8. Matteo
Matteo
I’ve been awake for hours, lying on my back and staring at the ceiling as if it holds answers to questions I’m too fucked in the head to ask.
The plaster above me is smooth and unremarkable.
It’s the same ceiling I’ve stared at a thousand times over the past thirty-three years, but tonight it feels different.
Heavier somehow. The weight of everything I’m refusing to think about presses down on me, making it impossible to close my eyes for more than a few seconds at a time.
Except for a faint sliver of light leaking in from the hallway, the room is dark. The thin line cuts across the floorboards and stretches over the bed, amplifying the invisible line Azra drew between us.
I shift on my side, my movements gentle enough not to disturb the mattress. A change in position doesn’t help. Nothing will. My body is exhausted, but my mind refuses to shut down. It’s been running in circles for hours now.
Inhaling slowly, I will myself toward sleep.
That’s when it hits me again.
Azra’s seductive scent.
It isn’t because she’s lying next to me, protected behind the ridiculous pillow fort she rebuilt before settling in for the night.
Her scent lingers on my cock, faint yet unmistakable.
It clings to my skin, as it did to the SUV, which is why I insisted one of the Caruso foot soldiers bring my bike to Lombardo’s.
Now it’s here, in my room, on my bed, and in my fucking lungs.
It’s subtle but annoyingly familiar.
It’s a scent that sneaks up on you and refuses to leave once it’s there.
I cannot figure out why Azra has made me so unhinged. I’ve never learned names, for fuck’s sake, but I know it’s hers, and no matter how many times I tell my cock it’s off the table, he really wants me to grunt it out while screwing her senseless.
I close my eyes. It only makes it worse. Despite the barrier between us, her scent becomes more intense. It curls around my senses like her lips circled my cock.
Flashes of her kneeling in the back of the SUV play through my head like a movie. With stubborn determination, she raised her chin, striving to hide her fear, and her hands pumped my cock as if I paid for the privilege.
I exhale slowly, but I don’t push the memory away.
As my cock twitches, I knock down some pillows. Not all of them. Just enough to see Azra’s lumpy silhouette in the dark.
Her shoulders rise and fall with each breath, but I can’t tell if she’s actually asleep or pretending so she doesn’t have to talk to me.
I guess there’s only one way to find out.
With my hips angled halfway between the mattress and the ceiling, I fist the base of my cock. I’m not surprised by how hard I am. My erection hasn’t deflated a smidge since I slipped into a bed that should smell too innocent to be exciting.
While pumping my dick with one hand, I trail my knuckles on the other down the little dip between Azra’s torso and hips. She has an enticing hourglass figure. Her waist is slim, her hips are wide, and her ass would have any red-blooded man eager to sink his teeth into the bouncing globes.
Don’t get me started on her tits and beautiful face, or this will be over shamefully fast.
A spasm of excitement skates up my spine when Azra’s body reacts to my briefest touch. Goose bumps sprout across her arms before they dot the sensitive skin on her nape.
I stroke my dick fast, uncaring that Azra could bust me like a horndog with no morals.
I’ve been called worse.
Pre-cum pools at the tip as I scoot closer to Azra. Her hair, swept to one side, exposes inches upon inches of delicate skin. Her nightgown is something my grandmother would have worn, but it’s thin and fragile, leaving little to the imagination.
If she were facing me, I could drink in the peaks of her nipples through the dainty cotton material.
I shudder at the prospect of removing her sleepwear with the same aggression I used earlier to take off her panties. It would float to the floor with a soundless whoosh that a moan would gobble up as I laid her on my bed and spread her wide to marvel at her devilishly decadent cunt.
Too horny to care that I could wake her, I trek my tongue across her shoulder, groaning at the taste of my body wash on her skin.
The thought of her in my shower, drenched head to toe in my scent, makes me pump my dick faster. I rock it in and out of my fist, taking more of the sheet with me with each pump.
In seconds, the bedding puddles at our feet, and the only thing between us is Azra’s cotton pajamas.
When I inch in close enough for the sticky droplet on the tip of my cock to stain her nightie, I expect her to pull away.
