Savage Vows (Titans: Moretti Mafia #2)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Matteo

“Without a doubt,” I promise her, even though that’s the last thing she wants to hear.

Primly she tells me, “I think that was sufficient.”

I raise a brow. “Did I ask for your opinion?”

“But—”

“You can’t start by undressing me.” I stand up to give her access. Then I offer my hand to help her to her feet.

After only a short hesitation, she reaches for my tie.

“I may keep you like this. Naked.”

“I’ll get cold.”

Pointedly I glance at her nipples. “I can hope.”

She shakes her head. For a moment, there’s lightness between us that hasn’t existed until now. A growing bond.

Her fingers tremble slightly as she slides the silk from around my neck. Then she moves on to my suit jacket, pushing it off my shoulders and down my arms. I help her by shrugging it off and tossing it over the back of a chair.

Her breath catches as she starts on my shirt, and she takes her time unfastening the buttons slowly. Intimate tasks such as this should be her only job. Her gaze is on me like a physical touch, and I harden in response.

After she removes my cufflinks and sets them on the drafting table, she pushes the shirt off my shoulders.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to seeing these scars.” She traces one.

“Occupational hazard,” I say lightly. They’re much more than that. They’re testament to the fact I’m a survivor. My father made sure all of us learned to fight, and he didn’t believe in gloves or helmets.

After all, he seized power from a usurper. Protecting his position—and the family’s—is paramount. All of us will lay down our lives for each other. “Keep going, Alessia.”

She unbuckles my belt, her fingers brushing against my stomach and sending a jolt of heat straight to my groin.

Slowly she kneels before me, a place I’d like to keep her. As she removes my shoes and socks and then unzips my pants, I fist a hand into her hair.

Finally I’m free of my clothing. My dick is close enough to her face that I feel her warm breath on me. I call on my iron resolve not to throw her beneath me and fuck her right here.

She glances up to meet my gaze.

I sit on the chaise, spreading my legs wide. “Fetch a condom from my wallet,” I instruct.

She scrambles to her feet, picking up my pants and reaching into a back pocket until she finds what she’s looking for.

Condom in hand, she walks back to me.

“I want you on your knees, between my legs, Alessia.” I take the small packet from her and place it next to me. “Get my cock wet.”

She swallows deeply, then does as she’s told, kneeling between my legs. Tentatively she takes my cock in her hand.

“Keep going.” I feather a touch across her forehead.

She leans forward to lick precum from my cock.

“That’s it.” As she takes me into her mouth and swirls her tongue around the sensitive head, I fist my hand in her hair.

Her hand working in tandem with her mouth, she makes me harder, makes my cock wet. Although pleasure is building—and has been for hours—I’m not ready to come yet. I have other plans for her.

“Enough.” I capture her waist and move her back several inches. “Now you’re going to repeat your naughty antics with my cock.”

She blinks, looking up at me with confusion in her eyes.

I position myself on the chaise and tell her, “I want you on top of me,” I instruct. “Slide your clit up and down my length. Pretend it’s the paintbrush handle.”

“You mean, you want me to take you inside me?”

“No. You’ll be on top of my cock, and you’ll be rubbing your clit along my length.”

“I’ve never done anything like that.”

“You’re going to now.” I offer my hand to help her into position.

Somewhat awkwardly, she gets into place, spreading her thighs wide and straddling me. I part her labia and ensure she’s wet.

“Is this right?” As if totally unsure of herself, she begins to move.

“Relax a little. Let me take more of your weight.” I capture her hips and bring her toward me, then back again.

Once she gets the rhythm, I hold on more loosely. “Do not come.”

In response, she squirms. She might not have even been thinking about that, but she is now.

An orgasm begins to build deep in my balls, and I don’t want to spill yet. I still have evil plans for her. “Stop.” I lift her slightly and grab the condom.

