Chapter 11 Stefan #2
"You don't." His honesty was almost painful. "I can tell you it's real. I can tell you I care about you in ways I've never cared about anyone. I can tell you that what I feel for you is obsessive and possessive and probably unhealthy but it's genuine. But you have to decide whether to believe me."
I turned to face him fully. "What if Antonio's right? What if I'm just naive? What if six months from now I wake up and realize this was all manipulation and I've destroyed my entire life for nothing?"
"Then you rebuild. Start over. Figure out what comes next.
" Matteo cupped my face. "But Stefan—for what it's worth—I don't think you're naive.
I think you're brave. You walked away from a life that was suffocating you.
Chose something different even though it's risky and complicated. That's not naivety. That's courage."
"Or stupidity."
"Maybe both." He smiled slightly. "But it's your choice. Your risk to take. And I'll be here either way."
I kissed him. Needed the physical connection to ground me. To remind me why I'd made this choice.
When we broke apart, I said: "I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"Of everything. Of cutting ties with my family.
Of them being right that you're using me.
Of waking up one day and regretting this.
" I pressed my forehead against his. "But I'm more scared of going back.
Of being Giuseppe's pretty trophy again.
Of suffocating in that life for another decade until I finally break. "
"Then stay scared here," Matteo said. "Stay scared with me. And we'll figure it out together."
"You keep saying that. That we'll figure it out together."
"Because it's true." His hands moved to my waist. Holding me steady. "You're not alone in this, Stefan. Whatever comes next—guilt, regret, consequences—you're not facing it alone."
"What are we?" The question I'd been avoiding. "To each other? What is this?"
Matteo was quiet for a moment. "I'm not good with labels."
"That's convenient."
"It's honest." He pulled me closer. "What I feel for you doesn't fit in any category I know. It's obsessive. But it's real. You're mine and I'm yours and that's all I know how to define it."
"So I'm just... yours?"
"Yes." His voice was firm. "Is that enough?"
I thought about it. About labels and definitions and what Antonio would say about me accepting such a vague, possessive description.
"Yeah," I said finally. "It's enough."
We ended up in his backup apartment above the club.
Matteo led me there by the hand, neither of us speaking. The silence felt heavy with everything I'd just done. Every bridge I'd burned. Every tie I'd severed.
His apartment was familiar now. I'd spent more nights here than in my old room over the past few weeks. But it felt different tonight. Like I was seeing it for the first time. The space that was becoming home in ways Giuseppe's mansion never had.
The door closed behind us and Matteo pulled me close. Kissed me hard. Desperate.
"I need you," he said against my mouth. "Need to feel you. Need to prove—"
"I know." I kissed him back just as desperately. "I need it too."
We stumbled toward the bedroom. Shedding clothes between kisses. My shirt hit the floor. His followed. By the time we reached the bed, we were both half-naked and breathing hard.
Matteo pushed me down onto the mattress. His bed. Our bed, maybe, given how many nights I'd spent here. Covered my body with his.
"Tell me what you need," he said, his voice rough. "After that call. After what you just did. Tell me what you need from me."
"Make me forget." My hands gripped his shoulders. "Make me forget Antonio's voice in my head. Make me forget the guilt. Make me feel like I made the right choice."
"You did make the right choice." He kissed down my throat. "Choosing yourself. Choosing freedom. Choosing me."
"Then prove it." The words came out challenging. Desperate. "Show me this is real. Show me I'm not being used. Show me—"
He kissed me before I could finish. Hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to silence the doubts Antonio had planted.
"I'll show you," he promised. "I'll show you exactly how real this is."
He stripped away the rest of my clothes. Efficient. Purposeful. Until I was bare beneath him.
Then he just looked at me.
"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.
"You're beautiful." His voice was rough. "And you're mine. And everyone knows it now. Your family. The other families. Everyone."
"Is that what you want? Everyone knowing I'm yours?"
"Yes." He traced a hand down my chest. My stomach. Lower. "I want everyone to know you chose me. That you're staying because you want to. That this is real."
"It is real." My breath caught as his hand wrapped around me. "God, Matteo, it's real—"
"I know." He stroked slowly. Watching my face. "I know it is. But I'm going to make sure you know it too. Make sure you feel it so deeply you can't doubt it."
He worked me with his hand until I was trembling. Until I was gasping. Until the guilt and worry from Antonio's call faded beneath waves of pleasure.
