Chapter 18 Matteo #2
Her hands move lower, shoving my shirt off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap.
Skin meets skin now, her breasts crushed against my chest, the friction making her moan softly.
I unhook her bra with one hand, the clasp giving way easily, straps sliding down her arms. She shrugs it off, and I take in the sight, breasts freed, full and round, nipples erect and flushed, begging.
I palm them both, squeezing gently, rolling the peaks between thumb and forefinger, tugging until she arches, head falling back, hair spilling like dark waves down her back.
The room fills with her soft whines as I pinch harder, then soothe with my mouth, lips closing around one nipple, sucking deep.
She tastes salty-sweet, skin warmed from the day, and I graze my teeth over the sensitive bud, pulling a cry from her that shoots straight to my cock, throbbing now against the confines of my pants.
My free hand slides down her stomach, fingers dipping into the waistband of her skirt, but I pause, teasing the soft skin just above her mound, feeling the fine hairs there, the heat building.
She bucks against my hand, seeking more, but I withdraw, spinning her instead, pressing her back to my chest. My arms wrap around her, one hand cupping a breast, kneading, the other trailing lower, over the skirt's fabric, cupping her through it.
"Bed," I murmur against her ear, voice rough, nipping the lobe.
She nods, legs unsteady, and I guide her forward, skirt swishing against her thighs.
She sinks onto the edge of the mattress, quilts bunching under her, and looks up at me, eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted.
I kneel between her legs, hands on her knees, spreading them wide, her skirt riding up to expose pale thighs, the shadow of her panties beneath.
Black lace this time, sheer enough to hint at the dark curls underneath.
I lean in, nose brushing the inside of her knee, inhaling her scent.
My lips follow, kissing up the path, open-mouthed, tongue darting out to taste the salt on her skin with long, flat strokes that make her thighs quiver.
Higher. My teeth scrape the sensitive flesh midway, nipping lightly, then soothing with a suck that leaves a faint red mark blooming.
She grips the quilts, knuckles whitening, breath hitching as I reach the hem of her skirt, pushing it up to bunch at her waist. Panties exposed fully now, the lace damp at the center, clinging to her folds.
I nuzzle against it, nose pressing into the wet fabric over her clit, breathing deep.
"Fuck, you smell so good," I groan, voice muffled, and she moans, hips lifting toward my face.
But I hold her down, hands firm on her thighs, spreading her wider.
My tongue presses flat against the lace, rubbing in slow circles over her clit.
She writhes, hands flying to my hair, tugging, but I capture her wrists, pinning them to the bed on either side.
"Stay still," I command, low and rough, and release one wrist to hook my fingers in her panties, yanking them aside.
Her pussy comes into view—pink, swollen, lips parted and glistening, clit peeking from its hood, throbbing.
A bead of wetness trickles down toward her ass, and I catch it with my tongue, licking from bottom to top in one long, slow stroke, ending just shy of her clit.
She sobs out a “please”, but I ignore it, circling her entrance instead, tongue tip dipping in shallow, fucking her with quick thrusts that make her walls flutter but never satisfy.
Juices coat my chin, dripping down my neck, and I lap them up greedily, humming low.
The vibration makes her legs clamp around my head.
I pry them open again, thumbs spreading her lips wide, exposing every inch.
Her clit pulses, begging, and I blow on it and make her jerk, a fresh gush spilling out.
"So wet for me, Lila. Dripping like you need this tongue inside you.
" I plunge deeper, tongue curling against her front wall, mimicking a cock, in and out, sucking her folds into my mouth one by one, nibbling gently until they're puffy and slick.
Her breaths come in pants now as her hips begin grinding against my face, chasing the pressure.
I feel her building, muscles tensing, that telltale flutter around my tongue.
Close. Right on the edge. And I stop, pull back completely, lips hovering, watching her pussy clench on nothing, hole winking emptily.
"No," I say, standing, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, her eyes snapping open—wild, frustrated, pupils blown.
She reaches for me, but I shake my head, stripping off my pants and kicking them aside.
My cock springs free, hard and thick, veins standing out, head leaking precum in a shiny bead.
Her gaze drops to it, tongue darting over her lips, and she shifts forward on the bed, but I push her back gently, climbing over her, knees straddling her hips.
"Not yet. I want you begging." My mouth finds her breasts again, sucking one nipple hard while my hand slides between her legs, fingers teasing her slit—two dipping in shallowly, scissoring, curling just enough to brush that spot inside but not press.
Her wetness coats me, the sound filthy in the quiet room.
She moans louder and arches up, free hand clawing at my back, nails raking over old scars, sending sparks down my spine.
