Boundless

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟗

Since Mattheo kissed me, I've been questioning my sanity. Maybe I should have just accepted his reason for stopping my rambling, but I can't stop thinking about the smirk on his face as he leaned in, or how his hands gripped my waist, as if afraid I might slip away.

I'd never experienced such intensity with anyone before. My relationship with Sebastian was passionate, but there was never this kind of yearning.

Now, sitting across from Mattheo in the common room, trying to focus on my assignment while Enzo and Theo chatted at the table, I found it impossible to concentrate.

Whenever Mattheo walked into the room, rolling up his sleeves, loosening his tie, and unbuttoning the top of his shirt, I couldn't help but watch.

My gaze lingered on his hands and the veins that stood out as he wrote, catching myself biting my lip subconsciously.

Trying to suppress my thoughts, I sat up and rested my head on my hand, blocking my view of Mattheo. It only worked for a few minutes.

Hearing his hoarse voice chatting with Theo and his occasional laugh made me even more aware of him. Since when did I start to crave his presence more than drugs?

Overwhelmed, I shoved my assignments into my bag. "You ok, Stella?" Enzo noticed my abrupt behavior.

"I'm fine," I offered a weak smile and rushed up to my dorm, hoping to find some focus there.

As I sat at my desk, I was interrupted by a knock. "It's open," I called, not looking up.

Startled, I jumped when I felt a breath on my neck. Mattheo's hand appeared in front of me, placing my phone on the desk. "You ran off so quickly, you forgot this," he chuckled.

I turned to face him, and as he leaned over, a strand of his hair fell forward, prompting me to scan his features. This curiosity was all Fred and George's fault-if they hadn't suggested I fancied Mattheo, I might not have seen him in this light.

"Stella," he said, his smirk widening as he watched my distracted state. Hearing my name on his lips made me wonder what it would sound like as a moan.

Clearing my throat, I managed a quiet "Thanks." He raised his eyebrows at my unusual quietness. "You're not very talkative today," he noted.

"Just a long day," I shrugged, but his grin only grew. "That's never stopped you before. Remember after your training session? You yelled at me for a minute straight then threw your shoe at me," he teased.

I laughed, reminded that it was easier when I hated him. "I have a closet full of shoes. Pick one, and I'll do it again," I smirked, regaining some of my usual confidence.

Standing up, I took my phone to the other side of the room to charge it, feeling his gaze on me the whole way. "What's on your mind, Black?" he asked, sensing my odd behavior.

"Nothing," I replied curtly, though inside I thought, 'You.' I tried to dismiss the tension as he stood in front of me again, the dim sunlight framing his face.

Everything about him seemed more intense since the moment we kissed, but we hadn't spoken about it or attempted to continue what happened.

Mattheo brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "I've been thinking about what happened on the train," he murmured, his attention fixed on me.

"What about it?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"Just what might have happened if Pansy hadn't shown up," he admitted, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. I hated to admit I had wondered the same thing.

"What do you think would've happened?" I asked, stepping closer. "Something we might regret," he suggested with a grin.

"So, it's good Pansy came when she did," I replied half-heartedly, his hand moving from my jaw to the back of my neck.

"I don't want to lie to you, Stella," he said softly, his sincerity catching me off guard.

"Then tell me the truth," I urged, our faces inches apart, his eyes flicking to my lips.

"I want you," he breathed the three words I was desperate to hear. As he spoke, he pulled me close, our bodies aligning with an urgent need.

Our lips met in a passionate kiss, small moans escaping as we held our bodies close. My back hit the wall as Mattheo's hand slid under my skirt, and I moved my lips to his jaw and neck, silently urging him to continue.

As soon as his hands grab my waist, my own find his broad shoulders. When his tongue finds the spot under my ear, I let out a small sigh of pleasure and feel him smirk against my skin.

His hands tug at the hem of my t-shirt whilst he keeps his lips on my neck. We break apart for a moment as he takes my shirt off. His eyes grow darker as his eyes land on my chest.

He takes a hold of one of my breasts, his cold rings send shivers down my spine, contrasting with my burning body.

I attack his lips again. rapidly unbutton his shirt, letting my fingers outline his abs. Soon enough, his shirt was on my dorm floor, and he pins me down on the bed, the chain around his neck hovering over me.

His lips graze against my collarbones, then he presses kisses on my chest, swirling his tongue over my nipple, repeating the same method to the other one. I squirm underneath him, my hands gripping onto the bed sheets

Mattheo pulls down my skirt, kissing the inside of my thighs causing my stomach to fill with butterflies.

I watch patiently as he takes off his remaining clothes. Everything about him was specifically built just to bring down every other man and have every girl pleading for him. I now knew why all the girls at school were pining for him.

He slowly pushes himself into me. We gasp at the contact. My eyes shutting tightly at the sensation.

Soon enough, his movements are fast and quick. He's grabbing my waist, pounding into me, eyes locked to mine and our mouths parted. His brunette curls falling on his forehead. His rings pressing into my skin, and I'm sure I'll have bruises matching their imprints tomorrow.

I grab his shoulders to bring his body towards mine. He kisses me again and I wrap my legs around his waist, allowing him to go deeper at this angle.

"Fuck, Stella," he breathes against my lips, sending shivers down my spine. His pace quickens, hitting all the right spots.

Our eyes lock, foreheads pressed together, my legs still wrapped around him. "I'm-"

"Me too," I whimper, feeling my legs tremble.

As the tension builds, his movements become sloppy.

With a groan, Mattheo reaches his peak, and I follow suit, my body pulsing with pleasure.

Did I really just fuck Mattheo Riddle?