Chapter 13 – Falling in Vineyards
Sasha
I follow Matteo, allowing him to hold me up. Lord knows I don’t have the strength in my knees after he ate me up just like that.
The cool water embraces my heated skin as I slip into the pool with Matteo. I'm still trembling from the intensity of my orgasm, my body hypersensitive to every touch, every sensation. The contrast between the water's coolness and Matteo's burning skin makes me gasp as he pulls me against him.
"Better?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that I feel vibrating through his chest.
I nod, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Much better. Though I think we're a bit uneven now."
His eyebrows rise questioningly, and I smile, letting my hand trail down his chest beneath the water until I reach the waistband of his swim shorts. "You're still dressed."
A wicked grin spreads across his face. "Perhaps you should do something about that."
The water makes me feel weightless, bold. I push him backward until he's sitting on the underwater ledge that runs along the pool's edge. Straddling his lap, I capture his mouth in a deep kiss, my tongue sliding against his as my fingers work at the drawstring of his shorts.
Matteo groans into my mouth when my hand slips inside to wrap around him. He's hard and hot against my palm, impossibly thick. I stroke him slowly, learning the feel of him all over again.
"Dio mio," he breathes against my lips. "You're going to kill me, dolcezza."
I smile against his mouth. "Not before I'm finished with you."
With his help, I manage to push his shorts down his legs until he can kick them off. Now we're both naked in the crystal-clear water, the afternoon sun burning hot on our skin.
I continue stroking him, watching his face as pleasure transforms his features. His head falls back, exposing the strong column of his throat, his fingers digging into my hips as I work him with increasing pressure.
"Inside," he groans suddenly, his eyes flying open to meet mine. "I need to be inside you."
The raw desire in his voice sends heat flooding through me anew. I rise slightly on my knees, positioning myself above him. Matteo's hands grip my waist, steadying me as I slowly lower myself onto him.
The stretch is exquisite, my body still sensitive from my earlier climax. I sink down inch by inch, adjusting to his size, until he's fully seated within me. For a moment, we stay perfectly still, foreheads pressed together, sharing the same breath.
"You feel incredible," Matteo whispers, his thumbs tracing circles on my hipbones. "So perfect."
I begin to move, using the water's buoyancy to help me rise and fall on him in a slow, sensual rhythm. His hands guide me, supporting my weight as I find the angle that sends sparks of pleasure all over my body.
The water laps around us, creating gentle waves that match our movements.
Matteo's mouth finds my breast, his tongue swirling around my nipple as I ride him with increasing urgency.
The dual sensations, his hardness filling me completely, his mouth hot against my sensitive skin, quickly rebuild the pressure within me.
"That's it," he encourages, one hand sliding between us to circle my clit. "Let me feel you come around me."
His words, combined with the precise pressure of his fingers, push me toward the edge. I grip his shoulders, my movements becoming erratic as pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak.
"Matteo," I gasp, my body tensing as my second orgasm crashes through me.
He holds me tightly as I shatter, his hips thrusting up to meet mine, prolonging my pleasure. Before I've fully recovered, he stands, still inside me, and carries me to the edge of the pool. My back meets the cool stone as he braces himself above me, driving deeper with each powerful thrust.
"You're mine," he growls against my neck, his control visibly slipping. "Say it."
"I'm yours," I whisper, the words falling from my lips without thought. In this moment, they feel like truth.
His rhythm falters, his movements becoming more urgent. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting to feel every inch of him.
"Sasha," he groans, his voice strained.
I tighten around him deliberately, watching his face contort with pleasure. With a final thrust, he finds his release, my name on his lips as he pulses inside me. He collapses against me, his weight a welcome pressure as we both struggle to catch our breath.
For several moments, we lie tangled together at the pool's edge, the afternoon sun warming our wet skin.
Matteo's lips press soft kisses to my shoulder, my neck, the corner of my mouth.
