by Sophia Gray
Chapter 18
They end up on the couch–at least, Matt ends up on the couch. Victoria settles down between his legs, fingers curling against the denim-clad thighs. She looks up at him, eyes filled with hope, with love, and it makes something almost wild wake up in Matt's chest.
He's harsher now than he ever has been before grabbing her by the hair, pulling her closer. “Come on, Tori. You can do things better, right? Show me you meant what you said. Show me you don't want anyone else.”
“I don't,” she insists, voice strained just a little bit. Her dainty hands run up the insides of Matt's thighs, finally settling on the zipper for his jeans. It's not familiar, not yet, but it isn't foreign, either.
She tugs it down with as much confidence as she can, unhooks the button, and slips a hand into the opening of his boxers.
Matt takes a shuddering breath and spreads his legs a little wider. “Don't fuck around,” he urges.
“I’m just not good at this,” laughs Victoria. She looks up at Matt, lips peeling back into a perfect smile.
“You’ll get better,” insists Matt. “It’s just going to take a little bit of practice. You should be practicing now, you know. Come on, you open up that lovely mouth of yours, and I’ll teach you something special.”
“Like what?”
“Something I’ll really love.”
“Is it…difficult?”
She tightens her grip on Matt’s cock, just a little. Matt is well-endowed, in the best sort of ways. His cock is long but not ridiculously so, just thick enough that it fits comfortably in her loosely curled hand.
Her grip grows tight as she starts working over his shaft. The lack of lube leaves her palm catching on the skin in spots, but it's quickly taken care of, with a few rubs over his flared head, by Matt's own pre-cum.
Another sigh, louder this time. Matt manages, “Is this it? Come on, Tori. Don't you want to learn something special?”
“I do! I'm just nervous,” says Victoria, twisting her wrist. The pads of her fingers slide off the veined skin and slip up to press against the underside of his head.
Matt shifts forward on the couch to shove his pants and boxers down his hips. They bunch up around bent knees. “Give me a hand getting those off?” Matt grins at her, sure and full of himself.
Victoria rolls her eyes but agrees. Dainty hands help pull off his boots and socks. They tug down jeans and boxers, then rest neatly on Matt's knees. “Like this?”
“I don't think that's what I have in mind,” says Matt. He's about to protest even more, but the words come out as a low moan when Victoria takes hold of his dick again and shifts her grip, fingers brushing over his balls.
Victoria's smile is coy. “I'm nervous, Matt. Help me some?”
“You need more than just a little bit of help.” Matt threads his fingers through Victoria's hair again. It's fine and soft, such a pale gold that the bright light almost makes it seem white.
Victoria snorts but leans down to press a single kiss against Matt's dripping tip. She looks up at him from under heavy lashes, and then she licks her lips.
The grip on her hair grows white-knuckled tight. Matt snorts back at her, but his grin doesn't lessen, even a little bit. “Come on,” he urges. “Let's see how much better you've gotten.”
“You say that like I've gotten any practice.”
“Haven't you?”
Victoria huffs. “I told you, I didn't sleep with him. I went home when things started getting weird. I promise you, Matt. I would never cheat on you.”
Cheat on him.
The words resonate in Matt's chest, heady and thick. They curl in his lungs like the best sort of smoke, like something that he's never going to be able to shake free from. It's a cage, but it's also something more. It's that bit of freedom and comfort he's always been looking for. It's knowing that, even though the world is a mess, something nice waiting for him.
Matt thought that's what he had with his ex, Emily. He thought she was his light, his reason to stay out of the darker aspects of the world that often fell down upon the shoulders of a motorcycle club. Gun running and drug dealing, things of that nature—Matt had ignored them in favor of Emily, trying to make sure she never had to get that awful knock on the door.
After she left, things seemed dark. Things got closed in and hard to deal with. But Victoria makes things look a little bit easier. She makes life a little less dark. And that's a hard thing for a man like Matt to understand.
He lets go of Victoria's hair in favor of brushing knuckles against her cheek. “Cheat on me?”
“Never,” insists Victoria.
Matt's other hand settles on the nape of Victoria's neck. “We have to be together for you to cheat on me.”
“Aren't we together? I know that first night, it was just...it was just sex. I'm not stupid. I understand that, no matter how sheltered I might seem. But then you came back, and you came tonight, too. Doesn't that mean we're more than just a one-time fling?”
It does.
Matt has a hard time answering her. The words are stilted and rough. “Do you want it to be more?”
“Desperately,” admits Victoria. “I would desperately like it to be more than just a one chance thing. And…it's okay, I suppose, if it's not. I love being around you, Matt. If all you're interested in is this, these moments, I'm okay with that. I just don't want to miss seeing you.”
“You're not going to see me once you go back to England.”
“I don't want to go back to England.”
“You're getting married to that duke,” says Matt. “And you're going to go back home to…where is it?”
