Chapter Thirty-Eight
Matteo
T he stadium is ours tonight.
The halls are quiet, the usual chaos of match day long gone, and for the first time in a while, I feel like I can breathe.
The air is thick with the familiar scent of sweat, turf, and something unnameable - something that lingers in the bones of this place.
I like it like this. When the noise fades, when the world outside doesn’t exist, when it’s just myself and the walls that have seen every version of me - triumph, defeat, blood, sweat, exhaustion.
And now, her .
Daphne walks beside me, her arms crossed over her chest like she’s trying to pretend she’s not impressed.
She is. I can tell.
The way her eyes flick around, the way her fingers twitch like she wants to jot down every little detail. She’s absorbing everything, filing it away like it might be useful later.
Giornalista . Always working.
I smirk, tilting my head toward her.
“You’re quiet, Sinclair. Taking notes?”
She scoffs.
“ Please . I could give this tour myself with the amount of research I’ve done.”
“Then I suppose I should be honoured that you let me do the talking.”
She shoots me a flat look.
“Don’t get used to it.”
I grin, leading her down another corridor, pointing out landmarks - the family boxes, the best views, the hidden spots where players sneak off to avoid the press.
“You seem comfortable here,” she teases, glancing up at me. “A little too comfortable. You’ve spent just as much time hiding as you have actually playing, haven’t you?”
I press a hand to my chest, feigning offense.
“I’ll have you know, bella , I run more in one match than most people do in a month.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
I smirk.
“Maybe I’ve had my fair share of dodging reporters. But hey, it’s a skill.”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the way her lips twitch like she’s holding back a smile.
We keep moving, the weight of the stadium pressing down on us in the best way. It’s a feeling I know well - the quiet hum of something sacred, something bigger than me.
I push open the door to the changing room, stepping inside like I own the place .
Because, well -
I do .
Daphne hesitates just a fraction too long before following.
I notice.
Her eyes flicker around, scanning the room like she’s expecting to be caught in some forbidden place. She shouldn’t be here, not really, but it’s fine - she’s with me.
And in my space, that means she belongs.
Still, I narrow my eyes.
“Don’t touch anything.”
She lifts her hands in mock surrender, her lips curving.
“I wouldn’t dream of touching anything.”
A pause, just long enough to make me look at her properly, and then -
“Except maybe you.”
My smirk falters.
What the fuck?!
I was not expecting that .
I blink at her, processing, and - dio , is she blushing ?
A slow grin spreads across my face as I step towards her.
“Well that, you can always try,” I say, my voice dropping. “But I should warn you, I’m not that easy to touch.”
She scoffs, shaking off whatever moment of weakness made her say that out loud.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ve had enough practice.”
I hum, watching her closely.
“You sound jealous, giornalista .”
Her laugh is sharp.
“ Jealous ? Please. I was just making an observation.”
“An observation, huh?” I prod, tilting my head as I step closer.
She nods, crossing her arms over her chest like a shield.
“That you like attention. That you think you’re irresistible. That you -”
I move again, closing the space between us, and she falters.
Got her.
“That I what?”
Her lips press together, her eyes flickering down to my mouth before she catches herself.
I should let this go.
I don’t.
Instead, I step in fully, caging her in with nothing but my presence, my body. Her back barely brushes against one of the benches, and I brace a hand beside her, making sure she knows she’s not going anywhere unless I let her.
“You know,” I murmur, my breath ghosting over her cheek, “if you wanted to touch me, all you had to do was ask.”
I expect her to shove me away, to laugh it off, to roll her eyes and pretend I don’t get under her skin.
But she doesn’t.
She just looks up at me, her green eyes wide, her chest rising and falling just a little too fast.
And then - merda - she actually does it.
Her fingers brush the fabric of my hoodie. Light. Barely there .
But fuck if it doesn’t feel like a spark shooting through me.
My stomach tightens, and I lift my hand, tracing my fingers along the sharp line of her jaw, tilting her chin up just enough to force her to look at me properly.
