Chapter 28 Isabella #2
"Yes." The admission comes out breathless. "Everything I do is for you now."
He tears them away with casual strength, the lace giving way like paper. "Mine," he says, settling between my thighs. "This pretty pussy is mine."
The first touch of his mouth against my center makes me cry out, back arching off the bed. He works me with skills that border on sinful, tongue and lips and teeth driving me toward the edge with devastating precision.
"You taste like heaven," he groans against my flesh. "Like everything I've ever wanted."
His fingers join his mouth, sliding inside me while his tongue circles my clit. The dual sensation is overwhelming, perfect, and I can feel my orgasm building like a storm.
When I look down, he's watching me. Our eyes lock, and the intimacy of it—seeing him between my thighs, seeing the hunger and love in his gaze—nearly undoes me completely.
"Come for me," he commands, curling his fingers to hit that perfect spot. "Let me hear you scream my name."
The climax crashes through me like wildfire, leaving me gasping and shaking. But Matteo doesn't stop, doesn't give me time to recover. He works me through it and beyond, pushing me toward another peak before the first has fully ebbed.
"Again," he demands. "Give me another one."
"I can't." But even as I say it, I can feel myself building again. "Too much."
"You can." His voice is dark velvet and steel. "You'll give me everything, Isabella. Every sound, every shiver, every drop of pleasure I can wring from this body."
The second orgasm is stronger than the first, tearing through me until I'm sobbing his name. Only then does he pull away, his mouth glistening with my arousal.
"Perfect," he breathes, crawling up my body to claim my mouth in a kiss that tastes like sin and promises. "So fucking perfect for me."
I can feel him, hard and thick against my thigh as he settles between my legs. The head of his cock nudges my entrance, and I whimper at the sensation.
"Please," I beg, wrapping my legs around his waist. "I need you inside me."
"Look at me," he commands, one hand gripping my chin. "I want you to see who's claiming you."
Our eyes lock as he pushes inside, filling me completely. The sensation is intense, perfect, like coming home after a long exile. I gasp at the stretch, at the feeling of being completely possessed.
He pauses when he's fully seated, his forehead touching mine. For a moment, we just breathe together, connected in the most intimate way possible. His eyes search mine, and I see everything there—love, possession, reverence, hunger.
"Mine," he groans, beginning to move with long, deep strokes. "Finally fucking mine."
"Yours," I agree, meeting his rhythm. "Only yours."
He sets a pace that's both tender and demanding, each thrust hitting that perfect spot that makes me see stars. His hands move over my body with possessive reverence, mapping every curve and hollow like he's memorizing me.
"Say it while I fuck you," he demands, his voice strained with pleasure and control. "Tell me you love me while I'm inside you."
"I love you." The words come out on a moan as he drives deeper. "I love you, Matteo. I love how you make me feel. I love that you're mine."
"This pussy's mine now," he growls, hips snapping harder. "Say it."
"My pussy's yours." The words would have embarrassed the old Isabella, but this woman revels in them. "All of me is yours."
He reaches between us, thumb finding my clit and circling with perfect pressure. The combination of his touch and the relentless pace of his thrusts sends me spiraling toward another peak.
He slows his movements, forcing me to meet his gaze. "You can love me and still be strong, bella," he says, voice thick with feeling and sincerity. "That's what you never understood. Loving me doesn't make you weak. It makes you mine."
The words, combined with the way he's looking at me—like I'm his whole world—push me over the edge. my walls clenching around him as I come with a scream that echoes off his bedroom walls. He follows me over, burying his face in my neck as he spills inside me with a groan that sounds like prayer.
But we're not done. The moment our breathing steadies, he's moving again, pulling out only to flip me onto my hands and knees.
"Again," he says, positioning himself behind me. "I want to watch my cock disappear into your pussy from this angle."
I push back against him, shameless in my need. "Yes. Please."
He slides inside from behind, deeper from this angle, and we both groan at the sensation. His hands grip my hips as he starts moving, each thrust pushing me toward the headboard.
"Look at you," he growls, one hand sliding up my spine to fist in my hair. "Taking my cock so perfectly. Like you were made for this."
The new angle hits spots that make me sob with pleasure. I can feel another orgasm building, impossible but undeniable.
"Touch yourself," he commands, his grip in my hair tightening. "Play with that pretty clit while I fuck you."
I slide one hand between my legs, fingers finding the swollen bundle of nerves. The added stimulation makes me clench around him, and he hisses at the sensation.
"Fuck yes," he groans. "Just like that. Make yourself come on my cock."
The combination of his thrusts and my own touch pushes me toward the edge again. I'm trembling, desperate, completely lost in the pleasure he's giving me.
"I'm going to come," I gasp.
"Wait," he commands, slowing his pace to something torturous. "Not yet."
"Please." I'm begging now, shameless. "I need to come."
"You come when I tell you to come." His voice is pure dominance, and it makes me clench around him harder. "This pussy belongs to me, which means your orgasms belong to me too."
He continues the slow, deep pace that keeps me right on the edge without pushing me over. It's exquisite torture, and I can feel tears of frustration gathering in my eyes.
"Matteo, please."
"Please what?"
"Please let me come. I'll do anything."
"Anything?" His pace picks up slightly, just enough to make me gasp. "Will you tell me you love me every day?"
"Yes."
"Will you wear my ring when I put it on your finger?"
The implication makes my heart race. "Yes."
"Will you be mine forever? No more running, no more walls?"
"Yes." The word comes out as a sob. "Yes, I promise. I'm yours forever."
"Then come for me, bella. Come all over my cock."
Permission granted, I shatter apart, the orgasm tearing through me with an intensity that leaves me screaming. He follows me over, his release triggering another wave of pleasure that has me collapsing forward onto the bed.
He catches me, pulling me back against his chest as we both struggle to breathe. His arms wrap around me, holding me tight as aftershocks ripple through my body.
"Holy shit," I whisper when I can finally speak.
"That's just the beginning," he murmurs against my ear, his voice still rough with satisfaction. "I have weeks of wanting to make up for."
I turn in his arms, studying his face in the lamp light. His hair is damp with sweat, his eyes soft with satisfaction and something deeper.
"No regrets?" he asks, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
"None." I trace the line of a scar across his chest, marveling at the contrast between his dangerous reputation and his gentle touch. "For the first time in my life, I know exactly what I want."
"And what's that?"
"You. This. A future where I don't have to choose between being strong and being loved."
He pulls me down for a kiss that's soft and claiming at the same time. "You'll never have to choose again," he promises against my lips. "I fell in love with your strength, Isabella. I'm not going to try to tame it."
I settle against his chest, my head over his heart. The steady rhythm is soothing, hypnotic. Outside, the city sleeps on, unaware that everything has changed.
"The nightmares," I say quietly. "They stopped weeks ago. The first night you made love to me."
His arms tighten around me. "You should have told me."
"I wasn't ready to admit what that meant." I press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "But I'm ready now."
"And what does it mean?"
"It means I'm home." I look up at him, seeing my future reflected in those amber eyes. "It means I'm finally, completely, perfectly yours."
He reaches over to turn off the lamp, plunging us into comfortable darkness. "Sleep," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I'll be here when you wake up."
"Promise?"
"Always."
I close my eyes, wrapped in his warmth and the scent that's become home to me. For the first time since I was a child, sleep comes easily. Peacefully. Without fear of what waits in the darkness.
Because I'm not alone anymore. I'm his, and in being his, I've discovered how to be mine.