Chapter Forty-Two
Daphne
I raise an eyebrow as Matteo leads me through his home.
When we reach the top of the staircase, he opens a heavy, carved door to reveal his bedroom.
A king-sized bed dominates the centre of the room, dressed in crisp linens and a scattering of plush pillows. Heavy curtains frame a window that offers a breathtaking view of the city lights twinkling far below, and he gently places me down in the room as the door clicks shut behind us.
“Your home is so beautiful,” I find myself murmuring as I look out of the large window.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice low and inviting. “I wanted somewhere to get away from all the chaos.”
It’s then that he steps closer, his fingers trailing down my waist in a caress that makes my skin tingle, and I’m thoroughly distracted from the beauty of Rome.
“You drive me fucking crazy ,” he murmurs, his accent rich.
“Trust me, you’re equally insufferable,” I tease.
“Maybe,” he laughs. “But either way, tonight, I’m all yours.”
" Matteo ," I whisper .
He hums against my skin. "Mmm?"
I should say something snarky. I should tease him.
But I don’t.
Because the way he’s looking at me right now - dark eyes full of something almost too intense to name - makes me forget how to do anything but feel.
I’m lost in the intensity of his gaze, my breath shallow as I try to collect myself.
His dark eyes are filled with something that both excites and unsettles me as his lips hover over mine, and I can feel the tension building between us, thicker than ever before.
It’s like every time I think I’ve caught my breath, he pulls me under again.
“Why do you always do this to me?” I murmur, barely able to keep my voice steady.
He grins, that cocky, devil-may-care smile lighting up his face as he leans closer.
“Do what? Make you want me?”
I roll my eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but when one of his hands slides around my neck and fists into my hair whilst the other trails up the expanse of my thigh, all sense of reason flies out the window.
“Exactly that,” I whisper. “You make me lose my mind.”
Matteo chuckles against my skin, his hands skimming up and pushing my dress higher as he walks us backwards towards his bed.
His touch is firm - possessive in the best way possible - and my body responds before I can even process it.
“I love that I can do that to you,” he murmurs, his voice all gravelly and teasing. “And I think you love it more than you’ll admit.”
“Maybe I do,” I admit.
My voice is low - barely above a whisper - and I can’t quite believe what I’m saying.
“Maybe I like the way you make me forget everything.”
Matteo’s grin widens, and he lowers his head again, his lips finding mine with a renewed urgency.
He pushes me back against the bed before he joins me there. I lose myself completely; in the taste of him, in the way his body presses against mine as he pushes me further against the mattress, in the way his large, tanned hands roam with a mixture of tenderness and hunger.
Every second without him feels like fire burning through the space between us, and when he offers me reprieve, it’s far too easy to give in.
When he pulls away just enough to catch his breath, I’m dizzy, my chest heaving.
“I want you so much.”
The words hang in the air between us, and for a moment, I’m frozen.
It seems silly given everything that’s happened between us, but the weight of his words lands on me, and my chest tightens.
It’s one thing to feel this chemistry between us, but to hear him say it so simply, so matter-of-factly... it shifts everything .
Before I can respond, his lips crash into mine again, and this time, it’s like an explosion.
There’s no stopping it now. He’s pulling me closer, his hands gripping my waist, his body aligning with mine in a way that makes it impossible to breathe.
My thighs squeeze tightly around him as my clit pulses, and I don’t quite know how I’ve managed to contain this fire so far, can’t quite make sense of how on earth I’ve been resisting the urge to practically pounce on him, but I can’t fight it anymore.
I raise one of my legs a little higher over his waist as I shift below him, effectively lining myself up with where I know his hard cock to be, and groan into his mouth as I rock my hips upwards.
I know that when I look back on this, there’ll be a part of me that’s slightly mortified at the memory of dragging my panty-covered pussy over him like this, but it feels too good to care.
My hands fist into his tee as we move together, and I whimper happily against his lips as he grinds right back down against me, meeting my thrusts.
He squeezes my hips tightly, but I know somewhere that those thick fingers of his can be of better use.
As though he can read my mind, one of Matteo’s hands drifts down my thigh and under the skirt of my dress. His palm grazes over the damp centre of my panties, pressing firmly against the material before using his fingers as a hook to slide my underwear over to the side.
I pant beneath him, and my jaw slackens at the feel of his thick fingers tracing the outline of my wet slit.
