Chapter 40 #2
That makes me pause. My hands still under the water, and I glance back at him over my shoulder. He’s watching me—really watching—with that half-smile that always meant trouble.
“Those were different times,” I say, but it comes out softer than I mean it to.
“Different how?” He closes the distance between us, his breath warm against the back of my neck. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels a hell of a lot like old times.”
His hands slide around my waist, palms splaying over my stomach. I can feel his smirk against my skin when I exhale a shaky breath.
“Matt,” I warn, though it doesn’t sound convincing.
“What?” he asks, that damn smirk still tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You said it yourself—you’ve got a stream tonight. I’m just… getting into character.”
I bite back a laugh, shaking my head. “You are not about to flirt your way into my work.”
“Work?” he echoes, his mouth brushing the side of my throat. “Does that make me a co-founder?”
“You were a distraction,” I breathe, though I can’t hide the smile pulling at my lips.
He chuckles low in his chest. “Still am, apparently.”
His hand drifts lower, fingers tracing lazy circles just beneath the hem of the shirt I stole from him. The coffee machine gurgles behind us, forgotten.
“Careful,” I warn, turning in his arms until we’re face to face. “You start something now, we both know how it ends.”
He grins, eyes darkening. “Yeah. We do.”
For a heartbeat, the air thickens between us. The teasing shifts, deepens. Every breath, every small movement feels charged, like memory and desire are colliding in real time.
“Old times, huh?” I whisper.
He leans in, his voice rough. “Better. Because this time, I’m not hiding.”
I bite back a laugh, shaking my head, though the heat pooling low in my stomach makes my resolve shaky. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” he allows, leaning closer until our foreheads touch, lips almost brushing. “But maybe we make a good team, huh? Old times, new rules.”
I glance at him, caught between exasperation and temptation. “Old times, yes. New rules, definitely not. If we’re doing this, the mask stays on. And your shirt, the last thing we need is someone seeing your Points tattoo.”
“Fine, I can keep the shirt on,” he says easily. Then his mouth curves, eyes darkening with that familiar, dangerous spark. “But the mask gets in my way. I’m very good with my mouth.”
I groan, pressing my face briefly into his shoulder. “Matt, this is a terrible idea. Don’t you need to get back to Italy?”
“Terrible ideas are usually the best ones,” he murmurs into my hair.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, expression turning serious beneath the teasing.
“I’ll blame it on Points’ business. Owen or one of the Finlay brothers can cover if anyone asks.
With everything going on, Jonathan won’t out me, not to Salvatore.
He might tear strips off me later, but…” His smile turns cocky. “Worth it.”
I brush a few unruly strands of hair back from his forehead, and for a second I’m lost in the green of his eyes—measuring his words, weighing the consequences. The pull of one more stolen day with him tightens in my chest, impossible to ignore.
“So,” he says softly, tipping my chin up with a knuckle, all confidence and quiet hope. “What do you say? Just for tonight?”
I pull back a fraction, studying him. He looks absurdly sure of himself, and somehow tender too, like he knows exactly how far he can push before I break, or laugh, or give in. I shake my head, even as the corner of my mouth betrays me.
“Fine,” I say. “But only this once. And the shirt and mask are non-negotiable.”
His grin is immediate, and before I can second-guess myself, he dips his head and kisses me—unhurried, certain, like this was always the outcome.
The rest of the day slips by in a blur of small, easy chaos—the good kind.
Coffee gone cold on the table. Shared playlists drifting through the flat, punctuated by half-hearted arguments over whose taste is superior.
Matt stretched out on the sofa, me half-curled into his side while we pretend we’re just killing time.
We talk about nothing and everything, laugh too easily, let the hours slide through our fingers unchecked. And for a moment—just a fragile, precious moment—it’s easy to imagine a future that looks exactly like this.
By the time I’m dressed in a lavender demi-bra, matching thong, thigh highs, and mask, the calm has shifted into something charged.
I adjust the camera settings while Matt hovers nearby, “helping,” which mostly consists of leaning against the desk and making heated comments that send shivers down my spine.
“Lavender, huh?” he murmurs, eyes darkening as he takes in the outfit. “I didn’t know we were going full temptation today.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” I say, voice light, but my pulse is racing.
