Azra #2
“Don’t tempt me, micina.”
With his hands clamped around my wrists, he pulls them to the crotch of his jeans. It’s unclear whether his fingers or my deviant head fumble with the fastener, but in three heart-thrashing seconds, the button on his jeans pops open, the strained zipper slides down, and his fat cock springs free.
“Now stroke it.”
“Go to hell—”
“Already there.” My pulse speeds up when he murmurs, “It’s what happens when you cut a man to his fucking knees in front of his competitor.”
My hammering heart cuts into my reply. “That wasn’t my intention. I just—”
“Wanted to destroy me?”
He’s no longer looking at me, but I shake my head, nonetheless. “No. Never.”
“Then why’d you do that?”
The throbs affecting my hearing settle between my legs when he circles my hand around his girthy shaft, then slides it to the base.
“Do what?” I ask, my fight losing steam with only one stroke.
With his hand guiding mine like a puppeteer does a puppet, he mutters, “The dumb act might work on idiots like Antonio, but that shit won’t fly with me.
” I shudder, a handful of strokes making my palm sticky.
He’s fuming mad, but not enough not to react to how good it feels to have my hands on him. “You know what you did.”
I try to keep lust out of my tone. I don’t know why I bother. My words brim with it. “He won’t marry me if the purity clause isn’t in place.”
“He won’t marry you because you’re pure! What the fuck about that don’t you understand?”
I understand what he’s saying. Wholly. I saw Antonio’s expression when I announced we hadn’t slid past home plate. The interest in his eyes while drinking in my heated cheeks and kiss-plump lips faded to empty black pits.
Although I comprehend Matteo’s frustration, we can’t ignore the facts. “If I don’t uphold the purity clause, none of the terms of the marriage contract will be valid. I need them in place.”
“Why?” Matteo asks his question with so much interest you’d swear I wasn’t pumping his cock in rhythm to the frantic thuds of my heart.
I stroke his cock without his guidance a handful of times, hopeful it will ease the frustration my following words will hit him with. “I can’t tell you that.”
He stiffens. Not all the firmness is below the belt.
“Fine… then get on your knees. If I’m the one putting in all the work to make that douche come crawling back to you, I should get some benefits for my efforts.”
Although my mouth waters to taste him again, I try to keep a cool, collected head. “I’ll give you Antonio’s share of the Adami fortune. Since it’s only divided between three siblings, it’s substantially more than the one hundred million you’d have to pay to cancel our agreement.”
In the side mirror of his motorcycle, I watch him work his jaw side to side. “You don’t have access to his money. Not even after you wed can you offer a guarantee like that.”
“No, I won’t,” I agree. “But I will shortly after.”
“No prenup?” Matteo assumes.
It isn’t surprising that’s his first thought.
Even against the boss of all bosses’ advice, rumors circulated the mafia realm that Giovanni refuses to ask Valentina to sign a prenup.
If they get divorced, Valentina will get more than half his fortune.
She’ll get the lot. Giovanni refuses to live in a world without Valentina.
Divorce is the equivalent of death to him.
I wet my suddenly dry lips before shifting my focus back to the task at hand.
“We have a prenup.” Matteo’s anger grows tenfold when I add, “It covers infidelity, children, and a seven-figure payment for each year of marriage.” It doesn’t, however, include any stipulations for death.
“It’s a lot of money, Matteo. And it can all be yours. ”
“I don’t want his fucking money!” Somehow, he tugs me off the bike before he straddles it sideways.
“I want him on his knees.” I see his internal conflict, but he pushes it to the back of his mind as he weaves his fingers through my hair and forcefully lowers me to the ground.
“Just like I want you on your knees too.”
Our eyes lock briefly, and it’s then that I realize he isn’t angry.
He’s hurt.
“This won’t make anything better,” I murmur, struggling not to let the tension hissing between us devour me whole.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Matteo says as pre-cum drips into his jeans.
“I’ve got no issues upholding the purity clause…
especially since they don’t see oral penetration as a breach of contract.
What I have a problem with is being played for a fool.
” He tightens his grip enough to raise his ass off his bike’s seat and ram my reply down my throat. “Suck it.”
“Go to hell,” I repeat, instinctively moving closer rather than repelling.