In seconds, I’ve protected her. “Now fuck me, Alessia. Pretend I’m your inanimate object.” But with my labored breaths, and the way I’m staring at her, touching her, there’s no way that’s possible.

“I’m feeling a little self-conscious.”

“Let yourself go. No secrets,” I remind her.

Obediently she takes my cock in her hand and positions herself. When my cock presses against her entrance, she starts to rock gently. Her body yields to my harder one, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to thrust up into her.

Over the next thirty seconds, maybe more, she takes more and more of me, coating me in her arousal.

Once she’s fully seated, I grip her hips tighter, my fingers digging into her soft flesh. “Fuck me, Alessia,” I command. “Show me how you chased your release.”

She rides me like she had the toy.

“Play with your nipples.” Passion is drowning me, making my voice a growl.

Closing her eyes, she seems to surrender, cupping her breasts, capturing her nipples with her fingertips. She rolls and pulls, and I place my fingers on her, forcing her to pinch harder.

She cries out, the sound part pain that’s drenched in ultimate pleasure.

Her head falls back, and her breaths are short gasps as she continues to rock against me. She’s getting wetter, and she starts to tremble. “Do you want to come, Alessia?”

“Yes. Yes, Matteo!”

I grab her hips, holding her still. “Not yet, little rebel. Show me how you fucked that paintbrush.”

She whimpers, her eyes meeting mine. “Please, Matteo,” she begs. “I need to come.”

“Not yet.”

Faster and faster she moves, her hips rising and falling. She’s getting wetter by the moment, and her body is shaking, but I deny her still, lifting her once more.

“Matteo!”

“This is punishment, little rebel. You’ll feel my pleasure, but you’ll experience none of your own.”

“I can’t. I can’t do this.” The words are punctuated with her cries. “Please,” she begs, her voice a broken sob. “Please, Matteo. I need to come.”

“Keep playing with your beautiful breasts.” I surge deep inside her. My body tenses as I chase my climax.

With a final, powerful thrust, I bury myself deep inside her, my cock pulsing as I come. I groan from satisfaction. I have never had sex with a woman so connected to me.

Alessia’s inner muscles clench around me. Her chest is heaving from her ragged shallow breaths, and she squirms in my lap, trying to create enough friction to find her release.

“Matteo, please.” She’s begging, the words a choked whisper. Her eyes are glazed with need, and her cheeks are flushed with desire. “I need to come.”

“I know you do, little rebel.” Her frustration, her desperation, fuels my pleasure. “But this is punishment. You were told your orgasms belong to me.”

“You’re evil.”

“Consider yourself fortunate I allowed you one.”

“I think that makes this worse,” she says miserably.

I lift her off me, settling her down on the chaise as I deal with the condom. Once I’ve disposed of it, I return to her. Her legs are pulled close to her body, and she’s wrapped her arms protectively around herself. She’s still naked, her pussy glistens, her nipples are elongated, and she’s trembling with need.

“Let’s get you dressed.”

“You really …” She looks up at me, her eyes filled with disbelief. “You really are going to leave me like this?”

“That’s up to you, Alessia. I might be convinced to change my mind later.” I tip my head to one side. “What happens the rest of the evening is dependent on whether you keep me happy.”

“Has anyone told you you’re mercurial?”

“That’s one of the nicer things I’ve heard,” I respond easily.

Even though she’s frowning, she accepts my help up, and she wiggles back into her panties and leggings.

Because I’m feeling generous and possessive, I offer my jacket. “Put it on.”

Unhesitatingly she does.

Once we’re both dressed and she’s dropped my cufflinks into the pocket of my suit coat, we go back to the main house. “Would you like dinner?” I ask casually, as if I hadn’t been enraptured watching her fuck herself and then had a powerful orgasm of my own.

As she pulls her sweater back on, I take a salad out of the fridge and warm a pasta dish that the chef has prepared. She pours wine—a crisp chardonnay for a change—and takes a seat at the bar, watching me work.

