CHAPTER 13 #3
For a dizzy second everything rewired—and my head filled with the ridiculous, crystalline thought: So this is what it’s like.
My first real kiss.
And it was with him.
A tear slid down my cheek before I even realized I was crying.
Matty drew back, just enough to see me, his eyes flicking over my face like he couldn’t quite believe what he was looking at.
He reached up, his thumb tracing the path of the tear, catching it before it fell. For a moment, he just stared at the wet shine on his skin, then back at me…like the sight of it had knocked him off course.
“Please,” I whispered.
Something in him shifted…his softness snapping into hunger. His jaw tightened, pupils blown wide, and then his mouth crashed against mine.
It was fierce and unrestrained, stealing whatever air I had left. The world blurred around the edges, lost to everything but him. I followed his lead instinctively, clumsy at first, then desperate, matching the rhythm he set like I’d been made to find it.
He tasted like something dangerously close to home. Our mouths fit in a way that shouldn’t have been possible, like all the space I’d been saving inside myself had been carved for this, for him.
The kiss was all teeth and heat and need, like he’d been starving for it just as much as I had. I kissed him back, chasing the taste of him, my hands sliding under his shirt before I could think better of it.
My fingers met warm, solid skin, his muscles shifting beneath my touch, and for a breathless moment I just felt.
The strength. The reality. I’d imagined this for so long that the truth of it stunned me…
the impossible weight of him, alive and here, his heartbeat drumming against my palms like proof that this wasn’t a dream. It was too much.
A moan ripped from his throat, almost pained, like my touch hurt.
His kiss was a brand, his lips demanding, sucking my bottom lip, his teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp. My body arched, pressing against him, feeling the hard length of his cock through his jeans, already straining for me.
“Matty,” I panted, breaking the kiss, but he didn’t stop.
His mouth moved everywhere, frantic, like he was trying to map every inch of me with his lips.
He kissed the corner of my mouth, my cheek, the wet trail of another tear.
Then lower…across my jaw, down the column of my throat, open-mouthed and greedy.
He sucked at the pulse beneath my ear, teeth scraping, tongue soothing, marking me with every breath.
“Mine,” he growled against my skin in a ragged voice. “Every fucking part of you is mine.”
Something fluttered and twisted deep inside me, like my body already belonged to the words he’d just spoken.
He kissed my collarbone, the hollow of my throat, the slope where my neck met my shoulder.
He gripped my hips, and I gasped as he lifted me onto the counter in one smooth motion.
The edge bit into the backs of my thighs as he stepped in, fitting between my legs like he’d been there a thousand times before.
His lips never stopped, tracing heat across my skin, marking me in ways I’d never come back from…
like he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t taste enough, like every breath between us belonged to him.
He broke the kiss just long enough to growl against my mouth, “I have to taste you.”
The words didn’t register at first…until he sank to his knees, the quiet thud of them hitting tile snapping everything into focus.
Oh.
He meant that kind of taste.
The realization slammed into me, and my stomach flipped, my thighs clenching on instinct, but he was already moving.
His hands were shaking as he fumbled at my waistband.
Not the steady, practiced grip of someone in control.
No. This was a frantic need. His fingers slipped on the button once, twice, a low, frustrated growl rumbling from his chest as he yanked harder.
The denim caught on my hips, resisting, and he tore it down with a desperate jerk that scraped my skin and sent the button skittering across the floor.
My panties snagged with them, sliding halfway down my thighs before he hooked a thumb under the lace and pulled them the rest of the way. The fabric tore with a loud rip, but he didn’t even flinch.
Cool air hit me, and I gasped, legs trembling, exposed and bare beneath the weight of his stare.
The sight of me like that—naked, open, his—seemed to slam the brakes on him. His hands froze midair, chest heaving like he’d just run a sprint. For one suspended heartbeat, he just looked, eyes wide and dark, drinking me in like he was trying to burn the image into his soul.