Then he moved lower.
His mouth replaced his hand and I cried out. Gripped the sheets. Felt myself falling apart under his attention.
"Matteo—please—I need—"
"I know what you need." He pulled off. Looked up at me with dark eyes that saw everything. "You need to feel wanted. Chosen. Like you matter more than anything else."
"Yes."
"Then let me show you."
He took his time. Used his mouth and hands in ways that made me forget my own name. Made me forget everything except the sensation. The way he focused on my pleasure like it was the most important thing in the world.
When I was trembling and desperate and so close I could barely breathe, he pulled back.
"Not yet." His voice was commanding. "I want you desperate. Want you so far gone you can't think about anything except this. Except us."
"I'm already there—"
"Then go further."
He prepared me thoroughly. Three fingers stretching me while I gasped and begged. Taking his time even though we both needed this desperately. Making sure I was ready.
"Please," I finally managed. "Matteo, I need you inside me. Need to feel—"
"I know." He positioned himself. "I know exactly what you need."
He pushed inside slowly. Inch by inch. Watching my face the entire time. Making sure I felt every moment of connection.
When he was fully seated, we both groaned.
"This," he said, holding still. "This is real, Stefan. This connection. This feeling. Not manipulation. Just us."
"Just us," I agreed breathlessly.
He started to move. Slow at first. Deep strokes that lit up every nerve ending. But the emotion between us—everything I'd just done, every bridge I'd burned—demanded more.
The pace turned fierce. Desperate. Matteo gripped my hips hard enough to bruise. Pulled me into each thrust. The angle was perfect, hitting that spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyelids.
"You chose me," he said, his voice rough with emotion and exertion. "You chose this. Over your family. Over everything you've known. You chose us."
"Yes." I met him thrust for thrust. "I chose you. I'll keep choosing you."
"Good." He leaned down to kiss me. Hard. Possessive. "Because I'm never letting you go. Never giving you back. You're mine now."
The words should have scared me. Should have reminded me of Antonio's warnings about being controlled and used.
Instead, they made me feel safe. Chosen. Wanted in ways I'd never been before.
"Yours," I gasped. "All yours. Only yours."
His rhythm turned almost punishing. Fast and hard and so intense I couldn't think. Could barely breathe. Could only feel.
One hand wrapped around me. Stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation was overwhelming.
"Look at me," he commanded. "Stefan—eyes open. Let me see you."
I forced my eyes open. Met his dark gaze. Let him see everything—the pleasure, the emotion, the absolute certainty that I'd made the right choice even if it was insane.
"That's it." His voice was wrecked. "Let me see you fall apart. Show me I'm not using you. Show me this is real."
"It's real." Tears pricked my eyes from the intensity. "God, Matteo, it's so real—"
"I know." He thrust harder. Deeper. "I feel it too. This connection. This obsession. This need."
"I need you." The admission came out broken. Raw. "I need this. Need you to keep choosing me. Keep wanting me. Keep—"
"Always." He cut me off with a kiss. "Always, Stefan. I'll always choose you. Always want you. You're everything."
The words shattered what was left of my control.
I came with his name on my lips and tears streaming down my face. The orgasm was so intense it bordered on painful. My body clenched around him, pulling him deeper.
Matteo cursed. Drove deep and held there. I felt him pulse inside me as he came. Felt the warmth. Felt him collapse against me, both of us trembling.
We stayed like that for a long moment. Both trying to catch our breath. Both overwhelmed by what had just happened.
Finally, Matteo pulled out carefully and rolled to the side. Pulled me against his chest immediately. Like he couldn't bear even a moment of separation.
"You're crying," he said, wiping tears from my cheeks.
"I know." My voice was shaky. "I don't know why."
"You just cut ties with your entire family. You're allowed to cry."
"It's not just that." I pressed my face against his chest. "It's everything. The call. Choosing to stay. Choosing you. Feeling this—" I gestured vaguely between us. "This intense about someone who kidnapped me."
"Regrets?"
"No." The word came out firm despite the tears. "No regrets. Just... overwhelmed. By how much everything's changed. By how much I want this even though it's insane."
Matteo held me tighter. "It is insane. Completely fucked up."
"But real?"
"Real," he confirmed. "So fucking real it scares me."
I looked up at him. "You're scared?"