13. Renata
It”s beentwo hours since Mateo blew my mind. I”ve had a lot of sex in my life. Never have I had sex like that. I was mortified at the mess I made, but Matteo said it was hot. He found secret places inside my body that I didn”t even know existed and made me feel things that should be illegal.
It’s ironic that my plan was to get him sexually addicted to me, and I might be the one on the hook.
I lift my head from his chest and look at the marks I”ve left on his pecs. “I”m sorry. I”ve made a real mess of you.”
“It”s okay.” He shrugs. “I like it.”
His words have my core aching all over again. I can”t go for another round, though, because we did it twice more after the first time. Once in the shower when we were supposed to be cleaning up and once back in the bed when we were supposed to be getting some sleep. I”m so sore and achy inside now that another round would be too painful.
His words are possessive and dominant. But are they for real? Ever since I found those papers and realized that this was part of a game, I”m left in the strange position of not knowing if it”s all fake or if some of it is real.
I”m dying to ask the man, but that would give away everything I know and hand the power back to him. While things are like this and he believes I”m in the dark, I hold all the power. He thinks he”s the master of the game here, but that”s really me. The master has become the apprentice. I almost laugh at my silly thoughts and have to push it down.
I realize with a shock that despite the high stakes here of my heart being on the line, this is kind of fun. I haven’t felt passionate about anything for a long time.
I”m still completely undecided about what to do with the information he left for me. I don”t think there”s anything realistically I can do until I know more, except continue making him fall for me, because then either way, I win. The only way to know more about where I really stand is to find out about his true business interests and financial situation. The trouble is, he isn’t going to be easy to investigate, and if I put my private eye on him, then I risk him finding out.
“You know you could stay for the entire weekend,” he says sleepily. “We could spend the day together tomorrow. Maybe take a swim in the pool.”
“I don”t have a swimsuit,” I say.
“It will only be us. I give the staff Sundays off.”
“That”s kind of you.” I nudge him with my elbow to show I”m joking. “How do you manage to take care of yourself? I mean, do you even know how to make toast?”
He laughs softly, his breath gently ruffling my hair. “I can do one better than that. I make the best Eggs Benedict you”ve ever tasted. I”ll make it for breakfast if you”d like. If you”ll stay, that is?”
It’s a tempting offer, but I can’t stay. I have a meeting with a lawyer in the morning. Babbo organized it. It’s something to do with the offshore trust he runs for me, Nico, and any grandchildren.
“I can’t,” I say.
He drops a kiss to the top of my head.
“How about we do this again? Wednesday?”
That works for me, and it gives me time to think.
I second guess my decision as I get dressed. I’m so achy and tender though that my poor lady bits definitely need a break.
Matteo drives me home, and the conversation in the car is the most relaxed it’s been between us since we met again at the restaurant. Maybe the animalistic sex has mellowed us for a while.
Once back at home, I look up everything I can about Matteo and Clifford. I read and re-read the papers I photographed. Then I have a hit of inspiration. I might not be able to find information about Matteo’s real business interests easily, but I can certainly find out about these dummy companies. I send an email to my PI and ask for a report ASAP on the corporations. That shouldn’t be too risky. It isn’t like I’m asking them to dig deep into Matteo’s family or anything.
The week passes in a blur. I’m anxious, and it’s a horrible, panicky, slightly breathless feeling. I’m in a game here I don’t know how to play to win. Or how to make sure I don’t lose at least. My mother has asked for an update, and I’ve told her I’ve had a few dates with Matteo and left it at that.
She seemed somewhat disappointed, but I didn’t want to give her the information yet until I have a better idea of what those companies are all about.
When Wednesday comes around, I’m a mess. I get a text from Matteo saying he’s sending a car, and his chef will prepare a meal for us. He asks what I would like to eat.
My nerves have done a number on my appetite so I ask for something light, maybe chicken and a salad.
He texts back immediately.
Are you sick?
God, does everyone think I’m so greedy I never eat a healthy meal? The text makes me flush and reminds me of my mother’s underhanded words.