Matteo curses under his breath, and I gasp out loud as my hips buck forward, effectively humping myself against the warm skin of his large, tanned hand.
I feel his smile against my lips as he kisses me again, licking into my mouth while he takes his sweet time in dragging two fingers painfully slowly up and down the entire length of me.
My clit continues its rhythmic pulsating as he teases my lips. I nearly sob when the pads of his fingers dance against my hood, and my thighs tremble as he carefully nudges them over my sensitive bundle of nerves.
Finally.
“Is this all for me, bella ?” he murmurs against my lips.
His voice thick with lust, his fingers slick from my arousal, and I nod my head rapidly as I press my palm a little harder against his jaw.
He drags his hand back down the length of me, circling over and around my entrance in cruel, teasing motions.
"Say it," he whispers huskily, his voice raw and demanding, eyes dark and smoldering with something dangerous.
“ Yes ,” I groan, my hand squeezing tightly into the bedsheets while the other grips around the back of his neck for some kind of stability. “ Fuck - it’s all for you, Matteo. It always has been.”
My breath hitches when he finally slides his fingers deep inside.
The memories of him - of us - have haunted me recently, and I feel like I’ve done nothing but touch myself as images of him fucking me in the bathroom at the gala and in the changing room at the stadium have plagued my mind.
But my own fingers are so much smaller than his - not just in length, but in girth, too - and Matteo easily reaches a part of me that I didn’t even know existed until recently.
“Fuck, Matteo, ” I groan, and then we’re kissing again.
He moves with a steady, insistent rhythm, each touch sending small shudders through my core.
He shifts so that his thighs press firmly against the backs of mine in a silent command to keep my legs open wide for him, and it feels as though every single nerve in my body is alive, crackling with a mix of defiance and desperate need.
I close my eyes, the world narrowing down to the heat of his skin and the rhythm of his touch.
Then, as if to intensify the delicious tension, Matteo pauses, causing my eyelids to drift open - as his dark, lust-filled gaze searches mine.
"You're mine, aren't you, Daphne?" he murmurs against my skin.
I let a shaky laugh escape, my voice thick with emotion.
"Maybe I am," I whisper.
The admission tastes as bittersweet as it is real, though it’s worth it from the possessive growl that comes in response.
We kiss again, and I can’t help but thrust my tongue eagerly into his mouth while he pumps his fingers in and out of my soaked pussy.
My hips buck against his hand as I search for further friction, and he hisses against my lips when I find the outline of his firm, hard cock through his jeans and press my palm against it.
“Now who’s teasing?” he grumbles against my skin.
His hand slows for a moment, and I whimper at the sudden loss of rhythm.
Everything happens in a blur as both my sundress and his t-shirt are discarded somewhere else in the room. Matteo pulls back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes blazing with heat, and without breaking eye contact, he shifts back onto his knees and reaches for the waistband of his jeans.
The sound of the zipper lowering fills the space between us, and my breath catches in my throat from where I lie back against the pillows on his bed.
His hands move with deliberate slowness as he pushes the denim past his hips. His broad, muscular chest - sculpted from years of training on the pitch - heaves with each breath, and the muscles in his arms and abs flex as he works the fabric down.
I can't tear my eyes away.
Once his jeans are halfway down his thick, muscular thighs, he pauses, smirking.
"You're staring," he teases, voice low and rough.
"You're taking too long," I shoot back.
He chuckles darkly and then, with one swift movement, shoves his jeans down and off, tossing them aside.
My eyes drop to the prominent bulge straining against the thin material of his underwear, and I watch intently as Matteo runs a hand over himself, groaning softly as I bite my bottom lip.
"Better?" he asks, voice like gravel.
"Getting there," I whisper.
He shifts closer so that he’s leaning over me again, the heat radiating from his skin wrapping around me like a blanket.
My hand moves with a mind of its own as I trail my fingers over the defined ridges of his abs, feeling the tremble beneath my touch.
His breath stutters as I slide my hand lower, and when I brush against his length, he curses under his breath .
With a growl of frustration and desire, Matteo leans down, capturing my mouth in a bruising kiss. His tongue sweeps against mine, and I moan into the kiss, arching against him.
He grips my thigh and hooks it around his waist, grinding against me with a delicious, aching friction that has us both gasping, our underwear now the only barrier between us.