Her lashes flutter, her breath shaky, and I swallow.
She wants this.
She wants me .
The thought nearly undoes me.
My other hand finds her waist, my fingers pressing into the soft fabric of her blouse.
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away.
No: she leans in.
Fuck .
I’m a dead man.
I dip my head lower, my mouth so close to hers that I can almost taste her.
“Still want to pretend you don’t want this?” I murmur.
I don’t think.
I just do.
And the moment my lips crash against hers, I know I’ve made the right fucking call.
Because dio , I’ve missed this. Missed her taste, missed the way she melts into me, missed the way my entire body reacts to hers like she’s the only thing I’ve ever craved.
I kiss her like I play: bold, confident, with no room for hesitation. I don’t hold back, don’t give her space to overthink .
I just take what I want, and she lets me.
At least, until she doesn’t.
Daphne pulls back just slightly, pressing a hand to my chest, her breath ragged.
"We shouldn't do this."
"Why not?" I murmur, my hands tightening at her waist, daring her to come up with a reason I’ll actually accept.
"Because I'm supposed to hate you."
I tilt my head, smirking.
"Are you?"
"Yes," she insists, but it sounds weak. Like even she doesn’t believe it.
I drag my fingers over her waist, teasing. I dip my head, pressing a slow, lingering kiss just below her jaw.
She inhales sharply.
"Why?" I murmur against her skin, trailing my lips lower.
She swallows hard.
"Because you're arrogant."
I hum, kissing the hollow of her throat.
"Mmhm."
"Because you drive me insane," she continues, her voice barely steady.
My lips brush over her collarbone.
"Do I?"
"You - you’re -"
Her words falter, swallowed up by a soft, desperate sound as I find the sensitive spot beneath her ear and bite down gently.
There it is.
I smirk against her neck, my tongue sweeping over the mark I just made.
"That doesn’t sound like hate to me, bella ."
Before she can argue, before she can even think, I kiss her again.
This time, it’s different.
Deeper. Harder.
Possessive .
I fist my hands in her hips, gripping her like I might lose my mind if I let go. She makes a muffled noise against my mouth, her fingers curling into my hoodie as she finally gives in and pulls me closer.
My pulse roars in my ears as she moves against me, moving further into me like she can’t get enough.
I knew it. I knew she wanted this just as badly as I did.
One of my hands slips lower, gripping her hip as I back her up and press her against the row of lockers behind her. My thigh slides between hers, hard and deliberate, and the sound that leaves her lips -
Fuck . It’s enough to undo me.
"Say it," I murmur, my voice rough.
Her body goes tense, and I know that she knows exactly what I mean.
She shakes her head, her nails digging into the fabric of my hoodie.
"No. "
I smirk, dragging my lips along her jaw.
" Say. It ."
Her whole body is trembling now, every breath uneven, every muscle locked with restraint. But she still won’t give me the satisfaction.
So I make her.
I shift my leg slightly, pressing against her exactly where I know she needs it.
She exhales sharply, her head falling back against the lockers.
"I -"
I nudge her again, slow, torturous, and her body betrays her completely, rolling against me on instinct.
" Dio , you’re so stubborn," I murmur against her lips.
She squeezes her eyes shut, exhaling shakily.
"I hate you," she whispers.
The words barely leave her mouth before my patience snaps, and I fist a hand in her hair, tugging her head back, forcing her to look me in the eyes.
"Don’t fucking lie to me," I growl.
Then I kiss her again, punishing and deep, proving exactly how much of a liar she is.
My fingers thread into her hair, keeping her where I want her as I claim her mouth again and again, swallowing every sound she makes.
She presses against me harder, her breath coming in frantic little gasps, her body moving with mine in a way that has my cock throbbing with need.
"Still hate me?" I murmur against her lips, smirking when she doesn’t answer.
She can’t. Her body says it all.
She’s practically riding my thigh now, chasing the friction, arching into me like she needs more.
