Chapter 9 - Sexy times & Group chat chaos
Sasha
Heat floods my lower belly at Matteo’s words. My legs feel unsteady beneath me as I consider this proposition.
The intensity of his gaze nearly makes me come right there in the corner of his mother’s ballroom. My body remembers his touch all too well and I crave it so badly.
I rise on my toes to brush my lips against his ear. “Take me home, Matteo,” I whisper in the sultriest tone I can muster.
I feel rather than hear his sharp intake of breath, as Matteo’s fingers flex against my hip, tightening briefly before he regains control.
"Sarai la mia morte dolcezza mia,” he groans, his voice rough with restraint.
In answer, I press my body fully against his, letting him feel every curve molded to him. "I want to feel you inside me."
With that, Matteo doesn't waste another second.
His hand finds mine, our fingers interlacing as he leads me through the crowded ballroom.
We pass his mother, who raises an eyebrow at our hasty departure, but Matteo merely kisses her cheek and murmurs something in rapid Italian that makes her smile knowingly.
The cool night air hits my flushed skin as we step outside. Matteo's driver appears, opening the door to the sleek black Bentley.
"Home," Matteo instructs as we slide into the back seat, the privacy partition already rising before he's finished speaking.
The moment we're sealed in our private cocoon, Matteo pulls me onto his lap, his mouth claiming mine hungrily. The car slides smoothly into the night traffic, but I'm barely aware of our surroundings, lost in the sensation of his hands roaming my body.
"I've been thinking about this all night," he murmurs against my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin beneath my ear. "Watching you in this dress, knowing what's underneath..."
His fingers find the zipper at the back of my gown, tugging it down just enough to loosen the bodice. The silk slides against my skin as his hand slips inside to cup my breast, his thumb circling my nipple until it hardens beneath his touch.
I gasp, arching into his palm. “The driver…"
"Privacy partition," Matteo reminds me, his voice a low rumble against my collarbone. "He can't see or hear anything."
Even so, there's a delicious thrill of danger as Matteo's fingers trail higher on my thigh, pushing the silk aside until he reaches the lace edge of my underwear.
"You're already wet for me," he observes, his finger tracing the damp fabric. "Is this what you were thinking about during the gala? While you were charming my mother and her friends?"
I rock against his hand, seeking more pressure. "Maybe," I admit breathlessly.
He chuckles, "Such proper appearance," he says, nipping at my earlobe. "No one would guess how eager you are underneath."
His words send another rush of heat between my legs. I shift on his lap, feeling his dick pressing against me through his tuxedo pants. The friction makes us both groan.
"I want you," I whisper, my fingers fumbling with his bow tie. "Right now."
Matteo captures my wrists gently, bringing them to his lips. "Patience, mio dolcezza. I'm going to take my time with you tonight." His eyes glitter in the passing streetlights. "We have all night."
The remainder of the drive is simply torture. Matteo’s hands and mouth explore every accessible inch of me while keeping me just an inch off satisfaction.
By the time the car pulls up to his building, I'm trembling with need, my dress disheveled, my hair falling from its elegant arrangement.
Matteo helps me straighten my clothing just enough to be presentable. We barely make it into the elevator before we're tangled together again, his back against the mirrored wall, my leg hitched around his hip.
The penthouse button is pressed, and we ascend in a blur of desperate touches and half-removed clothing.
When the elevator doors slide open to his penthouse, Matteo lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me inside.
He sets me down in the middle of his living room, the city lights of Rome twinkling through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind us. His eyes devour me in the dim light, hungry and possessive.
"I want to see you," he murmurs, reaching for the zipper of my dress once more. "All of you."
This time, he pulls it all the way down. The silk slithers over my curves, pooling at my feet in a burgundy puddle. I stand before him in nothing but lace underwear and heels, exposed to his appreciative gaze.
“Sbalorditiva," he breathes, circling me slowly, taking in every angle. "Absolutely stunning."
His fingers trace the curve of my spine, feather-light touches that leave goosebumps in their wake.
"Your turn," I say, turning to face him.
My fingers work at his bow tie, tugging the silk free before moving to the buttons of his shirt. One by one, I reveal the sculpted planes of his chest, the hard muscles of his abdomen.
When his shirt joins my dress on the floor, I run my palms over his warm skin, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. The crisp dark hair on his chest tickles my palms as I explore him, relearning the body I'd discovered just days ago.
"These need to go," I murmur, reaching for his belt.
Matteo's hands cover mine, stilling my movements. "Not yet," he says, his voice thick with desire. "First, I want to taste you."
In one fluid motion, he drops to his knees before me. His hands glide up the backs of my legs, cupping my ass and pulling me closer. His mouth presses against the lace covering my pussy, his hot breath penetrating the thin fabric.
I gasp, my fingers tangling in his dark curls. "Matteo..."
He looks up at me, eyes dark with desire. "Hold onto me," he instructs, hooking his fingers into the sides of my underwear and drawing it slowly down my legs.
When the lace is gone, he guides one of my legs over his shoulder, opening me to him completely. The first touch of his tongue against my sensitive flesh makes my knees buckle, but his strong hands hold me steady.
"You taste even better than I remembered," he murmurs against me, his tongue circling my clit in slow, deliberate strokes.
