6. Matteo
SIX
Matteo
I turn to face Emma, my voice steady but filled with concern. “We need to talk about the voice you hear inside. The things it says to you; they’re wrong.”
She looks at the ground, her voice a whisper. “What are you talking about ?”
“You put yourself down. You’re too hard on yourself. It’s unacceptable.”
“I know, Matteo. I'm sorry, I just, sometimes I feel so overwhelmed.”
I lift her chin gently, ensuring our eyes meet. “I understand, but beating yourself down isn't going to help. We need honesty and respect, right? That starts with you, inside your thoughts. Don’t tell yourself shitty lies, and don’t tell them to me either.”
She nods, biting her lip, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “I'm not used to this.”
“To what? To feeling things?”
“Letting go of control. I’m used to being the one looking after everyone.”
I take a deep breath, my decision weighing heavily on me. “We're going to use a safe word. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, you just say 'Red,' and I stop immediately. No questions asked. Do you understand?”
“Red,” she repeats, her voice steadier than I expect. “Okay, I understand. What are you going to do to me?”
I help her to lean over the side of the table, her hands clutching the edges, her book falling to the floor. “Remember, you can end this at any moment. You're still in control.”
“What are you going to do to me?” she asks, glancing back at me.
I hesitate for a moment, my hand raised. This is new territory for us, and I want to get it right. I want to help her, not harm her. With a resolved breath, I let my hand fall gently against her backside, a soft pat that's more symbolic than painful. “You will be spanked if you put yourself down while you’re with me.”
She jumps slightly but stays in place. “I’ve never been spanked before.”
“I can tell.” I keep my voice as soft as I can manage. “Trust me.”
The next few moments are a delicate balance of correction and care, my hand striking with more force each time. Each one is met with a gasp from Emma, and I find myself admiring her strength and her trust in me. I want to pull her pants down but I resist, even as my cock strains in my pants.
I didn’t plan for this but now it’s happening, it feels exactly right. I slap my hand down again and this time instead of gasping she shifts in place, letting out a moan. “You want me, don’t you?” I ask. “Tell the truth.”
“Yes,” she says, the sound almost lost in the air.
“Louder.”
“Red.”
I stop at once, turning her around to face me. She leans into me, her body trembling slightly. “I feel strange,” she says.
I stroke her hair, a sense of power washing over me. She feels strange ? This girl is so naive, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. She doesn’t even realize that she loves what I’m doing to her. A naturally submissive angel like Emma is worth a thousand brassy try-hard broads.
“See?” I pull her closer so she can feel my hardness. “You can trust me. No more lies, okay?”
She nods against my chest. “Thank you, for stopping when I said the safe word. It means a lot to me.”
“There could come a time when our lives depend on trusting each other, Emma. Petrovitch is a dangerous man. I need to be able to depend on you, and I can’t ask for your trust and lie to you. I’m not just marrying you because it keeps you safe. I am obsessed with you. I want you in a way I’ve never wanted anyone before.”
Her eyes widen. She looks like she’s about to ask why so I frown at her and the question dies on her lips. “Good girl,” I say. “Now you’ve taken your punishment. I think you deserve a reward.”
“What kind of reward?” she asks.
“This kind.” I lean in and kiss her.
I pull her closer to me. Her cheeks are flushed from the spanking, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and desire. My hand comes up to cup her face gently, tracing the line of her jaw with my thumb.
Leaning in, I press my lips against hers, savoring the softness of her mouth. She responds hesitantly at first, her innocence evident in every tentative movement. But as our kiss deepens, she surrenders to the passion that simmers between us.
Her body melts against mine, fitting perfectly in my arms as if she was always meant to be there. I caress her back, feeling the heat radiating off her skin. When I lower my touch to the curve of her hips, she lets out a soft gasp, her fingers clutching at my shoulders.
As our kiss intensifies, I can sense the overwhelming desire building inside both of us. I break away briefly to trail kisses along her jawline, down to the hollow of her throat. Her breath hitches, a sweet melody that fuels my hunger for her.
With a deft touch, I slip my hand beneath the waistband of her pants, teasingly skimming over her skin. She shivers at the sensation, her eyes widening. “Matteo,” she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion.
I respond by reclaiming her lips with another passionate kiss, plunging deeper into the fire that now burns between us. My fingers continue their tantalizing dance along her sensitive skin, slowly coaxing her body to respond to my touch.
Breaking away from the kiss, I look into her hazel eyes, which are now gleaming with desire. “You're perfect,” I say, my fingers still exploring her curves. “You make me want you more than I've ever wanted anyone.”
She swallows hard, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. It's clear that she is both overwhelmed and deeply aroused by my words and actions. I gently guide her to sit on one of the plush benches that line the library walls.
Positioning myself between her legs, I begin to trace gentle circles on her inner thighs, sending shivers of anticipation cascading down her body. The pulse in her neck quickens as she drops her gaze, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. “Wait,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible, “I don't know what to do.”
I lean down, placing a series of soft kisses along the line of her jaw, my breath warm against her skin. “You don't need to do anything,” I assure her, my voice low and soothing.
With one hand cradling her face, I tilt it up to meet mine, our eyes locked as I capture her lips in another kiss. It's slow and tender, filled with promises of the passion that still simmers beneath the surface.
As we pull away, I can see the wave of desire that has washed over her, her eyes shining with a newfound confidence and desire. “I want you,” she says.
I smile, feeling a surge of pride and desire course through me at her words. “Good girl,” I reply, my voice filled with raw emotion.
