Matchmaker 09: September

He met my gaze, but there was no fire in his, just like when I first arrived. "I want you to."

"Not good enough! I told you I wouldn't be placed second behind anyone or anything, not another woman, not your fucking airplane, and damn sure not Phillip Bentley! If you want me to stay, then it's time you man up and prove to me I'm more important to you than your fucking plane!"

"You are! You know you are!"

"Am I? Doesn't look like it from here!"

"What do you want from me?" he demanded, his voice hardening.

"I want you to get mad! I want you to tell your father to fuck off! I want to know that you're willing to fight for me! Most of all, I want you to fucking live for yourself!"

He glared at me for a long moment. "I'm so sick of everyone telling me what to do!" he roared as he jumped to his feet.

"Yes!"

"Why can't everyone leave me the fuck alone and let me live my own fucking life?" he bellowed, his face twisting in rage.

"Yes!" I cried again, excited to finally see some passion.

Outside the bedroom I'd never seen him mad or passionate about anything. Even when he was making love to me, I often felt he was holding back. He was a fantastic lover, attentive and giving, always making sure I was well satisfied, but sometimes he seemed more focused on the technical aspects of pleasing me than the giving of himself.

He glared at me again. "You're just as bad," he snarled. "You're always telling me what to do or how to act!"

His words hurt because I was trying to help him, but the fact that he was objecting was progress. "So what are you going to do about it?" I challenged. As watched, I could see the anger fading from his face. The walls were going up again. "Come on!" I snarled. "If you don't like me telling you what to do, then tell me to stop! Get mad! Tell me to go fuck myself!"

His face hardened again as he glared at me. "No. Not you. Dad. He doesn't control me. If I want to take a month off, then I will. If he doesn't like it, he can go fuck himself."

"Yes!" I cheered again. "Nobody owns you. Not me, not your dad, not anyone!"

He stood, breathing hard and flushed with anger. "This is my fucking life! Mine! I'll live it as I want!"

"And if I, or your dad, or anyone else doesn't like it they—"

"They can go fuck themselves!" he snarled, talking over me.

"That's right!"

"Fuck him! Fuck him, fuck my grandfather, and fuck anyone else who tries to tell me what to do!" He held my gaze, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he panted. "I get to decide how I live!"

"That's right! They have no hold over you! None! You don't owe anyone anything!"

He continued to stare at me. "Yeah. Fuck 'em," he muttered and paused, his eyes narrowing. "As for you, you don't have to fuck yourself because I'm going to do that for you," he rumbled as he closed the two steps to me.

My own passions were running high, but having him bear down on me with his face and eyes so hard was both frightening and exhilarating. He'd always handled me gently, but this time he grabbed my hair and hauled my head back before taking my lips in a torrid kiss. I'd never been kissed as he kissed me then, his need for me flowing over and drowning me like a raging river. I gasped out of the kiss, my breath stolen by its power. He released my hair as he took a half-step back, grabbed my shirt, and violently ripped it open, the buttons flying about the room like shrapnel.

I yelped in shock and surprise at his violence, his need, his passion fueling my own. He picked me up and buried his face between my breasts, his lips and tongue caressing my skin as his hands kneaded my ass, his erotic violence raising my heat even higher. He turned and dumped me onto the giant leather couch, following me down, his lips never leaving my flesh. He pulled back, jerked his shirt over his head, and threw it aside before roughly removing my bra.

He was being rougher with me than any lover I'd ever taken, manhandling me, dominating me, but not truly hurting me. He'd frightened me when he'd jerked my head back, and again when he'd ripped open my shirt, but as I realized I wasn't being hurt, his aggression drove my desire higher than it had ever been. Like in the Peregrine, the tickle of fear enhanced the experience.

He kissed me again, a hard, lust-filled kiss as his bare chest pressed into mine. I moaned into the kiss, pulling him tight as I pushed up with my hips, grinding my womanhood into his taut, rippled stomach. He broke the kiss, his breathing hard and fast as he jerked my jeans and panties down, growling in annoyance as he wrestled with my shoes, throwing them away before ripping my pants the rest of the way off and adding them to the pile on the floor.