I cry out, my head falling back as pleasure ripples through me. His skillful mouth works me relentlessly, building a pressure that threatens to consume me. When he slides two fingers inside me, curling them to find that perfect spot, I come apart completely.
My orgasm crashes through me in waves, my body trembling as I cry out his name. Matteo doesn't relent, his mouth and fingers working in perfect synch to prolong my pleasure until I'm gasping, oversensitive.
Only then does he rise to his feet, catching me as my legs give way. He lifts me again, carrying me through the penthouse to his bedroom and on to the massive bed.
"You're beautiful when you come," he says, standing at the foot of the bed to remove the rest of his clothing. "I want to see it again."
***
It takes me a moment to remember where I am when I wake up the next morning. I stir slowly, my body pleasantly sore in all the right places, a reminder of the night before. The sheets beside me are cool to the touch—Matteo has been gone for some time.
Memories flood back in delicious waves: Matteo's mouth on every inch of my skin, his hands guiding my hips as I rode him, his voice rough with passion as he whispered my name against my neck. We'd barely slept, finding each other again and again throughout the night, unable to get enough.
As I sit up, a piece of paper on the nightstand catches my eye. I reach for it, recognizing Matteo's bold handwriting:
Sasha,
Urgent meeting called this morning. Couldn't bear to wake you—you looked too peaceful. Help yourself to anything you need. Maria will prepare breakfast if you're hungry. I'll call you later.
- M
P.S. Last night was... extraordinary.
I press the note to my chest, smiling despite myself.
My phone buzzes from somewhere on the floor, muffled by layers of discarded clothing. I wrap the sheet around me and pad across the cool hardwood, locating my clutch beneath Matteo's tuxedo jacket.
Three missed calls and a whole lot of text notifications light up my screen.
The group chat is going wild.
Naomi: SASHA MORETTI WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL!!
Erina: Call me. NOW!
Gabriella: OH MY GOD IS THAT YOU WITH MATTEO DE LUCA?????
Naomi: We need details IMMEDIATELY
Isabelle: I just woke up to 47 messages and apparently Sasha is dating a BILLIONAIRE?!!
Gabriella: *link to Italian society page* LOOK AT THEM DANCING
Naomi: How did this happen??? Last we heard you were "taking time for yourself"
Erina: Why are you not picking up? Sasha??
Isabelle: That dress is STUNNING. Is it Valentino? Please tell me it's Valentino.
Gabriella: Forget the dress, look at HIM. Those EYES. That JAW. I'm deceased.
Naomi: Sasha we know you're seeing these ANSWER US!!
I click the link Gabriella shared, and there we are—Matteo and I on the dance floor, his hand on my bare back, my body pressed against his, both of us looking at each other with an intensity that makes me blush even now.
The headline reads: "De Luca Heir Debuts New American Flame at Annual Charity Gala."
There are more photos: Matteo's mother introducing me to her friends, Matteo and I sharing a private laugh near the bar, and, Oh God! One of us in that secluded corner, his lips a breath away from mine, my hands on his chest. The photographer caught us just before that kiss.
The caption identifies me as "Sasha Moretti, mysterious American beauty who has captured Rome's most eligible bachelor."
My phone buzzes again with an incoming video call from Naomi. I consider ignoring it, but they'll just keep calling. With a deep breath, I accept.
"SHE LIVES!" Naomi's voice blasts through my speaker.
Her face appears, quickly joined by Erina, Gabriella, and Isabelle as they all join the call.
All four expectant faces stare at me from my screen.
"Hi," I say weakly, adjusting the sheet around me.
"Are you naked?" Gabriella screeches. "Oh my God, you ARE!"
"I'm not…I mean, I have a sheet," I stammer, feeling my cheeks heat.
"Where are you?" Erina demands, peering at the background behind me.
I angle the phone away from the massive bedroom with its rumpled sheets and scattered clothing. "Um, at a friend's place."
"A friend named Matteo De Luca?" Naomi presses. "The same Matteo De Luca who owns half of Rome? The Matteo De Luca whose family has a freaking WIKIPEDIA PAGE?"
"You've been researching," I observe.
"OF COURSE WE'VE BEEN RESEARCHING!" Gabriella practically yells.
Isabelle leans closer to her camera. "Start talking. Now. From the beginning. How did you meet him? When? Why didn't you tell us? And is that a Van Gogh in the background?"
I sigh, knowing there's no escape. "It's a long story."
"And we've got time," Erina says flatly.
So I tell them. Almost everything. The meeting on the plane, the dinner at Franco's, the night at his penthouse. I leave out our arrangement, the fake dating proposition, instead letting them believe we've simply fallen into a frenzied romance.
"So let me get this straight," Naomi says when I finish. "You dumped Brandon, flew to Rome, and within twenty-four hours were sleeping with a billionaire who looks like he walked off a Michelangelo canvas?"
I hadn’t realized how crazy the situation is until Naomi lays it out like that.
“Yup.”
“Good for you girl,” Gabriella winks.
“Is he good in bed?” Isabella asks, earning a look from everyone. “I’m just curious,” she shrugs in defense.
“Well, that’s it guys. I have to go, but I’ll call you later,” I say quickly, and before they can protest, I end the call.
Then panic sets in. Everything is happening so fast, and it scares the hell out of me. What if I end up falling for him? Am I setting myself up for another heartbreak?