Then he exhaled, shaky and reverent, and leaned back on his heels, his eyes fixed between my thighs like I was a fucking masterpiece.
His fingers traced the inside of my thigh first, slow and teasing, inching higher until they brushed my folds.
I whimpered, my hips twitching forward without my permission.
“Fuck,” he breathed, parting me gently with his thumbs, dragging them through the slick heat there.
I was dripping, swollen, every nerve screaming for more.
He circled my clit lightly, just enough to make my breath hitch, then dipped lower, coating his fingers in me.
“Such a pretty baby,” he murmured, sounding awestruck, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Look at you, all pink and wet for me. Perfect little pussy, just begging.”
My hands gripped the sink harder, knuckles white, as heat flooded my face and core. His praise wrapped around me like a vise, making me throb.
Matty’s gaze lifted to mine, holding me captive as he pressed one finger against my entrance.
“That’s it, sweet girl,” he whispered, pushing in slow, so slow I felt every inch stretch me.
“You’re so tight…and taking me so good already.
” The fullness made me clench, a soft moan spilling out.
He added a second finger, curling them just right, stroking a spot inside that lit me up like fireworks.
“Yeah, just like that. You’re doing so fucking good, Ophelia.
Feel how you’re gripping me? You were made for this. ”
I was panting now, hips rocking into his hand as he pumped deeper, his thumb rubbing firm circles over my clit.
The wet sounds filled the room, lewd and hot, every thrust of his fingers building that coil tighter.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he groaned, watching my face, my body, like he couldn’t get enough.
“You’re going to come so hard, baby. You deserve every second of it. Look at you…all mine.”
His words were as good as his fingers. That was all I wanted…to be his.
The pressure built fast, and I fell over the edge, shattering with a cry, clenching around him, waves crashing through me until I was shaking, boneless against the sink.
He didn’t stop until I was spent, and then he eased his fingers out slowly, the tips of them slick…with me. Matty licked them clean with a satisfied grin. “Good girl,” he murmured. “I knew you’d taste good.”
Heat flooded my face, a fierce blush burning from my chest to my ears. I couldn’t look away from him. My heart was hammering like it wanted out of my ribs.
His eyes flicked up, catching the flush, and that grin widened—slow, wicked, knowing.
“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped. “Blushing like that after coming all over my fingers? You’re killing me, Ophelia.”
His hands slid up my thighs, and he spread me wider. His thumbs brushed the sensitive skin just inside my hips, and I jerked again, oversensitive, another whimper slipping free. He held me down with one hand splayed across my lower belly, the other keeping me open.
“Stay still, baby,” he whispered. “Let me take care of you.”
His first lick was slow, flat-tongued, dragging from my entrance to my clit in one long, delicious stroke. My back arched off the counter, a broken sound tearing from my throat. He groaned against me, the vibration shooting straight through my core.
“Fuck, yes,” he growled into my skin.
He licked again, slower, savoring, his tongue swirling around my clit before sucking it gently between his lips. My hands flew to his hair and I tangled my fingers in the dark strands, pulling hard. He didn’t flinch…just hummed in approval, the sound rumbling through me.
“Matty—”
“That’s it,” he praised in a muffled voice. “Say my name. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
He flattened his tongue, lapping at me like he couldn’t get enough, like my taste was a drug. Every stroke sent sparks up my spine, my thighs shaking, trying to close around his head. He pushed them wider, pinning me open, completely at his mercy.
“So sweet,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to blow cool air over my clit. I cried out. “I love how you drip for me. I love how you clench when I do this—”
He sucked hard, teeth grazing just enough to make me see stars and forget for a second that he’d just said love.
My vision blurred, and my breath came out in desperate gasps.
He slid one finger back inside me, curling it, stroking that spot that made my toes curl.
Then another. He pumped slow and deep, matching the rhythm of his tongue.
“You’re so tight,” he groaned, pulling back to watch his fingers disappear into me. “So fucking perfect. Look at you…taking me so well. You were definitely made for this, pretty baby. Made for me.”
