CHAPTER 26 #2
She knew a lot about me, too—stats, records, things only someone paying attention would know. But I didn’t mind that, either. If anything, it made sense. We fit. We watched each other.
I mean, I’d had Jace change her emergency contact in her student file to my name and number, and I didn’t think it was a big deal.
He’d also hacked the dining hall system so her meal card pinged my phone every time she ate. Also not a big deal—I just liked knowing she was eating.
Then there was the tracking app he’d installed onto her phone while she was in the bathroom at lunch. I hadn’t ever thought I’d learn how to do it. But Jace had made an excellent teacher, and now I could be sure she was safe whenever we weren’t together.
And the webcam thing…He had swapped it out for me so it streamed straight to my phone when she studied.
All of it felt…normal.
Just small ways to make sure she was okay.
We just really loved each other.
Matty, you kind of sound like a psycho.
Maybe I shouldn’t have given Parker and Jace such a hard time about the things they’d done to get their girls…
I kept seeing Ophelia’s face from earlier, though. The way her eyes had gone wide when I’d picked up her journal, the tears streaking down her cheeks like she thought I was going to end us. The sound she’d made when I told her to stop apologizing. Like she couldn’t believe I wasn’t angry.
The memory lodged somewhere deep, twisting.
She’d been so scared I’d run.
How could I help her to see I wasn’t going anywhere?
Hmm. There was one thing I could do…
And even Jace would have agreed…it was a big-brain idea.
If she could see what she meant to me, if I could do something so she would know I wasn’t going anywhere…
Then she’d stop being afraid.
I’d give her a tattoo. Not flowers. Or initials. I’d tattoo Mrs. Adler on her skin. Then she could look at it and know every day who she belonged to.
Fuck.
I’d have to do that in a few minutes…because her tongue had started to move. Slow, unconscious, sleepy licks along the underside of my shaft. She started suckling gently, her lips sealing around the head, soft, wet pulls that made my hips twitch.
Her breath hitched in her sleep, a tiny moan vibrating through me, and I felt it everywhere.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t need to.
She kept going, lazy and instinctive, her tongue swirling, her lips nursing slow and sweet like I was her comfort, her home. Each gentle suck pulled me deeper into her warmth, her throat fluttering when she swallowed around me.
My palm settled at her nape, a silent collar, keeping her exactly where she belonged.
I came with a shuddering groan, spilling into her mouth in thick, pulsing waves.
She swallowed in her sleep, throat working, lips never breaking the seal, taking every drop like it was the most natural thing in the world. A soft, satisfied hum escaped her, her body relaxing deeper into the mattress, still holding me inside.
Holy fuck.
She really was perfect.
Not just the way she took me, not just the way she trusted me completely, even unconscious, but the way she needed me like this.
Like I was her air.
Like I was her everything.
I eased out slowly, the wet slide of my cock leaving her lips with a faint pop as I slid off the bed.
She blinked awake, eyes still hazy, her voice small and raspy with sleep. “Where are you going?”
I leaned down, kissed her forehead, then her mouth, tasting myself on her tongue before pulling away.
She licked her lips slowly, chasing every last trace of me, tongue sliding over the plump curve like she couldn’t let it go.
My brain short-circuited; I had to shake my head to focus.
“I’m not going anywhere, pretty baby,” I murmured in a voice filled with certainty, my thumb brushing her cheek. “I’d never leave my good girl. Never.” I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her into my lap, her legs draped over mine.
“I had an idea,” I said. “Something to help you feel more settled. Something permanent.”
She tilted her head, still licking her lips, her eyes wide and trusting.
I grinned. “You’re gonna wear my name, Ophelia. Right here.” I traced a spot just above her hip bone. “Mrs. Adler. In my handwriting. So every time you look in the mirror, you remember who you belong to.”
Her breath caught, eyes lighting up with a sudden, hopeful glow. “Yes,” she whispered, eager and breathless, leaning into me. “I want that. I want you on me forever.”
Her fingers curled into my shirt, tugging like she needed me closer, her voice trembling with excitement. “Please, Matty. I want it so bad.”