He rose to the kneeling position, one knee between my legs, the other braced on the floor as he stared at me, his face still hard. I felt another tickle of fear. He was so much larger and stronger than me, he could easily hurt me, but I knew he was a good man and I could trust him. He pulled back and stood as he slowly began unbuckling his belt and removing his pants, his eyes never leaving mine. I held his gaze, refusing to look away, wanting to keep him focused on me and not lose this moment. He shoved his pants down and stepped out of them, his cock proudly erect and clearly announcing his arousal. As he kicked his pants aside and toed off his shoes, I was so glad we'd gotten the condom situation sorted because I didn't want anything breaking the mood. He'd pulverized the walls he'd built to protect himself, and I wanted to give him no chance to stop, think, and rebuild them.

After tossing his glasses onto the pile of clothes, he settled between my legs, lining himself up with one leg on the couch and the other on the floor as he eased the tip of his cock into me, then slid himself deep in a single, swift insertion. There was no love, no tenderness, only need. I wailed softly with his passage before I pulled his lips to mine for another torrid kiss as I surrounded him with my legs and locked my ankles. He held himself deep as our tongues dueled, our breathing hard and fast with passion. I was as out of control as he was, my passions linked to his, and I fucking loved it!

He began thrusting, slowly, deeply, his kiss increasing in intensity until he pulled his lips away with a gasp and began nuzzling my neck as his hands slid behind me to hold me tight. I tried to move, but I was wadded into the corner of the couch, trapped by his weight. I groaned as I strained against him, but he was too big, too strong, and my forced immobility excited me even more.

He was doing nothing he hadn't been doing to me every night, and most mornings, for the past two weeks, yet it was completely different. I no longer sensed he was holding back, that he was calculating when he was going to switch to a new position or a new technique. For the first time I felt he was truly with me, lost in the moment, giving and taking pleasure in equal measure.

He pulled back from my neck and gently mauled my left breast before taking my lips in another passionate kiss. He began thrusting harder, faster, pounding into me, an orgasm igniting and swelling until it consumed me. I wailed softly as I was overwhelmed by a torrent of pleasures, my climax lighting me up, every nerve in my body singing in pleasure as he held himself hard and deep, one of his hands behind my head as he held our foreheads together and gazed deep into my eyes.

"Fuck..." I sighed as my rapture washed out of me. I hadn't come that hard in a long time.

He said nothing, his gaze intense as he began moving again, his cock plunging deep, touching me as I wanted to be touched, caressing me as I wanted to be caressed. I placed my hands on his face, my touch prompting him to kiss me again, and Goddamn could the man kiss!

He pulled back from his kiss, his breathing as hard as his eyes. He'd never looked at me with such lust, such desire, and the intensity of his stare excited me. "You're mine," he snarled as he ground his cock hard into me. "You're mine and I won't let my fucking father drive you away."

"No," I whispered, his words thrilling me.

"This is my fucking life. Mine! If I want to spend time with you, I will. If I want to fuck... you... I... will," he growled, punctuating each word with a savage thrust of his hips before stilling them again and holding himself deep. "What I do is none of Dad's fucking business."

Another orgasm was coming. "None," I whispered.

He kissed me again, and impossibly, it was even better than the previous kiss. As our tongues danced, he began fucking me with passion, slamming into me hard and fast as he held me tight. I began to wail, shredded by the pleasures of man and woman, my inability to move increasing the intensity of my climax. The pleasure was too much and I began shoving at him as I cried out my rapture, desperate to be free of the overwhelming pleasure.

He fell away, his cock popping out of me sending more erotic lightening skittering along my nerves. He tumbled to the hard, wooden floor, pulling me with him. I was still recovering from the hardest orgasm of my life as he fell to his back and crushed me to his chest, his cock searching as he slowly thrust until he slipped inside. He began fucking me slowly, one hand wadded in my hair as pulled me into a kiss, his other arm across my back holding me down.

Slowly he began to increase the power of his strokes. I pulled back from his kiss, gasping and panting, trying desperately to catch my breath. He gently clasped my head between his big strong hands and forced me up so that I was propped against his forearms. He fucked me harder, then harder still, his face stern, his eyes unblinking as he fucked me harder than I'd ever been fucked, but I wanted even more.

I gripped his arms, locking us together as we engaged in erotic battle, our teeth bared in feral snarls. I would fight for this man and I wouldn't let his fucking father take him from me.