“Liar. You know damn well purple is my favourite colour.”
I bite my lip, letting my fingers brush over the fabric as I adjust the angle of my tripod. “Maybe I like seeing you squirm a little.”
He comes closer, his grin wicked, dark, and dangerous. “See me squirm?’ His voice drops. “Lil’, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
I glance at him over the top of the tripod, heart pounding so hard I can hear it.
“Oh, I have a pretty good idea,” I drawl, letting my eyes linger on the bulge in his jeans. “And I’m counting on it making you feral.”
He swallows, and I can feel it—want, something sharp and electric between us. He steps closer, brushing his fingers lightly against my hip. The touch is teasing, casual, but it makes heat pool low in my belly.
“Feral, huh? Careful, you might get more than you bargain for.”
I tilt my head, challenging him. “I think I can handle it.”
“You think, huh?” he echoes, his voice dropping an octave, and suddenly the playful smirk on his lips carries something darker, hungrier. “You’re going to regret saying that.”
I shiver, aware of every brush of his body against mine as he leans over to check the camera angles. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”
He chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my ear as he straightens just enough for our eyes to meet. “Oh, I plan to. Starting… now.”
I grab the laptop and drag it onto the bed, pushing the pillows into a makeshift setup out of shot so we can read the chat while Matt follows, leaning against the headboard with that infuriatingly smug grin.
Watching him slip on the black balaclava and leather gloves, half of me is amused, half of me is painfully aware of how good he looks, even covered up.
“Really?” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “The gloves? You look ridiculous. But also kind of… hot.”
He tilts his head, voice muffled through the fabric. “Hot and mysterious. That’s the vibe we’re going for, right?”
I bite back a laugh, shaking my head. “I think my audience might just die when they see you like this.”
“Then all the better,” he says, shifting closer until the heat from his body presses into mine. “Plus, I like watching you struggle to play it cool.”
I groan, settling into position near the foot of the bed, pulling him with me until we’re both in shot. His gloved hand brushes against me, lingering on the small of my back, and I can’t stop the shiver that runs through me.
“Ready?” I ask, glancing at him.
He nods, leaning down so his lips hover just above mine. “As I’ll ever be.”
I click the stream live. Instantly, the chat erupts with greetings, hearts, and excited comments. I glance at the camera and then back at Matt, letting my smile widen.
“Everyone, say hi to a very special guest tonight,” I say, voice teasing, low, and a little breathless. “An old friend you might remember if you’ve been here since the start.”
JimsCuntDestroyer: Oh fuck yeah, this is going to be good.
AdamsLadder: Have your tits gotten bigger? I want to see my cock stuffed between them.
MistressE: Oh, darling, you spoil us.
Matt leans back slightly, tilting his head, the balaclava hiding half his expression but not the mischief in his eyes.
“Old friend, huh?” he challenges, brushing his gloved fingers over my thigh. “I think we can do better than that.”
I bite my lip, heart hammering, shaking my head at him before turning my focus back to the camera. “I don’t know guys, what do you think? Should I let him help me out tonight?”
In an instant a chorus of demands flood in, the chat making it clear they want to see more than my usual solo performances for once.
FuckMePlease: Stop teasing us.
FuckMePlease: Show us your tits.
Cocksnack: Fuck that.
Cocksnack: I want to see her pussy get pounded.
JimsCuntDestroyer: Bet your dripping for it.
Reading the chat, all thoughts of teasing Matt go out the window.
Right now, we’re not stepsiblings with Mafia ties pulling us apart.
We’re two consenting adults about to fuck on camera, and to hell with the consequences.
Soon, there’s going to be video evidence out there of us, if only someone paid the fee to see it.
The thought gets me hotter than it should.
“You heard them, it’s about time someone taught you what happens to teases,” Matt growls a split second before his hands are on me.
Looking in the camera, the visual of his gloved hands cupping my tits as he looms over me from behind is enough to have arousal bloom between my thighs, making the fabric on my thong stick to me.
“Look at you. Practically taunting us with these perfect fucking tits. Sitting here night after night, half naked and telling us no?” He scoffs, his breath hot against my neck as his grip turns punishing.
“I’m sorry,” I lie, making my voice come out in a pathetic whimper and watching the chat eat it up.