"Tell me what you want," he whispers against my lips, voice thick and strained.
"You," I breathe. "I want you, Matteo. Now ."
With a swift, practiced motion, he reaches for the waistband of his underwear and begins to pull them down. I move for my panties in order to do the same, though he pauses just as he’s kicked the material away, a wicked smirk spreading across his face.
"You’re not going to write about any of this in your next article, are you?” he asks, breathless but teasing. “ ‘Footballer Matteo Rossi Scores Off the Pitch ’?"
I let out a surprised laugh, my chest heaving.
"Tempting," I tease, running my fingers over his taut abdomen. "But I doubt my editor would go for it."
"Hmm," he murmurs, eyes glinting with mischief. "Shame. I think it would get a lot of clicks."
"Shut up and kiss me, Rossi," I demand.
He happily obliges.
Once my panties are finally off and tossed away along with the rest of our clothing, Matteo lines himself up against my entrance. The head of his cock pushes ever so slightly inside -
And then he stops.
I’m just about to open my mouth to protest when he cuts me off.
“Turn around.”
Oh.
I don’t hesitate to follow the instruction, rolling onto my stomach and then moving so that I’m resting on my knees. Matteo’s hands rest on my hips as he helps to pull me up into position, and he curses under his breath as I place my palms against the headboard, gripping it tightly as I angle my hips and thighs so that I’m fully presenting myself to him.
His large hands wander over my ass, and the contact pulls a soft sight from my throat. He’s seen me naked, sure, but never quite like this; and it feels so intimate to be exposed to him from this angle.
I turn my head over my shoulder so that I can look over at him, and my pussy clenches around nothing at the sound of another low groan tumbling from his throat as both of his hands move to squeeze at the flesh of my ass cheeks. My eyelids flutter slightly, but I resist the overwhelming urge to close them as I watch him admire me like this.
One of his hands moves down from my ass to trail over my pussy, and I know he must feel how ready I am to take him.
Seeming to agree, Matteo moves so that he’s up on his knees himself and positions his hard cock against my entrance. My eyes finally squeeze to a close as he pushes himself deep inside me from behind, pausing to give me a moment to adjust to him from this new, unfamiliar angle.
But when he slowly begins to pull himself out only to thrust firmly back in - right to the hilt - I find that I’m no longer able to watch him over my shoulder.
Instead, I let my head drop down, my hair flowing all around me in loose waves as I grip tightly to the headboard .
Matteo grips firmly at my ass as he fucks himself into me, effectively bouncing my body on his cock as he quickly snaps his hips forwards and backwards. I part my thighs a little more for him, trying to accommodate him as deeply as possible, and he doesn’t hold back.
His thrusts are hurried and clumsy as he wraps my hair around his wrist and uses his grip on the strands to tugs my head backwards. He curses in Italian as I whimper in pleasure, and the sound of our skin slapping roughly fills his bedroom.
“You’re so fucking tight , Daphne,” Matteo groans, his fingers digging tightly into the swell of my ass. “So fucking perfect. Like you were - ugh. Made for me.”
He’s not exactly being gentle anymore, but I hardly mind at all.
My body courses with adrenaline as he pounds into me, and the thought of him losing himself while buried deep inside me has my pussy clenching and clit throbbing.
“See?” he pants between thrusts. “You fucking like me. Just. Admit it.”
I let out a strangled laugh, gripping impossibly tighter to the headboard.
“I like your dick. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Rossi.”
His hand swats against my ass, and I let out a squeal that blends into a groan as Matteo changes the angle of his hips to thrust into me particularly roughly while yanking my hair further back.
“Brutal,” he comments. “Absolutely savage .”
“Still true,” I gasp, as he shifts again, snapping his hips as he hits a spot that has me seeing stars .
“My little liar ,” he growls as he angles himself over me, his chest pressing into my back as his lips move to my ear. “You like me a hell of a lot more than you want to admit.”
“Sure, Rossi,” I breathe. “You and your massive ego.”
He chuckles darkly, slowing his rhythm ever so slightly.
“My ego’s not the only thing that’s massive.”
“ God ,” I groan. “Even while fucking me, you’re incorrigible.”
“And you love every fucking second,” he whispers before reaching forwards.
His palm cups my face, and he uses his grip on my jaw to move my head to the side so that he can capture my lips in a kiss that makes me forget my own name.
