4. Lindsay
Lindsay
For a minute, we stare at each other, our chests rising and falling in tandem. My own disbelief is mirrored in his expression.
A part of me is repeatedly asking what the hell I’m doing. The other part is in shock and desperately needs the kiss to continue.
Because Matteo Vitale is a damn good kisser. And that kiss might have short-circuited my brain.
He looks just as surprised as I feel. Which throws me off a little because I didn’t think surprise was an emotion he was capable of. He swallows, dark eyes staring so hard he might as well be looking into my soul.
When his mouth descends on mine again, it’s entirely welcome.
His fingers slide into my hair, while his thumb sparks embers on my cheek.
I drag my hands down his chest, around his ribs, under his suit jacket and up his back, splaying my fingers over his shoulder blades.
He pulls me closer, until I’m flush against him.
His tongue slides against mine and I feel myself being reforged. And I’m completely helpless to stop it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize we’re moving. He walks us backwards, his mouth white hot and remaining sewn to mine.
My back hits a wall, a corner of the elevator.
Breaking away from my lips, he drags his mouth up my jaw, under my ear.
I feel a shiver down to my bones, needing to feel him.
He licks along the expanse of my collar bone, scraping his teeth over it as his hands glide along my ass.
I gasp when he squeezes it, pulling me even closer.
I can feel him, hard against my thighs, and it has an entirely heady effect. His hands shift forward, bunching up the material of my gown.
“If you want me to stop, princess, now might be the time to find your voice,” he whispers against the side of my ear.
I don’t stop him and I also don’t find my voice.
Pretty sure I lost it the moment we got into the elevator and he started kissing me again.
I also refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing me ask for it.
Or even worse, beg. Tension curls within my spine as his thumb softly strokes the skin of my thigh.
He continues to inch higher, closer and closer until his fingers reach the edge of my panties.
I swallow, my throat dry, while every inch of me chimes with want. Slowly, he shifts my panties to the side. I’m not just wet. I’m completely soaked. The gleam in his eyes at that knowledge both pleases me and makes me angry.
That isn’t for you, I want to tell him.
But I settle for staring at him defiantly, daring him to make his next move. He pauses then and, for a second, I think he’s going to step away. Then he smirks before plunging two fingers inside of me. My eyes go wide and a silent scream is wrenched from my throat. Pleasure and pain roll through me.
The elevator could stop at any moment before we reach the penthouse. Anyone could walk in here and see us. Someone could be watching us right now through the cameras and I find I don’t care.
“You think I can make you come before the elevator stops on your floor?” he questions darkly.
His fingers curl within me and I gasp softly, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Doubtful,” I answer panting for air.
I clutch onto his arm for support, my nails digging into the material of his suit jacket as I try to maintain some semblance of control. Control goes out the window when he adds one more finger inside of me, increasing the pace of his thrusts.
A burst of pleasure floods through me. My toes curl. My heart is beating so fast it’s scary. His pace verges on madness as he pounds into me with heightened intensity. My eyes close halfway and I want to look away from the storm that’s about to take me over but I can’t.
The longer I’m swallowed in his dark gaze, the more lightheaded I become. He teases my clit in two expert strokes and that’s all it takes for me to come with a deep moan. I nearly fall forward but he holds me close, still stroking as I come down from the orgasm.
“Good girl,” he whispers.
Fuck.
Through my starry haze, I notice that the elevator doors are wide open. I’m about to tell him that, but he kisses me again. When he reaches down to squeeze my ass, I decide we might as well stay in here.
He is such a good kisser. It’s annoying.
Matteo makes a deep noise in the back of his throat as I kiss him, running my hands down his shirt. I need to feel more of him and I guess he must sense my desperation.
“We should probably get out of here,” he says against my lips.
He loops one arm under my ass and picks me up. As soon as I’m in the air, I go straight for his hair. It’s so soft and it smells amazing. I run my nails over his scalp, provoking a quavering exhale. He carries me down the corridor and then all of a sudden I’m being set down and spun around.
The door to the penthouse stands in front of me while Matteo hovers behind me. One hand slides low on my stomach, and the other one drifts upwards tauntingly, stopping under my breast.
