Chapter 52
In an instant, all my back talk is gone.
All I can feel, all I can think about, is how full I am, how deep Matt is, how I never want him to leave my body. I could die quite happily right here, his cock in my ass, his fingers in my pussy, driving us both wild.
“Fuck… I love the way you feel. So tight, baby. Such a perfect fit for my cock.” His free hand tugs at my braid, pulling me flush against his chest. A whine slips out as he slides even deeper, impossibly deep.
Resting my head on his shoulder, I’m captivated by him. The red curls tumbling over his forehead, the green of his eyes fixed on me with heat that doesn’t flicker, it burns. Longing that can’t be faked. Can’t be hidden.
“Matt,” I gasp.
“I know, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” His words wrap around me like a vow, holding me tight as he lowers me back onto the bed, arm braced so he can fuck me harder.
The sensation of being full from both ends—of feeling his cock throb in my ass even as his fingers stroke along that spot inside my pussy—is enough to make me clamp down around him, my moans spilling out as I beg for more, more, more.
“Sweetheart, you feel so good. Such a good girl, taking Daddy’s fat cock. My good girl, look at you,” he croons above me, brushing kisses across my shoulders. Then, with a low, ragged pant, his hips falter.
“Fuck… you’re going to make me come in this tight little ass, aren’t you? Come all over my cock. Soak me as I pump you full—that’s my girl.”
Praise and pleasure collide inside me, almost too much to bear. When he grips my hair again, forcing me to arch my back, the bite of pain is the perfect spark.
With a sob, I come hard around him, trembling, and he follows with a long drawn-out groan, filling me completely. I’d worry about the mess, except I know what comes next, even before Matt drops to his knees behind me.
“Christ, look at you,” he mutters, palming my ass and spreading my ass cheeks apart. For a moment, he just looks, and the weight of his gaze is enough to have my pussy giving a futile flutter around nothing.
Feeling his hot breath, I fist the bedsheets, needing something to hold onto as his tongue drags through the mess he left behind. With a hungry groan, he eats my ass like a man on a mission, palms spreading my cheeks wider for him to dip his tongue inside.
“Oh fuckkk, Matt,” I gasp, reaching down with one hand to circle my clit. He groans his approval into my ass, not letting up until, with a soft sob, I come for him again. Pressing one last kiss to the back of my thigh, he stands before pulling me to my feet.
Reaching up, I loop my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a filthy kiss full of his come, moaning at the taste of it as he feeds it to me.
His hands slide over me, anchoring me to him as he kisses me with a hunger that takes my breath away, like he’s trying to memorise every curve, every line, every inch of me before the world intrudes again.
I thread my fingers through his curls, thumbs brushing the planes of his temple, trying to tell him without words that I’m here to stay. That this—us—is everything.
The heat between us pulses, but it’s not just desire. It’s relief, it’s love, it’s the culmination of months of fear, distance, and uncertainty. I press my forehead to his, heart hammering against his chest, and for the first time in forever, I feel truly safe, truly seen.
“I’m not leaving,” I whisper, voice trembling with conviction.
He smiles against my lips, soft and fierce all at once. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’m not letting you go.”
We stay like that, clinging, holding, letting the silence between our heartbeats speak the words we’ve been too scared to say, You’re mine. I’m yours. Always.
I sink deeper into the sofa, letting the sun warm my face. Abbie’s next to me, legs tucked under her, smirking like she knows every thought I’m trying to hide.
“Babe, come on. Lyon stories, cam stories, fashion drama. I need all of it before I head back to Scotland. Don’t leave anything out.”
I groan, rolling my eyes, but the grin on my face betrays me. “Abbie… it’s boring. Classes, deadlines, streams. Surviving. Pretty standard.”
She shifts closer, her auburn hair catching the light. “Pretty standard? Lily, you’ve survived more than anyone should ever have to. Don’t downplay it.”
I look at her face, messy hair tumbling into her eyes, and feel a warmth I haven’t let myself feel in months. “I’m alive, I’m home. That’s the main thing.”
She nudges me, triumphant. “It’s about bloody time,” she says, eyes shining.
We settle into easy chatter, filling each other in on the gaps of what we’ve missed while we wait for Cora.
A Table meeting was a must after the mountain of betrayal we uncovered—the Triad and Bravata deserved to be brought up to speed, and Jonathan insisted it was time for Cora to sit in on one of these meetings.
Abbie’s halfway through a story about Logan bringing home yet another puppy when the front door opens. Cora steps in first, her expression slightly frazzled but relieved. Behind her, Alex follows, an easy grin on his face.
“Dad just announced he’s stepping down,” Cora says, swallowing hard. Her eyes flick between Abbie and me, panic and excitement dancing in equal measure. “Said it’s time some new blood shaped things, that we’re due for an overhaul.”
Alex nudges her lightly, grinning, before making his way to the sofa. “Don’t forget he sang your praises,” he adds, settling beside Abbie. “Logan’s still with Jonathan, something about making sure there’s no more rats lurking.”
Before I can form a response, a loud crash echoes from upstairs, seconds before Alice appears in the doorway.
Even after weeks of freedom, she still moves like she’s bracing for an ambush.
She freezes behind the sofa, and something close to horror flashes across her face, quick and raw, before she steels herself, eyes scanning the room.
Her posture is stiff, every muscle coiled, like she’s ready to vanish if the wrong person appears. My pulse jumps, and I exchange a quick confused glance with Abbie and Cora.
Alex twists to see what all the commotion is about, hazel eyes widening as they lock on her. His easy grin fades, replaced by something raw—disbelief and something fragile that makes my chest tighten.
“Alice,” he breathes, the word spilling from him like a prayer.
At first she doesn’t react, instead she does a sweep the room before she deems it safe enough to move. Just a fraction, a slight shuffle of her sock clad feet.
“Yes. I’m alive. Not broken. Still standing,” she says, clipped and controlled, but I swear I can see a flicker of warmth behind the steel.
Alex takes a cautious step closer. “I… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he admits, voice shaking with something I can’t name—relief? Regret? Hope?
Alice tilts her head, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “You probably weren’t supposed to,” she says, sharp, teasing, but with warmth underneath.
Cora furrows her brow, glancing between them. “Wait… how do you two know each other?”
Alex swallows hard, gaze still locked on where Alice lingers in the doorway. “She… she’s my sister. I thought…it’s been so long, I was positive they—”
Alice’s smirk softens, just a touch, her sharp edges giving way to something quieter, warmer. “I never thought I’d see you again, either.”
Alex and Alice stay locked in that moment, a fragile, unspoken understanding threading between them.
She tilts her head, a little cautious, a little defiant, and he just exhales, a sound that seems to carry away years of fear and uncertainty as he approaches his sister for the first time in a decade, one small step at a time.
And in that moment I know—truly know—that for Alice, for Niamh, for Alex, for Vera and Gianna, and for every girl now living here, this is just the beginning.
The beginning of healing. The beginning of learning to laugh without fear, to trust without doubt, to be happy without apology.
And somehow, watching it all, I can’t help but think… maybe this is what home really feels like.