"I'm going to come," he grunted. "You're going to make me come."

Hearing the strain in his voice and seeing the passion on his face excited me more than any man I'd been with, and I could feel another orgasm stalking me.

"No," I whispered. "Not yet. I want you to come with me."

His head tipped back as his face twisted in ecstasy as he moaned. "I can't..." he gasped before he stopped his thrusting hips and pushed in deep, his muscles taut as he battled against his orgasm. I began pumping my hips, his struggle against the pleasure I was giving him exhilarating me. "Wait! Wait!" he barked as he suddenly released me. I wasn't able to catch myself in time and fell to his chest as his hands grabbed my ass and pressed me firmly down on his cock. I kissed him, hard, as he held me down, until he slowly relaxed. "Fuck," he growled. "You almost made me come."

I smiled, pleased that I was the cause of him nearly losing control. "Oh, I'm going to make you come," I murmured, my lips close to his, "but you're only going to do it when I tell you."

With a sexy growl, he tossed me off his cock, dragged me to my feet, and shoved me backwards onto the couch, handling me with no more difficulty than he would a bag of feathers. I opened for him and he settled between my legs, one leg again on the couch and the other braced on the floor as he drove into me with a snarl. His hard, fast insertion made me cry out again, not in pain, but in pleasure and excitement. For the first time since I met him, I felt like he wasn't holding part of himself back.

He glared down at me as he pounded into me, his face slowly twisting with rapture. He was beginning to sweat, the soft sheen of his flesh twisting me up even more. A deep rumble began in his chest, slowly rising in volume with the power and speed of his fucking until he bellowed in effort and passion before barking out a gasp as he slowed his pounding hips.

I was going to come, my orgasm rising in step with his passion. "Don't stop!" I snarled. "I'm going to come! Don't stop but don't come!"

He threw himself over me, pressing me into the cushions, his arms going around me to hold crushingly tight, but I wanted him to hold me tighter. He fucked me for a long moment before he reared, his back arching as his face twisting in erotic torment.

"I'm going to come!" he growled.

"Not yet!"

"I can't hold it!"

"I'm going to come! Don't stop! Please don't stop!"

With a growl, he grabbed my hands and pinned them to the thickly padded arm behind my head before he began pounding into me furiously. "Fuck! I'm coming! You're making me come!" he snarled, his hard, pounding thrusts becoming erratic and disjointed.

He released my wrists and fell over me again, wrapping me in his arms and burying his face in my neck as he filled me with his essence. Even as he battled his orgasm, he fucked me, his soft groans and hisses of pleasure as he desperately tried to finish me, the snip that cut the thread holding back my orgasm.

I mewled softly as I wrapped him in my arms to draw him down tighter, adding my strength to his. We clung to each other, writhing softly in bliss, before relaxing together with a long sigh. He held me, panting into my neck as my hands slowly roamed his back.

"Please don't go," he murmured, his breath warm and soft on my neck. "I want you, I need you. I can't do this without you."

I gently chewed on my bottom lip, struggling not to cry. "I'm right here," I whispered.

He seemed to be in no hurry to move as he held me, his embrace as gentle and warm as his breath on my neck. I placed a hand on his head and held him until long after he'd softened and fallen from me, willing to hold him as long as he wanted me to.

"Roger! Stop!" Azumi shrieked, laughing as she crouched to run again, her hands gripping the arm of the sofa.

I feinted right, lunged left when she committed to running in that direction, and then went right again as she tried to reverse her direction. I chased her halfway around the sofa before I caught her, pulled her to me, and then kissed her lustily as I transferred some of the chocolate she'd smeared over my lips and chin back to her. After a moment she stopped struggling, and we slowly cleaned each other up.

We sighed out of the kiss, her eyes bright and full of life. "You're a naughty, naughty, boy, Roger Bentley. I may have to send you to my room."

I grinned down at her. "You started it."

"I'm thinking about starting something else."

"What about the pie thing you were making?"

She grinned. "Maybe we'll take it with us..."

I had a raging hard-on already from the kiss, but the thought of us smearing each other with the creamy, gooey chocolate, and then licking one another other clean, made me ache with hardness. She seemed to have a thing about food. This was the third time she'd smeared something on me or herself. The first time was when she was making poi, the second time she'd coated my lips with butter and then kissed them clean, and now this, smearing chocolate from some sort of wide spoon across my lips. After I recovered from my surprise, I'd reached for her, but she'd danced away, and then the chase was on.

