CHAPTER 22 #2
“You’re gonna give me more,” he taunted in a thick voice, his eyes glinting with challenge. “I know you’ve got it in you, Ophelia. Let it go. I want to feel you soak my cock, want to see you lose it completely…I want to drown in you.”
He pressed harder on my belly, thrusting deeper, his pace unforgiving, and I shattered—squirting hard, a gush of slick bursting out of me, soaking his cock, his thighs, the sheets in a hot, relentless flood.
“Fuck, yes,” he growled as he pulled out fast, grabbing the coffee mug from his nightstand and holding it under me to catch every spurt. I stared, dumbfounded, as the clear liquid dripped into the cup.
My thighs were shaking uncontrollably as I went limp, every nerve in my body buzzing.
Shock froze me as he lifted the mug to his lips and tipped it back, drinking me down in long swallows. His throat worked as he stared at me, a low moan escaping him as he savored it.
“You taste even better like this,” he rasped as he licked his lips before setting the mug aside with a clink.
“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna do that again for me. I’m not done tasting you.”
He flipped me onto my stomach with a rough tug, yanking my hips up until I was on my knees, my face pressed into the pillow, my ass in the air.
I was still shaking…dripping, slick running down my thighs.
Matty didn’t give me a moment to catch my breath, though.
He spread my cheeks wide, exposing me completely, and I gasped as his tongue dragged up my slit, lapping at the mess I’d made like he was starving for it.
“Every fucking drop,” he muttered against me in a muffled voice, his breath hot on my sensitive skin.
He licked deeper, and his tongue thrust inside me, scooping out every bit of my release. I moaned, my hips jerking back, pushing against his face, the sensation overwhelming as my clit throbbed from the attention.
His tongue didn’t stop there.
He moved higher, circling my ass and teasing the tight ring of muscle with soft, wet flicks that made me whimper and my body tense before I melted under his touch.
“Matty—” I gasped in a breaking voice. He just growled, though, one hand gripping my hip to hold me still while the other spread me wider. His tongue pressed harder, breaching me, licking into my ass as he tasted…claimed every inch.
The pleasure was intense and perfect as he continued to devour me, sucking and licking until I was screaming into the pillow.
“Fuck, you taste so good everywhere,” he groaned, pulling back just enough to speak as his lips brushed my skin. He slid his fingers inside me, curling deep to scoop out more of my slick so he could feed it back into his mouth.
He went back to my ass, licking harder, his fingers thrusting in and out of my core. The sensations were making me sob with pleasure as I pushed my hips against his face, desperate for more.
He ate me out like he was possessed, tongue and fingers working together, cleaning every drop, and leaving my body a mess of need and overstimulation.
“Gonna fill that mouth now,” he grunted, finally pulling away. His face was shiny with my cum as he slammed his dick back inside me, the new angle making me scream.
I fisted the sheets as his hands gripped my ass, spreading me open again as he pounded into me. The piercing dragged against my walls and somehow hit new spots.
The bed shook violently, my breasts bouncing against the sheets, my moans muffled into the pillow as his balls slapped against my clit with every stroke and sent me spiraling toward another edge.
I desperately met every thrust, taking him as deep as I could.
“Matty—please,” I begged brokenly. It was like I was on fire as another orgasm built fast.
He reached around and found my clit, rubbing in tight, ruthless circles as his other hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back so I arched for him.
“Come again,” he ordered. “I want you soaking me one more time before I feed you my cum.”
His fingers pressed harder, his cock relentless, and I was gone again, my walls clamping down, another wave of slick gushing out that soaked us both.
The edges of my vision went hazy…but he didn’t stop, fucking me through it, his growls mixing with my cries.
His pace only faltered as he neared his edge.
“I’m coming in that pretty mouth,” he snarled as he pulled out at the last second and flipped me onto my back with a rough tug.
“Open,” he ordered as he fisted his cock.
I did, opening wide with my tongue out, desperate for him. I reached for his thighs so I could pull him closer.
He came with a roar…thick ropes shooting straight onto my tongue, my lips, dripping down my chin, some hitting my cheeks, my neck, my breasts.
I swallowed greedily, the taste of him flooding me, salty and thick. My obsession flared as I licked every drop I could reach, my fingers scooping what landed on my face and sucking them clean with a moan as my eyes locked on his.
I wanted him to know how much I needed it. How much I craved him.
He collapsed beside me and pulled me into his arms. Our bodies were a mess of sweat and cum and my release.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he murmured, kissing my hair and my neck, his hands roaming my skin as he traced the mess he’d made. He smeared it across my breasts and my stomach like he was marking me all over again.
I curled into him, my body spent but buzzing.
His taste was on my tongue.
His cum was drying on my skin, inside me…everywhere.
The scent of us filled the room.
I was his, completely and utterly, and the thought sent a fresh wave of heat through me as I nestled closer, inhaling him…knowing I’d never want anything else.
I lay tangled against him, my cheek pressed to his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat steady under my skin. The room was quiet except for that sound in my ear…living proof that this was real.
But I couldn’t get something out of my head.
“I keep thinking I’m going to wake up,” I finally whispered when the thought threatened to choke me. “That this—us—is some perfect dream I don’t deserve.”
Matty’s arm tightened around me, his lips brushing my hair. “You’re not dreaming, baby.”
I smiled faintly. “That’s exactly what someone in a dream would say.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, and for a while, we just breathed together. My body should’ve been at peace, but my mind was already running back to places I didn’t want to go.
“Do you know who Ophelia was in literature?” I asked finally.
He went still beneath me, thinking. “Was she a Shakespeare character?”
I nodded. “In Hamlet. She loved him so much that when he broke her heart, she lost her mind. She wandered into the river in her gown, singing songs until the current pulled her under.”
Matty’s fingers traced up my spine. “That’s dark,” he murmured. “Why would your mom name you that?”
I laughed, but it sounded more like a sigh.
“That’s what I asked her when I came home from school after we’d read the play in class.
” I traced the edge of his ribs with my fingertips, trying to keep my tone steady.
“She told me she thought it was beautiful. That Ophelia was gentle and loyal, and she loved harder than anyone. She said the world broke her, but at least she never stopped feeling.”
I paused, staring at the wall in the dim light.
“But when I was fourteen, she told me the truth. She said she named me that because she almost died giving birth to me. She said she remembered lying there, hooked up to all the machines…realizing that what you love most can be the thing that kills you.”
My throat tightened. “She wanted me to remember that. That love isn’t soft—it’s sharp. It demands something back.”
The words still hurt, all these years later.
I didn’t tell Matty the rest—that right after that conversation, when she’d found my notebooks and the names I’d scribbled inside them, she’d said it again. You’re living up to your name, Ophelia. The love you think you have for those boys is going to drown you one day.
Maybe she’d been right. Maybe I’d always been standing at the edge, waiting for the river to take me.
Matty’s hand slid up to cradle the back of my head, his thumb tracing slow circles against my neck. “Then she never saw this,” he said softly. “Because what we have—it isn’t the kind of love that kills you. It’s the kind that keeps you alive.”
My chest ached so hard I could barely breathe.
I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he didn’t know what my mother had seen in me. But his eyes were steady, sure in a way mine had never been.
“And if this is a dream…” He leaned closer until our foreheads touched, his voice a low promise. “Then neither of us is ever waking up.”
I smiled against him, my eyes stinging.
Maybe the river inside me hadn’t been waiting to take me after all.
Maybe it had just been waiting for him.