Page 97 of Serving Bunt

He groaned and gave me exactly what I asked for, driving into me again and again. I was moaning openly, shamelessly, nails raking down his back.

“Fuck yes, just like that.”

Matty’s hand tightened around my cock, the other braced beside my head as he fucked me harder. His eyes were wild, lips parted, sweat dripping down his temple. The sight of him losing control because of me was almost too much.

“I’m not gonna last,” he growled.

No kidding.

It was a goddamn miracle either of us had lasted this long.

He stroked me fast and tight in time with his hips.

“I’m close.” I panted, hips jerking up to meet every thrust. “Please, let me come. Matty, please, I’m so fucking close—”

“Come on, baby,” he rasped, stroking me faster, thumb swiping over the head on every upstroke. “Come for me. I wanna feel you clench around my cock when you do.”

That was all it took.

Pleasure slammed into me like a freight train. I came hard with a broken cry, spilling over his fist and across my stomach in thick, pulsing ropes. My hole clenched rhythmically around him, milking his cock as wave after wave of the orgasm tore through me.

Matty buried himself deep with a guttural moan, hips stuttering as he followed right after me. I could feel him pulsing inside the condom, his whole body shaking with the force of it.

We stayed locked together for a long moment, catching our breaths, our bodies slick with sweat and cum. Eventually, I tugged him down into a slow, messy kiss. My heart was still racing, but there was deep, bone-melting contentment settling over me.

This wasn’t just sex. This was Matty, finally, completely, mine in a way I had been dreaming about for months.

After all the stolen glances, the months of wanting him in silence—he was here.

In my arms. Inside me.

The reality of it hit me harder than the orgasm had, and that was saying a lot.

After he dealt with the condom and we both cleaned up, I yanked him back down beside me, wrapping my arms around him like I never wanted to let go. To be fair, I didn’t. He came willingly, curling into my side, one leg thrown over mine, his head resting on my chest.

For a while, neither of us spoke. Just basked in the quiet afterglow.

“How are you feeling?” I asked softly.

“I feel like I should be asking you that.”

“Don’t worry, my asshole is fine.” I pressed a soft kiss to the top of his damp curls and held him close. “Was it everything you thought it would be?”

Matty was quiet for a beat, then let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. He tilted his head up to look at me, eyes bright and a little glassy.

“I’m . . . good,” he said. “Better than good. I can’t believe we finally did that.” He paused, then started laughing harder, the sound warm and giddy. “I never thought I would say this, but I’ve never been happier not to make the All-Star team.”

I laughed with him, the sound rumbling through my chest.

“Same.”

He smiled back at me, and something in my chest cracked open.

“I’m, uh . . . really glad it was you,” he whispered.

I cupped his cheek and lowered my lips to his. “Me too.”

We stayed like that for a long time, tangled together, trading lazy kisses and quiet touches as the adrenaline slowly faded. At some point, Mo wandered back in, jumped onto the bed, and curled up behind Matty’s knees like she’d been there the whole time. I smiled into Matty’s hair, feeling more at peace than I had in months.