CHAPTER 25 #2
“Matty,” I breathed obediently, my voice shaking with the weight of my longing.
He smiled, a devastating curve, and tilted my chin with a calloused finger. “Again.”
“Matty.” I said it stronger now, my voice thick with the need to belong to him.
“Say what I call you,” he urged, his tone soft but commanding, coaxing me to claim the truth he saw.
“Your…good girl,” I whispered, the words blooming in my chest, no longer heavy with shame but light with possibility. They felt like a confession, a surrender to the part of me that craved his approval.
“Louder.” His hand cupped the back of my head. “Say it like you mean it, Ophelia.”
“I’m your good girl,” I said louder, the phrase settling in my heart like a piece of me slotting into place.
His hum of approval was immediate, a soft vibration that sent a rush of arousal through me, my pussy clenching with need.
My emotions swirled—fear that this was too perfect, hope that I could be his forever, and a desperate ache to be enough.
“Fuck, yes, you are,” he rasped, his forehead pressing to mine, our breaths tangling in hot, desperate pants. “My perfect girl. Now say Mrs. Adler.”
“Mrs. Adler,” I breathed, the name a fragile, shimmering dream that pierced my heart.
It was a fantasy too beautiful to hold, a pipe dream I’d never dared believe could be real.
Saying it out loud in front of him had me aching…
aching with the hope that I could be his, truly his, even if it felt like reaching for the moon.
There was so much I was still hiding from him.
But if he could accept this…
Maybe he could accept…more.
His mouth crashed into mine, a kiss that was all fire and devotion, his tongue stroking mine with a sensual rhythm that left me dizzy.
His calloused hands roamed my body, tugging my dress over my head with a reverence that made my breath hitch. My bra followed, and my breasts spilled free, nipples tightening under his hungry gaze. He groaned, a primal, desperate sound that sent a fresh wave of wetness between my thighs.
“Fucking hell, Ophelia, these tits are fucking exquisite,” he growled, his voice thick with lust as he cupped them, his rough palms squeezing with a pressure that made me gasp. “So beautiful, giving yourself to me like this. You’re my whole fucking world, pretty baby.”
He lowered his mouth, lips closing around one nipple, sucking with a hard pull that sent pleasure spiking through me.
His tongue swirled, teasing the sensitive peak, while his teeth grazed just enough to make me arch into him, a moan spilling from my lips.
“So perfect,” he murmured against my skin, his breath a hot caress.
“These nipples are so hard for me, aren’t they?
My good girl, dripping just from my mouth. ”
I moaned, my hands tangling in his hair, my body trembling with the intensity of his touch and the storm of my emotions. I felt worshiped, cherished, but also raw, like he was peeling back every layer of doubt I’d carried.
“Matty,” I whimpered, my voice breaking with need and vulnerability, my heart aching with how much I wanted this, wanted him.
He moved to my other breast, sucking harder, his hand kneading the one he’d left slick and aching. “Fuck, I’m so obsessed with you,” he growled, his words an obscene prayer that stoked the fire in my core. “You’re such a good girl to let me worship you like this.”
The word obsessed hit me like a lit match to dry tinder.
My breath snagged, and I pulled him closer to me.
I’d dreamed of being wanted, but obsessed?
It was my lifelong dream…laid bare and answered.
I tore at his shirt, revealing the chiseled planes of his body. I raked my nails down his abs, feeling him shudder, his control fraying. He laughed, a dark, ravenous sound that made my heart race, and fisted my hair, tilting my head back to expose my throat.
“You’re fucking killing me, Ophelia,” he rasped, biting my pulse point, the sting sending a jolt to my clit. “Feel how fucking hard you make me?” He pressed his cock against my hip, thick and rigid through the denim, a delicious promise that made my core clench and flood with an aching need.
“I love that,” I panted as I fumbled with his belt desperately. I ripped it open in a frenzy to touch him. “I love you.”