I build her again, fingers thrusting deeper now, thumb circling her clit in tight, relentless loops.
Her walls grip me, fluttering, breaths turning to sobs and body coiling tight like a spring.
She's there, teetering, clit throbbing under my thumb.
I stop, withdraw my hand, slick fingers trailing up to her mouth.
"Taste," I order, and she sucks them in, tongue swirling around each digit, eyes locked on mine, filthy and obedient. The sight nearly breaks me. My cock twitches, smearing precum on her stomach.
I shift lower, rubbing the head along her folds, coating myself in her juices, pressing just the tip into her entrance, then out.
Teasing fucks, shallow and maddening, making her hips buck wildly.
"Please," she whines, voice breaking, "fuck me, I need your cock inside me.
" Nails dig into my ass, pulling me closer, and I grin down at her, dark, hungry.
"Beg louder." She does, words tumbling out in a rush, desperate.
I thrust in then, deep and sudden, burying to the hilt, her tight heat enveloping me like velvet fire.
She screams, legs wrapping around my waist, heels digging in.
I hold still a moment, savoring the stretch, the way her pussy pulses around every inch, milking me already.
Wetness drips down my balls, soaking the quilts.
Then I move—slow at first, pulling out almost all the way, watching her lips grip my shaft, reluctant, then slamming back in, hips meeting with a wet slap.
The rhythm builds, relentless, her breasts bouncing with each drive, moans filling the room—oh, God, yes, harder.
I angle my hips, grinding against her clit with every thrust, feeling her climb fast. She's close again, body tensing, cries peaking. “I'm gonna…”And this time, I let her.
"Come on my cock," I growl, teeth sinking into her shoulder, pounding deeper, the head battering her depths. She shatters, pussy clamping down in spasms, juices squirting around me, soaking my thighs.
The vise of her pulls me under. I thrust deep, coming hard, hot spurts flooding her, pulse after pulse until I'm drained, grinding through the waves.
We stay locked, breaths ragged, sweat-slick skin sliding.
But the fire simmers, not spent. I pull out slow, watching our mixed cum leak from her, thick white trails down her ass.
She whimpers at the emptiness, but I flip her onto her stomach, ass up, knees spreading her wide.
"More," I say, slapping her cheek and watching it jiggle, pinken under my palm.
She pushes back, moaning, and I kneel behind, spreading her cheeks, tongue diving into the mess, lapping our cum from her folds, tasting the salty cream of us mixed with her tang.
My nose buries in her ass, inhaling deep, one thumb pressing her tight rear hole.
She bucks, climbing under the assault, but I edge her again, stopping as she tenses, standing to rub my hardening cock along her crack—teasing pussy, teasing ass. "Which one?" I murmur, and she begs.
“Pussy, please!”
I slam in from behind, deeper angle hitting new spots, her ass rippling with each thrust. One hand fists her hair, pulling her head back, arching her spine. The other reaches around, fingers pinching her clit. She's sobbing now.
"Come," I command, slapping her ass again, and she explodes with her walls crushing me, dragging my release in endless ropes, filling her overflowing.
We collapse, tangled in quilts, her head on my chest, breaths syncing in the afterglow.
The night outside presses cold against the window, but here, heat lingers.
She sleeps fast, like rain stopping. I don’t.
The room is still warm with us. The window is a square of darker dark, the city humming under it. I rinse my mouth, button my shirt by feel, lace my boots without turning the lamp on. My jacket smells like smoke and cold air. It helps.
My phone is face down on the table. No names, just numbers that don’t call twice. I slide the safety off and lay the gun on my thigh. Not paranoia. Pattern.
The streetlight flickers, gives the alley a heartbeat.
A stray cat noses a tipped can, skitters when a scooter ghosts by.
Headlights drag along the far wall, slowly, like someone reading a line twice.
I count. One. Pause. Two. Then nothing. I lean back, chair against the wall, and watch the slice of street like it’s a door someone forgot to close.
If they come, they’ll come easy—late, careless, thinking the night does their work for them. People like that always do.
Behind me, she breathes the long, heavy way sleep makes you. The sheet whispers when she turns, a sound I feel in my teeth. I could go back. I could lay a hand on her hip and pretend the world is small enough to hold.
I stay where I am. The radiator ticks. A bottle cap on the floor glints and goes dull. Somewhere, a siren lifts and fades. The car that passed doesn’t come back. Another one does, slow again.
The mattress rustles. Her breath changes—lighter, questioning.
I don’t look over. The glass holds my shadow, shoulders squared, collar closed, knuckles quiet around steel.
In the dark behind me, Lila wakes. I sit in the chair by the window, dressed, eyes on the street, waiting for whoever thinks they can find us here.