There's a tenderness in these kisses that catches me off guard, making my heart flutter in a way that has nothing to do with physical satisfaction.
"You're extraordinary," he murmurs against my temple.
I smile, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. "You're not so bad yourself."
He laughs, the sound vibrating through both our bodies, before pushing himself up to look at me. His expression is softer than I've ever seen it, his eyes warm as they search mine.
"We should get ready for dinner," he says, though he makes no move to separate from me. "I've arranged something special."
"More special than this?" I gesture to our private pool, the stunning view beyond.
Matteo smiles, tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear. "Much more special."
Later, as the sun begins its descent toward the horizon, I stand before the mirror in our bathroom, putting the finishing touches on my makeup.
I've chosen a simple sundress in a soft yellow color that complements my sun-kissed skin.
The fabric drapes elegantly across my curves, the thin straps revealing my shoulders and the neckline dipping just low enough to hint at cleavage.
My hair falls in loose waves around my shoulders, still slightly damp from our shower—a shower that had begun innocently enough but quickly devolved into Matteo pressing me against the marble wall.
I blush at the memory, at how easily he unravels me with just a touch.
"Are you nearly ready?" Matteo calls from the bedroom.
"Almost," I reply, applying a final sweep of mascara before stepping back to assess the overall effect. The woman in the mirror looks relaxed, glowing—nothing like the heartbroken bride who fled her wedding just over a week ago.
When I emerge from the bathroom, I find Matteo waiting by the window, silhouetted against the golden Tuscan sunset.
He's dressed in linen trousers and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms. His dark curls are still slightly damp, falling across his forehead in a way that makes my fingers itch to brush them back.
He turns at the sound of my approach, and the expression that crosses his face sends warmth flooding through me. His eyes darken as they travel from my face down the length of my body, lingering on the places where the thin fabric clings.
"You look beautiful," he says, his voice low and sincere.
I smile, suddenly shy under his intense gaze. "Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself."
He crosses to me in three long strides, his hands settling on my waist as he pulls me against him. "I'm not sure we should go out after all," he murmurs, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear. "I'd rather keep you all to myself."
I laugh, pushing gently against his chest though my body yearns to melt into him again. "You promised me something special, remember? Besides, I'm starving."
"Mmm, so am I," he replies, his meaning clear as his hands slide lower to cup my bottom through the thin fabric of my dress.
"Food, Matteo," I insist, though I can't help the way my body responds to his touch. "Real food."
He sighs dramatically, releasing me with obvious reluctance. "If you insist. Though you'll have to promise to wear this dress again later, when I can properly remove it."
The heat in his gaze makes me shiver with anticipation. "That can be arranged."
Matteo leads me through the villa's corridors, his hand warm against the small of my back. Instead of heading toward the main dining room where I assume other guests will be gathered, he guides me down a different path.
"Where are we going?" I ask, curiosity piqued.
"Patience, mio dolcezza."
We emerge into the vineyards, where a narrow stone path winds between rows of grapevines heavy with fruit. The setting sun bathes everything in golden light, transforming the landscape into something from a dream. In the distance, I can see a small stone structure perched on a hilltop.
"Is that where we're going?" I ask, nodding toward it.
"It is," Matteo confirms. "It's the old winemaker's cottage. My great-grandfather used to spend nights there during harvest season."
The path gradually slopes upward, and Matteo takes my hand, steadying me as we navigate the uneven stones.
As we draw closer to the cottage, I notice flickering lights—dozens of candles illuminating a table set for two on a stone terrace overlooking the valley. Beyond the table stands an older man in chef's whites, working at a small outdoor kitchen.
"Buonasera, Chef Paolo," Matteo calls as we approach.
The chef turns, his face breaking into a wide smile. "Ah, Signor De Luca! And this must be the beautiful Signorina Moretti." He wipes his hands on a towel before taking mine, pressing it between his palms. "It is my pleasure to cook for you tonight."
"Chef Paolo has been with my family since before I was born," Matteo explains. "He taught me to make pasta when I was five years old."