I drag my lips down the line of her jaw, then lower, nipping at her throat. She shudders.
"Say it again," I taunt, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to her pulse. "Tell me how much you hate me. Hate this ."
She doesn’t. She won’t .
But I already fucking know.
I watch her through hooded eyes, drinking in the way she trembles beneath my hands, the way she clings to me like I’m the only thing keeping her upright.
I grip her thighs, shifting her further up my leg, and she gasps as I roll my own hips against her.
"You can stop me, you know," I tell her. "If you hate me so much, then tell me to stop, and I will."
Her breathing is erratic, her heart hammering so loudly I can almost hear it, and I already know that she won’t stop me.
And fuck , I want her. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.
I don’t just want to kiss her.
I want to wreck her.
I want to ruin her for anyone else.
She doesn’t answer, but she moves . Her fingers slip beneath the hem of my hoodie, dragging over my abs, and my skin burns under her touch.
"You really do like playing with fire, don’t you?" I hiss .
She swallows hard, her fingers pressing harder against my stomach.
And then - dio .
She moves away from the lockers, sliding down my body in one slow, deliberate motion, her hands trailing lower as she sinks to her knees.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Understanding slams into me like a freight train just as her fingers curl into the waistband of my sweatpants.
I don’t even have time to react before she tugs them down in one smooth movement, freeing my cock from the confines of my clothing.
My jaw clenches.
I’m so fucked.
I exhale sharply, reaching down and tangling a hand in her hair, tilting her chin up until our eyes meet.
For a moment, she just watches me, her tongue darting out over her lips, teasing.
"That’s right, baby," I murmur, my thumb dragging slowly across her lower lip.
She shivers.
"Show me exactly how much you hate me ."
Daphne lets her lips part slightly, lets her breath fan against my cock, teasing me - taunting me - with the barest ghost of a touch. I know exactly what she’s doing, and dio , if I didn’t already want to ruin her, I sure as hell do now.
I fist my hands in her auburn hair, watching her through hooded eyes, my body strung tight like a live wire.
" Fuck , bella," I mutter, my voice rough, strained. "You're going to be the death of me."
She smirks - because of course she fucking does - and then, finally , she lets her tongue swirl over the head of my cock.
A curse rips through my throat, and my grip in her hair tightens. She watches me with wide eyes as she repeats the motion. My jaw clenches as her hand wraps around my length, moving in slow, deliberate strokes that have my hips jerking forward instinctively.
" Fanculo ," I hiss, my head thumping back against the lockers behind me. Fuck you.
She’s killing me.
She presses a slow, lingering kiss to the tip of my cock, and the moment her tongue flicks over the sensitive head again, I have to fight the urge to just grab her by the hair and take control.
Because she’s new to this. I can tell.
But she’s curious. Enthusiastic.
And that alone has me gripping onto the last shreds of my self-control.
She licks a slow stripe up my cock, her hand working in tandem with her mouth, and I groan low in my throat, my thighs tensing beneath her touch.
"Fucking tease ," I grumble, my voice thick with frustration.
Daphne just hums in amusement before sucking the head of my cock into her mouth, and fuck , my hips buck at the sensation, completely unrestrained.
Her green eyes flick up to mine, wide, and dio santo , I have to physically stop myself from losing it right then and there .
She looks so fucking good like this - on her knees for me, her mouth stretched around my cock, her cheeks hollowed as she takes as much of me as she can.
It’s too much.
It’s not enough.
Her fingers tighten around the base of my cock, her hand twisting, her mouth working in tandem with it, and I swear I feel my legs go weak beneath me.
" Cazzo ," I groan, barely managing to suck in a breath as her tongue moves against me. "Look at you."
She moans around me, the vibrations shooting straight through my spine, and I swear I feel my cock twitch in her mouth.
I release one of my hands from her hair in order to reach down, brushing a few loose strands away from her flushed face, and for a second, I almost let her keep going. I almost let her finish what she started, let myself come down the back of her throat just to see what she’d do with it.
