Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
I stuff the remainder of his reply down his throat by crossing the room in three quick strides, propelling onto my tippy-toes and kissing him hard on the mouth.
“Fuck… no… taste so good.”
I frown during his first two words, then smile over his lips during his final three.
With his hand flattened on my back, he pulls me closer, but he leaves my mouth to do all the work. Undeterred, I slide my tongue between his lips, deepening our kiss. He tastes like the breakfast we shared and a palate that will always solely belong to him.
This is as far as we’ve gone in days. I couldn’t get the images of Hattie’s assault out of my head to ever think I’d enjoy something like this again, but heat flashes through me so fast it burns my neck.
As I drag my tongue along the roof of Matteo’s mouth, tasting every corner, I thrust my hips forward, hissing when I feel how hard he is.
I lean in close, my erect nipples scraping his chest, and whisper, “Please… fuck me.”
“La mia—”
“I need you.” His forehead drops to mine, and he growls. “And you need me too.”
The horrible images of my best friend’s assault aren’t the only ones that have been playing on repeat for the past five days. Matteo’s expression when I spun to face him for the first time and the pure fear in his eyes have burned themselves into my retinas.
He believed he was going to witness the death of a loved one again.
His eyes move over me as the corded veins in his thick arms pulsate. “I can’t fuck you. Dante would take my nuts.” I almost slump back. Then he says, “But I can make love to you.”
Love? I stare at him like the word is foreign, like it’s something I’ve only ever given and not received. Then I remember what I thought only seconds ago.
He believed he was going to witness the death of a loved one again.
He loves me.
And I love him.
“Okay.”
He steps back, and lovingly slow, he removes my sleeping shirt, pants, and underwear. His eyes never veer from mine. It’s almost too intimate, but I can’t force myself to look away. The love displayed in his actions has rooted my feet to the floor.
Even his gentle tug as he moves our exchange to the three-seater couch barely budges me. I more stumble onto his lap than gracefully drop down. As his lips fall to my neck, he touches me everywhere. He kisses my neck, collarbone, and jaw while his hands cup my breasts to play with my nipples. Every touch has a purpose, and none of them are evil.
He worships me as if he’ll never see me at my worst, much less already has.
Our souls fuse before they soothe over the cracks Antonio made.
I feel whole again.
So very whole.
I shake above him when he lifts me so the tip of his penis nestles between the delicate lines of my pussy.
“Go slow,” he begs, not wanting a rerun of the night I lost my virginity.
Nodding, I slowly descend.
Inch by painstaking inch, I take him to the root, moaning when his cock flexes in response to my controlled pace. I thought making love would be boring, that without pain there wouldn’t be pleasure. This experience has proven me wrong.
It feels incredible.
“Look at me, la mia tigrotta. Give me those eyes.”
Our eyes meet, and as Matteo slowly rocks his hips upward, I issue him my silent thanks. He brought me back to life long before our exchange on the rooftop. He revived my lungs with oxygen.
“You feel so good. So tight.” I hiss with pleasure when he groans. “So mine.”
His thrusts are slow and leisurely, and I get drunk off every one of them. Tingles of an orgasm form low in my stomach as my breathing slows. It spreads like wildfire as Matteo’s hand snakes up my back, and he sinks his fingers into my hair. He doesn’t tug on my hair or use it as leverage to bounce me on and off his cock. He uses it to force prolonged eye contact.
Staring at each other as if no one else exists sends me free-falling into ecstasy. I come with a moan, and Matteo joins me, doubling the strength of my climax. His grunts hit my lips in raring spurts as strings of cum pump from his cock.
“Thank you.” The words aren’t enough to express how much he means to me, but they’re all I have. “For everything.”
One side of his lips tugs up. “It was my pleasure, la mia tigrotta.” He suddenly stands, taking me with him, and I squeal. “As this will be too.”
With a chaotic wink, he tosses me onto his shoulder and beelines for the bedroom.
Chapter 50
Matteo
Iforget how to breathe when Azra emerges from the bathroom wearing fitted jeans, a soft cream sweater, and cropped black boots. She pulled her hair back into a low bun that showcases her delicate neck, and her flushed cheeks indicate more than just a warm shower is responsible for them.