I’d gone through his drawers, his closet, his bathroom…touching everything, inhaling the faint trace of his cologne, his soap,him.
His clothes hung neatly in a row, that faint mix of detergent and him still clinging to the fabric. I pressed a shirt to my face, breathing him in until my knees went weak.
I’d found a half-empty bottle of his body wash in the shower and opened it, letting the scent flood my senses, my thighs pressing together at the memory of his hands on me.
Before I left the bathroom, I’d stolen one of his black T-shirts that he’d thrown on the floor after wearing it, and I’d stuffed it into my backpack.
Just in case he didn’t want me to stay over one night.
I’d sleep in it, wrapped in his scent, pretending his arms were around me.
Now, naked in his bed, I sank into the mattress, the sheets sliding over my breasts, my stomach, my thighs like a lover’s touch. The room was dim, the late afternoon light filtering through the blinds in golden slats, painting stripes across my skin. I was alone, but he was everywhere. His scent lingered on the pillow, his cleats were scattered by the door, and an empty coffee cup sat forgotten on the nightstand.
A low ache pulsed between my legs, hot and insistent, and I couldn’t help it.
My hands moved on their own, one sliding up to cup my breast, thumb circling my nipple until it peaked, hard and aching. The other drifted lower, over the curve of my hip, fingers slipping between my thighs.
I was already soaked, slick from the moment I’d climbed into his bed, from the thought of him walking through the door and finding me here. I spread my legs wider, the cool air kissing my heat, and sank two fingers inside myself, gasping at how easily they slid in, how needy I was.
I pictured Matty…his inked arms flexing as he pinned me down, his blue eyes dark with want, that piercing glinting as he pushed into me. My fingers moved faster, curling, stroking that spot that made my hips buck. I pinched my nipple harder, imagining his teeth, his tongue, the way he’d praised me, called me his pretty baby, his good girl.
“Matty,” I whimpered, eyes squeezing shut, my world narrowing to the slick heat between my legs, the ache building. My thumb found my clit, circling in tight, desperate strokes,and I was close—so close—my breath hitching, thighs trembling, every muscle coiling. I could almost hear him, feel him, his cock stretching me, his cum painting my skin, filling me up. My fingers thrust deeper, wet sounds filling the quiet room, and I was right there, teetering on the edge, chasing that release that was all him, only him?—
“Nowthisis a sight to come home to.”
His voice was laced with hunger…and it hit me like a spark to gasoline.
My eyes flew open, but I didn’t stop, couldn’t stop.
Matty stood in the doorway, shoulder leaning against the frame, his gaze raking over me possessively. The sight of him, sweat-damp hair, sweatshirt clinging to his chest, tattoos peeking from his sleeves…it sent me over. I came with a broken cry, my pussy clenching around my fingers, waves of pleasure crashing through me as my hips jerked off the bed. My thighs shook, slick dripping down my hand, and I moaned his name shamelessly as the orgasm ripped me apart.
He pushed off the doorframe, kicking the door shut behind him with a sharpslamthat echoed through the room. His eyes never left me as he stalked forward, slow and deliberate, peeling his hoodie over his head in one fluid motion.
The fabric hit the floor, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the dark ink swirling over his skin, his abs flexing with every step, the deep V of his hips disappearing into his sweats.
“Look at you,” he rasped.
“Fingers buried in that pretty pussy, coming all over my sheets without me. You couldn’t wait, could you, baby? Had to fuck yourself thinking about my cock stretching you open, filling you up, ruining you for anyone else. Bet you were imagining me pinning you down, making you scream.”
I moaned, my fingers still thrusting slowly inside me, slick and trembling from my orgasm. His words lit me up again, heatflooding my core, and my hips rolled instinctively, chasing the friction as my pussy throbbed.
He stopped at the edge of the bed, towering over me. The thin fabric of his sweatpants did nothing to hide the hard line straining against them—a promise of what was coming.
“Keep going,” he ordered with blazing eyes. “Show me how wet you got for me. Show me what’s mine. Spread those legs wider, baby—let me see that pussy dripping for me.”
Another moan spilled out, louder, as I obeyed, fingers curling deeper, thumb still circling my clit in tight, desperate strokes.
My pussy was soaked, dripping onto the sheets, the wet sounds unapologetic in the quiet room, my thighs slick with my release that glistened in the dim light.
I spread my legs wider, wanting to give him a full view as I fucked myself harder, my other hand sliding up to pinch my nipple as I stared up at him.
The pleasure was overwhelming, and I was trembling as I teetered on the edge of another climax, the burning weight of his gaze making me wetter, needier.
He dropped to his knees on the mattress, the bed dipping under his weight, and grabbed my wrist, pulling my fingers free with a wetpop. I whimpered when he pulled away, my hips jerking forward on instinct, need tightening low in my stomach as my pussy clenched around nothing.
Matty brought my fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean, his tongue swirling around each digit as he tasted me with a groan that vibrated through me.
“Fuck, you taste like heaven,” he muttered, his eyes locked on mine as his tongue flicked between my fingers like he was starving, savoring every drop. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever had. No one’s ever gonna touch this but me. You’re mine—every inch, every moan, every fucking drop.”
