Chapter 15: Matt's tongue traces lazy circles around Andi's clit as dawn light filters through their curtains, his strong hands spreading her thighs wider when she tries to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure. 'Gonna make you come so hard you see stars, baby girl,' he growls against her wet flesh, two fingers plunging deep as his mouth seals over her swollen bud.
The first thing Andi felt was the slow, deliberate pressure of his mouth between her legs, a sensation so vivid it pulled her from the depths of a dream. A soft, muffled groan escaped her lips as consciousness returned not in a rush, but in a warm, spreading tide of pleasure. The comforter was a heavy weight over Matt’s back, creating a hot, dark cave where his tongue worked its magic.
She was still soft and swollen from sleep, and his tongue was tracing lazy, impossibly slow circles around her clit, never quite landing where she needed him. Her hips twitched, a weak, involuntary plea.
“Matt…” she breathed, her voice thick with sleep.
He didn’t answer with words. He answered by flattening his tongue and dragging it through her folds in one long, wet, devastatingly thorough stroke. Her back arched off the mattress, a sharp gasp catching in her throat. He held her down with a firm hand on her stomach, his grip possessive.
“You taste like sleep,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her most sensitive skin. “So fucking sweet.”
He began to lick her in earnest then, his tongue a relentless, knowing instrument. He would flick rapidly at her clit until her breaths became ragged sobs, then pull back to lave at her entrance, tasting her deeply before returning with focused, brutal precision. The world narrowed to the feeling of his stubble scratching the tender skin of her inner thighs, the hot puff of his breath, the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on her cunt.
“Please,” she whimpered, her fingers tangling in his hair, not to guide him, but to anchor herself. “Oh, god, right there. Don’t stop.”
He sucked her clit into his mouth, applying a steady, rhythmic pressure that made her see white behind her eyelids. Her legs began to tremble violently. The orgasm built like a wave, gathering strength from the depths of her belly, coiling tighter and tighter until it shattered. She came with a broken cry, her body seizing, her thighs clamping around his head as he drank from her, his tongue never ceasing its gentle, prolonging flutters.
Just as the last pulses were fading, he pushed two fingers inside her, curling them upwards. The sudden, deep fullness made her cry out again, oversensitive and raw.
“Again,” he commanded, his voice rough. He began to move his fingers in a steady, pumping rhythm, his mouth still working on her clit.
“I can’t,” she sobbed, her body writhing, torn between the overwhelming sensation and the need for more.
“You can.” He scissored his fingers inside her, stretching her. “You’re going to come again. For me.”
The second climax was different, less a sharp explosion and more a deep, rolling quake that started in her core and radiated outwards, leaving her boneless and gasping. He didn’t stop until her whimpers subsided into shaky, spent breaths, finally withdrawing his fingers and placing a soft, final kiss on her throbbing flesh.
He emerged from under the comforter, his face glistening. He looked down at her, her skin flushed, her chest heaving. A slow, possessive smile spread across his lips.
“Good morning, graduate,” he said.
She could only manage a weak, breathless laugh. “You’re trying to kill me before I can walk across the stage.”
“Just making sure you remember today,” he said, leaning down to kiss her mouth, letting her taste herself on his lips.
Later, wrapped in his robe, she sipped coffee at the small kitchen island while he scrambled eggs. The morning sun streamed through the windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The intensity of the morning had settled into a warm, domestic hum.
“Ben texted,” she said, looking at her phone. “He and Sarah are saving us seats. Mom wants, like, a thousand pictures.”
“Of course she does.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You okay? That was… a lot.”
“It was perfect,” she said, and meant it. The raw physicality had been a necessary counterpoint to the emotional minefield of the last few months. It was a language they were both fluent in, a way to reclaim each other after the family drama. “It’s just… weird. This is it. No more classes. No more student housing.”
He brought two plates of eggs and toast to the island. “It’s the beginning, Andi. Not the end.”
“I know.” She poked at her eggs. “It’s just a lot of change. The baby. You and Ben finally not looking like you want to murder each other.”
“We’re good. He sent me a link to a crib that needs assembling. It’s his way of saying he trusts me with a screwdriver again.” He took a bite of toast. “What about you? Any more thoughts on the job offer?”
She’d been offered a junior editorial position at a small but respected publishing house. It was a dream, and yet the reality of it was terrifying.
“I’m going to take it,” she said, the decision solidifying as she said the words aloud. “It’s shit pay, but it’s a foot in the door.”
“The pay doesn’t matter. You’ll be brilliant.” He reached across the counter, his hand covering hers. “My brilliant, graduate girlfriend.”
The word still sent a little thrill through her. Girlfriend. It was so ordinary, and yet, after all the secrecy, so profound.
After breakfast, she stood in the steam of the shower, the hot water washing away the last vestiges of sleep and his touch. He joined her a moment later, his body solid and familiar against her back. He took the soap from her hands.
“Let me,” he said.
His hands were slow and thorough, lathering her shoulders, her back, the curve of her ass. It was not an overture for sex, but something more intimate—a washing, a caring. He turned her around and soaped her stomach, her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples until they peaked under his touch. Then he sank to his knees in the streaming water, his hands gliding down her legs, washing each foot with a tenderness that made her throat tight.
He looked up at her, water streaming down his face. “I am so fucking proud of you.”
He stood and she returned the favor, washing the hard planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his stomach. Her hand drifted lower, taking his soft cock in her soapy hand. She stroked him slowly, feeling him stir and thicken under her touch until he was fully, heavily erect. He groaned, his head falling back against the tiled wall.