The air is thick with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. When she finally does come, it will be all the sweeter for the wait.

“I talked to Chiara today.”

Pausing, I look across at her.

“I told her I was glad she was going to be assigned to me.”

I appreciate her handling that. As the wife of the Moretti underboss, she’ll need to make decisions that are in our best interests, taking initiative like she had today. Perhaps my mother is right. I need patience. “Thank you.”

Alessia lifts her glass, and I see that my approval has made her hand waver. “And Bella called.”

“Did she?”

“You were right.”

You must really want that orgasm, little rebel.

“She does have security.” Alessia takes a sip. “I guess it makes sense. Nico would go mad with worry about her if he didn’t know she was safe.”

I walk over to her and turn her stool slightly so she’s facing me. With my knuckles, I stroke the column of her throat. “There’s nothing more important to me than knowing you’re protected.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“You’re not expected to,” I say softly. “But the more willing you are to have Chiara or another member of the team around, the more freedom you’ll have.”

With a sigh, she asks, “Everything has to be your way, Matteo?”

“Not everything.”

“Where are you willing to compromise?”

Considering, I frown. “I am sure there are things.”

Shaking her head, she laughs. “You made my point, I’d say.”

As I lower my hand, she takes a small sip.

“What were you drawing when I came in?”

“I don’t generally share my art.”

Though I’m curious, I don’t push. But then surprising me she flips open the cover, and I look at it. The picture is of me, naked, as I looked when I was stepping out of the shower this morning. Droplets of water cling to my skin. She’s captured my muscles, my scars, the intensity in my eyes. She’s seen me in a way no one else ever has. I’m impressed with the depth of her insight. “Your talent is astounding.”

She shrugs. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“As long as you don’t ask me to pose in front of a roomful of people.”

“No chance.”

Our dinner is a surprisingly relaxed affair. Afterward we clean the kitchen together. I refill her wine, and we move into the living room. I take a place on one end of the couch, and she curls up on the other.

“Music?” I offer.

“I’d like that,” she replies. “Jazz, maybe. Or some classical?”

How did I not know anything about her musical tastes? Then I realize I’ve very little time finding out about her.

Courtship, my mother called it.

An antiquated notion, one I don’t have time for. I’m not sure what it even means. And yet I know my mother has been my father’s biggest supporter and most trusted confidante. Having Alessia as an ally, not an adversary is in my best interest.

I set the house system to play contemporary jazz, and her shoulders relax a little more.

With her palms cupping the globe of her glass, she studies me. “I’m curious, Matteo. If you didn’t have to marry out of duty, who would you choose?”

Her question catches me off guard. “I haven’t thought about it.” I suppose I would eventually marry, but after Clara, I was in no hurry.

“Who broke your heart?”

“Who says anyone did?”

“You haven’t already walked down the aisle. And I can’t help but notice you’re at least upper middle class.”

“At least.” I grin.

“And you’re not ugly.”

“From you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Ergo, you swore off love. Let me guess, you were young, idealistic.” Then she pauses. “And she found out who you really are.”

“Did you ask Bella about me? Look me up online?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I watch you, take note of your interactions with others. I saw the way you treated your mother, the way you interact with others.” She pauses and a hint of color stains her cheeks. “You’re …”

I wait.

“Passionate.”

With her, it’s beyond that. My desire for her is a singular, focused thing.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’d be surprised if you hadn’t been in love.”

She lapses into silence, waiting for me to fill it.

Finally I fill in the gaps. “Clara.” Very few people know the name. “We met at college.”

“And she didn’t know who you were?”

I shrug. The memories still sting. At first, things had been perfect, and she made the first move, inviting me to join her for a study group in the library. When I showed up, there were no other people there. And that suited me fine.

She was attending school on a scholarship, and she guessed I came from money. We began dating, and I moved her into my apartment to save money.

