Chapter 13
13
Ginny
I surprise myself by agreeing to have dinner with Mateo. To be honest, at some point my brain shut down and my body took over. When he offered me his hand, I couldn’t help but take hold of it. It’s only as we’re walking out of the house and getting into the car that my brain catches up. The last time we had a meal together, I found him beating the crap out of someone.
Alarm bells go off in my head and I have to remind myself that Mateo is dangerous. He isn’t some crush from college or a random guy hitting on me in the diner. He runs a criminal organization, and he hurts people when they get out of line. These are the facts of who he is. But here I am, sitting next to him in one of his sleek black cars, a driver speeding through the city, purposely not paying any attention to us.
I look down and realize our hands are still intertwined. I drop his like it’s a hot coal and try to play it off by faking a cough.
The city blurs by, and I can’t help but sneak glances at him. He’s relaxed, leaning back, the hand I dropped casually draped over the armrest. He catches my look and raises an eyebrow, and I quickly look away, embarrassed at being caught. But it doesn’t seem to faze him. In fact, a slight smirk dons his face, like he finds my flustered reaction amusing.
After a while, he breaks the silence.
“My first apartment is around here,” he tells me, pointing out the window.
Just a few blocks away.” He nods toward a street we’re passing. “Bought the building years ago, but never did much with it. I might have you take a look, see what you’d do with it.”
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “You’d trust me to design an entire building?” I ask, somewhat in awe. “That would be an interesting challenge.”
The car slows, and we pull up in front of a small, quiet bistro tucked between two large skyscrapers, like a magic portal waiting to be discovered. Mateo gets out first, coming around to open my door, and I can’t ignore the thrill that runs through me as I take his hand again to step out. There’s a newfound ease in his touch, a quiet confidence that makes it all too easy to get lost in the feeling of his hand wrapped around mine.
Inside, the restaurant is dimly lit, the tables set close together, classical music playing softly from hidden speakers. We’re seated at a corner table, and I realize how close we’re sitting, the way his leg is brushing against mine, how our table is somewhat secluded from the other diners. I tell myself to keep this professional, but the ambiance, combined with Mateo’s undivided attention, is wearing down my resolve.
I order a glass of wine to ease my nerves, and Mateo smiles, asking the waiter to bring the whole bottle. This time, I order a richer meal than the salad I’d ordered at our lunch a few days ago. I’m starting to realize that Mateo takes offense to frugality. He wants to treat me, so the polite thing to do is let him I suppose.
The food arrives, and it’s incredible, the flavors rich and vibrant. The wine is smooth, and with each sip, I feel myself relaxing more, the last few days fading into the background. I don’t know if it’s the wine, the atmosphere, or the fact that I’m sitting across from a man who somehow manages to be both dangerous and completely captivating, but something inside me shifts.
As we talk, the conversation slips easily between lighthearted topics and flirtatious banter. He’s effortlessly charming, his gaze lingering on mine, a hint of amusement in his eyes whenever I blush or stumble over my words. I keep telling myself to keep my guard up, to remember who he is, but I find it impossible to care. I’m here, enjoying myself, feeling more alive than I have in a long time.
As we finish our meal, I realize that I’ve drained at least three glasses of wine. When we stand up to leave, I stumble a bit, and his hands immediately shoot out to grab my waist, his touch warm. I lean into his touch, already intoxicated by the feeling of his hands around me.
He keeps one arm wrapped around my waist as he guides me out of the restaurant, into the chilly night air. It does little to clear my head. I can feel a pleasant warmth from the wine and the lingering taste of dessert on my lips. As we reach the parking lot, an idea sparks, and before I can second-guess myself, I turn to him.
“Can we go see your old apartment building?” I ask, my voice a little breathless.
He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Right now?” he questions suspiciously
I bite my lip and nod, not trusting myself to say more.
A slow grin spreads across his face, and he gestures toward the car.
“Your wish is my command,” he murmurs, as he loads us into the car, then tells the driver of our change of destination.
The drive is short, just a few blocks, and soon we’re pulling up in front of an unassuming brick building. It’s certainly not as polished as his current place, but there’s something charming about it, history evident in the deep lines of the brick facade. He lets us inside with a very fancy keypad, and he leads me down a narrow hallway, past a series of abandoned units. Soon, he’s stopped in front of a simple black door with a faded number on it that I can’t make out.
There’s a key box hung on the handle and he quickly enters the code to retrieve the key. He opens the door to the slightly musty apartment. Clearly no one has been here in a while.
I follow him inside, our footsteps echoing in the empty space. He shuts the door behind us, and I suddenly feel hyperaware of how close we are, the quiet intimacy of being here, alone, in a place that clearly holds pieces of his story.
“So, where was your bed?” I ask, my voice soft, barely above a whisper.
He gestures toward the far wall, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
“Right there, by the window.”