“Andi…”
She dropped to her knees now, the water cascading over her head. She took the head of his cock into her mouth, tasting clean skin and soap. She swirled her tongue around the tip, then took him deeper, her hand working the base. He buried his hands in her wet hair, not pushing, just holding on.
“Your mouth feels so good,” he gritted out, his hips giving a slight thrust.
She sucked him harder, bobbing her head, using her hand to twist and pump in rhythm with her mouth. She could feel the tension coiling in his thighs, hear the ragged pull of his breath. Just as he was on the edge, he pulled her up.
“Not like that,” he said, his voice rough. “I need to be inside you.”
He turned off the water and they stepped out, dripping onto the bathmat. He didn’t bother with towels. He backed her into the bedroom, his wet body slick against hers, and laid her down on the rumpled sheets. The morning sun was warm on her skin.
He knelt between her legs, his cock hard and eager. He pushed her thighs apart, wider. “Look at you,” he breathed, his eyes dark with hunger. “So fucking beautiful and all mine.”
He positioned himself at her entrance and pushed in with one smooth, solid thrust. She cried out, her body stretching to accommodate him, still sensitive from earlier. He filled her completely, a perfect, stretching fit.
He set a deep, relentless pace from the start, each thrust a deliberate claiming. The wet slap of their skin filled the room, a raw, rhythmic counterpoint to their ragged breathing. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue mimicking the thrust of his cock.
“Is this what you need?” he grunted against her lips, driving into her harder. “This fucking cock? After today?”
“Yes,” she gasped, her nails digging into his back. “God, yes. Just like that.”
“Tell me who you belong to.”
“You. I belong to you, Matt.”
He fucked her with a possessiveness that bordered on fury, each plunge hitting a spot that made her vision blur. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting his thrusts with a frantic need of her own. The pressure built again, a familiar, desperate coil tightening in her gut.
“I’m gonna come,” she warned, her voice a broken whisper.
“Come on my cock,” he commanded, his pace becoming frantic, brutal. “Now, Andi. Come for me.”
The orgasm ripped through her, a violent, consuming wave that tore a scream from her throat. Her inner muscles clenched around him, milking him, and with a guttural roar, he followed her over, pumping his release deep inside her in hot, pulsing jets.
He collapsed on top of her, his full weight a welcome anchor. They lay there, panting, slick with sweat and the remnants of shower water, tangled together in the sunlit silence. The distant sound of traffic was the only reminder of the world outside.
He finally rolled off, pulling her against his side. Her graduation gown hung on the back of the door, a black silhouette against the white paint. The cap was on the armchair.
He kissed her temple, his breath warm on her skin. “Ready to go get your diploma?”
She nestled closer, her body humming, replete. “In a minute,” she murmured. “Let’s just stay here for one more minute.”
That minute stretched, a lifetime lived in the quiet syncing of their breaths. His come leaked from her, a warm, intimate reminder of his possession, and she pressed her thighs together to hold the feeling. The fan above them chopped the air, drying the sweat on their skin.
“We really should get up,” he murmured into her hair, his voice gravelly with spent passion. His hand stroked the damp curve of her hip.
“I know.” She didn’t move. The black gown on the door seemed to judge them. “I can still feel you inside me. I don’t want to lose it.”
He shifted, propping himself on an elbow to look down at her. His gaze was dark, serious. “You won’t.” He traced the line of her jaw. “You carry me with you now. In every fucking room you walk into.”
A shiver, unrelated to the cool air, ran through her. He had a way of saying things that carved directly into her bone. She kissed him, a slow, deep tasting of salt and skin and them.
The peace was shattered by the jarring buzz of his phone on the nightstand. It skittered towards the edge. He caught it with a grunt, his body tensing. “It’s Ben.”
“Of course it is.” She rolled away, the spell broken. The real world rushed back in. “Tell him we’re on our way.”
He answered, his voice shifting into an easy, brotherly tone. “Yeah, man… Yeah, we’re moving. Tell Sarah to stop worrying.” He listened, a smile tugging at his lips. “I know, I’ve got the instructions saved. We’ll build the damn thing this weekend.” The crib. The symbol of their fragile truce.
While he talked, she slid from the bed. Her body felt used, wonderfully sore. She caught her reflection in the dark screen of the television—a wild-haired girl with flushed skin and darkening marks on her neck. A graduate.
She pulled the gown from the door, the cheap polyester slick under her fingers. “Do I look like a graduating scholar now?” she asked, holding it against her naked body.
He had ended the call and was watching her, his eyes burning with a renewed heat. “You look like you just got fucked senseless. Which is better.”
He got up and pulled on his own clothes with a frustrating efficiency that she could never manage. She dressed slowly, the fabric of her underwear and sundress feeling alien against her sensitized skin. Every movement was a whisper of the morning’s violence.
He helped her with the zipper, his knuckles brushing the bare skin of her back. “Ready?”
Outside, the sun was aggressively bright. The stadium was a concrete beast a few blocks away, already swallowing streams of families in cheerful, pastel colors. They joined the current, her hand in his. Her cap was in her bag; she’d put it on at the last possible second.
The noise was a physical wall—shouts, laughter, the staticky blare of the PA system. He squeezed her hand, his grip firm. “There they are.”
She followed his gaze and saw them, Ben waving frantically, his face split by a grin, Sarah beside him looking serene and slightly amused. Her parents were there, beaming. A whole life, waiting.
She stopped walking, pulling Matt to a halt beside her. The minute was gone, devoured by the crowd. She turned to him, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down for one last, hard kiss. It was all teeth and desperation.
“Okay,” she said, releasing him, her voice steady. “Now I’m ready.”
She straightened her shoulders and walked towards her family, the ghost of his touch a secret shield beneath her gown.