Chapter 3
Raven
Matteo takes my hand, leads me toward the back exit, avoiding the remaining staff and stragglers. As we pass the staff room, I quickly slip inside to get my small shoulder bag and shawl.
Outside, the night air hits my flushed skin like a shock. A sleek black car idles at the curb, a driver standing beside it who opens the door without a word as we approach.
Matteo guides me inside with a hand at the small of my back. “After you,” he says, following me inside.
As soon as the door closes behind him, sealing us in privacy behind tinted windows, the careful distance between us evaporates. I’m in his lap before the car even pulls away from the curb, his hands spanning my waist, mine buried in his hair.
“You taste like trouble,” he murmurs against my throat, teeth scraping the sensitive skin there.
I roll my hips against his, feeling him harden beneath me. Judging by the very impressive length and width between my legs, I’ve won the dick lottery for tonight.
“You have no idea,” I half purr, half moan.
His hands slide up my thighs, pushing my dress higher, fingertips digging into my flesh. “I’ve been wanting to wreck you since I saw you commanding that room like you owned everyone in it.”
His mouth captures mine again, hungrier this time, one hand tangling in my hair to tilt my head exactly how he wants it. The other slips between us, cupping my lace-covered pussy.
“Fuck,” he growls against my lips. “You’re already wet.”
I bite his lower lip in response, drawing a hiss from him. “Don’t act surprised.”
His fingers move beneath the lace, teasing but not entering, building a maddening pressure that has me grinding against his hand.
“We’re almost there,” he says, voice strained with restraint. “But I’m already thinking about all the ways I’m going to take you.”
The car stops. Through the window, I glimpse a sleek high-rise gleaming against the night sky. The driver’s discreet cough from the front seat barely registers.
Matteo helps me fix my dress, his movements efficient. But the twinkle in his eyes promises that it won’t stay on much longer. We exit the car, and his hand finds the small of my back again as we enter the building, the doorman nods respectfully.
The elevator requires a key card to access the penthouse. As the doors close, sealing us alone in the ascending box, Matteo’s fingers intertwine with mine. The simple touch feels strangely more intimate than the heated groping in the car.
The metal walls throw our reflections back at us; when his eyes track mine, one seems half a beat slow—maybe the elevator light, maybe him. I don’t dwell on it.
“Last chance to change your mind,” he rasps.
I answer by pressing the length of my body against his. “I never do anything I’m not absolutely certain about.”
The elevator chimes, announcing our arrival. The silver doors slide apart, but I barely register Matteo moving us. I’m completely lost in the sensation of his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth.
Before I know it, he has me pinned against the wall, his body a solid wall of heat against mine. My back hits the smooth surface with enough force to knock the air from my lungs, but his mouth is there to swallow my gasp.
There’s no pretense now, no slow build—just desperate, clawing need that mirrors the hunger I’ve been fighting all night. He bunches my dress around my hips, exposing me to the cool air and his searching touch.
“Been thinking about this since I saw you,” he growls against my neck, teeth scraping sensitive skin. “Thought about bending you over right there at that fucking party.”
Only then do I register that I’m still holding my bag and shawl. I drop them both on the floor.
My fingers fumble with his shirt buttons, revealing more of the intricate black ink covering his torso—a canvas of darkness flowing from his neck downward in abstract patterns that somehow tell a story I can’t quite read.
“I would’ve let you,” I admit, breathless as his fingers hook into my thong, dragging it down my thighs. “Maybe next time.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, pupils blown wide with desire.
With one smooth motion, he tears my dress down the middle, the expensive fabric giving way beneath his strength.
I should be outraged—it’s Versace, for God’s sake—but the raw display of desire sends liquid heat pooling between my thighs.
“I’ll buy you ten more,” he promises as he removes my strapless bra with deft fingers. Then stops, his gaze fixed on my naked chest. “Fuck.”
My nipple piercings catch the dim light—small silver barbells with pink rhinestones at the end. They’re pretty, if I do say so myself.
“Mhmm, you’re pierced,” he rasps. “You really do collect experiences everywhere, don’t you?” He dips his head, takes one pierced nipple into his mouth, and sucks hard enough to make my knees buckle.
“Mhmm,” I gasp, my head falling back against the wall with a thud. His tongue works the sensitive peak, playing with the metal in a way that sends direct pulses between my legs. “Did you think I was lying?”