“Open the door, princess,” he says, right beside my ear.
I don’t even remember inputting the code. One minute, we’re outside, the next I’m surging ahead, dragging him along. My mind only registers a loud slam of the door being shut.
In one rough motion, I force his jacket to the ground. Mine follows in quick succession.
“This is a really, really bad idea,” I have the presence of mind to mention.
“I agree,” he says. “Where’s the bedroom?”
I smile, hooking my fingers through his belt loops as I walk backwards toward the oak door of my room. We’re barely through the door before he begins fiddling with the zip of my dress.
It’s incredibly noisy as it comes undone, parting the material. It slides down, leaving me completely topless. I hadn’t worn a bra under the dress.
Matteo smiles like he approves. For a moment, he stays in position, gaze tracking up and down my body.
“Your turn. Take off your shirt,” I order.
His eyebrow arches at the command. But then, surprisingly, he heeds my request. I watch as he unbuttons his shirt, deft fingers working achingly slow. When he finishes, he balls his shirt in a fist and tosses it on the floor.
My mouth waters at the sight of him. He’s a tower of muscle and sin. There’s a tattoo on his chest, right above his heart. It’s a crest with words in Italian written above it.
My Italian is a little rusty and a part of me wants to ask him to translate.
But then he’s pulling me closer. His large warm hands slide down to grasp my ass, caressing, lifting and then squeezing before traveling upwards.
He cups my breasts in his palms, rolling my nipples between his thumbs and index fingers.
“These are nice,” he murmurs, his voice thick.
And then he leans down to take one erect nipple into his mouth. I groan, clutching the hair at his nape. My nails dig into his biceps. My hands come up between us and I manage to unbuckle his pants, pushing past the hem and the boxer briefs underneath.
I wrap my hands around his cock and I’m rewarded with a growl of pleasure. It’s huge and hard, throbbing in my palm. Without detaching from my nipple, he assists me in pulling down his clothes until he’s bare in front of me. I stare at his cock with wide eyes. He’s huge and thick.
I wrap both palms around the entire hard length of him and begin pumping, squeezing my fists up and down and dragging his hot, sensitive skin back and forth. His hips buck into my hands.
Too soon, his hands grab my wrist and with a soft grunt, extricating himself from my clenching grasp.
“Enough. Get on the bed.”
I don’t even argue or make any comments about his tone. I climb into the middle of the bed, waiting, expectant. Matteo stares at me for a second and I want to hide from his gaze.
“I should tie you to the headboard,” he says darkly. “Fuck you until you’re helplessly moaning and begging for release.”
Even more moisture gathers between my legs at his words.
“But not today. Make no mistake, though. I’m not going to be gentle,” he warns me.
I swallow, my heart rate picking up. “I didn’t ask you to be.”
My answer pleases him.
“Good.”
He climbs onto the bed and pushes my legs apart. Then he thrusts into me with a savagery that has me moaning loudly.
Matteo Vitale doesn’t offer me soft pretty words or a slow pace. He fucks hard and fast, filling me in a way that feels like he’s trying to imprint inside of me. He buries himself to the hilt, hitting parts of me deep inside.
He reaches between us, fingers resting against my clit as he strums it like a string. His muscles contract and strain with effort as he pounds into me.
“Go on. Come for me.”
I explode, my pussy tightening around his cock as I come.
“Good girl. But we’re not done yet,” he informs me.
“I-I can’t,” I gasp as spasms roll through me.
His eyes are darkened with lust. It should terrify me but I’m too far gone to care.
“No, no, princess. You’ll take everything I have to give.”
He flips me over, and my face is suddenly pushed against the mattress with my ass up in the air. He doesn’t give me any time to prepare. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he hauls me backward and impales me on his cock in the same breath.
I whimper at the sudden fullness, the sensitivity, the sting. Before I can suck in a breath, he slams into me with such force that the bed shifts from the impact. I turn my face to the side, releasing a scream.
“You’re taking me so well,” he hisses, mid-thrust. “You like this, don’t you? You like how I’m fucking you.”