She doesn’t. Shockingly.
With only the slightest coercion, she rolls onto her back, her lips parting as her eyes drift to my cock.
I use her gaping mouth to my advantage. With one hand on my dick and the other holding my weight off her body, I pierce my tongue through her pouty lips and give one long lick to the roof of her mouth.
Her gravelly moan hardens me more.
She arches toward me, her hand twisting through my hair as she returns my kiss with more eagerness than her angelic face should allow her to display.
We kiss until my balls tighten with need. I’m desperate to come, but something else trumps it—something I usually have no interest in.
Sliding my hand between Azra’s legs, I groan at the dampness of her panties. She opens her thighs for me, coaxing me to take this further than its current PG-13 rating, and a greedy inferno burns through me.
“Christ, micina. So wet for me already.”
I smile against her mouth when she doesn’t deny the truth. She murmurs in agreement before telling me she’s been wet since our kiss in the mudroom of the Adami compound.
Her lips twitch, as if she wants to say more, but the brief brush of my thumb past her clit shifts her thoughts.
While scrutinizing each look that crosses her face, I flutter my fingertips over the delicate lines of her pussy and caress her clit with my thumb.
Every touch is through her drenched cotton panties, but she reacts positively to each subtle movement, sinking her teeth into her lower lip to lessen the loudness of her moans.
“Let me hear you, Azra,” I beg.
She lets out a breathy groan before she thrusts her head back.
Speech is impossible.
When I circle her clit, heat spreads from her core to her neck. Patiently, I massage her toward climax. I don’t rush like my needs are more important than hers. I take my time, savoring every moan, every squirm, and the increase of wetness between her legs.
“Oh god,” she moans, writhing.
I swirl the nervy bud at the same speed as the throbs feeding my cock. I stopped jerking off the moment she returned my kiss, but it has kept leaking pre-cum ever since. Both of our arousals will stain the sheets, but not yet. I still have time to tease.
Azra’s moans grow louder; however, they never hit the peak I’m after.
I want her to scream my name.
“This would be a whole heap easier if I could give your cunt something to cling to while riding the wave.”
I wasn’t supposed to say my words out loud, but I’m glad I didn’t hold back when Azra gives me the green light to make her mine. “Then do that.”
I stare at her as if I’m dreaming. I desperately want to stuff my fingers inside her and toy with her G-spot, but that’s against the rules, isn’t it?
My fingers are larger than some dweebs’ cocks. Proof? They extend well past Azra’s ass when I flatten my palm against her clit. Just rubbing two along the seam of her pussy seems too much. She’s tiny, and I’m… not.
Azra moves my release to within an inch of the finish line. “Please, Matteo. I need you.”
She’s speaking words I’ve been eager to hear since my eyes landed on her, but I can’t help but ask, “What happened to your no-penetration rule?”
I’m asking questions like I want to back out but acting the opposite. In two quick movements, I rip off her panties, crawl down her body, and then position myself between her splayed thighs.
“You can’t marry Antonio if someone penetrates you.”
The anger that sliced me into pieces earlier is nowhere to be seen when she replies, “Fuck Antonio, and fuck the contract.”
It’s probably her libido talking, but tell me one man who considers morals when a delicious-smelling cunt is on the line?
Before she can change my mind, and before I can remember I’ve not gone down on a woman in years, I blow hot air over her swollen clit, sending a shiver through her limbs, then flick my tongue over it.
She bucks against my mouth and calls out immediately.
“Matteo.” It’s a half plea, half moan.
Moisture trickles between her legs as a blinding orgasm overwhelms her.
I gobble up every drop of her release.
Fuck... She tastes amazing. Sweet but with a bit of the sourness she only unleashes on me.
I suck and lick her clit with urgent strokes, desperate for more. She climaxes again almost instantly, but I don’t stop. I eat her hungrily. Greedily. I take and take and take until she’s pulling at my hair with so much urgency, she’ll pluck me bald.
“Stop… please… I can’t.”
With her hands pinned to the mattress, I work her toward the clouds again. I drag my tongue up her slit and around her clit before plunging it deep inside her.