In three days, Azumi would be returning to Honolulu, but I tried not to think about her leaving too much. These past two weeks had been the best two weeks of my life, despite everything that had happened.

The day after I spoke to Dad, my grandfather called. As expected, he was outraged that I was wasting his money and my time on something as frivolous as a holiday. After a heated argument, with Azumi quietly listening in, he made it clear he was cutting off the money. I was done living by their rules and I told him I didn't care, and I didn't need his damned money. After I hung up, Azumi dragged me to the bedroom and attacked me, riding me to the bed, before positively fucking me stupid. The first time Dad called she was hanging on the headboard as I fucked her from behind, the second time she was riding me like a cowgirl, and the third time we were wrapped in a sweaty pretzel as we sprinted to the finish. We ignored the phone, allowing it to ring each time, our cries of passion drowning out its trill.

I wasn't dead broke, but I couldn't live off what little I had left for long. I didn't care about that either. I'd find a job, or I could sell the Peregrine if I had to, but I knew I wouldn't starve or be thrown out on the street. I didn't need much, and most of what I needed was right here in my arms.

"I'm game if you are," I murmured.

She smiled up at me and purred her soft, seductive growl that never failed to make me hard. "I'm thinking instead of having a haupia and chocolate pie for dessert, maybe I'll have a chocolate covered Bentley instead."

"Maybe I'll have a chocolate covered Mah."

"I like the sound of that."

I paused, but decided she was serious. As our time drew short, our sex was becoming more and more passionate and adventurous. "So, we're going to do it?"

She smiled, pulling my lips to hers. "Oh... yeah."

I sighed out of the kiss. A month ago, I'd never considered taking a woman to bed and covering her in chocolate while making love to her, but such was the change in my life. I'd gone from more miserable than I understood to happier than I believed possible, and it was all because of this amazing woman I was holding in my arms. The only dark spot was it had to end.

Last week I'd taken her to Bear Peak, high in the mountains, after an overnight snowfall at the higher elevations. So early in the season, there was only six inches of snow, and it didn't last long before it became a sloppy mess, but we'd left early and Azumi had an opportunity to experience snow for the first time in her life. We'd made snow angels, built a small snowman, and engaged in a snowball fight. During one of her snuggles into my chest to warm, I'd asked her to stay with me. She'd turned me down, but it was a very soft rejection. It was the answer I expected, but I was still disappointed. I hadn't mentioned it again, but in the week since, she was becoming ever more snuggly, seeming to crave my touch as much as I needed hers.

"If you were to stay with me, I could cover you with chocolate every night."

She softened, an almost sad smile touching her lips. "I wish I could."

"Why can't you?"

"I have my career back in Honolulu, and soon you'll be busy with your wing and traveling all the time."

"I don't care about that. Not anymore. All I care about is you."

She slowly shook her head. "That's not true, you know it, and even if it were, I wouldn't want it to be. I don't want to change who you are, and I don't want to take you away from your life's work. I want to share your life, not change it."

"So share it with me. Come home with me."

She touched my lips with her finger. "You know I can't."

"Why? Why can't you design clothing in San Francisco? It has to be at least two or three times bigger than Honolulu. You'd have a larger market and—"

"Because my shop is in Honolulu. Because that's where my name is and where people know me."

"But—"

"Shhh..." she whispered, touching my lips again. "Let's not spoil our last few days together worrying about and arguing over what can't be."

"Azumi, I need you. Without you I... I... I don't have anything."

"That's not true. You've changed so much in the last month. All you—"

"That's because of you! You've made me a better person, a happier person, but once you leave—"

"That's not fair," she complained.

"I'm not trying to guilt you into staying. I'm—"

"It sounds like it."

I shook my head. "I don't want you to stay for me. I want you to stay for you, for us. I want you to be with me, but I don't want you to stay because you feel guilty, or obligated, or anything else." I held her gaze for a moment as I took her hands into mine. "I just got out of that hell and I wouldn't wish that on anybody. I don't want you to stay because you feel like you have to, I want you to stay because you want to."