Chapter 23 #2
‘You go through to the cottage. Make yourself… comfortable. I’ll catch you up,’ I say, flinging the cottage key at him and racing off upstairs to use the Dollz’ communal bathroom.
I’m on tenterhooks. I’m embarrassed for him to hear me weeing.
I’m also embarrassed I told him to make himself comfortable.
I’m the sort that does not do one-night stands, except maybe in extreme emergencies.
This is definitely an extreme emergency. I stare at myself in the mirror.
Am I the sort of woman who can have handcuff sex? Am I the sort of woman who can have any type of sex?
It’s been a very, very long time. When I said that my last boyfriend ran screaming for the hills, I was giving an accurate account.
He screamed at me for not paying attention during sex and promptly moved to the Welsh valleys.
To be fair, it wasn’t the first time that I’d fallen asleep on him.
It was a very exhausting time in my life, and he just didn’t seem to understand that my mother had to come first. And now I’m like an old abandoned house with creaking floorboards, dust mites and cobwebs that should be approached only with extreme caution.
Get a fucking grip, Connie, I tell myself. Think sexier thoughts. You’ve got to own your sexuality and unleash the slutty vixen within .
I race through to the cottage, a flush of warmth spreading from my groin. Whilst I’m desperately trying to conjure up sexy images of us consumed with lust and frantically ripping off each other’s clothes with our teeth, a thought occurs.
What if he’s lying naked and sprawled out on the bed like da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man ?
Waiting to be serviced by me. Waiting for me to administer years’ worth of sexual expertise.
I’m both thrilled and petrified at the thought that Matteo is hungry with lust for me, and I’m about to find out just how much.
Thoughts of him doing the Bridgerton buttocks scene for me explode in my mind.
I enter the lounge and stop suddenly at the sight before me. It’s so much worse than I imagined.
My heart sinks.
Matteo is fully clothed. Not only that, but I’m dismayed to see he is currently occupied with a little light housekeeping.
I’m on the verge of asking if there’s anything he’d like me to do to help as he slips deftly into the kitchen to retrieve snacks out of the fridge and arranges them neatly on the table.
Like a 1950s housewife hosting a dinner party for her husband’s boss and his wife, he skips about the room switching twinkling lights on, grabbing the remote to play some music on low, automatically picking up the items of clothing that have been strewn all over the floor since my arrival.
He indicates to me that he’ll pop the washing pile out of the way in the bedroom.
I see the ‘washing pile’ in his arms – the sex-shop bags, the bras, the suspenders, the stripper clothes.
He emerges from the bedroom and wanders towards me carrying two glasses and a bottle of chilled wine.
He hands me one and I take a huge gulp with the nerves, relieved that he isn’t racing out of the door to clean and cater for another dinner party and at least intends to stay for one drink.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I do housework when I get nervous.’
Good God. Could a man say anything more perfect?
‘I make you nervous?’ I say, fishing for compliments. Every word out of his mouth makes me want to light up like a glow stick.
He smiles slowly as he gives me a simmering look and takes a glug of wine.
It causes me to almost whimper. ‘Speaking of nervous. What about being live on stage and making up the music as we went along? That was insane. You’re really good at that.’
‘Being on stage totally blew me away,’ he says. ‘I mean, I’ve been managing events and bands for years from behind the scenes but actually being on stage, interacting with the audience, making that connection was incredible. Like no other feeling.’
‘It was mind-blowing,’ I agree. ‘I loved it.’
‘You’re much better singing your own stuff than covers,’ he says.
I am going to explode if he keeps feeding my ego in this way. ‘You’re just being polite,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘I’m way too boring to be a performer like that. You need charisma and sparkle and?—’
‘Connie,’ he interrupts, his hand lightly touching the cut above his eyebrow.
‘Since the second we met, you have been anything but boring, believe me. And as for sparkle? You really shone on stage today. Whatever false impression you have of yourself, maybe it’s time to shrug it off. Maybe it’s time to let yourself shine?’
I am madly in love with every single word falling from his lips. I do hope he keeps talking for ever and ever.
I must be drooling because Matteo takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. Then he glances at the time and drains his glass as though he’s going to leave.