I fuck her with my tongue while grinding my cock into the mattress.
I could have come ten minutes ago, but that isn’t what this is about.
Somewhere in a part of my brain I rarely use, I know what I am doing.
I’m thanking her for finally acknowledging that I’m not insane.
The sparks burning between us are dangerous enough to scar.
Minutes later, Azra’s fingernails dig into my skull, and her thrusting hips still.
Her shoulder blades meet as my name spills from her kiss-swollen lips in a wanton cry.
It’s such a hungry, carnal sound that before I can remember I don’t keep condoms in my room, the requirement unnecessary since I’ve never brought another woman here, I climb up her body, removing her nightie on the way, and then nestle my dick between her legs.
I gaze down at the erotic image of her flushed cheeks and pert tits and watch for the fear I expect to filter through her eyes as I spread her with my fingers.
It doesn’t come. Not when I pierce the head of my cock through her opening, and not when I ask if she’s on birth control.
The only time fear filters in her eyes is when I push past the protective barrier keeping her on the ledger of every sick fuck this side of the nation.
I’m barely three inches in but deeply seated enough to remove virgin from her dossier.
“Keep your eyes on me, la mia tigrotta. It’ll feel better soon. I promise.”
I have absolutely no idea if anything I’m saying is true. I’ve never had sex with a virgin before—not even when I was one. I didn’t want to step anyone through their first time. I was there to get off, not conduct an anatomy class.
I’d be dishonest to say I wasn’t relishing every second of our exchange.
“You just need to trust that I won’t hurt you.”
My balls pull in close as the tight walls of her vagina relax, and she welcomes me in more. I could come now, her trust so evoking, but I hold back, focused on making this pleasurable for her.
One hand lifts her hips off the mattress, tilting them to the perfect height for maximum pleasure, while the other runs down the inside of her thigh.
Her groan once I circle her clit with my thumb is closer to a moan than a sob, and it clears up a handful of tears her eyes are threatening to spill.
I squeeze her clit until speech becomes impossible, and then I ram my hips forward.
“Matteo…”
After several painful seconds, the gleam in her eyes grants me permission to pull out.
I withdraw only to the tip before stuffing my cock back inside.
She can’t take all of me. I’m barely halfway in, but it feels amazing.
The slickness of multiple orgasms coats my shaft, along with the faint red coloring of her virginity.
“You’re so fucking sexy like this. Drenched and spread out for me.”
Azra rocks against me, meeting each grind, moaning and panting as the sparks of a fresh orgasm filter across her beautiful face.
“Matteo…” she moans again, her hips circling. “Wake up.”
I peer down at her, lost by her last two words.
Leaning down, I capture her mouth in mine and kiss her roughly. Perhaps if she tastes herself on my lips as I pound into her, she’ll realize she’s not dreaming.
This is as real as it gets, and it’s fucking amazing.
“Matteo… wake up!”
This time, Azra doesn’t circle her hips. She flattens her hand on my chest and gently shakes me.
I only shake my head for half a second to loosen my confusion, but it changes everything. Azra is no longer below me. She hovers above me, and instead of her eyes being filled with lust, they’re crammed with worry.
“You were having a nightmare,” she murmurs, peering down at me, fully clothed. “You were grunting and…” She runs her hand over my forehead, gathering multiple beads of sweat. “You’re sticky and clammy.” I hate the worry in her eyes. “Do you normally have nightmares?”
“No.” I push back, flattening against the pillow fort still wedged between our sleeping zones. It’s so high she must have clambered around the bed to comfort me. “I wasn’t having a nightmare. I was…”
I can’t say it.
I refuse.
I’m thirty-fucking-three years old.
I do not have wet dreams—especially not ones that portray me as a sentimental schmuck.
“I was fuming.”
“Over?” Azra asks, unconvinced by my excuse.
I hate myself the moment the words leave my mouth, but my humiliation won’t let me hold them back. “That you sent Tuesday packing before I could get my fill.”
Instantly, the concern in her eyes shifts to anarchy, and just as fast, she storms into the bathroom and slams the door shut behind her.