He lifts me effortlessly, hands gripping my ass as my legs wrap around his waist. I can feel him, hard and insistent, pressing against my core through his pants.
“If I’m honest,” he growls, carrying me toward the black couch, “I was too busy wondering about your taste to consider much else.”
Oh, fuck yes, please. The thought of Matteo’s mouth devouring my needy pussy is enough to make me whimper. And it’s not one of those mental sounds. Nope, it’s loud.
“Are you imagining my tongue in your cunt?” he growls.
I nod.
His gaze catches mine as he sets me on the edge of the couch, my legs still wrapped around him. “Good fucking girl,” he croons, and the words paired with his tenor, is enough to make me moan.
Yeah, I fucking moan from those words alone. I’ve always thought it was bullshit when the women in books went wild from dirty talk alone, but this… Matteo proves it’s possible.
I tangle my fingers in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him growl as he drops to his knees in front of me. The sight alone—Matteo kneeling between my thighs—nearly undoes me.
“Spread wider for me,” he orders, voice a rasp that vibrates straight through my chest. His palms push my knees apart, forcing me wide open, baring me to his hungry stare.
Cool air brushes over my soaked folds, a tease compared to the heat of his breath ghosting closer. My skin prickles with anticipation, my pulse pounding in my ears. I can’t stop rocking forward, desperate to feel him where I need him most.
“Impatient little thing,” he murmurs, lips grazing my inner thigh. His tongue traces a wet line upward, slow, deliberate, until he stops just shy of my aching center. “I like that. Means you’ll scream louder when I finally give it to you.”
His words make me clench around nothing, make me ache more. I fist his hair tighter. “Matteo—”
“Say please.” His voice is low, cruel amusement dripping from every syllable. “Beg for my mouth…”
I look down at him when he cuts himself off, and I can’t help smiling slyly when I realize what he’s looking at. The tattoo just above my pussy. I got it while in Paris, and I love the script font that spells out Bon appétit.
“How fucking perfect,” he grins, licking along the letters before blowing cold air on my skin, making it pebble. “Now, beg.”
My pride claws at me, but my body betrays me, shuddering under his teasing licks against my thighs. I can’t take it anymore. “Please, Matteo. Eat my hungry pussy.”
“Good girl.” He dives in, tongue sliding over my slit in one long, devastating stroke. My vision blurs. My head tips back, hitting the wall with a dull thud, but I don’t care. All I care about is the way he licks me like he’s starving.
He flattens his tongue against my clit, applying relentless pressure, then sucks hard, pulling a strangled cry from my throat. “Fuck. Yes—”
“That’s it,” he growls against me, the vibration making me quake. “Fucking scream for me. Let everyone in this building know who’s got their mouth on you.”
I grind against his face shamelessly, chasing the friction, my arousal dripping down his chin. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow. If anything, he encourages it, gripping my thighs in bruising hands to hold me exactly where he wants me.
His tongue circles my clit, alternating between soft flicks and ruthless suction, until I’m writhing, breath coming in broken sobs. “Matteo… I’m gonna… Yes! Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking dare stop!”
“Do it,” he snarls, pulling back just long enough to look up at me, his gaze dark and wild. “Come on my tongue, Raven. Right fucking now.”
And I do. I fucking rupture on his tongue. My back bows off the couch and my legs tighten around him as I gyrate my hips, seeking as much friction, as much of him, as I can get. My moans are nonsensical as I ride the riptide of pleasure he created.
His name is still on my lips when my body finally stops spasming, and I’ve managed to get my breathing somewhat under control.
“Wow,” I breathe, knowing I’m giving him the biggest Cheshire grin. “That was—”
“Perfect,” he finishes. “You’re fucking exquisite.”
I push myself up on my elbows. “You’re not too bad yourself. That trick you did with your tongue… mhmm. God. I should send a fruit basket to the woman who taught you to do that. Or man. I mean, I don’t judge—”
Mercifully, he silences my out-of-control babbling with a scorching kiss. “Shut up,” he laughs against my lips.
“Okay,” I sigh happily.
While his tongue strokes mine into submission, I reach between us and palm his hard cock through his pants. There’s a damp patch on the fabric, and I’m guessing it’s either from pre-cum or premature ejaculation.
Hmm, the latter would be hot as fuck. Having a man like him come just from eating me out is a flattering thought.
When he ends the kiss, he rests his forehead against mine. His breath ghosts across my lips, and I love the scent of my arousal coming from him. It’s rather hot, if I do say so myself.