But I don’t.
Because as good as this is, as fucking perfect as she looks right now, I want more .
I need more .
At the very last second, I grit my teeth and tighten my grip in her hair, pulling her off me with a wet pop .
She gasps slightly, blinking up at me, her lips slick and swollen, her breathing uneven.
I smirk down at her, shaking my head.
"Get up here."
My voice is rough, raw, leaving no room for argument .
She rises slowly, but I don’t let her get too far. The second she’s level with me, I yank her against my body, my mouth crashing onto hers in a kiss that’s all teeth and heat.
"Still hate me?" I murmur against her lips, my voice teasing, but there's a challenge there too.
She exhales a shaky breath, but instead of answering, she drags her nails down my stomach, pushing my hoodie up as she goes.
I chuckle, low and rough, the sound vibrating between us.
" Attenta , bella," I taunt as my hoodie drops to the floor behind us. Be careful. "You're starting to look like you actually want me."
Her breath stutters slightly, but she squares her shoulders, tilting her chin up defiantly.
"You wish."
Dio, she’s fucking perfect .
"I don’t have to wish.”
I slide my hand down, pressing my fingers firmly between her legs, rubbing slow, firm circles against her through the denim.
She gasps, and I grin.
"I can feel it."
Her head tips back against the lockers, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps, and fuck , I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
I drag my lips down the column of her throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to her skin as my fingers keep moving.
Even through the fabric, I can feel her getting wet beneath my touch, and I just about manage to hold back from ripping her jeans down her legs and getting a real taste of her.
"You’re such an asshole," she whispers breathlessly against my mouth.
"And you love it," I rasp, nipping at her jaw.
Her hands move frantically over my chest, pushing my shirt up.
" Matteo ," she breathes, barely audible.
"Say it again," I murmur, my voice thick with amusement as my fingers press harder against her.
She shudders, a barely-restrained sound catching in the back of her throat, and fuck , I want to hear more. I want to hear her fall apart .
I slide my hand higher, curling my fingers beneath the waistband of her jeans, teasing the soft, warm skin there.
She sucks in a breath, her hips shifting instinctively against me, chasing more friction.
"You want me to stop?" I murmur against her skin, deliberately slowing my movements. "Just say the word, bella ."
Silence.
She should stop me, but she won’t .
And I know it.
I feel the way she grips my shoulders, the way her legs shift apart just slightly, the way her breathing goes completely uneven beneath my touch, and I lean in closer, pressing my lips against the shell of her ear.
"You’re mine now, giornalista ," I whisper.
And this time, she doesn’t argue .
I move without thinking. My hands flex against the soft skin beneath her blouse, gripping and savouring, and then I shift, guiding her back until her thighs hit the edge of the wooden bench.
She barely has time to react before I press forwards, urging her down. My body follows hers, caging her in as she sinks onto the surface beneath me.
The overhead lights cast sharp, angular shadows across her face, highlighting the way her green eyes are blown wide, the way her lips part slightly, the way her chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.
I should be smug.
She’s laid out beneath me, breathless, pulse racing, aching for me.
But I’m not smug.
I feel like I’m barely keeping myself together.
My hands brace on either side of her head as I hover over her, my arms tensed with restraint. I’m fighting the urge to just take her - to claim every inch of her the way I’ve been wanting to since the first moment she stormed into my life and made it impossible to think about anything else.
"Tell me to stop," I murmur, my voice low, uneven.
She parts her lips. No words come out.
Just like that night at the gala, just like when I had her in my hands, raw and wanting and completely fucking mine .
I knew she didn’t want me to stop then.
And she doesn’t want me to stop now.
"That’s what I thought."
And then I kiss her .
I don’t ease into it. I can’t . The moment my mouth meets hers, it’s a collision, a force of gravity pulling us together, too strong to fight.
Her body arches into mine, soft curves molding against hard muscle as my hands roam beneath the thin fabric of her blouse. My fingers drag up her ribs, pressing against smooth, hot skin as I lift the material higher, desperate to feel more .