I jab at my phone, typing out a response.
No, why would you think that? I just fancy something light.
Three dots appear and then disappear.
That’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.
Yeah, as if he cares. He wants me to pass my family an unexploded bomb timed to detonate on them and blow them up, businesswise. As if he cares about me, really.
By the time I arrive at his house, thirty minutes late, I’m in a bad mood.
He opens the door for me and looks at me and frowns. “What gives?”
“What do you mean?” I snap.
“You. You look thunderous.”
“I’m just not in the best mood,” I snap. “I can’t always be sunshine and fluffy clouds.”
I sweep past him into the hallway. He takes my light summer jacket, and his gaze rakes down my outfit. I’m wearing a long silk shirt dress, tied at the waist with a belt. It’s really flattering to my figure, and if his hungry expression is anything to go by, he thinks so too.
“I don’t think you’ve ever been fluffy clouds, Renata,” he says softly.
“Oh, what am I then?”
“Tropical storms and windswept beaches. Scorching hot days and wild Sirocco winds.” He leans in and kisses my throat, inhaling as he does. “You are all the beautiful, awe-inspiring extremes and never just a mild, slightly cloudy day.” He pulls back and looks at me. “You’re never ordinary, Renata. You never were, and you never will be.”
When the fuck did he become so damn poetic? I want to hate him today, but his kisses and words are making it hard.
“Come. I have something for you.” I glance at the dining room as we pass.
“What about the food?”
“It can wait. I think this might help you out of your bad mood.”
He leads me upstairs to his bedroom and opens the door, ushering me inside. I turn to him, brows raised. “What is this?” I gesture to the woman standing in the room.
“I booked you a massage, with scented oils.”
“That’s awfully presumptuous of you. I might hate massages.”
He smirks as if he knows that is bullshit. “You don’t have to take the massage, Renata, but if you’d like it, then it’s all yours.”
He leaves, closing the door behind him, and I turn to face the woman. Well, this is awkward.
“Would you like the massage?” she asks. “It’s the relaxation special with scented oils.”
It does sound heavenly. I had a shower just before I left, so I’m clean.
“Okay. Screw it, why not.”
“I will let you undress, and you can get under the white sheet when you are done. Lie on your front.”
I get undressed and leave only my panties on, and then lie face-down on the bed.
The woman comes back into the room and clicks a button. Soft music plays with rainforest sounds over the top. She lights a scented candle and then opens a couple of bottles, pouring oil over her hands and massaging them to heat it.
The scent is delicious, and I inhale deeply. When her palms smooth the oil over my upper back and shoulders, I realize how damn tense I am. I make a conscious effort to relax and let her massage me.
She seems to use a lot of oil, and I am going to have to take a long shower after this.
“You can turn onto your back now, Miss Andretti,” she says.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be doing both sides. Do you want to hand me my bra, and I can put it over my boobs?” I ask.
“Mr. Mancini said for me to do a fully body, Miss Andretti. Would you prefer me not to?”
I stare at her. “A massage that includes the girls?”
She nods, all serious.
“Uhm, I’ve never had my breasts massaged before.”
Damn, my tits are super sensitive. I will probably get all turned on, and that’s not appropriate.
“It’s only around the sides,” she says.
“Oh, okay.”
“Unless you want more.”
I still at her words. What the fuck kind of massage is this?
She takes my mind off any further questions, though, as she sweeps her hands over my collarbone and then down the sides of my breasts. She is an excellent therapist, and I let myself drift as she massages over my stomach, the underside of my breasts. I realize I want her to massage my breasts. It would feel so good, but that’s going to change this into something else.
Before I can say anything, she’s sweeping down to my waist and giving my stomach a gentle massage. Then onto my upper thighs, my legs, and even my feet. Then she sweeps back up my legs and her fingers trail very close to the edge of my pussy.
Damn, I’m getting turned on here.
“Do you want me to massage your breasts some more?” she asks.
“Uhm, you can. If you’re okay with it,” I say. God, my voice is kind of hoarse.