"And you were terrible at it," Paolo laughs, gesturing for us to take our seats. "Now, please, sit. The first course is ready."
The table is beautifully set with fine china, crystal glasses, and silver that gleams in the candlelight. A bottle of wine already breathes in a crystal decanter, and fresh flowers spill from a small ceramic vase at the center.
Matteo holds my chair, his hand lingering on my shoulder as I sit. When he takes his place across from me, his eyes reflect the candlelight, making them appear more gold than green.
"This is incredible," I say, looking around at the breathtaking setting. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble."
"It's no trouble," he replies, reaching across to take my hand. "I wanted tonight to be special."
The dinner truly lives up to Matteo’s words. It’s special. Intimate and the food is out of this world. Chef Paolo makes sure that I’m completely full before he leaves, giving us a bit of privacy.
We sip on the wine as Matteo tells me out the vineyard, his family, the wine—which he is very passionate about by the way. As it gets dark, we head back to the villa.
It’s only the first day of our gateway, and it has been nothing short of magical. I can’t wait to see what he has in store for the rest of the weekend.
Suddenly the spell of our perfect day is broken as we walk into the villa . Standing in the grand foyer, engaged in conversation with Marco, is a figure so out of place that my mind refuses to process it for several seconds.
"Brandon?" The name escapes my lips as a question, though there's no doubt it's him.
At the sound of my voice, he turns. His familiar face, the one I'd once planned to wake up to every morning for the rest of my life, registers surprise, then something like triumph.
"Sasha!" He steps toward me, arms outstretched as if expecting a hug. "Thank God I found you!"
Matteo's body tenses beside me, his hand at my waist tightening protectively. "You know this man?" he asks, his voice carefully controlled.
I nod, unable to form words, my mind racing to understand how Brandon could possibly be here, in this private villa, in this remote corner of Tuscany.
"I'm her fiancé," Brandon announces, his eyes narrowing as they take in Matteo's proximity to me, the way his hand rests possessively at my waist.
"Ex-fiancé," I correct automatically, finding my voice at last. "What are you doing here, Brandon? How did you even find me?"
Brandon runs a hand through his sandy hair. "Your location was showing on your Instagram stories," he explains. "The village name was visible in one of them. It wasn't hard to ask around until someone pointed me to the De Luca villa."
I mentally curse myself for not being more careful, for forgetting that my social media was still visible to him. The posts I'd made earlier that day—the Ferrari, the villa, the view from our room—had led him straight to me.
"That doesn't explain why you're here," Matteo interjects, his accent thickening slightly with what I recognize as anger. "Or how you got past security."
Brandon shifts uncomfortably. "I told them I was a surprise for Sasha. That I was her..." He hesitates, glancing at me. "That I was her boyfriend."
"You lied," Matteo states flatly.
"I needed to see her," Brandon insists, his gaze returning to me. "Sasha, we need to talk. Privately."
I'm acutely aware of how I must look, flushed from wine and Matteo's company, my hair still slightly tousled from our earlier activities, wearing a sundress that Brandon has never seen before.
“She’s with me now, coglione,” Matteo practically growls beside me.
“What?” Brandon asks, obviously confused.
“I said she’s with me,” Matteo steps forward, “Now leave!”
Oh, he’s angry. I can tell from the way his back muscles stiffen and the fists at his sides. Matteo easily towers Brandon and with the way Brandon keeps on looking at him, then at me, I can tell that he’s afraid.
“Sasha, can we talk?” Brandon begs.
“She has nothing to say to you, idiota!”
Brandon’s face flushes as he recognizes the insult. He opens his mouth, probably to beg again, then closes it. Before things can escalate further, two beefy man come up to Brandon, grab him, and walk him out of the villa.
“Are you okay?” Matteo turns to me, his eyebrows scrunched up in concern.
The only thing I can think of as I stare into his green eyes is that I’m falling for Matteo.