"Still hate me?" I murmur against her lips, my tone thick with amusement.
She glares up at me, her green eyes narrowed and dark with something else entirely.
"More than ever."
“ Liar. ”
The bench beneath her creaks slightly as I press her against it, slotting myself even closer, until every point of contact is charged, burning. I shift, slipping a leg between hers, and - fuck .
A soft, unbidden sound escapes her lips, and it goes straight to my cock.
Her blouse is in my hands now, sliding up and over her head, and when I finally get a full view of her, my breath catches.
Fuck, fuck, fuck .
"You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this," I murmur, my fingers skimming over the lace of her bra, my other hand already working at the button of her jeans. "You’ve been on my mind constantly since that night."
She exhales a sharp breath, her chest rising against my hand.
“You mean the night you were an insufferable asshole?"
"You’ll have to be more specific, bella ,” I smirk, brushing my lips over her jaw. “I’m an insufferable asshole most nights."
She lets out a breathless laugh - fuck , I love that sound - but then my fingers flick the button open, and the sound turns into a sharp inhale.
I don’t waste time.
I don’t tease.
I drag the denim down her thighs and calves, and she lifts her hips instinctively, letting me strip her.
Her body is a fucking dream - all smooth, warm curves and soft skin, spread out beneath me like something I never should’ve had.
But now that I have, I can’t let go.
My fingers skim over the waistband of her panties, teasing, and she shifts slightly, her breath uneven.
I lean in, my lips grazing the shell of her ear.
"Ammettilo," I murmur, my voice low and rough. Admit it. "You’ve thought about this too."
She doesn’t answer with words, but her body betrays her.
Her back arches, her hips lifting instinctively towards me, seeking more.
And dio , I love this.
I love watching her unravel. I love feeling the way she reacts to me, the way her body knows what it wants, even when she refuses to say it.
"Tell me," I urge, my knee pressing more firmly between her thighs.
She shakes her head, stubborn, even as she clings to me.
But I’m nothing if not persistent .
My grip tightens against her hip, my fingers flexing against her skin. I lower myself again, my mouth brushing hers.
" Dai , giornalista ," I whisper. "Tell me I’m not the only one who’s been losing my mind over this."
She swallows hard, her pulse hammering against my lips.
And then, finally - finally -
"Fine," she breathes, pulling me closer so that my bare chest is pressed against hers, her nails digging into my back. " Maybe I have thought about it."
I smirk, triumphant; but before I can gloat, she crashes her mouth onto mine, and - fuck .
I groan against her lips, my grip on her tightening as I shift, pressing my thigh between her legs, feeling the wet heat through her panties.
"Finally," I mutter against her mouth, my breath ragged. "I was starting to think you’d keep fighting this forever."
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, hers dark and full of something dangerous.
"Oh, I still might."
"è così?" Is that so? "Then I’ll just have to convince you."
I kiss her harder, hungrier, my hands roaming every inch of her skin, committing her body to memory. My fingers brush over the centre of her soaked panties, and she whimpers against my mouth.
Fucking whimpers .
" Cristo santo, " I breathe, dragging my fingers over the wet fabric. Holy christ. "You’re already so fucking wet for me."
I hook my fingers into her panties, dragging them over her thighs, down her legs, tossing them to the floor as she does the same with her bra.
And then she’s laid out before me, completely fucking bare .
I inhale sharply, my cock throbbing, and before I can think better of it, my hand is between her legs, my fingers sliding through the slick heat of her pussy.
She gasps, her back arching, her hands grasping at my arms.
"You want it, baby?" I murmur, watching her face as I circle my fingers over her swollen clit.
Her head tips back against the bench, her lips parted, her hips shifting against my hand.
I can feel how wet she is. I hear it.
And I want nothing more than to taste her again.
"I need to hear you say it."
She exhales shakily, her fingers digging into my biceps.
" Please ," she gasps, her voice wrecked. "I want you, Matteo. Fuck, I need you."
