Chapter Fifteen #2
“Look at you,” he says. “So, fucking wet for this cock. You need it, don’t you? Need me to stretch this sweet little pussy until you forget how to fucking think?”
I whimper. That’s all he needs.
He thrusts… hard. One brutal push that knocks the air from my lungs and tears a broken, desperate sound from my throat. No warning. No build-up. Just his cock forcing its way into my tight, greedy cunt… stretching me wide, making my eyes roll back.
“Fuck,” he bites out, buried to the base, balls pressed flush to my skin. His fingers dig into my hips like he’s trying to anchor himself. “This pussy was made for me. You were made for me.”
My legs lock around his waist, desperate to keep him there, to keep him deep. His cock twitches inside me, thick and hard, like he’s seconds from losing control.
“You feel that?” he breathes against my ear. “That’s me right where I belong.”
He pulls back slow, dragging every swollen inch out of me until only the tip remains, stretching the moment out, making me ache. Then he slams back in with enough force to shake the fucking walls.
The headboard crashes against the wall with a crack, every thrust brutal, relentless—fucking the breath from my lungs and the thoughts clean out of my head.
“Say it,” he demands, each word slams into me with a thrust that rocks me to the core as if he’s fucking the truth straight out of my mouth. “Tell me this pussy belongs to me.”
I cry out, back arching off the bed, every muscle drawn tight, nerves lit up like live wires. I can’t think. Can’t breathe. All I can do is feel.
“It’s yours,” I gasp, voice shattering. “Fuck, Matteo… this pussy’s yours. All of it. All fucking yours.”
He lets out a sound on the edge of breaking, my words throwing gasoline onto everything already burning inside him. And then he takes me harder. Deeper. Each thrust carving him into me, not just fucking, but branding.
His rhythm turns brutal, filthy, desperate. Every thrust crashes into that spot that makes me see stars, drives me up the mattress, makes me cry out with every drag of his cock. I’m shaking and he doesn’t stop.
“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” he pants, his mouth at my throat, his teeth grazing the skin there like he can’t help himself. “Nothing comes close to the feel of your pussy wrapped around my cock.”
Then he slams into me again, so hard the bed frame crashes into the wall, the sound swallowed by the broken moan he rips straight from my chest.
“You feel that?” he breathes, forehead pressed to mine, voice rough. “You’re gripping me so tight. It’s like this pussy knows exactly who it belongs to.”
My body starts to unravel beneath him, every thrust pushing me closer to that edge.
Then his hand slides between us. His fingers find my clit with devastating precision, flicking hard and fast, like he’s chasing my release with everything he’s got.
“Matteo… fuck—” I cry, hips jerking, pressure building fast and brutal. My body’s strung so tight I can barely hold it in.
“Yeah, you’re close,” he says, eyes locked on mine, devouring every twitch, every sound I make. “Gonna come on my cock, baby? Gonna squeeze me so fucking tight I lose it inside you?”
My thighs start to tremble.
“That’s it,” he says, voice rough and thick. “Come for me. Make a fucking mess. I want to feel this pussy milk every goddamn drop out of me.”
And then I break.
My orgasm hits like a fucking explosion, ripping through me so fast, so hard, it knocks the breath out of my lungs.
I scream his name as my body convulses, my pussy clenching around his cock with desperate force, it’s tight, frantic, soaking him in everything I’ve got.
And the sound he makes when I do… It’s not a moan. It’s not a groan. It’s a surrender.
He drives deeper. Faster. His hips crashing into mine with a pace so frantic, so fucking precise, it feels like he’s trying to brand me from the inside out. Every thrust lands hard, claiming me with an intensity that steals the breath straight from my lungs.
This isn’t just fucking. It’s a goddamn possession.
His hand slides off my clit and glides up, fingers wrapping around my throat, not hard, just enough to feel the frantic beat of my pulse hammering beneath his palm. Enough to show me who I belong to.
His hips slam into mine again, and again, and again. Each time deeper. Rougher. Like he’s trying to bury himself somewhere no one else will ever reach. Somewhere only he gets to live.
His cock hits so deep I swear he’s fused to something in me that was always waiting for him.
“You want it, baby?” he says, voice shredded and tight. “You want me to fill this pussy up? Want me to come so deep you’ll feel it for days?”
“Yes,” I cry, the word torn from my throat as I clench around him, body electric and aching and ready to break all over again. “I want it, Matteo. Fucking give it to me. Fill me.”
