Chapter 7
Sydney
Four Years Earlier
Knock, knock.
Swinging the door wide with an eagerness I can’t begin to hide, I find Matteo standing before me, holding a large bouquet of wildflowers. They’re even more vibrant against his dark jeans, black shirt, and all of that delicious gray and black ink on his arms and chest. A sexy smile curls his lips as he runs his eyes from my head to my toes. I think I changed four times before I settled on this royal blue wrap dress and heels.
“Sei così bella.” ( You are so beautiful .)
“I have absolutely no idea what you said, but I like the way you said it.” I giggle.
Matteo comes in, closes the door behind him, and carefully places the flowers on my kitchen island before scooping me up into his arms. My heart is beating at supersonic speed. Lowering me down onto my feet, he cups my face with his hands and gently glides his lips back and forth over mine. The touch is featherlight. At first.
As my lips part in invitation and his tongue sweeps in, dancing with mine, it’s as if someone has doused this fire with propellant. Matteo places me on the kitchen counter, trailing open-mouthed kisses down my throat until he reaches my collarbone. He’s barely been here two minutes, and I’m so ridiculously wet it’s downright embarrassing.
Keep in mind, my sex life has been nothing to write home about. I stopped lamenting about that years ago, deciding to simply take matters into my own hands. Why ask someone else to do what you can do better? It appeared all of the book boyfriends I’d amassed over the years had set the bar much higher than the real men in my life could reach.
“Ho un’incredibile voglia di te,” ( I have an incredible desire for you .) he groaned into the curve of my neck as his hands slid down my back.
“Wha?” I was so incredibly turned on it was work to get an entire four letter word out of my mouth.
“I want you.”
“Yes.”
Matteo pulls back, focusing on my lips for a few seconds before dragging his hungry eyes down my body. Reaching between my legs, he places his strong, calloused hands on my upper thighs before roughly pushing them apart. I gasp, having never had anything so carnal happen to me before. But I felt as if I’d been waiting for a moment like this my entire adult life.
Dropping to his knees, he leans forward, dragging his nose along the center of my wet panties. The nervous trembling that overtakes me is a little mortifying.
Quirking a brow, he smirks up at me. “You okay, principessa?”
I nod vigorously, hoping a puddle doesn’t form on the counter from how overtly turned on I am.
“Fammi godere.” ( Let me enjoy .)
Again, I have no idea what he’s saying until he pulls my black lace panties to the side and drags the flat of his tongue through my center. There is nothing ladylike about the way I shout my gratitude. He continues to bury his face in my sex, licking and sucking like a starved man.
It’s about this time the sound of something popping registers. Turning my head, I notice the lemon sauce my chicken breasts have been sautéing in has begun bubbling over. And all over the tile backsplash.
“Matteo.”
He continues to devour me.
“Tey,” I pant. No response. Gah, I should just let the dinner burn, this is too good. “Tey.” Pulling at his dark hair, he looks up, and I tilt my head in the direction of the stove.
“Oh, shit.” Matteo hops up, moves the pan to a back burner, turns off the stove, and returns to me, lifting me into his arms as if nothing ever happened. “Bedroom!”
“Yes. That way.” I point.
Kissing and licking my throat and jaw, he makes quick work of getting to my room before carefully depositing me on the bed. Praying he’ll waste no time returning to the show that was already in progress. I let out a moan as he runs his hand over the prominent bulge in his pants. I have never been so turned on in my life.
Matteo returns to his knees, this time reaching into my dress to rip my panties off before diving back in. I don’t want to even consider how many women he’s been with to be this proficient in the bedroom. He alternates between licking my clit as his talented fingers are buried deep inside, and tongue fucking me. Overwhelmed with sensation, I nearly lose my mind.
A familiar quiver starts low in my belly, and I clamp onto the duvet so I don’t risk pulling his hair out, as my orgasm barrels down on me with full force. I question whether I may have passed out briefly when I slowly open my eyes to find Matteo above me, staring down at my body. He’s managed to untie my dress and spread the silky garment open.
“Stai godendo?” ( Are you enjoying it?)
I have got to learn Italian. “What?”
“Does it feel good?”
“Hmm. I’m a little concerned the neighbors could be calling the police right now from the screams they probably heard.” I laugh. “What do you think?”
He chuckles. “I think I want to see all of your beautiful body.”
Pushing up on my elbows, I allow him to slide the dress from my arms before unfastening my bra.
His breath catches in appreciation. “Fantastico.” His declaration warms my skin like rays of sunshine on a cloudy day.
Sure, this man is fully clothed while I’m naked beneath him, but his words feel more genuine than any I’ve heard a man utter before. I’ve always felt confident about myself, just disappointed that I hadn’t found a real spark with any man until now. That and the inability to have an orgasm brought on by someone else starts to mess with your head. I’m thirty-four for gosh sakes. You’d think I would’ve at least experienced puppy love.