“That’s my fucking girl,” he praised, helping me shove his jeans and briefs down, his cock springing free—long, thick, veined, the head glistening with precum and that silver piercing. “Look at this, baby. All for you, because you’re so fucking perfect.”
I was aching at the sight, my emotions a tangled mess of longing and vulnerability. He guided my hand to his length, letting me feel the hard, pulsing heat of him.
“Stroke me, Ophelia. Show me how much you want me.”
I moved slowly, my thumb circling through the slick at his tip, his low groans growing rougher with every pass. “Fuck, you’re so good,” he rasped, breath hitching. “Making me ache for you, my perfect girl.”
Before I could answer, he caught my wrist, gently pulling my hand away.
He urged me backward, and I stumbled until the backs of my knees hit the bed.
I fell against the mattress, his gaze dark and consuming.
For a heartbeat, he just stared…then shook his head, like he was trying to break whatever spell had taken hold of him.
“Take off those panties and spread your legs for me,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. “Show me that pretty pussy.”
I obeyed instantly. My fingers hooked into the soaked lace, the fabric clinging to my slick lips before peeling away, leaving me bare.
My thighs fell open wide, and I reached down, parting my folds with two trembling fingers and exposing every glistening inch to his ravenous stare.
He groaned, a guttural sound that vibrated through the air. “Fuck, your cunt is perfection, Ophelia.” His knees hit the floor hard, the impact echoing in the quiet room.
He gripped my thighs, spreading me wider, and buried his face between them. His tongue dragged up my slit, lapping at my dripping heat like he was starving.
I cried out, hips bucking as he devoured me—sucking my clit into his mouth, tongue flicking hard and fast, then plunging deep inside me, curling to taste every drop. His hands pinned my thighs open, fingers bruising, his groans muffled against my flesh as he ate me out.
Relentless. Messy. His nose ground against my clit with every thrust of his tongue.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he moaned, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips slick with me. “You’re going to come all over my face.”
He dove back in, sucking harder, tongue-fucking me deeper until my thighs shook. My moans turned to screams, my body arching off the bed as he claimed every inch of me with his mouth.
His stubble scraped my inner thighs, a decadent burn that made me whimper. He growled against my clit, the vibration shooting sparks up my spine, and I fisted the sheets, knuckles white.
“Matty. Fuck—” I gasped, my hips grinding shamelessly against his face, chasing the edge he was dragging me toward.
“Give it to me,” he demanded. “Come on my tongue, baby. Let me taste every fucking drop.”
He attacked again, his tongue lashing my clit in tight, ruthless circles, two fingers sliding inside me, rubbing that spot that made my vision blur.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chanted as he worked me perfectly, wet sounds filling the room, his mouth sucking my clit like he wanted to swallow me whole.
My back bowed off the bed, a scream ripping from my throat as I came hard. My walls clenched around his fingers as slick gushed over his hand, his chin, and the sheets.
He didn’t stop.
He licked me through it, groaning like my release was the best thing he’d ever tasted, his tongue gentle now, lapping softly, drawing out every aftershock until I was trembling, oversensitive, and begging incoherently. Only then did he pull back and stand up.
I stared at him, dazed, my chest heaving.
His lips were swollen, glistening with me, his stubble dark with my wetness. Those blue eyes burned with raw triumph, like he’d just conquered something.
He was shirtless, inked skin gleaming with sweat, but his jeans still clung low on his hips, unzipped and shoved down just enough to free his enormous cock.
It jutted out, flushed dark red, slick with precum, the piercing glinting at the tip, seeping and throbbing in time with his pulse.
Matty crawled up my body, all muscle and ink and heat, caging me beneath him. His mouth crashed into mine, the kiss deep and dirty, letting me taste myself—salty, sweet, us—his tongue fucking my mouth the way he’d just fucked my core.
“You’re fucking addictive,” he whispered against my lips as he ground his cock against my soaked, throbbing center. I moaned into him, my hands clawing at his back, nails digging into his skin, needing more, needing him.
He pulled back. “Turn over,” he ordered. “Ass up, Mrs. Adler. I’m taking all of you tonight.”