Over time, she began to realize I had more security than even a former president’s kid. And she began to ask questions. Eventually I had no choice but to tell her the truth. I boil down the messy breakup to a few short words. “She wanted me to give up who I am.”

“Did she give you an ultimatum?”

“You can call it that.” Wrapped in a tantrum, arguments, withholding sex, emotional blackmail. I kicked her out when she threatened to expose me and my family to the feds.

Nothing is more important than my blood.

On my behalf, Alessia winces. “Being who you are is…complicated.”

Because of who she is, she understands.

Uncomfortable at revealing so much—after all, honesty destroyed my relationship with Clara—I end the conversation. “I need someone who knows the score.”

She smiles ironically and takes a sip of the chardonnay. “Which is where I come in.”

“Easier that way.”

“For you, maybe.” She shrugs.

Courtship, I remind myself when I’m tempted to change the direction of the conversation. A time to get to know one another. “So how about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it all Mafia you hate? Or just me?”

For the moment, she’s quiet. She doesn’t deny hating me, bruising my ego even though it shouldn’t matter.

When she finally answers, her tone is flat. “It’s nothing personal. Mostly.” She shrugs.

The qualifier adds more salt to the wound she’s already inflicted.

“My mother was killed when I was young.”

I scowl. Though I knew her mother was no longer living, killed is a strong word.

“Knifed when she and my father were leaving a christening.”

And the event was covered up. Which I understand. In the same circumstances, I might make the same decision. Still, I am surprised the Morettis didn’t learn this when vetting Alessia.

“At the time, I didn’t know what was happening.”

Of course her father would have kept that information from her.

“But then …”

Impatience makes me bounce my fingers on my thighs, but I force myself to remain quiet.

“One night, I couldn’t have been more than eight or nine, I heard loud voices coming from downstairs.” She takes another drink. “I was supposed to be asleep, but I was drawing.”

Which I imagine she did a lot.

“Anyway, I was curious.” She swallows deeply. “There was a man in the entryway, being held up by my oldest brother and one of our soldiers. He was broken. Beaten. Bloody.” Maybe so she doesn’t drop it, she puts down her glass. “Anyway, my father gave the order to execute him.”

I’ve done the same. Not that I’m proud of those decisions.

“Over time, I learned what happened to my mother. And I know what type of person my father is.” She shudders. “As I said, nothing personal. Mostly. But I want nothing to do with being in a crime family.”

Which explains why she ran, why she will continue to do so.

“So back to you, Matteo. You could have your choice of any Mafia princess in the United States, maybe the world. Why would you settle for me?”

“Settle?” Coming to my feet, I put down my glass. Then I pluck hers from her fingers. When it’s safely on the coffee table, I lean over her. “I assure you, Alessia, when it comes to you, no man would be settling. You’re beautiful, talented, have your own moral code. I’m lucky you’ll be my wife.” Even if you don’t want to be.

Reaching out, I tug Alessia to her feet and bring her close to me. I wrap one arm around her waist, and with my free one, I cup her cheek.

“Open your mouth for me.”

In instant surrender, she does, and I capture her mouth in a passionate, demanding kiss. She melts into me, her body pressed against mine, and I know she can feel how much I already desire her.

My tongue sweeps against hers, and I taste her sweetness, explore her responses. I want her to understand that this may have started as a decree from my father, but it has quickly become so much more.

I reach my hand beneath her sweater to cup her breast and abrade her nipple with my thumbnail.

She lifts onto her tiptoes and wraps her arms around my neck, seeking more, offering me everything.

Like the greedy man I am, I take it.

When we finally step apart, her gaze is still on mine. “I have another update for you.”

“Do you?”

“I made sure all of my belongings were moved into your room.”

Fuck. Even though she was a brat this morning, one who earned a spanking before I left and turned my thoughts upside down, I couldn’t be happier with her. She took charge of the Chiara situation, and now this.

I traced her slightly swollen lower lip. “Shall I show you how I reward good girls, Alessia?”