I couldn’t speak or think. All I could do was feel…his mouth, his fingers, his voice wrapping around me like chains I never wanted to be rid of. He curled his fingers harder, tongue flicking faster, and the pressure built again, faster this time, coiling tight and hot in my belly.
But then he moved.
His tongue dragged lower, past where I expected, tracing a hot, wet path down to my ass. The shock of it hit like lightning—intimate, forbidden, wrong in the best way. I squirmed hard, thighs clamping, a startled cry ripping from my throat.
“Oh—”
“Shh,” he soothed, his voice dark and intimate. “Relax, baby. Let me have all of you.”
He licked again, circling the tight ring of muscle, teasing, tasting. My hips jerked, half panic, half pleasure so intense it hurt. His hand on my belly pressed harder, holding me still.
“Fuck, you taste good everywhere,” he groaned, tongue pressing firmer, breaching just enough to make me gasp. “So responsive. Look at you—squirming for me. You love this, don’t you?”
I still couldn’t answer. The sensation was overwhelming…dirty, perfect, his. I wanted him to do anything he wanted to me.
I wanted him to have everything.
He licked back up to my clit, sucking hard, fingers thrusting deep, and the contrast sent me spiraling.
“Matty—please—”
“Come for me,” he demanded. “Come on my tongue. I want to taste it when you fall apart.”
He sucked my clit hard, fingers continuing to thrust, his tongue gliding back down to tease my ass one last time.
I shattered.
The orgasm ripped through me, violent and blinding. I screamed his name, back bowing, thighs clamping around his head as wave after wave crashed over me. He didn’t stop, he just kept licking, kept stroking, kept drawing it out until I was a sobbing, oversensitive, begging mess.
Only then did he slow, easing his fingers out, licking them clean again with a low, satisfied moan. He pressed soft kisses to my inner thighs, my hips, my trembling stomach, working his way back up.
When he finally stood, he pulled me into his arms, holding me tight as I shook. His lips brushed my temple, my cheek, my tear-streaked face.
“My perfect girl,” he murmured, almost worshipfully. He pulled me into him, lips colliding with mine again, his tongue sliding deep, letting me taste myself on him.
It was strange, shockingly intimate. Salty-sweet, warm, a little tangy, like skin and want and something I’d like to think was uniquely me.
Not just a flavor, but proof. Proof that he’d had his mouth on me, inside me, and now carried a piece of me inside him.
The thought hit hard, a dark thrill curling in my stomach.
He’d swallowed me. My essence was on his tongue, had slid down his throat…become part of him. I moaned into the kiss, greedy for more, licking deeper, chasing every trace like I could keep him there forever.
“You okay?” he asked as he pulled away, his voice soft and sweet.
I nodded, nuzzling against his chest, my whole body reeling.
He smiled against my skin. “Good. Because I’m nowhere near done with you.”
Knock-knock-knock.
“Yo, open up! I gotta piss!” a slurred voice yelled through the door, rattling the handle.
I jerked hard, heart lurching into my throat, thighs clamping shut on reflex. Matty didn’t flinch, though. He just smiled, lazily, like the guy on the other side didn’t exist.
“Occupied,” he finally called back calmly, his thumb tracing idle circles on my hip.
The banging stopped, and I listened as footsteps shuffled away.
I stared up at him. Does he do this all the time? The thought slithered in, cold and cruel, leaving a sting that spread through my chest. Hook up in bathrooms…make girls scream on a stranger’s counter?
It was actually something I wouldn’t know about, because I’d never followed him to a party before, too scared to go.
A terrible, twisted part of me didn’t care.
This time it’s me.
I knew it was unhealthy, toxic, wrong, but I was still burning, still coming down from the high he’d given me, and logic felt a million miles away.
All I could feel was the ache between my legs, the taste of him on my tongue…
the way he was looking at me right now like I was the only girl in the world.
And right now, that was enough.