28. Matteo
28
Burley shows us to our room on the second floor of the old house. He has scraped it for any potential murder weapons, real ones or ones that could be manufactured from scratch. As we walk inside, Tasha’s breath catches.
“It’s so quaint.”
It’s so fucking small.
I wanted to be in the house, and Dominic’s team who inspected the space earlier this week deemed this room the safest. Never mind my own security, I’m not risking Tasha’s.
While I watched her zoned out on the plane, I kept thinking of my baby sister. She would have been around Tasha’s age if she hadn’t been stillborn. When I’m forced to be quiet like today on the flight, my mind often drifts to my mom, and a softer time in life when she was the barrier between us and the Don. When she died in childbirth everything changed. Six boys, at the mercy of a maniac.
I follow Tasha into the room, watching as she wrings her hands, her gaze taking in the double bed. The only bed.
Too small for my tastes, unless you’re really up for cuddling. Not my wheelhouse.
Yours. For one night.
Fuck. She knows how to mess with my head. Swinging between innocence and lust, then being so fucking sassy, I should really discipline her. She’s a back-chatting rebel, but I’ll never have it in me to hurt her. Not hurt her like some men do, thriving on female pain. Mom suffered enough. And we didn’t even know half of it. Tasha isn’t my sister or my mom, but fuck knows she’s the first woman I want to protect with some force I’ve never felt before.
It must be because this job is the Don’s vendetta, and not my own. I’ll always want retribution for Alex’s death, but on my own terms. Not the ones prescribed by him. The Don has left his mark on me, not only on my body, but in every choice I make. And the choice to go ahead with this virgin auction is starting to eat at me. For years, I’ve been using women only for sex and quick pleasure. But now here she is, crawling under my skin.
It fucking pisses me off. I need to focus on this job, get it done, so we can leave for Cannes. Stephano will be there, dealing with the auction, and I will hand Tasha over to him on a fucking silver platter.
“I’m going out.” I’ll deal with this one-bed situation when I’m back. I’ll have to deal, since I’m married, with a ring on my finger to ‘prove’ it.
“Where? Why?”
Fucking questions all the time. “I have meetings.” With people who have smoothed the way for me to kill the Sicilian.
“What do you expect me to do? There isn’t even a TV in this room.”
Nice and old school. “Enjoy the view. Burley will be outside your door. And the windows are being watched.”
“I’m already bored!” She sits down on the bed with a huff, but I ignore her, reaching for the doorknob to stop myself from doing something I shouldn’t. Yours. For one night. There’s no way I can sleep in the same bed with this woman. I’ll fuck her so hard she won’t have any memory of ever being a virgin in the first place.
I’m halfway out the door when I hear her lips smack behind me, followed by the very distinguishable blow. I turn back to face her. Did she actually just blow me a fucking kiss? “What was that?”
Her eyes sparkle. “Nothing.”
I hitch my brow. “You’re sure?”
She sucks her bottom lip with a shrug.
I want to laugh—fucking laugh—at her baiting me like this. With a determined inhale I turn back to the corridor, where Burley has pulled up a seat to guard her door.
“Hurry home, honey.” Tasha’s voice sounds through what seems like the whole house.
I freeze in my step. Burley’s eyes meet mine as something between infuriated delight and maddening frustration boils up in me.
I count to ten. “Let them know I’m going to be late.”
“Yes, boss,” Burley says as he stands and picks up his chair. “You’re not to be disturbed.”
Damn right I’m not to be disturbed.
I turn back to the room, closing the door softly and locking it.
Tasha still sits on the bed, hands together on her lap, eyes now wide as she sees me stalk back into the room. I unbutton my jacket, slip it off and toss it to the chair by the antique dressing table. I don’t break eye contact with her as I roll up my sleeves one by one. She licks her lips, clearly nervous now that she’s poked me to my limit.
I come to stand right by her legs, forcing her to look up at me. “Just for the record, you asked for this.” Begged for it, to be precise. I cup her face, stroking that soft cheek with a featherlight touch, smoothing my thumb over her lips. Lips that I want to kiss. Lips I’ve been wanting to kiss since that night when she tried to stab me.
Merch, you fucknut.
Merch that needs to be tied up and gagged and disciplined.