But years of trying to stay focused on my schooling and career while not getting swindled into a romance with a man who’d discovered my family’s net worth had taken a toll. I’d honestly started to think I’d live the rest of my years alone.
Matteo’s handsome face breaks into a dreamy smile, and in that moment, it hits me.
I’ve been waiting for him.
Reaching up, I run my fingertips over the fine stubble covering his jaw. “What’s that look for?”
“What did I ever do to win favor with God, to have such a beautiful woman giving herself to me?”
Is it too early to profess my eternal love to this man? “Tey? I need you.”
His pupils darken, his expression suddenly morphing from reverent to ravenous. Keeping his hungry eyes connected with mine, he slowly and methodically starts unbuttoning his shirt. As more and more ink becomes visible against his olive skin, I start to squirm. In my wildest fantasies, I never imagined getting naked with someone this insanely attractive.
The men in my social circles were well groomed, impeccably dressed, without a blemish marking their skin. Hell, most got manicures more often than I did.
But Matteo is all man.
His fingers are hardened by an honest day’s work. His darker features and beautiful artwork only magnify the differences between us. While he’s deliciously muscular, I’m confidently soft and curvy. And in a profession dominated by men, I appreciate how much Matteo makes me feel like a woman.
Matteo slides his pants off of his strong legs, the tip of his dick breaching the waistband of his boxer briefs. As he reaches into his wallet for a condom, I lick my lips and swallow hard in anticipation. I don’t have to wait long before he removes the last article of clothing and his heavy cock springs free. Wrapping his hand around the base of his shaft, he gives it a firm stroke. My mouth goes dry at the sight of the man before me. He’s glorious.
Matteo Bianchi is the reason statues are carved.
Lost in my lusty haze, I barely notice him crawling over me until he breathes my name.
“Syd.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to scare you.”
Oh, god. What fantasy is he about to make come true? Blinking up at him, I can’t seem to form words.
Leaning on his forearms, he cups my cheek in one hand. “I really like you. A lot. I know this is moving fast between us. But you need to understand, this isn’t just about sex for me.”
That wasn’t where I was expecting his statement to go. Am I dreaming right now?
“I know it’s only our third date. Well, it would’ve been if I hadn’t pounced on you like a wild animal the minute I walked through your front door.” He has the decency to look embarrassed by this. “But if you don’t feel the same, just give it to me straight. Okay? I’ll leave grateful for this one night.”
Would he still want to have sex if I asked him to marry me right now?
“It’s the same. For me. Grateful,” I stammer. Oh my god, he probably thinks I’m having a stroke. He needs to get on with it before I make an even bigger fool of myself, and he changes his mind. “Kiss me, Tey.”
And he does. Long, languid, open-mouth kisses as he slowly pushes himself inside me. He’s undoubtedly bigger than any man I’ve been with, so I’m thankful he’s starting off slow. But with each movement, my desire grows more and more voracious.
Digging my nails into his incredibly muscular ass, I impatiently lift my hips to meet his.
“Fammi vedere come scopi bene.” ( Show me how well you fuck .) Gentle glides build to more forceful thrusts, until he has both of my hands pinned above me, pounding his thick cock into me like a porn star.
The sight of him is other worldly. His well-toned pecs and abs covered in sexy black ink flex under a sheen of sweat. He alternates between delicious pummeling and slow, sexy strokes while teasing my nipples with the tip of his tongue. The mix of deep gravely moans and Italian, I can only assume is dirty talk, is intoxicating. I never want this moment to end.
I’ve lost all control. The noises escaping my lips are almost as carnal as the sounds our bodies are making as he jackhammers in and out of me. I’ve never had a man create such delectable friction with his movements before. Between the angle of his pelvis and the way he manages to glide over a spot inside me I thought only existed in romance novels, I think I might actually be on my way to my second orgasm.
“Fuck. So good. You’re so fucking tight.” He pants. “Your sweet pussy. It feels so warm and wet around my cock.” He lowers his head to suck a nipple into his mouth before biting the tip.
“Oh, god. Matteo. I’m…”
“Yes. Come all over my dick, Principessa.” His hips undulate at a relentless pace, sending me spiraling over the edge.
Unintelligible sounds reverberate from my lips, and I return my nails to his backside as if I’ll fall without anchoring myself to him.
“Sto venendo,” ( I’m coming ) he shouts, thrusting into me several more times before stilling above me. His body convulses beneath my fingertips, and I try to slow my breathing so I can focus enough to replay this in my head once he’s gone. Because, come on. That’s going to send me to sleep every night for the rest of my life.
But he doesn’t go. Matteo falls on top of me. The weight of him grounding me before he rolls to his side, pulling me into him. We lie like this for a while before showering, eating dinner, and returning to bed to do it all over again. And again.
Night after night, this beautiful man returns, as if we’re fated to be together. It’s not logical. This relationship is in complete opposition to the life I’ve carefully constructed for myself. How had we jumped headfirst into the deep end and stayed here?
But love is irrational. And there’s no fighting it.