Matt's apartment is on the other end of town. It's a small, ramshackle thing. For the first time in a long time, he's almost ashamed to be bringing a woman up to his room. The elevator doesn't work, and they have to take the stairs.
Thankfully, his young friend doesn't seem the least bit bothered by the peeling wallpaper or the dank smell in the air. “It's charming,” she says, after a botched and half-formed apology on Matt's part. “I think it's real charming.”
“I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not.”
Victoria looks surprised. “Why wouldn't you?”
“Most people say it to be sarcastic,” says Matt, with a laugh. “You seriously didn't know that?”
“I don't get out very much,” says Victoria. “And I'm not really from around here.”
“I can tell from the accent. England, right?”
“Close.” Victoria smiles at him, wringing her hands together nervously while he fiddles with the key to his apartment. The front door has several gouges in the wood near the bottom, like an animal tried to get inside.
Matt catches her staring. He laughs and says, “The neighbor's dog got out of her apartment last winter. It spent, like, four hours out here trying to get inside. The place is sort of a mess.”
Victoria gives him a soft little smile. “I'm not over here to see the place.”
“Oh, so you do have something in mind?”
Her cheeks burn hot and red. The blush spreads out over her neck, stains the back of her knuckles. Victoria's naturally pale skin flares up and she laughs, but the sound is too loud to be anything less than nerves. “Maybe? I guess it depends on what you have in mind.”
“A lot,” says Matt, pushing open the door to his room. “I have a lot in mind.”
The apartment isn't a complete wreck, but it's far from clean and nice. A window air conditioning unit has been wedged into one of the windows, and pieces of wood have been duct taped up on either side to try to help keep the cold air in. Piles of dirty laundry have been sorted out next to the television stand.
It's Matt's turn to laugh. He rakes a hand through his messy hair. “Laundry day's coming up. I always put it off to the last minute, you know?”
Victoria doesn't, but she agrees anyway. “It's always rough.”
The conversation turns stilted. Victoria knows nothing about living outside her royal quarters, no matter how much she longs to be free, to go get a dorm at fashion design school. It's more apparent than ever that this isn't her life, that it will never be her life.
Matt takes the sudden lack of conversation as nerves. He gets a hand on either side of Victoria's waist. “You don't do this very often, huh?”
Victoria bites her bottom lip. She shakes her head. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only when you're looking.”
“And you are?”
“Honey, I've been looking since you first walked into that bar. Everything from that pretty face down to that lovely, little ass of yours has held my attention. All I want from you is to get my hands up under that skirt and really look you over. I bet you're beautiful without anything on.”
His words send fire through Victoria's veins. Her hands are trembling and she tries to hide that reaction by looping them around Matt's neck, running fingers through his hair. It's slightly greasy, like he hasn't washed it in a while. The wind is still clinging to his skin, adding an otherwise undeniable layer of freshness to the rest of the night.
Slowly, Victoria stretches up onto the tips of her toes—an awkward feat considering her choice of footwear—and presses a kiss against his chapped lips. They taste like nicotine, and it takes everything Victoria has not to giggle.
She's never smoked before, but she's always sort of wanted to give it a try.
Right now, secondhand seems to be almost as good.
What starts as a chaste kiss quickly changes. Matt is overpowering, overwhelming. He kisses like it's the only thing he knows how to do, until his breath is twisting in Victoria's mouth, until she feels so small that the entire world seems painless.
Her eyes flutter shut, only to snap back open when one of Matt's hands moves to rest on her ass. He gropes her through her dress, fingers rough and unyielding, even though the kiss seems almost tender.
Teeth nip at her lower lip. Victoria gasps, and Matt takes that opportunity to delve into her mouth. His tongue swipes over her teeth, her gums, and her cheeks, like he's trying to taste every part of her. Victoria cannot stop the moan that bursts from her, fingers tightening in Matt's hair.
Then, suddenly, she's not standing on the ground anymore. Matt's picked her up, one arm under her ass, one around her shoulders. It seems to be no effort at all for the biker to carry her. She finds herself slammed up against the wall of the living room. Dust rattles off the shelf above her head and clings to her lashes.
She tries to blink it away but fails. There's no chance to brush it away, either, because Matt is ravishing her mouth again. This isn't sweet. This isn't tender. But it still makes Victoria think, this is it, this is the one.
With the wall helping support her, Matt has no problems letting go of his grip on her shoulder. Instead, he presses his hand against the side of Victoria's face, drags his palm down until he's able to wedge a thumb between her painted red lips.
“Fuck, look at you. I bet this mouth of yours is going to be just perfect.”
It's hard to get the words out. Hell, it's hard for Victoria to even breathe. “Perfect?”
“Mhm.” Matt slips his thumb into her mouth, hooking it against her cheek and tugging at the flesh. “It's going to look great wrapped around my dick.”
Victoria moans. Her tongue rubs against Matt's thumb. Again, her eyes flutter shut. They stay that way until she's pulled away from the wall. Staggering steps carry her into Matt's bedroom, where she promptly finds herself in a heap on the floor.
Her pale blue skirt flows out around her. Oddly, Victoria is reminded of a day, not too long ago, where she sat in a position much like this for a photo shoot. Her hair had been pulled back, then, rather than caught up in the windswept mess that it is now.
“Matt?”
He grins down at her, this self-assured smirk that goes right to her loins. “All right. Let's see if that's actually going to look as nice as I think.”
“What?”
“You've sucked dick before, right?”
Victoria hasn't. She nods anyway. She shifts closer to the edge of the bed where Matt has made himself comfortable. Trembling fingers rise up to toy with his fly; the sound of the teeth unhooking from each other seems almost like thunder.
“I can do this,” says Victoria, more to herself than Matt. She's painfully aware of the fact that her motions are sharp and almost sloppy. It's not like she doesn't have access to the internet at home, but it's hard to find time to herself to watch more of the erotic videos that she really enjoys.
And, of course, there's something different about seeing a cock on the screen of her computer versus seeing one in person, right there by her face. It makes her heart beat too fast, like it's trying to wrench itself out of her chest.
Each thud is louder than the next. Victoria cannot think past the sound. She runs her fingers down Matt's length, almost reverently, then takes him in a loose grip. She glances at him from under her thick lashes. He looks more expectant than anything else.
A blow job.
Right.
Victoria tells herself, You can do this, and she wraps her lips around the flared head of his cock and sucks.