Chapter 8: The pillow talk turns filthy as Andi traces the sweat-slick muscles of Matt's chest, murmuring how she wants him to fuck her against every surface of her childhood home before they leave. His thick fingers slip between her thighs, finding her still wet and swollen from their last round, as he growls about claiming her virginity years earlier when he first noticed her blossoming curves.
The air in Andi’s bedroom was thick and still, heavy with the scent of their bodies. Matt lay on his back, one arm draped over his eyes, the other holding Andi close against his side. Her head rested on his chest, her fingers tracing idle, sticky patterns through the sweat on his skin. The floral quilt was tangled at their feet, the sheets beneath them damp and rumpled.
“Ben knows,” Andi whispered into the quiet. It wasn’t a question. It was a fact, solid and new, lying between them in the dark.
“He knows,” Matt confirmed, his voice a low rumble under her ear. He moved his arm, looking down at the top of her head. The fairy lights strung around her canopy bed cast a soft, magical glow on her disheveled hair. “He didn’t swing at me. I’ll take that as a win.”
She tilted her head back to look at him, her smile faint and tired. “He’ll come around. He has to. Sarah will make him.”
“Sarah,” Matt repeated, a complex note in his voice. He remembered her calm, assessing eyes at the table. “She knew, didn’t she? For a while.”
“I think so. She watches everything.” Andi shifted, propping herself up on an elbow to look down at him. Her breast brushed his arm, a casual intimacy that sent a fresh, low thrum of desire through him even in his spent state. “Does it feel different now? That it’s out there?”
He looked at her, really looked at her. At the faint freckles across her nose, the determined set of her jaw, the absolute trust in her eyes. This wasn’t a secret stolen in a guest room anymore. This was a thing, real and acknowledged, in her childhood bed with her brother’s blessing hanging, however tentatively, in the air.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “It feels real.” He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin. “I want to take you out on a real date. Somewhere public. Where I can hold your hand and not give a fuck who sees.”
Her smile widened, brilliant and true. “Yes. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” he promised.
The word hung there, a future unfolding. Andi leaned down and kissed him, a soft, lingering press of lips that quickly deepened. The embers of their earlier passion, banked but not extinguished, flared back to life. Her tongue met his, and the taste of her, of them, was a potent drug.
She moved over him, straddling his hips, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of him. The sight of her above him, backlit by the fairy lights, her skin glowing, stole the air from his lungs. His cock, which had been soft against his thigh, began to stir, thickening with a renewed, aching need.
“I’m not done with you,” she murmured, her voice husky. She reached between them, her fingers wrapping around his hardening length. She stroked him slowly, her grip firm, her eyes locked on his. “I want to feel you again. I want to ride you until I can’t think.”
“Fuck, Andi,” he groaned, his hips bucking slightly into her hand. He was fully hard again, painfully so, the skin taut and sensitive. Every nerve ending was on fire for her.
She positioned herself above him, guiding him to her entrance. She was still wet from their first round, slick and ready. She sank down onto him in one slow, excruciatingly deliberate motion, her head falling back as she took all of him inside her.
“Oh, god,” she breathed, her inner muscles fluttering around him as she adjusted to his fullness.
He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, anchoring himself. “You’re so deep,” he grunted, the sensation overwhelming.
She began to move, a slow, rolling grind of her hips that made him see stars. Her hands braced on his chest, her nails biting into his skin. The pace was different this time—not the frantic, desperate pounding of before, but something more primal, more possessive. She was taking her pleasure from him, using his body for her own, and the sheer power of it was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced.
“Look at me,” she commanded, her voice strained.
He forced his eyes open, meeting her gaze. Her expression was one of fierce concentration, her lips parted, her breath coming in sharp gasps. The sight of her like this, lost in the feeling of him inside her, undid him completely.
“Your cock feels so good inside me,” she moaned, increasing her pace, her thighs slapping against his. “I love how you stretch me. I love how you feel.”
He could only groan in response, his own climax coiling tight in his gut. He thrust up to meet her, driving deeper, wanting to brand himself into her very core. The room filled with the sound of their ragged breathing and the wet, rhythmic slap of their bodies joining.
“I’m gonna come,” she gasped, her movements becoming erratic, frantic. “Make me come, Matt. Please.”
He slid a hand between them, his thumb finding her clit. He pressed and circled, the pressure firm and exact. Her whole body seized. A broken, guttural cry tore from her throat as her orgasm ripped through her, her cunt clamping down on his cock in violent, pulsing waves.
The sensation was too much. With a final, driving thrust, he emptied himself into her with a choked shout, his release hot and endless, spilling deep within her contracting heat. She collapsed forward onto his chest, her body trembling, her face buried in his neck.
They lay like that for a long time, fused together, slick with sweat and spent. The first grey light of dawn began to filter through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. The remnants of Andi’s youth—the stuffed rabbit on the shelf, the faded poster of a boy band—stood in silent witness.
Eventually, with a soft sigh, Andi shifted off him. The loss of her warmth was immediate. She padded, naked and unselfconscious, to her en-suite bathroom. Matt heard the sound of water running.
He lay there, staring at the pink canopy above him, his mind a jumble of sensation and consequence. The future was here, bright and terrifying. He heard the bathroom door open.
Andi stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light. She had a damp washcloth in her hand. Her expression was soft, but her eyes were serious.
“We should get some sleep,” she said quietly. “Big day tomorrow.”
He nodded, unable to speak around the sudden lump in his throat. A date. A real one. He watched her walk back to the bed, the simple, graceful movement of her body a promise he intended to keep.
As she curled back into his side, her cool skin a relief against his, he knew the easy part was over. The secrets were done. Now they had to build something in the open, under the watchful eyes of her brother and his new wife. The thought should have been daunting, but with her breath evening out against his shoulder, it felt, for the first time, like a beginning.