I kissed her hard, swallowing her eagerness, then eased her off my lap and onto the bed.
“Stay right there,” I murmured, standing.
She watched me the entire time, eyes never leaving me as I crossed the room to the closet.
I pulled out the small black case—my tattoo kit, needles, ink, everything ready.
Her gaze tracked every movement: the click of the latches, the clink of metal, the way I laid out the stencil paper, the black ink bottle glinting under the lamp.
She sat up straighter, knees pulled to her chest, lips parted, watching like I was the only thing in the world.
I set up on the nightstand, hoping it looked like I had done this more than the one time. When I snapped on the gloves and the tattoo gun whirred to life, the buzz filling the room, she froze.
Her eyes went wide, scared but shining. “Matty,” she whispered in a small voice.
“Are you sure?” She reached for my hand, fingers trembling.
“This is going to mean so much to me. You have to be sure. Like…really sure. Because once it’s there, it’s forever.
And I’ll see it every day, and I’ll love it, and I need to know you won’t regret it. ”
I set the gun down, cupped her face, and looked her dead in the eyes.
“Ophelia,” I said, steadily. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. You’re my forever. This isn’t a whim. It’s a promise. I want my name on your skin so the whole world knows you’re mine—and so you never forget it, either.”
She searched my face, then nodded, her eyes brimming with tears, but she smiled through them.
“Okay,” she breathed. “Do it. Make me yours.”
Her hand squeezed mine, and I was awestruck for a second at her trust…her devotion. It hit me harder than any stadium roar ever could have.
“Good girl,” I murmured reverently. “You’re so brave.” I kissed the hollow of her throat and heard the little catch in her breath.
I pulled back, eyes locked on hers, and picked up the stencil. My handwriting—Mrs. Adler—was already traced in as close to perfect as I could get on the transfer paper.
This had to be better than the messy letters I’d scratched onto Jace and Parker.
This was her. This had to be art.
I wiped her hip clean with alcohol, the harsh scent cutting through the sex-heavy air.
She shivered, goose bumps rising, but didn’t flinch.
I pressed the stencil just above her hip bone, smoothing it down with steady fingers, peeling it back slowly to reveal the purple outline.
Perfect placement…visible when she wore low jeans, hidden under lace when she wanted it private. Mine either way.
The gun buzzed to life in my hand, a low, hungry growl. I dipped the needle, black ink pooling, and leaned in.
Don’t fuck this up, Adler.
“Deep breath, baby,” I said in a voice that I hoped sounded calm. She inhaled, chest rising, eyes fixed on me—trusting and eager.
The needle touched skin.
She hissed, fingers digging into my thigh, but didn’t pull away. I started the first line—M—slow, precise, the ink sinking clean and dark.
Better than Jace’s crooked N. Better than Parker’s bleeding L.
I angled the gun, shading the curve of the R, making it sharp, elegant, permanent.
“You’re doing so good,” I praised as I wiped off some excess ink with a cloth. “Look at you—taking my name like you were born for it.”
She whimpered, a soft, needy sound, her free hand sliding up my arm, gripping tight.
Her eyes were glassy, like she was in that special space she sometimes went to during sex. Her lips were parted as she watched the ink bloom on her skin like it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
I worked faster now, building confidence, but every line was deliberate. The S curled just right, the A bold and unapologetic. Mrs. Adler—not a nickname, not a maybe. A vow.
Sweat beaded on my brow, but I didn’t rush.
I shaded the final R, wiped it clean, and sat back.
The tattoo was flawless—crisp, dark, mine.
Honestly better than I could have expected now that I was on the other side of it.
I set the gun down, gloved hands framing her hips, thumbs brushing the fresh ink. “Look,” I said. “Look at what you are now.”
She stared at the Mrs. Adler, and I watched as a tear slipped down her cheek and she smiled the most radiant smile I’d ever seen.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “It’s us.”
I leaned in and kissed just beside the ink, careful not to touch it.
“Forever, baby,” I said against her skin. “You’re mine. You’re home.”