I blink rapidly.
I have three days left. It’s time to be daring and courageous. It’s now or never. I reach up on my tiptoes and place a kiss gently on his lips before I can back out of it.
He hesitates a brief moment, reaches out to curl a stray lock of my hair behind my ear and then leans in to kiss me back.
We lock lips as my mind travels throughout all of space and time.
My head is in a swirl. I feel under a spell.
It is hugely hypnotic, and I never want this kiss to end.
There is such a connection between us. I’m sure he must feel it too.
It is electrifying. My veins are literally bursting with sparkles.
When we come up for air, the only thing I can think of is that I need him to stay.
‘Stay,’ I blurt, surprising myself as I drum up a decent enough reason, in case kissing me for the next seventy-two hours isn’t quite enough. ‘There’s a Jacuzzi here. In the garden. It’s not overlooked.’
He looks slightly shocked, so I backtrack.
‘Sorry, that was too much.’ His confession about his current situation being complicated rings in my ears.
‘No,’ he says. ‘It’s not that.’
‘Okay,’ I say, unconvinced. I’m not surprised Matteo has a string of ex-lovers. He’s totally fucking gorgeous. Why wouldn’t he? And why wouldn’t I want to be one of them too?
Thankfully, Matteo seems keen to agree that a Jacuzzi, at six in the morning, is exactly what we need and disappears off to press buttons and fire it up.
This is happening. It’s finally happening.
I have never had sex in a Jacuzzi. I can barely get out of my bodysuit quick enough.
Then I suddenly stop, doubt creeping in.
Wait, how does he know how everything works?
A tiny niggle grows in the back of my brain and so I squash it before it becomes fully formed.
If Liam and Ged were here, they’d definitely tell me to throw caution to the wind.
I’m sure of it. Almost sure. Mostly sure. Well, a bit sure.
Christ Almighty.
I now regret Matteo giving me a few minutes to get sorted.
A few minutes is all it takes for me to realise that I am way out of my depth.
I feel extremely shy standing in my bra and knickers.
We barely know each other, and my mind has begun to spiral.
He’s probably had tons of fashionable sex with a whole hemisphere of supermodels, bisexual gymnasts and beautiful professors of quantum physics who escorted themselves through college, while I’ve had hardly any.
And the sex shop. What if he’s expecting me to produce a treasure trove of sex toys or an elaborate range of cock rings?
Wait, did he even mention sex? What if when he says ‘Jacuzzi’ he actually means Jacuzzi? For a moment, I have no idea what to do. Then Matteo comes sauntering into the bedroom fully dressed, still looking as immaculate as when the evening began.
Shitting hell!
Before he can say anything, I babble at him. ‘You don’t have to have sex with me,’ I say while struggling back into my bodysuit like a strange reverse striptease. The fabric is thwacking and squelching like I’m wrestling to fit inside a giant condom.
Matteo regards me with wide eyes. ‘Okay.’
‘But if you do…’ I pause, my leg completely stuck. ‘I don’t know any tricks!’
‘Tricks?’ he says, rattled. ‘What do you mean tricks?’
Maybe I’m making this sound more like something from Cirque du Soleil than it needs to be. It’s mortifying, and yet that last glass of wine is making it impossible for me not to carry on in this off-putting manner.
‘I mean, I have no idea what or even where my own G-spot is, never mind yours. I’ve no idea what the G stands for either.
And God knows, I’m certainly no sexual triathlete,’ I say, flapping my arms about, unable to make eye contact with him.
‘I’ve no idea how to do the Butter Churner or… or the Rocking Horse… or the Pretzel.’
I should stop talking. I took off there, panic sex-shaming myself, without a place to land.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he says gently. ‘We’re not under any pressure to do anything.’
He’s extremely thoughtful .
The thing is, sex with me is hardly going to be like wandering through a palace of ceaseless wonder, but I really hope we will do something . ‘I just mean that I’m not massively experienced.’
‘Would it help if I admitted to not knowing what the Pretzel is either? It sounds kind of scary, doesn’t it? I mean, what do you do if you’re gluten intolerant?’