Victoria gives a little laugh. “Vertsea. It's a small country. Not very many Americans have heard of us.”
“And everyone's still lined up here to see you,” snorts Matt. “Because that makes total fucking sense. If you aren't even a big shot, why the fuck does anyone care?”
“I don't know,” admits Victoria. “They just do. People like the glitz and glamor, I suppose. They like to pretend they're on our level.”
Matt snorts. He stands up, suddenly. His hands stay in Victoria's hair, keeping her from standing up, his dick inches from her face, red and straining. “Oh, sweet cheeks, I know I'm not on your level. But that's not what I meant. I mean you're a bit of a whore. Going out looking to get fucked by some stranger at a bar; how much sluttier can you get?”
Victoria's cheeks go red. “It wasn't a one-person affair, Matt. You were involved, too. You're the one that took me home!”
“You were practically begging me for it,” says Matt dismissively. Emotions are hard for him to deal with. He'd much rather focus on something more physical, on showing Victoria that status doesn't matter to him, that things don't hinge on her status as princess.
“I was not,” huffs Victoria. Any other protest is cut off by Matt pushing against the back of Victoria's head, forcing it forward. Her words are cut off by the sudden pressure of a thick dick in her mouth, forcing her jaw open and her tongue down.
There's no moment of hesitation, no slow start. Matt uses Victoria's hair as leverage and starts fucking into her mouth like it's a fleshlight picked up cheap at a discount sex shop. Each buck and twist of his hips forces his cock farther down her throat, leaving her gagging and gasping. It only takes a matter of moments before there are tears in the corner of her eyes, before her fingers are scrabbling at Matt's hips.
She doesn't want to push him away, but she doesn't want to hold him close, either. She just wants to touch him. Matt keeps a firm grip on her hair; this is something different than before. It's not quick and senseless like their first night together, but it's not a slow thing like their second.
This is flesh and passion and endless desire. Matt fucks her like he's come unhinged, until pleasure coils tight in his gut, until the sounds coming from his mouth are low, guttural, and spilling out like water from a sieve.
And then, when it's just about too much to bear and the whole world fee
ls unsteady, he uses Victoria's hair to throw her backwards. The young princess hits the ground, hard. Matt takes hold of his own cock, jacking himself off furiously. It only takes a few twists of his palm before he's cumming. Thick, white spurts land on the front of Victoria's dress, on her throat. He groans, loud and low, more for her benefit that anything else. “Fuck, Tori. Do you see what you do to me? Do you see how crazy you make me?”
Victoria's makeup is ruined. Dark smears lay under her eyes, and the lipstick has been scrubbed off her spit-swollen lips. She looks like someone who’s just been thoroughly fucked, and Matt loves it.
“You're so fucking innocent looking,” continues Matt, crouching down to kneel over the princess. His knees press against the floor, and one hand steadies himself on her shoulder. “There's nothing better than watching you fall into something filthy.”
Victoria lets out a wanton moan. Her head falls back, thwacking against the floor. Her mouth is open, chest heaving as she gasps for breath.
“That's exactly what I mean,” says Matt, only slightly out of breath himself. He's no stranger to sex, and he's no stranger to lasting longer than his partners. In fact, sometimes there's something utterly amazing about being the only one with any common sense about them.
Victoria’s not completely out of it, though. She's just tired and a touch overwhelmed. Her hands settle on Matt's hips. “What do you mean?”
“You, right now. You look like a goddamn princess.”
“I am a princess.”
“You're a princess about to get fucked. How great is that? I'm about to get a bit of royal pussy. Do you know how many men would fight for something like this? But not me.” Matt folds over Victoria, lets his cum and spit-slicked cock rub over her chest. The fabric sends sparks of pleasure down his spine. “No, I don't have to fight for it at all. You're just content to give it to me. You're content to let me fuck you whenever I want. I bet you'd be content to let me fuck you however I want, too, huh?”
Victoria lets out another little moan. The words do something to her; her face is burning hot, fingers fluttering against the small of his back. “Yes,” she says, voice little more than air. “Yes, Matt. Whatever you wanted—you can do whatever you want.”
“Good,” says Matt, voice low and rough. “Because I wasn't asking for your permission.”
Chapter 19
Victoria is telling the truth. She's never been with another man.
Killian had tried, that night. Oh, Killian had tried. He had flirted and talked up all manner of things. Victoria is too naïve—she thought he was just kind.
But she'd been wrong.
Killian had been looking for something. He had wanted a quick fling, a one night stand. When Victoria stuttered out a refusal, he grew incensed. His fingers had clamped tightly around her wrist.
Victoria felt sick then, and for a moment, she feels sick now, but not with fear nor with regret. She's sick with excitement, sick with lust and love and nerves. Her hands flutter over Matt's back when he shifts, sliding his own down her body and hiking her skirt up.
