Page 124 of Not For Keeps
My wife.The words send another wave of heat throughme. I’m his and he’s mine. Legally, fully, in every way that matters.
“Take it off,” I gasp, tugging at the mask. “I want to see your face when you come.”
He yanks the mask away, revealing flushed cheeks and wild eyes. His hair is damp with sweat, curling against his forehead. Beautiful. Mine.
“I love you,” he groans, thrusting deeper. “Fuck, Analyse, I love you so much.”
My body tightens around him as another orgasm builds. I’ve missed this. Not just the sex, but the connection. The way he looks at me like I’m his everything.
“Come with me,” I beg, feeling my second orgasm building. “Please, baby, I need you with me.”
His rhythm falters, hips jerking as he drives deeper. “Fuck, chula. I’m close.”
I reach up to touch his face, my thumb tracing his bottom lip. The contrast between this tender gesture and the raw, animalistic way he’s fucking me makes everything more intense.
“Look at me,” I whisper. “Look at me when you fill me up.”
His eyes lock with mine, pupils blown wide with desire. The connection between us is electric, transcending physical pleasure. This is what I’ve missed most during those long weeks of recovery—this profound intimacy that makes me feel seen in ways no one else ever has.
“Mine,” he growls, and I feel him swell inside me. “All fucking mine.”
The pressure of his fingers increases on my clit as he pounds into me with renewed desperation. His eyes never leave mine, even as his body tenses, ready to fall over the edge.
“Come for me, Analyse. One more time,” he commands, his voice raw and broken.
When the wave hits, it’s devastating. My entire body convulses around him, muscles clenching so hard I see white. I cry out his name—a prayer, a plea, a promise—as my nails leave half-moon indents in his shoulders.
“Fuck,” he groans, burying himself to the hilt. “I’m coming, baby. I’m?—”
He pulses deep inside me, a hot rush that fills every inch and sets my nerves on fire. I feel him unravel, hips stuttering, his fingers digging into my thighs so hard I know I’ll have bruises in the morning.
The sensation of him spilling inside me is overwhelming—slick heat, the rhythmic clench of his cock feeding another wave of pleasure that builds and builds until there’s nothing left but raw, pure sensation. I shudder, trembling around him, and the force of my orgasm sharpens, stretches. It’s not just pleasure, it’s something else—like I’m coming undone in layers, peeling back years of fear and pain, until I’m nothing but feeling.
He gasps my name, voice ragged and reverent, and the sound pushes me higher. My body locks up, toes curling, and I sob, literally sob, from the intensity of it. Mateo holds me through it, his hands never leaving my skin, his body pressed flush against mine as if he could fuse us together with the heat alone.
The aftershocks are endless. I convulse around him, every spasm squeezing out another gasp, another tear. The room blurs and spins and spins, then narrows to the two of us, chest to chest, still joined and shaking and desperate to hold each other closer.
When the last tremor fades, we collapse together in a tangled heap. He’s still inside me, still impossibly hard, but the urgency has softened into something sweeter, something that feels like coming home after a long, hard journey.
We cling to each other, breathless and sweaty and stunned.My cheek is pressed to his chest, where his heart pounds steady and strong beneath my ear. His arms stay locked around me, and I tilt my face to look up at him.
His Ghostface mask is somewhere on the floor, discarded in the heat of everything, and what’s left is just Mateo—bare, flushed, and looking at me like I’m the beginning and the end of every dream he’s ever had.
“Holy, shit,” I whisper.
He laughs, low and hoarse, pressing a kiss to my temple. “You good, chula?”
I nod against his skin, still dazed. “Better than good. I’m married to the ultimate fantasy.”
He groans softly and buries his face in my neck. “You saying I’m your fantasy?”
I drag my nails light down his back. “You in that mask? Definitely.”
His laugh rumbles through me, and for a second, everything slows…just the two of us tangled in sheets, wrapped in love, sweat, and everything we’ve survived to get here.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He shifts just enough to cup my cheek. “I love you, too. Forever, mi vida. Forever.”
