains subside long enough for me to slide inside her promised land at least one more time before I leave.
If anyone was judging me for that prayer, they should think about the last time they had sex and how many times they called out the Lord’s name.
I made my way to aisle five. There she was bent over an endcap. Her ass perfectly on display in a pair of denim shorts and the smooth expanse of her shoulder exposed from where her white t-shirt had fallen down. And those long legs, fuck my life. Fuck. My. Life.
“All set?” Tinley asked, giving me a bright smile.
“Yes.”
“Me too. Next stop, Midland Denim Company. We’ll get you some suitable threads—shorts, tees, denim of course.”
I dumped my items into the basket she was carrying. How long was she planning for me to stay? This was very unusual for someone who just said that they had no expectations. Or maybe she just wanted to shop.
“How long before you leave?” she asked, setting the basket onto the counter. Was she reading my thoughts?
“Well, the movers are packing up my things Tuesday. I’m scheduled to be in Montana on Wednesday afternoon.”
“Oh, okay.” She didn’t look at me.
There was a long silence. No words came to mind. I didn’t have to be back in New York today or tomorrow even. I wanted . . . needed one more night with her.
After the cashier handed her the receipt she folded it up and shoved it into her purse. “Well, I have to be on set Tuesday morning, perhaps I can give you a lift.”
“I have my Range Rover, which is still at the Polo Club.”
She laughed. “Yeah, we should pick that up today.”
“How about you drive me out there after we go shopping?”
We walked along the sidewalk to her . . . her car. Her car? She has a driver. She has a car of her own, right? It occurred to me that Tinley might not have a car or a driver’s license for that matter.
“Midland Denim Company, please, Jared,” she said, as she settled into the backseat.
“Very well, Miss Atkinson,” he answered, and then the partition lifted giving us privacy.
“Do you have a car?”
Her brows knitted together. “Uhmm, you’re sitting in the backseat of my car.”
I chuckled. “No, I’m asking if you drive yourself.”
“Nope, I don’t have a license. What would be the point?”
My head fell back against the seat. “Oh, that’s just wrong.”
She laughed, which I was grateful for because I could have easily offended her. “I know it’s odd. Trust me, I know. Holliday gives me hell about it all the time, but I never needed a car of my own. I always had a way to get from point A to point B.”
I scratched my chin. “Are you telling me that you’ve never been behind the wheel?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Max would let me drive his car once in a while during those summers we’d spent here.”
“Tinley, as an auto enthusiast, I beg of you—let me teach you how to drive.”
“I know the basics.” She sighed and leaned across the center console. “I suppose at twenty-eight, I’m long overdue to learn that skill.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket, and punched in the code. Scrolling through my apps, I tapped the photos. “Look at this piece of machinery. Would you like to get behind the wheel and hit the open road in this beauty?”
“What kind of car is that?” she asked, taking the phone from my hands to get a closer look.
“That’s a 1965 Corvette, just look at those lines.”
She ran her finger over the screen. “It’s beautiful, I love the green color, is it yours?”
I felt my smile grow wide. “Yeah, she is all mine and that paint color is called, Glen Green. In ’65 the biggest change was the four-wheel disc brakes . . . but, this design made it a true American sports car in my opinion.”
“I can see myself driving down the coast with a headscarf and chic cat-eye sunglasses like Grace Kelly.”
“That’s the spirit. I’ll let you drive the Range Rover from the club back to your house.”
A sharp laughed spilled from her lips. “Okay, just remember what you’re getting into here.”
“You’ll be fine,” I reassured. “I’m an excellent teacher.”
She glanced at me. “I’m looking forward to your lesson.”
There was something a little wicked in her tone. Something told me this was going to be a very interesting afternoon.
Tinley checked the mirrors for the tenth time. She was stalling, but I didn’t mind, despite the fact that the clock was ticking on the day. And as desperate as I was to get her back into bed before our time together ran its course, I savored this time. Plus, she would never forget who taught her how to drive.
“Tinley,” I said, glancing over my shoulder and scanning the parking lot. “There’s not a soul in sight. Well, except for the horses grazing in the pasture and I don’t think you need to worry about them passing you.”
She sighed and her shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Okay, okay, you’re right.” Her hands wrapped around the steering wheel and she took a deep breath. Pulling forward from the parking space, she looked left and then right again.
“Go ahead take your foot off the brake, you got this.”
With caution, she pulled out of the spot, guiding us towards the gravel drive that led to the main gates.
“Good job! Look at you, you’re driving.”
Her eyes remained forward. “I feel so silly being this nervous,” she replied, shaking her head.
“You’re doing great,” I reassured. “You can give it a little more gas. Don’t push too hard.”
Her shoulders relaxed as she eased through the gates and then onto the main road. To put her further at ease, I flipped on some soothing music, keeping it low so that she could concentrate. The jazz channel seemed like a good choice.
“In five-hundred feet make a left onto Harbour Street.” The GPS piped through the speakers.
We coasted along the road. Tinley kept the speed between thirty-five and forty miles per hour, getting a feel for how the Range Rover accelerated.
I studied the GPS, because I didn’t know how to get from the club to her home.
Looks like we are both on an adventure.
“In two miles make a left onto East Harbour Drive.”
She jostled slightly, her right hand slipped from the steering wheel.
“The GPS comes on frequently, announcing your upcoming turns. You get used to it after a while.”
She smiled, and glanced up into the rearview mirror. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. Averting my eyes from the dashboard to the side mirror, a red Lamborghini came into view. This fucker was approaching way too fast for the forty miles per hour speed limit.
To help ease her mind, I opted for the humorous approach. “Okay, Tinley, this douche canoe has decided that he doesn’t need to obey the law. So ease your foot off the gas and slow down. He’s got plenty of room to pass you.”
The guy was on his phone, and waving his hand in the air. Clearly agitated, he was no Sunday driver. Tinley slowed her speed to thirty-five miles per hour. The guy hit the gas, sped around us, and in true douchebag fashion, he flipped us off.
“And here I thought East Harbour was a classy place,” I remarked, turning my attention back to Tinley.
She laughed. “Oh, we have our fair share of city dwellers who come here to show off how much money they have for sport.”
“In two hundred feet turn left onto East Harbour Drive.”
The GPS guided us past a few local hot spots including Nancy’s Diner, to which Tinley explained they had the best French toast on the East Coast. She pointed out a few of her favorite places which led us onto a long winding road with the ocean coming into view.
“In two miles make a right onto Goodwood Road and arrive at destination.”
I huffed a laugh, glancing at the dashboard. “You live on Goodwood Road?”
“Yep, it’s long with impressive views,” she joked.
I stared out the window at the waves of blue crashing against the shore. It was an ideal surfing day, and there were plenty of surfers taking advantage. Before I knew it, we were pulling into her driveway and I was staring up at the greyish, traditional East Harbour cedar shake siding.
“Home sweet home,” she announced, turning off the engine.
I stared at her for a beat. “Tinley, you just drove us back to your place like you’d been driving your whole life.”
A wide smile crossed her lips. “I totally did, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did.”