And he does.
With one brutal thrust, he slams so deep it feels like he’s touching parts of me I didn’t know existed. His cock jerks inside me, thick and pulsing, shooting hot as he spills deep into my body. I feel everything. Every twitch, every drop, every broken sound he loses into my skin.
But he doesn’t stop.
He stays buried deep, grinding his hips with slow, deliberate strokes, making sure I take every last drop. Sealing it inside me, claiming me with every pulse.
My body trembles beneath him, every aftershock rolling through me while my thighs cling to his waist and my clit throbs, over sensitive and aching.
Our chests press together, slick with sweat, both of us panting like we just survived something violent and holy all at once.
And when I finally blink the haze from my eyes, he’s there. Hovering over me. Gaze locked to mine. Still inside me, still fucking me, slow, careful.
He’s not just fucking me anymore. He’s looking at me. Really looking at me.
His eyes burn into mine, still wild and intense. But now there’s something else. Something open. Something unspoken. Like he’s laid every broken, bloodied part of himself bare and handed it to me without a word.
“You feel that?” he whispers, his thumb brushing across my cheek, treating me as if I’m something sacred. “This…right here… this is us.”
I feel it in the way he’s still moving inside me, like he’s trying to hold the moment still. I feel it in the stretch of my body, the throb in my cunt, the sweat on my skin. I feel it in him. In everything he’s not saying, but giving me anyway.
And for the first time, I see him. Not just the man who fucked me senseless. Not just the brutal hands and the savage cock and the need. I see the man beneath it all. The one who never thought he could give a piece of himself to anyone. But he just gave me everything.
The one who’s been loving me in silence all along… even as the world twisted him into something he never asked to be.
“Matteo,” I whisper, my voice shaking, stripped bare in away I never let anyone see.
He leans in, rests his forehead against mine. His cock still inside me.
“I fucking love you, Em,” he breathes into my mouth. “Always have. Every second. Every breath. Even when I shouldn’t.”
My heart splits open. Because when I meet his eyes, it’s not hunger staring back. Not anger. Not the violence he’s been carrying like armor. It’s him.
The man beneath all the wreckage. The one who’s always been there, just waiting to be seen.
“I love you,” I whisper back. Every wall gone. Every truth laid bare. “God help me, Matteo… I always have.”
He kisses me, the only language he’s ever been fluent in. His hips keep slowly rolling into me, each thrust a silent promise, the only way he knows how to hold me together.
And that’s when I know.
This isn’t about erasing the past.
This is about surviving it.
This is about choosing each other, when everything else has tried to tear us apart.
Because somehow, through every scar, every broken promise, every mistake… we’re still here. Still breathing. Still us.
He stays buried in me, letting me feel him. Letting me feel safe. His forehead against mine, our chests rising and falling like we’re one heartbeat.
Then slowly he moves. Pulls out of me, and the drag of his cock leaves me aching, empty, still wet and dripping.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, eyes locked on the mess between my legs. “Fucking dripping with me. Just like you should be.”
He leans in and kisses the curve of my stomach. Then lower. His mouth trailing over my skin until he’s between my thighs again.
By the time he gets there, I’m already shaking, legs falling open on instinct, silently begging for whatever he’s about to give me.
He spreads me wide and stares down at the wreck he made of me like he’s fucking proud of it.
“You’re not wasting a single drop,” he says. Then he pushes two fingers deep into me, shoving his cum right back inside.
His fingers fuck into me with a rhythm that borders on filthy, his mouth locked on my clit, starving for me all over again.
“I want you to feel me inside you all night,” he says against my skin, each word a pulse of heat straight to my core. “Want you fucking leaking with me. Smelling of me. Being mine.”
When he finally pulls back, his lips are slick, fingers shining with the mess he’s made of me. His cum. My cum. All of it.
Then he grins, dark, wicked, possessive as fuck and mutters, "Fuck it. I’ll fill you again later."
Before I can even catch my breath, Matteo is already moving. He stands, then bends, scooping me into his arms like I weigh nothing.
He carries me across the room and kicks the bathroom door open with his foot, striding straight to the shower like a man on a mission. One twist of the knob and the water roars to life. It’s hot, punishing, slamming against the tile as steam floods the space around us.
He steps under the spray with me still in his arms, no intention of letting go. The heat crashes over us, soaking into our skin. Water pours down in sheets, rinsing off the sweat, the cum, the mess he made of me.