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She swallows and closes her eyes, rocking her hips into my hand. I sneak a fingertip under the panties’ crotch, feeling how much she wants this. I press a knuckle to her clit, with just enough pressure for her to rub against. She’s slick, and when I push a finger into her pussy, she gasps and contracts into my hand. Always so ready, always so easy and close.
“I think these kitten panties are the only thing I’ll allow you to keep,” I say as I extract my finger, leaving her hanging on the ledge. I stand and adjust my raging cock in my pants. It’s uncomfortable and there’s only one way I’m going to deal with this. “Understand that I’m only going to ask you this once.” I let a beat of silence hang for her to grasp that I’m fucking serious. “Do I stay, my darling, or do I go?”
58
TASHA
My darling…
The way he said those words was filled with so much tenderness, such love that I’m struggling to breathe. This man doesn’t love me, but his actions speak more than a thousand words. I shouldn’t buy into them as much as my pounding heart begs me to, because Matteo Scalera plays dirty, filthy games. He’s left it up to me to invite him in, knowing what the alternative is. I can’t watch him walk out… and then he had me right there on the verge?—
“Stay,” I whisper. “Please.”
I can’t believe I just begged him to fuck me senseless, but I’m confused, and lost, and I’ve never wanted anything more than him. Like this. Mine. Only mine.
I can tell myself it’s just sex, but women aren’t programmed like that. I’m not programmed liked that. I need to be held in the comfort of his embrace, locked with him in a type of intimacy I never knew existed, or that I needed so much. I hate him because I need him. I need him because I love him. I love and hate him in equal parts in this moment, flipping like a coin. It can land whichever way it pleases.
I’m splayed open, naked except for my panties. Matteo stares down at me, his own need reflected in his eyes. He starts to strip, slowly, teasing me by revealing his body bit by bit. His chest and abs as he unbuttons his shirt, his tattoo, which is like a secret which I’ve been let into, it’s meaning inked in heartache—our heartache.
He strips the rest and when he drops his pants, his cock juts out. I wish I wasn’t tied up so I could reach out for it.
“Soon,” Matteo murmurs as he glides a hand up my inner thigh, loops two fingers around the crotch of my underwear and pulls. I lift my hips and he slides the thong off, then drops them to the floor. When he gets on the bed, he parks his hands next to my head, planking over me. He lowers his hips and his cock’s wet tip glides over my mound, in the most intimate caress, controlled, like everything he does. Just a bit of pressure and the heat flares in me again. He dips his head and kisses me, slowly, tenderly, every kiss a vow of the love that should be between us. I blink, unwanted tears surfacing out of nowhere.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he says as he kisses them away. “I’ve got you.”
Matteo continues his trail of kisses down my neck, to my chest and nipples, one after the other. I close my eyes, sinking into every feeling he evokes. Safe. I feel so safe with him, it’s hard to make the connection with this man and the one that killed my family.
I feel safe with him, even when fully exposed for his hands and lips, because he’s treasuring me, worshipping me, all the way. When he licks the tip of my slit, I shudder with a moan, pushing my hips into his mouth. He tastes me, licks me, sucks at my clit in agonizing slow motion, making my body drunk on desire. I’m so close.
“Matteo,” I beg, wanting to anchor him with my hands, wanting him to stop edging me like this.
He pulls away and leans over me to untie my hands. As soon as I can wriggle free, I cup his neck and pull him down for a kiss. It’s slow and intimate, and he tastes of me, of my need for him. When he caresses my cheek, I know I can never hate him. Not when he is like this, the exact opposite of the man he becomes out there.
He rolls onto his back and pulls me along, so I’m pressed against his chest. He hooks my leg over his hips and pushes me up. We haven’t done this yet. We’ve been doing all kinds of things, but he was always in charge. Now he has me straddling him, his cock in hand, a thumb playing with my nipple.
Every sensation is like a drug, and when he nudges me to sink down on him, I comply. His hands on my hips guide me what to do next, but on instinct I start to chase the perfect pressure. I drop my head back in the intensity of having him like this, of being in charge. “You’re so deep…” And fills me up so perfectly, stretching me to breaking point, only upping my need.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous like this,” he says as he ghosts his fingers all over my sides and my hips, then back to my nipples.
This is going to be fast and intense as I already feel my orgasm begging to break free from deep within me.
“That’s it, kitten,” Matteo murmurs. “Come on my cock and tell me how much you hate me again.”
At his words, my orgasm crashes down and I cry out, my hands hiding my face, unable to do anything but breathe through it. It doesn’t stop, and I feel how I’m gushing out on him, squirting.
“Fuck.” Matteo moves, has me in a hug and in one smooth move twists us so I’m on my back and he’s on top. He pounds into me, riding my orgasm, and I cling to him, desperate for this to never end.
But he stills as his own release erupts and he buries his face in my neck with a groan. I’m still orgasming, now in the slow easing as it tapers off, and I rock into him.
“Fuck, Tasha,” he whispers in my neck. “We might have nothing else, but we’ll have this.”
And marriages have been built on less.
“Yes,” I whisper back, knowing I’ll never deny him again. Even if he doesn’t love me, when we’re together like this, I can pretend he does.
59
MATTEO