I walk over, standing in the spot he indicated, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. I don’t know what I expected, but there’s something electric in the air that makes my pulse quicken, my skin flush.
He steps forward, closing the space between us. His hand reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, his touch gentle yet possessive, like he’s claiming this moment, anchoring it. I look up at him, and the intensity in his eyes makes my breath hitch.
I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, his lips are moving against mine, soft but insistent, a slow, steady kiss that sends a shiver down my spine. His hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and I can feel the heat of his body against me.
After a moment, I pull back, my heart pounding, and I blurt out the words I swore I’d never say out loud.
“I’m a virgin,” I tell him breathlessly, cowering in shame after spilling my secret.
He pauses, his eyes searching mine, and a slow grin spreads across his face.
“And would you prefer to stay that way?” he asks, playing with the hem of my shirt.
I move closer to him, until we’re chest to chest and I can already feel the evidence of his desire pressing against me. All I can do is stare at his lips, wondering why he hasn’t moved them back to my own, when I realize he’s waiting for me to answer his question.
I quickly shake my head, my hands moving to his shirt buttons.
“Thank fuck,” he whispers under his breath, his movements much quicker and surer than mine.
Once I’ve gotten his shirt unbuttoned, he shrugs it off, quickly pulling his undershirt over his head with it. He takes a step back, and I watch, mesmerized as he starts to unbutton his trousers.
“Look at me,” he demands, his voice sharp and dripping with sex.
I look him in his eye, biting my lip as I see him remove his pants until he’s staring in front of me stark naked, his erection stiff between us.
“Now you, my dear, are wearing far too many clothes,” he whispers, his hands moving to my waist to pull me against him again.
His tongue intertwines with mine as his hands move everywhere, pulling and grabbing and eventually we’re standing in the middle of the room completely bared to one another. It’s dark in the room, the only light coming in from the windows, and it’s the first time I realize that anyone could look in and see us. I should feel embarrassed by that, but it only sends a thrill through me.
“I’m sorry this isn’t more romantic,” he murmurs as his hand slides between our already slick bodies, touching me in the place that’s only ever felt by my own fingers. I whimper against his touch, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as I ride his fingers, which are far more capable than mine.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hisses as he slides a finger inside me. “Are you sure this is what you want, Ginny? I don’t want you to regret this.”
I shake my head profusely, unable to form words as my eyes roll back in my head as his thumb swipes over my most sensitive nerve endings. He stops momentarily, misinterpreting my head shake.
“I won’t regret this,” I whisper quickly, hardly able to form the words as I press my lips against his, feeling relief at the contact.
He backs us up until I feel the cold of the brick wall, and he braces me against it, pulling one of my legs around his waist as he positions himself.
“I’ll stop,” he whispers as I feel the tip of him rub against my entrance. “If it hurts or you change your mind,” he stammers. “I’ll stop.”
My hands move to his hips, pulling them closer to me, giving him permission to move. He’s torturously slow as he stretches me, testing the boundary between us. With how tipsy I was I couldn’t detect the pain of being widened by his girth. I lean my head back against the wall as I cling to him, feeling overwhelmed and needing more at the same time. It’s strange to feel him inside of me, but I want more, need more, feel like I might combust if he doesn’t fully sheath himself inside of me.
My breaths are coming out shallow, ragged, and I can’t help the moan that escapes me as his thumb begins to circle my clit again, bringing me immense pleasure as he nearly splits me open. Finally, he’s fully inside of me, his eyes searching mine for any reaction.
I can only nod slightly, though I don’t know what it is I’m agreeing to. I just know I need something more. He pulls out of me slightly, and I’m about to protest when he slams back in, my leg nearly buckling under me. He lifts that one up too, wrapping it around him until he’s the only thing keeping me upright. The most powerful man of Chicago was here with me in an abandoned apartment building, fully committed to making sure I had complete, glorious gratification for my first time. It felt like an otherworldly wet dream that fortunately did not end abruptly.
My hands move to his hair, twisting as I cling for dear life with each thrust of his thick cock. I’m completely putty in his hands, reacting to every hitch in his breath, every groan. I kiss him fervently, swallowing the vibrations of his pleasure.
A familiar sensation grows in the pit of my stomach, and I know that I’m close. It’s so much different than I expected, the orgasm a little more elusive with him inside of me, but I crave each thrust in a way I don’t fully grasp.
“I-I think I’m going to come.” I whimper out.
“Yeah? Do it for me baby. Come for me.”
His arm moves behind me, a barrier between me and the wall as he loses control, his hips moving in wild abandon as his own pleasure overtakes him. At the same time as he fills me with his seed, my own orgasm crashes over me, causing me to clench around him and drain him of everything he has to give.
I cry out as he whispers my name like a prayer. My body goes limp against him, in disbelief of the pleasure it just experienced. I knew I was in trouble now. How could I go on, not yearning for that in my bed every night now?