Our mouths crash together in a frenzy of teeth and tongues, the desperation between us almost palpable.
His thrusts are slow but deep, each movement deliberate and agonisingly intense.
"Don't tell me you're getting tired," I whisper breathlessly as he slows, pressing a kiss to the back of my shoulder.
He lifts his head, eyes twinkling.
"Me? Tired ?” he scoffs. “I run ninety minutes non-stop on the pitch. You think you can wear me out?"
"Big talk, Rossi. But actions speak louder than words."
"Is that a challenge?"
"It might be."
With a playful growl, he slaps my ass again, his laugh mingling with mine as we continue our game of push and pull - equal parts passion and playfulness.
“Fuck, Matteo ,” I whisper, my breath shuddering as he leans in and bites down gently on my bottom lip.
“That’s it,” he growls, voice hoarse. “Say my name, bella . I want to hear it.”
I try to fight the urge to give him what he wants - my pride still clinging to some shred of control - but when he angles his hips and hits that spot again, the name falls from my lips without permission.
“ Matteo ,” I moan, and his groan of satisfaction sends a wave of heat cascading through me.
“You sound so good when you say my name like that,” he mutters, his breath hot against my skin. “Told you you liked me.”
“Don’t. Get. Cocky,” I manage through gritted teeth, even as my legs tremble.
He chuckles darkly.
“ Too late .”
And then his hand moves from my jaw to my throat, his fingers applying just enough pressure to make my pulse race even faster as his lips brush against my ear.
“You’re mine, Daphne,” he tells me. “ Say it .”
“ Yours ,” I gasp, the word slipping out with more truth than I want to admit.
“Mine,” he repeats, grinning wickedly as he bends lower at the knees while pounding into me at a relentless pace. “ Fuck , Daphne; you’re mine .”
He uses his grip on my hair to guide me back impossibly further. I follow his lead with ease, my body arching, the change in angle causing the pair of us to gasp into the night.
I can’t take it anymore - can’t do anything other than squeeze my eyes to a close as heat begins to course through my body from head-to-toe. My walls tighten around his thick, hard length, and I feel myself beginning to lose all control as my thighs tremble.
The world shatters around me as he thrusts into me one last time, his name ripping from my throat as pleasure overtakes every inch of my body. Matteo continues thrusting wildly as I ride out the waves of my orgasm, my body tensing and growing rigid beneath his hands.
His hips begin to stutter and his rhythm falters, and after a few more rough, hurried thrusts of his hips, he follows me over the edge with a guttural groan, his arms locking around me as if he's afraid I'll disappear.
We collapse into the mattress, bodies tangled, breaths erratic.
And just as I expect him to shift away, Matteo rolls onto his back, pulling me with him.
My body stiffens slightly in surprise.
This has never happened before.
At the gala, I had barely caught my breath after our tryst before hurrying out of the bathroom stall to compose myself. And in the stadium’s changing room, there wasn’t exactly room for anything other than the raw, heated desperation between us.
But now, here in his bed, with the warmth of his skin against mine, this feels… different .
More intimate.
More like something I shouldn’t analyse too closely.
I hesitate for a second, but Matteo doesn’t let me linger in my thoughts. His muscular arm tightens around my waist, guiding me closer until my head rests in the crook of his neck. His free hand trails slowly up and down my back, his fingertips barely grazing my skin with a touch that is both soothing and possessive.
I place a tentative hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His heartbeat thrums beneath my palm, solid and sure.
“Relax, bella ,” he murmurs, voice husky but softer now.
He presses a lazy kiss to my temple, his fingers drifting into my hair, threading through it in slow, absent strokes.
“You’re thinking too much.”
Maybe I am.
Maybe I should pull away before this moment turns into something it shouldn't.
But with his warmth surrounding me, his touch keeping me anchored, I decide to let myself enjoy it - just this once.
I close my eyes, melting into him as he continues to touch me, his fingers never still, mapping out my skin as if he needs the reassurance that I’m here.
That I’m his.
And for the first time, I don’t want to run.
But after a few moments of blissful, easy quiet, Matteo turns his head and smirks at me.
“So. It’s still just my dick you like, huh?”
I laugh weakly, swatting his chest.
“Shut up, Rossi.”
“ Never .”
He kisses me again, slower this time, and I melt into him despite myself.
And as I drift into a hazy bliss, one thought lingers:
How the hell did I ever think I hated him?