Chapter 30 #3
Each thrust punched the air from my lungs.
I could barely breathe, barely think, just feel—the relentless drag of him inside me, the way my body clenched around him, the building pressure low in my belly.
My legs tightened around his waist, heels digging into his back as I tried to meet him thrust for thrust.
Without warning, Matteo pulled out, flipping me over onto my hands and knees before I could process the loss. Then he was behind me, one hand gripping my hip hard as he lined himself up and pushed back in from behind.
This angle was deeper, sharper. I cried out, fingers twisting in the sheets as he set that same punishing pace, slamming into me over and over. His free hand came around to palm my breast roughly, squeezing and kneading in time with his thrusts.
"God, Matteo—" I couldn't finish the thought. He shifted his angle slightly, and stars burst behind my eyelids.
"That's it," he growled against my ear, his chest pressed to my back. "Take it. Take all of me."
His hand slid lower, fingers finding the swollen bundle of nerves between my legs. He rubbed in tight circles, and I screamed, body going taut as the pleasure spiked almost painfully.
"You gonna come for me?" His voice was filthy, teasing. "Gonna come all over my cock like a good girl?"
I couldn't answer, couldn't do anything but shake and gasp as he worked me higher and higher. His fingers pressed harder, and that was it—I broke, orgasm slamming through me so hard I saw white. My inner walls clamped down around him in rhythmic pulses, and I heard him curse viciously behind me.
But he didn't stop. Even as I trembled and whimpered from overstimulation, he kept moving, kept grinding into me until the pleasure started to build again.
Then suddenly he pulled out again, and I collapsed forward with a confused whimper. Before I could turn around, his hands were on me, flipping me onto my back. He straddled my chest, his cock hard and glistening in front of my face.
"Open," he commanded, one hand cupping my breast, thumb brushing over the tight peak. When I hesitated, he gave it a sharp squeeze. "I said open."
I parted my lips, and he guided my head down, making me lick and suck at my own breast while he watched with dark, hungry eyes. The position was awkward, humiliating, but the look on his face—pure possessive need—sent another surge of heat through me.
"Good girl," he murmured, then lowered his head and took the other breast in his mouth, tongue flicking and teeth grazing.
I moaned around my own flesh, the dual sensation overwhelming. But when I started to pull back, his hand shot out and gripped my hair.
"Did I say you could stop?" His voice was sharp, authoritative. "Keep going."
I whimpered but obeyed, tongue working over sensitive skin while he continued his assault on the other side. Only when he was satisfied did he finally release me, his mouth leaving my breast with a wet pop.
He shifted down my body, one hand still kneading my breast roughly as he positioned himself at my entrance again. This time, when he pushed in, he leaned forward and whispered against my ear:
"Don't stop. I want to feel you sucking yourself while I fuck you."
My face burned with embarrassment, but I lowered my head and took my breast back into my mouth, tongue laving over the peak as he started to move.
Each thrust pushed me up the bed slightly, made my task harder, but I didn't dare stop.
Not with the way he was watching me, eyes black with lust and dominance.
His pace quickened, hips snapping harder and faster. The hand on my breast squeezed almost painfully, and I moaned around my own flesh, the vibration adding another layer of sensation.
"Fuck, yes, just like that—" His voice was strained now, breaking apart. "So good, so fucking good for me."
He pounded into me relentlessly, chasing his release.
I could feel him thickening inside me, could see the tension in his jaw, the way his muscles corded and flexed.
Then, with a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep and came with a ragged shout, his whole body going rigid as he spilled inside me.
For a long moment, neither of us moved, just gasping for breath. Then slowly, carefully, he pulled out and collapsed beside me, gathering me into his arms.
"Jesus, Rachel," he muttered, pressing a kiss to my sweat-dampened temple. "You're going to kill me."
I huffed a breathless laugh, still trembling. "Pretty sure you're the one trying to kill me."
His hand stroked lazily down my side, then squeezed my hip. "The night's still young, wife." The word was dark with promise. "And I'm nowhere near done with you yet."
My body clenched at the implication, exhausted but already anticipating what was to come. Matteo's fingers traced idle patterns on my skin, occasionally dipping lower, teasing, reminding me exactly who I belonged to now.
"Rest while you can," he murmured, lips brushing my ear. "Because next time, I'm going to make you come so hard you forget your own name."
I shivered, and he chuckled—low, dark, satisfied. Outside, the waves crashed against the shore, but in here, the only sound was our breathing slowly evening out, the calm before another storm.