“That’s not a viable threat for a man like me.” My erratic pulse might be disrupting my hearing, but I swear he says, “Especially if I drag you right there with me,” just before releasing a lusty groan from my tongue clearing away a tiny droplet of pre-ejaculation from the tip.
I hate folding on my morals, but my terms weren’t exactly fair. Matteo had nothing to gain from our agreement except access to money he already has in abundance—and that’s only if my plan works. It could fall flat on its face.
That worry is the sole reason I’m sucking his dick.
It is completely separate from the healthy buzz of my clit and the dampness of my panties.
Yeah, right.
I’m such a liar.
“New terms,” I murmur, licking the length of him.
Matteo tugs on my hair as he guides my lips over the wide crown, adding a teasing element to the shivers coursing through my veins. “I’m listening.”
I draw him to the rear of my throat, my head bobbing, before withdrawing him from my mouth with a pop.
“Our agreement can come with benefits”—my fingers wrap around his shaft, and I guide him toward the finish line with controlled sucks and teasing licks—“as long as we uphold the purity pledge of the contract.” I flatten my tongue and flutter it down his shaft.
“It doesn’t matter what Antonio thinks. I only need to pass the scrutiny of a paid medical professional in the days leading up to our nuptials to go ahead with the marriage. ”
When he softens during my last sentence, I lower my attention to his balls and suck them into my mouth one at a time.
He re-firms enough that no one could accuse his dick of not being a choking hazard, but his mind is still on my confession. “Is the examination part of the purity clause?”
I slide my lips down his shaft until I gag, then return them to the tip.
“No. It’ll still occur no matter the terms. It’s tradition.
” Sparks of the woman I wish I had grown up to be shoot from my eyes when I raise them past the tattooed bumps in his midsection.
“Don’t you know all the good girls want to marry in white? ”
“Good girls don’t know how to suck cock, micina, so if you’re pushing that narrative, you need to go back to square one.”
I reward his compliment with a hearty suck. “Bananas are excellent teachers.” Desperate to see more of the ink swirled across his stomach, I push his shirt up past the bumps in his abdomen. “And so are you.”
“Nah…” Matteo replies, his one word rumbling like thunder. “That shit doesn’t work with me either. If you fucked up, own it. Don’t sugarcoat shit and pretend it isn’t shit. You’re on your knees now, sucking my cock, because you know your plan won’t work without me.”
I can’t deny the last half of his statement, so I don’t bother disputing the first half.
“So how about you stop pussyfooting around and swallow my dick like Antonio is watching.”
My muscles shake as I scan the area, seeking any signs of human life.
Matteo responds to my silent sweep with an aggression I’m growing to love. He fucks my mouth without concern for who’s watching, pushing past my gag reflex with every rock. He thrusts harder and faster, drenching my burning throat with choking droplets of pre-cum.
I moan, loving how delicious he tastes.
“Yes… choke on it.”
Each pump contracts the muscles in his stomach.
They bulge along with the veins feeding his magnificent dick.
The sight of him towering above me, forcefully feeding his penis repeatedly into my mouth, is mind-boggling.
I squeeze my thighs together on and off, hoping to rub off the tension on the seam of my pantsuit.
The tingles are so white-hot I moan as often as I gag.
I’m close.
So close.
Swallowing his cum will set me off. Every nerve in my body coils tightly, ready to pounce. Then he pulls me off his cock and pumps his release onto my face.
The orgasm he attempted to stave off races for the finish line when a bead of cum shoots from my left eyebrow to the side of my mouth.
Before my tongue can get close to snaveling some of it up, Matteo scoops away the evidence of his release with his thumb, slings it to the ground, and slumps back on his bike’s seat to fix his zipper into place.
What the?
He doesn’t look at me while nudging his head to the bike. “Let’s go. It’s time for Cinderella to get ready for the ball.”
I’m so snowballed with horniness that it takes several long seconds for me to click on to what he’s not saying. Antonio was collecting a suit for the charity gala he is attending tonight. The same gala I told Matteo we must attend for my plan to have any chance of working.
I hate myself for hesitating, even briefly. This is the plan. It’s always been the plan, but acting like I sucked his cock purely as payment for his help has me desperate for a shower.
I’ve never felt more dirty… except when I push up from my knees and mount his motorcycle without another word shared between us.