She sweeps back up my body, and pushes my breasts gently together before brushing her thumbs over my nipples and sweeping back down. I suck in a breath and she then moves on to massaging the tissue in what I realize is genuinely not a sexual manner.
“It is supposed to be excellent for lymphatic drainage and helping with blood flow,” she says as she sweeps her hands down over my breasts again. “I won’t go too deep today because chest work can release somatic symptoms.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“Emotional symptoms,” she says. Then she moves back to my shoulders and the side of my neck before even massaging my ears.
“You are very tense,” she observes. “I think you’d do well with a full scalp massage one day.”
Then she brings a soft white sheet up over my body and covers me.
“We are finished now. I always suggest taking five minutes to relax and let the body adjust.”
“Then can I take a shower?”
She nods. “Of course, but Mr. Andretti did ask that you don’t shower.”
Don’t shower? I’m covered in oil.
“Thank you,” she says as she exits the room. What about her table?
A few minutes later the door opens and in walks the devil himself. “More relaxed?” he asks as he pulls the sheet from me.
He stares down at my oiled body and groans.
“She didn’t take her table,” I say stupidly.
“It’s mine,” he says.
“You use her? For yourself?”
“Yes.”
“I see. And does she give you a happy ending?” I’m only half joking. The idea has me wanting to kill her.
“Of course not. She’s one of London’s highest paid therapists.”
“Oh.”
“Look at you all oiled up.” He runs a hand down my stomach, back up my body, and around my nipple.
I shiver as it peaks. “Your nipples are amazing,” he says. “So fucking sexy and responsive.”
He sweeps down my body and dips between my legs. He works my clit as he watches avidly, his gaze flicking between my pussy and my face.
“Matteo,” I moan. “I’m going to come if you don’t stop that.”
“That’s kind of the idea,” he says as he continues to play with me. He pinches my clit and then massages my pussy lips before spreading them again and pinching my clit. Then he massages gently with light flicks to my clit, and it’s not long before I close my eyes and shudder through a gentle but beautiful orgasm.
“You’re fucking amazing. Now I’m going to make you come again, and this time it won’t be gentle,” he growls.
He undresses rapidly and pulls me from the massage table to his bed.
“Matteo, the sheets.” I pull back, not wanting to ruin them with the oil.
“It’s fine; the staff will change them,” he says.
He pushes me onto the bed and covers me with his body, skin on skin, as she slides over me. “Christ, I knew you all oiled up would be incredible, but this is better than my fantasy,” he murmurs against my neck.
He slides inside me easily, what with how wet and oily I am.
“I’m not going to take it easy on you this time,” he says.
He was taking it easy before?
He wasn’t lying. He doesn’t take it easy. He angles me so that he’s hitting my G-spot and he holds one leg up and out a little so he can get it good and then he hammers it. I whimper as the intensity of the pleasure makes me feel faint.
Matteo fucks me mercilessly, hitting that spot until I’m thrashing and moaning and begging him, but I don’t know what for. He fucks me until I know I’m going to lose it, and the intensity of it is scaring me. “Matteo,” I warn, not sure what I’m warning him of.
“Do it, Renata. Fucking come undone.”
I scream. Not a moan or a cry but a fucking yelp of a scream because it hits me so hard and so shockingly I think it’s going to pull me under and drown me in the pleasure.
Wetness gushes from me, and he groans.
“Fuck yes. Fuck. Fuck.” He comes too, long and hard as I flail under him, unable to do anything until the final wave washes over me, and I come back to my senses.
“What the fuck?” I stare at him and then look down the bed. “Oh my God. Your sheets. Oh, fuck.”
“It’s fucking beautiful,” he says with pride. “Jesus, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Renata.”
He kisses me hard.
“Stay.”
“I can stay for the night.”
“No, stay for a few days. Please.”
I should say no. I should tell him to get stuffed. Instead, I nod because if I get to experience this again, I need it.
I wanted to make Matteo addicted to me, but he’s made an addict out of me.