The panties don't come back. Instead, Matt brings his hand down, hard. The shock of the slap is only slightly muffled by Victoria's wet panties. There's nothing to muffle her yelp, however, loud and high-pitched. “Matt!”
Matt doesn't say anything. He brings his palm down again, this staccato sort of thing.
“Matt,” squeals Victoria. “What are you doing?”
“Whatever I want,” answers Matt. “That's what you said I could do, right? Whatever the fuck I want? Well, I want to hear you scream.”
“You always hear me scream,” pants Victoria. Lifting her head up is too much effort. Already, it feels like the blood has turned solid in her veins. “Always.”
“Not loud enough,” mutters Matt. He brings his hand down one more time, then roughly rips her panties down. They stay tangled up around her knees. There's no way for him to settle between her legs, and that's clearly something Matt's not interested in.
His hands land on Victoria's breasts, roughly groping them through her dress. Fingers seek out the cloth-hidden nipples, doing their best to pinch at them, to press against them.
“I want to hear you howling,” says Matt. “I want to hear you begging me to fuck you harder, better yet, let's hear you beg me to stop.”
Victoria shakes her head, just slightly. “I'd never.”
“You might. I'm not quiet like you, Tori. I'm not into this gentle shit.”
“I don't want you to be gentle,” insists Victoria. “I want you to be you. I want…you said you were going to teach me something. You said you were going to show me something.”
Matt laughs. The sound is low and rough. “Damn right. You really want me to?”
“Please?”
“All right, fine. I'd love to fuck you raw, sweet cheeks. I'd love to just take you right here and now. But why don't we take a few moments and get into the bedroom? You're probably going to like this better with something extra.”
Victoria stares up at him with heavy lidded eyes. Then, in a motion she hopes she won't regret, she gives an uncaring shrug.
# # #
They end up in the bedroom. Their clothing is scattered about the floor, a messy trail of their affections tonight. That's how Victoria thinks of things, after all. This isn't just sex, and it's not just a one-off deal.
Matt wouldn't be so tender if it were. Victoria is certain the girls he's slept with in the past—the ones that don't mean anything—didn't get treated like this. The blanket is soft under her bare skin. She's laying on her stomach, face resting on her folded arms.
There's no one else in the room.
“Stay here,” Matt had said. “Stay here.”
Then he left the room, vanishing into the adjacent bathroom. Time passes at an agonizingly slow rate. Victoria closes her eyes and focuses on trying to breathe.
And then, suddenly, the bed gives under Matt's knees. Something cold and slick is squeezed out of a bottle; lube drips down onto the small of Victoria's bare back, onto her hips, her ass. It drips down the crack between her cheeks, making her gasp at the strange sensation.
She asks, “Matt?”
“Just focus on breathing,” says Matt light-heartedly. “You wanted to learn, right? You wanted me to fuck you however I want.”
Victoria says, “Yes,” just because she's not sure what else he wants to hear. The word seems strange. It seems like far too little.
This moment, it seems huge. It seems massive.
Matt drags a hand down her back. A single finger slips between Victoria's cheeks, pressing against her anus. It's a tight thing, something that's never been touched before. It makes her stomach twist, makes her heart skip a beat.
“Matt?”
“It's fine. Just breathe.”
He pushes, hard. The lube makes the entrance easy enough, but the feeling is strange. It doesn't hurt, but it's not the same instant pleasure that comes from having a finger in her pussy, either. It's more cold than anything else, even when Matt crooks his fingers and starts trying to delve even deeper into Victoria's tight and unyielding passage.
The second finger comes a few moments too soon. Matt isn't a patient man. It was a failing with Emily, he knows, who never wanted to try anything new. That one hurts, but just for a moment, just a little bit. It's a spark on her spine; it's a tightness in her chest.
She bites her bottom lip, hard.
“Breathe,” reminds Matt. He puts his free hand on Victoria's hip. It's both for comfort and for leverage because he starts moving his hand a moment later, pumping those two lube-covered fingers into Victoria's tight ass. “You just have to remember to breathe, baby. Everything else is on me. I've got this.”
“You've got this,” echoes Victoria distantly. She screws her face up and tries to do as she's told. It's a feat that becomes immensely difficult when a third finger starts trying to breach her tight, pink opening.
Victoria moans. She presses her face against h
er arms, not sure whether to balk away from the sensation or buck up towards it. Maybe both, as her body jerks and jumps in all directions.
The hand on her hip suddenly makes sense. Matt leans against his nude princess, drinking in the curve of her spine and the breadth of her shoulders.
“Easy,” he says, and then there are three fingers in her ass, and everything goes horribly still.
It hurts.
It hurts in a way Victoria doesn't understand.
It hurts like having her cunt slapped, like having her nipples pinched.
It hurts in a good way.