Chapter 10
Matteo
Ilook down at Raven, at how beautiful she looks with her wrists pulled taut by my belt above her head. The sheets frame her body like a canvas waiting for the artist’s first stroke.
My weight pins her hips to the mattress, and I feel a sense of dark satisfaction. She took what was mine. Now I’ll take something from her.
“Do you know what happens to thieves in Saudi Arabia?” I ask, my voice conversational, as though we’re discussing the weather over coffee.
Her eyes flick between mine—the good one and the prosthetic. Then she lifts her chin, lets a slow smile cut across her mouth. “They get straddled by psychopaths with a god complex?”
I can’t help smiling at her. “They lose their hands.”
The blade gleams as I withdraw it from inside my suit jacket. It’s the same knife that found its home in the attacker over a week ago. Over the years, it’s tasted a lot of blood.
“Pretty toy,” Raven quips, but I catch the tremble in her voice. “I k-know you’re not compensating. So I guess you’re just a showoff.”
I bring the flat of the blade to her left wrist, just below where the belt bites into her flesh.
“You fucking psycho,” she screams, bucking her hips. “You’re not—”
“Shhh!” I lean forward so my lips hover just above hers. “If you can’t keep quiet, I’ll have to gag you. Do you want that?”
“I want—”
Throwing my hand over her mouth, I silence her. “Be a good girl, Raven, and keep your voice down. If you draw the attention of your neighbors, I’ll have to kill them.” Her eyes widen and she stops trying to bite me. “That’s what I thought,” I chuckle, satisfied she understands what’s at stake.
When she continues to buck, she hooks an ankle around my calf, trying to unseat me. I shift so I’m sitting on her upper thighs instead of her hips. With how much taller I am than her, it’s not much of a stretch for me to reach her wrists from this position.
“In Russia, they’d cut off your ears. Not entirely sure why the ears.” The last part comes out as though I’m contemplating it, which I guess I am. It makes no fucking sense.
Her breath hitches when I flip the knife, the edge hovering a whisper above her skin. I drag it slowly through the air above both hands. She rolls her wrists, testing the belt’s give.
A shiver runs through her entire body when she finds none, and I can feel her trying to control it, to hide her fear. She’s braver than most, I’ll give her that.
I hadn’t meant to do any of this. Honestly, I wasn’t going to do anything but get my lighter and maybe punish-fuck her before forcing her to help me with my mole problem. But the second she lied, even when there was no point, I couldn’t stop myself.
Raven’s bravado keeps pushing me. Making me want to see just how far she’ll let me go. I trace the knife down the center of her body, between her breasts, stopping where her shirt has ridden up her flat stomach.
“I should probably tell you I haven’t decided what to do with you yet.” A lie. But fear is a spice best savored slowly.
My gaze follows the knife’s path, lingering on the rapid pulse visible at the base of her throat. Her breathing turns ragged, her body alternating between tensing and forced relaxation as she tries to master her fear.
I can see the calculation in her eyes. She’s weighing her options, assessing the threat, looking for a way out. There isn’t one.
Not for the first time, she tries to speak, so I decide to let her and remove my hand. “What are you dying to say, Little Thief?”
“I-I’m not scared of you, Matteo,” she spits, each word dripping with contempt and delicious fear.
Sighing, I move one hand to her cheek and cup it. “I know you say that to save face, but it really just makes you seem stupid.”
She bares her teeth, a growl working its way up her throat as she renews her efforts to get me off her. But no matter how much she bucks and thrashes, I’m not going anywhere.
With a dark laugh, I command, “Lie still.”
I hook the tip of my knife under the collar of her shirt and drag it downward, the fabric parting like water. The tearing sound fills the quiet room, punctuated by her sharp intake of breath.
I continue cutting until the shirt falls open on either side of her body, exposing her to my gaze. Her breasts rise and fall fast, my cock hardens further at the sight, remembering how they felt in my mouth that night—cool metal warming against my tongue as she writhed beneath me.
This isn’t about pleasure, though. It’s about power and consequence—my power, her consequence. I slowly move the knife down her stomach, the flat of the blade leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
“I want to make sure you understand the gravity of your crime,” I rasp.
Her stomach muscles clench as the cold steel dips into her navel, then continues lower. I stop just above the waistband of her underwear, the tip of the knife pressing lightly into the soft skin.
