Chapter Nine
Matteo
She walks away as if her words didn’t just light me the fuck on fire. My breath is ragged, chest heaving, every inhale a fight, every exhale burned out from the hit.
I don’t think.
I move. Because there’s no pretending anymore. No holding it back. Not when I’ve already come undone for her a hundred fucking times since she’s been back in my orbit.
She’s halfway down the hall when I catch up. My hand wraps around her arm as I yank her back toward me.
Her breath catches, but she doesn’t fight it. Doesn’t flinch. Like she knew I’d come.
She opens her mouth, but I don’t give her the chance to speak.
My mouth crashes to hers. It’s brutal, hungry, all teeth, heat and fire.
I kiss her to punish her for walking away. To mark her from the inside out. Because fuck pretending. Fuck restraint. It’s the kind of kiss that says, you started this… now fucking feel it.
I press my hips forward, grinding against her, letting her feel exactly what she’s done to me.
My hands thread into her hair, deep, possessive. I feel the silky strands tighten between my knuckles as I wrap my fist in it and yank her head back. Not hard. Just enough to remind her who the fuck she’s dealing with.
Her spine arches slightly, her neck is bare, and fuck, if that doesn’t undo something primal in me.
“I warned you,” I growl, my mouth dragging against her jaw, my grip firm in her hair. “You don’t throw words like that at me and expect me to play nice.” Her pulse pounds at her throat. “You want to push me, baby? Fine. I’ll take it out on you with my cock.”
She gasps, soft, involuntary and it shoots straight to my cock like a goddamn lightning strike.
No hesitation. No filter. Just pure, unfiltered need punching through me, hard and fast. One fucking sound from her, and I’m already on the edge.
I drag my mouth down her neck, teeth sinking in just hard enough to leave a mark, just hard enough to claim her. Her hand fists in my shirt, a desperate grip for control that’s already slipping through her fingers. And she knows it. She’s burning in the same fire she set off in me.
My free hand slides down her back, gripping her ass, hauling her hips hard against mine. She can feel what she’s done to me. The thick length of my cock straining against my jeans, demanding more. Demanding her.
“Say it,” I whisper, biting at her earlobe. “Say you fucking want it.”
Her breath stutters.
I feel it, hear it, right against her throat. That shaky exhale she tries to hide but can’t. It shudders out of her, body straining under the pressure, smart-ass mouth finally catching up to the fire she’s been playing with.
And fuck, I love it.
Love that I’m in control. The way her pride is slipping through her fingers. The way her body presses into mine like it’s not even a choice anymore, but more like it’s instinct.
I bring my mouth to hers, close enough to feel her breath, to taste the heat between us… but I don’t kiss her. I want her trembling for it. Begging. I want her to feel the ache of almost, the burn of everything she can’t have until I say so.
I just stay there, brushing her lips, letting the tension stretch tight between us.
She leans in, just barely, chasing it. Needing more. Chasing the kiss. The fucking kiss I won’t give her.
Her brows pinch, confusion flashing in her eyes for a second, but I see the truth written all over her face.
The need. The want, the desperation.
“Uh-uh,” I murmur, tightening my grip in her hair, pulling her head back slightly so she’s forced to look at me. “You don’t get to start fires and expect me to hand over the match.”
She lets out a soft, frustrated sound. Part breath, part moan… but it only makes me smirk.
“You want my mouth?” I growl, eyes locked on hers. “Then fucking say it.” I grind against her, making sure she feels exactly what I can give her. “Say you want me to fuck you.”
Each word is a dare.
A promise.
A threat wrapped in desire.
She squirms, just a little, and it’s fucking beautiful. Her body’s screaming yes while her pride still tries to claw its way through.
“Come on, baby,” I growl against her jaw. “You’re already soaked through. You’re already shaking for it. Don’t play innocent now.”
I drag my lips over her throat, not kissing, just hovering, letting her feel how close I could get if I wanted to. Letting her burn in it.
“Do you want my cock, or are you just going to keep pretending this is a game you can win?”
She swallows hard, eyes locked on mine, her pride flickering.
And then, she speaks, it’s barely a breath, a whisper. “Yes.”
I don’t move. I don’t kiss her. Don’t even ease the tension.
I tip her head back, baring that perfect line of her throat, and it’s mine. Every inch. And fuck, she knows it.
My voice drops, a growl against her skin. “Tell me what you’re saying yes to.”
She exhales, it's shaky and soft. She’s strung tight, wound like a bow ready to snap. My hand clamps down on her hip, fingers digging in, claiming, marking. I want her right there, on the edge. Mine. Desperate. Seconds away from begging me to ruin her.
“Say it, Emery,” I murmur darkly against her skin. “Don’t make me drag it out of you.”
She closes her eyes, jaw tightening like she’s trying to hold on to something, but it slips…finally, and when she opens them again, she’s done pretending.
“I want you to fuck me, Matteo” she breathes. “Hard.”
And right there, she gives in. It’s in her eyes, in the way her breath hitches and her body leans into mine like she needs it.
I smirk.
It’s slow, dangerous, and full of promise.
The kind of smirk that says I’ve fucking won.
Because I have.
And we both know it.
Those words were the shift of power. The second her pride slipped through her lips and gave way to need. Now I’ve got her right where I want her.
“You make it too easy,” I murmur. “Didn’t take much to break you, did it?”
Her lips part, trembling, ready to lie. Ready to pretend she hasn’t already given in.
But I tighten my grip in her hair, just enough to make her gasp. Just enough to remind her exactly how deep she’s already buried in this. In me. And there’s no crawling out now.
“You play a good game, baby,” I growl, tilting her chin higher. “But two can play just as dirty.”
Her lips part, her chest heaves, and fuck if I don’t want to devour her right here, right now.
Pin her to the wall and take her hard until her thoughts are nothing but shattered fragments, until she’s moaning my name like a prayer and forgetting every reason she ever had to resist. Fuck her senseless, until the only thing she knows is me.
My hands. My mouth. My cock. And the ruin I leave behind.
It takes every starving inch of me to let go of her hair. It’s ripping claws from something I’m not ready to release.
Her eyes snap up, wide and wild, heat still smoldering beneath the confusion. She looks wrecked. Wanting.
On the edge of something feral and fucked, and I swear if she begged right now, I’d ruin her without a second thought. But this is about power.
I let her go. Fingers still twitching with the ghost of her. Then I turn, force my feet to move toward the kitchen, jaw clenched, cock hard enough to ache.
Every fucking inch of me is screaming to turn around. Grab her. Haul her upstairs and rip every stitch of clothing off her like it’s a fucking offense to my hunger. I want to fuck the ache out of me.
Instead, I plant my hands on the kitchen counter, muscles coiled so tight I’m shaking with it. My whole body’s humming, aching like it’s been denied oxygen.
I shift, trying to breathe through the tension, but the pressure’s fucking savage.
The only goddamn relief I’m getting tonight is with my own hand wrapped around my cock. And fuck… even that won’t touch what I really want.
Her. Bent. Begging and ruined.