I reach down, gently removing her pants and underwear, leaving her completely exposed to me. Her pussy is as perfect as I knew it would be.
She has no idea how beautiful she truly is, or how much power she holds over me. I brush my fingers softly over her folds, feeling the heat and wetness that betray her arousal.
She gasps, her breath hitching as I touch her. I gently lift her up, and with her legs wrapped around my waist, I carry her towards the soft, plush rug that lies between the bookshelves.
I lay her down on the rug. Her eyes are wide with anticipation as I lower my head towards her pussy, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her arousal.
My tongue darts out to trace the delicate outline of her folds, eliciting a low moan from her as she arches her hips towards me. I gently part her lips with my fingers, revealing the hidden treasure beneath.
I lick her slowly, savoring the taste of her, letting my tongue dance over her folds, tracing intricate patterns that send shivers of pleasure coursing through her body. Her hips buck gently, inviting me deeper, and I oblige, sliding my tongue inside her, exploring the warm, wet depths of her.
Her breath hitches, her hands tangling in my hair as she lets out a soft, helpless moan. Her arousal is palpable, growing with each stroke of my tongue, and I can feel her desire building, an energy that courses between us, connecting us in a way that nothing else ever has.
As she nears her peak, I slow my movements, teasing her with feather-light touches that leave her begging for more. She writhes beneath me, her body trembling with need. “Please,” she whispers, her voice hoarse with desperation.
I grin, savoring the sight of her surrender. “Not yet,” I say, my voice low and seductive. “I want to show you just how much pleasure you can feel.” I slide two fingers inside her, stretching her slightly as she gasps and arches her back. “Look at me,” I command, my voice firm.
Her eyes lock with mine, and I can see the trust and vulnerability in her gaze. Slowly, I begin to fuck her with my fingers, my thumb brushing against her clit in a rhythmic pattern. Emma's breath hitches, her body tense with anticipation.
“That's it,” I breathe. “Let go.”
She does, her body shaking as she cries out, her release washing over her like a tidal wave. I hold her close, my fingers still inside her as she shudders, her body trembling with pleasure.
“Do you feel it now?” I whisper, my breath warm against her ear. “The power you hold? The passion that burns inside you?”
Her hands reach up to cup my face, her fingers tracing the lines of my cheeks as she finally speaks. “Thank you,” she says softly, the words barely audible. “I've never done anything like that before.”
It clicks at once. “You’re a virgin?”
She nods, swallowing hard, wincing slightly as if I might laugh at her.
I smile instead, my heart swelling with pride and desire. “I’ll be your first, I will make sure you know every single one of your desires and pleasures, and I will be there to guide you through them all.”
She chews on her bottom lip, a soft blush rising in her cheeks. “I want to kiss you,” she says suddenly, her voice filled with emotion.
“You don’t need to ask.” I lean down, our lips meeting in a passionate embrace. The connection between us is undeniable, and I can feel the electric current of our desire coursing through me.
As our lips part, I pull back and look into her eyes. “You're not just a virgin, Emma,” I say softly, my fingers still inside her. “You're a goddess. You have the power to ignite my soul and set me on fire.”
She gazes back at me, her tears glistening in the dim light. “I'm scared,” she admits, her voice quivering. “I don't know what I'm doing.”
I smile at her, my hand brushing away a tear from her cheek. “Nothing to fear,” I reassure her. “I'll show you everything you need to know, and I'll be here to guide you every step of the way.”
She nods, her eyes filled with gratitude. “I trust you,” she says.
I lift her up in my arms, carrying her up to bed. The entire time she stares up into my eyes in a daze. She looks at me as if I’m a good man. It’s a look I could get used to, even if I know it’s a lie.
Her look says she believes in love. I don’t want to break it to her, not now. Love isn’t real. Obsession, now that’s real. But love? Bullshit people tell each other to make the lies sweeter.
I tuck her into bed, her breathing slow and steady as she drifts into sleep. Sliding in beside her, I wrap my arms around her, the warmth of her body a stark contrast to the chill in my heart.
As she nestles closer, a part of me wants to hold onto this moment, to freeze time and live in this peaceful illusion. But another, harsher part of me knows better. This will end in pain—for both of us.
I’m too controlling to be in a mutually respectful relationship. My instincts, honed over years of navigating treacherous waters, scream that control is not just an option but a necessity.
With everything that's on the line—the need to deal with Petrovitch, to retrieve the file before it’s cracked—I can't afford slip-ups. Control is what’s kept me alive, what’s brought me this far, and what I know will see me through.
Yet, as I feel Emma’s steady breathing against me, a dangerous thought worms its way through my defenses: what if I'm wrong? What if control isn't what this moment needs?
The idea is a crack in my armor, a vulnerability I cannot allow. I have to stop feeling things for her. Love makes a man vulnerable, and vulnerability can be lethal in my world. My father’s love for my mother got them both killed. That will not happen to me.
I shouldn’t sleep with her, I think to myself. I should leave now, leave her be before it’s too late, before this goes too far. I should get up, walk away from her warmth, from her trust and her quiet strength.
My body betrays me, exhaustion pulling me down, the rhythm of her breath lulling me into a respite I haven't felt in years. Relaxation washes over me, I feeling I’d forgotten existed.
And then, despite every alarm in my head, despite every rule I've set for myself, I fall asleep. My last conscious thought is a silent vow: tomorrow, I will fortify these walls again, rebuild what tonight has eroded. Tomorrow, but not tonight. Tonight, I sleep beside my obsession and pretend we could ever have a happy ending.