“Tell me,” I command, voice dropping to a whisper, “what should I take from you, Raven? What would be a fair trade for my father’s lighter?”
Her eyes widen, genuine fear flashing across her face before she masks it with bravado. “You already have your lighter back,” she says, her voice trembling. “We can just call it even.”
I shake my head slowly. “That’s not how this works. Returning what you stole doesn’t erase the theft.” I drag the knife back up her body, between her breasts where I add just enough pressure for her to shudder as her breathing intensifies. “I think you need to learn your place,” I decide.
I set the knife down on the nightstand and rise to my knees. My cock twitches as I undo the button on my pants before slowly lowering the zipper. The metallic rasp fills the room as her eyes track the movement of my hands.
Her eyes widen—fear or hunger? I can’t tell. They look the same on a woman like her. And both feed the same hunger in me. Raven’s nostrils flare slightly as my length springs free, already hard in my hand.
I move forward on my knees until I’m straddling her ribs, my erection hovering above her chest. She shivers beneath me, and I catch the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips—a reflex she probably doesn’t even realize she’s making.
“Do you plan to talk me to death?” she asks, defiance sharpening her tongue despite her vulnerable position. “Because that might actually be working.”
I smile, cold and deliberate, as I lower myself without putting all my weight on her. I take her breasts in my hands, squeezing them together to create a channel for my cock. The silver barbells roll under my palms, and I tug them just enough to make her gasp.
“I think this is more fitting,” I rasp, pressing my cock between her soft mounds. “Using what’s at my disposal, and, of course, taking back what I’m owed.”
At first, I thrust slowly, sliding between her breasts, the head of my cock approaching her chin with each forward motion. As my cock slides upward on the next thrust, nearly reaching her mouth, Raven suddenly snaps her teeth at me.
A sharp, quick movement that misses by centimeters but makes its point. I hiss, grabbing her jaw with one hand, fingers digging into her cheeks until her lips part in a grimace.
“That was your second strike. You don’t want to know what happens on your third.”
When I release her jaw, angry red marks remain where my fingers pressed. I return my attention to her breasts, but this time I grasp the piercings directly between my thumb and forefinger.
Her back arches at the sudden pressure, a small sound escaping her lips—not quite pain, not quite pleasure. The metal warms beneath my fingers as I tug on the barbells, using them to control her movements.
Each pull draws another sound from her throat, a mixture of protest and arousal that feeds the dark satisfaction spreading through me. “Y-you’re sick,” she manages, but her voice lacks conviction, especially when I twist one piercing slightly and her words dissolve into a moan. “Oh, God!”
“I’m determined,” I correct her, increasing my pace. The head of my cock bumps against her chin with each thrust.
Her breasts are soft yet firm beneath my hands, the perfect channel for my cock. Pre-cum leaks from my tip, leaving a glistening trail across her skin. The sight of her bound and marked by me sends heat spiraling through my veins.
Suddenly, Raven bucks her hips beneath me again. But this time, as I look at her face and her hooded eyes, I don’t think she’s doing it to get me off her. No, I think my Little Thief is turned on and in desperate need of friction.
I react quickly, letting go of one of her piercings and reaching behind me, finding the heat between her thighs. “What’s this?” I croon. “You’re wet. Your body is begging for me.”
“N-no,” she stutters.
I slide two fingers along her slick folds. She’s wet—soaking—her body betraying what her words try to deny. I circle her clit with my thumb, just firm enough to make her gasp, to make her hips chase my touch.
“Matteo,” she cries, and I fucking love the way she says my name when she’s wet for me.
Her eyes flutter closed as I crook my finger, finding that spot that made her come apart beneath me that night. Just as her breathing quickens, just as her walls begin to pulse around my finger, I withdraw completely.
A frustrated sound escapes her throat—half growl, half whimper. “Bastard,” she hisses.
I smile, squeezing her breasts together more firmly, fucking them with increased vigor. My cock slides easily now, slick with sweat and pre-cum. The piercing adds friction, a sensation that sends sparks up my spine.
My pace increases, control fraying at the edges as heat pools at the base of my spine. Raven’s eyes are fixed on my face now, watching me watch her, defiance still there but tempered with something else—a dark mirror of my own hunger.
I tighten my grip on her piercings, twisting just enough to make her cry out again—the sound sharp with pain but underlaid with something deeper, something she can’t hide.