A soft chuckle escapes my lips. I’m so relieved.
He gives me a shy look. ‘You are so beautiful,’ he says, cupping my face. He looks like he’s stifling a giggle. ‘All that glitter in your lashes and your teeth. It really sets off your eyes.’
That does it. He’s funny and thoughtful, especially at times of high stress.
I wink slowly at him. ‘Wait until you see how much ticker tape I have stuck to my back.’ This causes him to grin widely as I reach out to trail my fingers lightly down his chest. It’s so firm it’s like he’s wearing a breastplate.
‘I dread to think how much is under here.’ I lift up his top and slide it off him.
Jesus Christ, he’s magnificent. He is very much allowing me to take the lead, and with each touch he looks nervous, which melts me inside.
I fumble quickly with the button on his shorts before either of us can back out with nerves.
‘You sure about this?’ he asks huskily.
‘Absolutely.’ I can barely speak, and my breathing is coming in bursts. ‘I’ve never wanted anything more.’
‘Well then, the Jacuzzi can wait.’ Any doubts I had about me not having an ounce of sex appeal immediately evaporate as he pulls me to him and kisses the life out of me. The traitorous catsuit obeys his every command as he pulls it easily from my burning skin.
Now, we are standing in just our underwear.
His gaze never leaves mine as he steps out of his boxer shorts and takes the final step.
We are but an inch away from one another.
I can barely breathe at this point. He reaches round to unclip my bra, while expertly dropping kisses along my shoulder before sliding the bra straps from my arms. He is such a gentleman that he doesn’t even remark on the amount of glitter pouring out of it as it hits the floor.
He pulls me gently to him, expertly kissing my neck to send pangs of lust shooting through my body.
He seems the type who takes his time to do things thoroughly. I slide my hands up and down his body, pulling him in even closer. I am having a huge effect on him.
I am going to pass out with the anticipation and thrill of it all.
Then, as he leans in to kiss me again, I feel his hands trail leisurely down my back and over my bottom.
I nearly die of longing as he slowly peels down my knickers.
Each inch of their journey to the floor is a delicious agony.
I step out of them and kick them aside. Matteo sinks to his knees and hooks my right leg over his shoulder.
I hold on to the back of his head for balance as he pulls my pelvis to his mouth.
Thank goodness I have a strong core. I arch into him as his tongue delivers an exquisite tickle right to my sweet spot.
The feel of his stubble against my thighs, his soft hair in my hands, the sound of his desirous groans as he grasps my bottom tightly is making me tremble from head to toe.
When he applies more pressure, it literally takes all of a few seconds for a pulsating heat to radiate throughout my body, building and building until I am utterly consumed, shuddering with ecstasy against him, his tongue an instrument of delicious torture until the very last wave of pleasure rolls over me.
He is quick to scoop me up before my legs give way and carries me to the big four-poster dream bed.
It is built for lovers. Built for making love.
I sink into the feathery soft duvet and feel his weight on top of me.
His knee nudges my legs apart as he nestles between them.
I am in a complete daze. The aftermath of such a forceful orgasm must do that.
I have not one single thought in my head. I am a contented sigh in human form.
Matteo smiles at me, a soft look on his face before our lips slide gently together.
It feels other-worldly and magical, like a perfect symphony.
My heart is drumming to the beat of his.
His kisses are like musical notes tinkling in my brain, his fingers playing me like a fragile instrument.
There’s a wild sweetness to our passion.
This is new and exciting, and I am desperate to explore every single part of him.
The feel of his hot skin on mine is making every nerve in my body scream out for him.
He trails kisses down my neck and across my collarbone before venturing tantalisingly slowly down to cover my nipples, one at a time.
I gasp as he takes each peak in his mouth, flicking the tip with his tongue.
It sends a spark shooting to my groin. I need him.
I crave him. I undulate into him, our bodies entwined, my fingers stroking every inch of him.
I feel him shiver under my touch. He feels as ready as I do.
A rough moaning sound escapes from his throat as he presses his erection against me.
His breathing is ragged as his hungry lips find mine.
‘I want you,’ I whisper, meeting his darkly desirous gaze.