Her hands are on my thighs, brushing up to where my cock is already bulging in my pants. It’s as I suspected. She needs to be fucked. This horny little virgin has needs. I take her hands and peel them off my legs. Fuck knows, I can unzip and take that virgin mouth, let her suck me off.
“You don’t touch me, kitten. I thought you understood?”
“Why?” She strains against me where I have her wrists, her blue eyes dancing with evident pleasure at having me here, entertaining her.
“Because.” I lean forward, forcing her onto her back as I raise her hands above her head. Her chest heaves in anticipation. Good.
As soon as she’s on her back, I straighten up. Her legs dangle to the floor now and I reach for her ankles, lift and twist her in one smooth move so that she’s perpendicular to me. Her shoes drop to the floor with soft thuds, and I bend her legs up, exposing that perfect pink pussy as her skirt falls to her chest.
Fuck. She’s wet.
She’s going to be even wetter soon.
I run my hand down the back of her creamy thighs, ghosting over her pussy. She clenches. I do it again, and this time as I ghost my palm over her sex, she actually presses up to meet my hand. “Matteo?—”
“Fuck, kitten, so needy,” I hiss. I have her by the hip and toss her over, forcing her onto all fours. Her skirt falls back to cover her sexy ass and with an irritated growl I rip it out of my way. I don’t wait. I don’t tease. I hold her with a firm hand on her neck, forcing her face down so her ass is good and proper in the air. Then I slap her several times on each butt cheek, watching with great satisfaction how the skin turns pink.
“Matteo,” she moans as she squirms, but I’m not done.
“Moan my name a bit louder, kitten, so the whole house can hear.” I now focus on her pussy, on that sweet little clit that tempts me. I slap her again, this time making sure my middle finger hits her clit so she can come. I slap her again and she moans where her face is buried in the covers, her hands clenched.
She’s close. Again. But this time I follow it up with a slow sweep of my fingers over her clit, circling that sweet spot until she shudders in release with a moan.
I unbuckle my belt with one hand, still keeping her in place with my other hand on her neck. She is spent, her face flushed with the force of her orgasm. I want to fuck her so hard. Drive my fingers into her body and work her g-spot until she comes again. Then, and only then, will I give her the satisfaction of coming on my cock.
But I can’t. I won’t take her virginity in a mad moment of lust. So instead, I ease my hold as I pull out my cock, fisting it hard. This needs to be quick, although I could spend the rest of the year toying with her. I run my hand down her back to her naked butt and slip my fingers to her sex as I ride my hand. I go higher, to that tight little hole I could have with nobody knowing. Her virgin ass could be mine.
She quivers at my touch, leaning into my hand. Fuck. She’s into this. The thought only drives me to jerk off harder, my thumb pressing against her tight little hole as I spread her own juices, tempted to finger her there. Her breathing is heavy, her body willing. The visual of her like this, open and offered up, tips me over the edge. I spray cum over her dress, her back, her sweet ass, watching her face. Her eyes are closed, her mouth open as she whispers my name, sensing my release. I close my eyes as I grunt, dropping my head back. Cum pulses until I’m emptied out.
Fuck, I always feel overdue when I’m around her.
I watch her a moment, coming down from my high. I can give her one more orgasm. I can go down and dirty on her, lick her until she begs, but I’m playing with fucking fire. As soon as she touches me, I’ll lose all control. And at some point she will touch me, and I won’t have the willpower to push her away. I release her as I fix my pants, zipping up, my cock pleased but not yet done either. So be it.
Tasha drops onto her back, her expression saying everything. She’s shattered but whole. That feeling of falling over a cliff and not crashing to the ground but flying.
She watches me as I buckle up my belt and I can’t take my eyes off her. She is fucking beautiful, glowing with spent pleasure. This woman needs to be fucked, often, and by someone who knows how. She might only now be realizing it for herself.
“You’ve ruined my dress,” she murmurs as she touches the ragged edge of the torn fabric.
“That’s why we got all of them.”
She sits up, fingering my cum where it’s glossy and white on her inner thigh. “You got semen all over me.”
“And?” There’s an adjacent bathroom fit for a queen if I recall correctly. “You sass me again, you’re getting it down your throat.”
She blinks, understanding slow to sink in.
“Yes, kitten, I’ll gag you with my cock and you’ll fucking love it.”
I grab my jacket and make for the door. As I close it behind me, she’s muttering, in that cheeky tone of hers, “Promises, promises, Matteo Scalera, promises, promises.”