I don’t reply. A second later, there’s a smack on my ass. The sound that escapes me is a cross between a whimper and a moan.
“Answer me, princess. I asked if you liked how I was fucking you.”
“Y-yes,” I cry.
I turn my face back into the mattress and moan. My hips move back and forth to try and catch more of him as he slides in and out of me. Soon enough my thighs start to quiver. My toes curl. Matteo ceases his thrusts for a moment, holding me against his cock as I orgasm.
He lowers his head and groans as I clench and contract against him. He exhales a soft breath before he resumes slamming into me again at a ferocious pace. His fingers dig so forcefully into the soft flesh of my ass that I know there’ll be imprints on it once he’s done.
I take everything he has to give and eventually I’m rewarded by a muted “fuck” as he comes inside of me. And some other garbled sounds.
He drops to his side, taking me with him in a spooning position. I count one second, then another. Five more seconds pass before I shift away. He slides out of me and lies on his back, latent shivers still rolling through him.
I should feel a lot of things right now. I wait for the shame to arrive.
It doesn’t.
What arrives instead is clarity. Cold, inconvenient, and completely useless.
I made a choice tonight. I know who he is. He knows who I am. We weren’t confused about each other and yet… here we are.
Ugh, Lindsay, what the hell were you thinking?
I shift away and sit up.
He’s lying there watching me with an expression I can’t fully read. Not smug or calculating, which is a relief because I’m much too aware of how bad this is for him to add to it.
“So… after months of chasing, this is the result. I hope you’re not too disappointed.”
I turn away from his gaze, trying to keep from blushing, but when I look back he’s still looking at me. With a look I’ve never experienced before. Something that looks dangerously close to—
“Don’t,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow.
“Whatever you’re about to say. Don’t.”
A beat of silence.
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he says finally.
“Good.”
“You need to put on your clothes,” I say, sliding out of bed and crossing my arms over my very naked chest.
He arches an eyebrow. He looks comfortable, arm behind his head, legs stretched out, like he didn’t just rock my world while somehow managing to make it crumble at the same time.
“This was your plan, wasn’t it?” I hate that my voice cracks. “Show up here, say a few pretty words, make me vulnerable and then sleep with me. To what end?”
He sits up on the bed, throwing me an irritated glance.
“I didn’t force you to get into this bed with me, princess. And I seem to remember you clenching around my cock as you came, multiple times. So save the dramatic act. We’re two consenting adults. And we had a good time.”
My chest feels like it’s caving in.
“What was I thinking?” I whisper, looking down at my feet in shame.
He slides out of the bed, pulling on his boxer briefs in the process. I look up when I hear footsteps heading toward me.
“Do not come near me!”
He exhales a soft breath. “Lindsay.”
I see pity in his eyes and it makes me feel even worse.
“Get out! You need to leave. Right now,” I insist.
For a second, he hesitates. I see it in his eyes, the only part of him I’m ever able to read. And then the look disappears and the ice comes back. He steels his expression, wiping away any trace of emotion.
Wiping away every trace of the man I saw while he was inside of me.
He takes his sweet time putting on his clothes. I resist the urge to throw something at him in order to spur him into action. But I don’t. I stand there, waiting for him to finish, uncaring that I’m still naked.
“It’s not the end of the world, Beaumont,” he says once he’s done knotting his tie, the picture of ease and control once again. “It was just sex.”
“It was a mistake,” I retort. “And it never happened.”
“Oh, but it did. And I guarantee you won’t be forgetting about it anytime soon, princess.”
With those words, he turns around and leaves the room. I fall back into the bed that still smells so much like him and what we just did. I can still feel him inside me. I can still feel the trickle of him pooling between my thighs.
And then, like cold water thrown over a lit match, a single thought cuts through the haze.
We didn’t use a condom.
I lie back down, staring at the ceiling.
It’s fine, I tell myself again.
The ceiling offers no opinion.
That was the best sex of my entire life, and it was with the worst possible person. And now I’m lying here running fertility statistics in my head at two in the morning like a woman who has officially, completely, lost her mind.
I need to sleep. I need to forget this happened.