A slow, satisfied smile spreads across my face, but fuck , it’s not enough.
She’s spread out beneath me, her skin flushed, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, her legs parted wide in invitation. She’s dripping for me, her slick coating her thighs, the scent of her arousal thick in the air, and dio ; I want to taste her.
I want to bury my face between her perfect thighs and make her fall apart on my tongue, but the throbbing between my own legs is too much, and I can’t wait any longer.
I need to be inside her.
So, I give in .
I grip the base of my cock, thick and heavy in my palm, and drag the swollen length of it through her soaked cunt. My hand moves slowly up and down, coating myself in her wetness, teasing her, taunting her as I roll my hips, letting my cock slide against her clit.
Daphne moans , her nails digging into my shoulders, her thighs trembling around my waist.
" Dio mio ," I mutter, my jaw tightening as I nudge the head of my cock against her entrance. My God.
She’s so wet, so fucking soft, and I feel her body pulse as if she’s begging for it, her pussy aching to take me in.
She arches beneath me, her hips shifting, desperate in their search for friction.
"Come on, Matteo," she groans, frustration bleeding into her voice. "I want you inside me. Now . Please. "
I groan, my fingers flexing against her hips as I force myself to keep control.
Her voice - breathless, needy and fucking wrecked - sends a pulse of heat straight down my spine.
She wants me. She’s asking for me.
Who am I to deny her?
"Whatever you want," I grit out, cursing under my breath as I finally give her what we both need.
With one slow, powerful thrust, I sink into her, stretching her tight, perfect heat around me inch by inch.
And fuck -
She’s mine.
My breath shatters as I bottom out inside her, my fingers digging into her hips as I hold myself there, buried deep, giving her a moment to adjust, to take all of me.
She’s so goddamn tight , her walls fluttering around my cock and squeezing me like she needs this, like she was made for this.
Made for me.
" Matteo ," she gasps, her hands gripping at my back, her nails raking down my skin in sharp, red-hot trails.
I hiss at the sting, my muscles tensing in response -
And then I retaliate.
I dip my head low, claiming her, my lips latching onto the soft curve of her breast before I catch one of her nipples between my teeth and tug .
She shudders beneath me, a strangled sound spilling from her lips as her back arches off the bench, pressing her chest harder into my mouth.
Fucking perfect.
Her walls clench around me, and I nearly lose it, my cock throbbing as I fight the primal instinct to fuck her like an animal, to pin her down and take everything .
" God ," I groan, flicking my tongue over the stiff peak of her nipple, soothing the spot I just bit. "You’re going to be the fucking death of me."
Her fingers tangle in my hair, yanking me closer, and I growl against her skin.
I lift my head, my mouth crashing onto hers, swallowing the moan she lets out as I pull out just enough before thrusting back into her, filling her to the hilt once more.
"Oh, fuck ," she whimpers, her body jerking against mine.
I smirk against her lips, satisfaction curling in my chest as she moans into my mouth, her body tight and trembling beneath me. Her hands claw at my back, nails dragging deliciously down my skin, marking me, claiming me just as much as I’m claiming her.
And fuck, if that doesn’t make me lose my mind.
“That’s it, baby,” I murmur against her flushed skin, my lips trailing down the curve of her breast before I pull her nipple into my mouth again, rolling my tongue over the sensitive peak.
I flick it once, twice, before biting down just enough to make her jolt beneath me.
She’s so fucking responsive .
My cock throbs inside her, buried so deep I swear I can feel the way she pulses around me, the way her body tightens, spiraling closer, closer -
“Come on, bella ,” I coax, my voice husky, rough. “Let it all go for me. I need to feel you come around my cock.”
The words barely leave my mouth before she snaps .
Her hips jerk wildly, chasing her pleasure, meeting each of my thrusts with a desperate, reckless rhythm.
Her body needs this.
She needs me .
And knowing that wrecks me.
I let my hands slide lower, gripping her hips and holding her right where I want her as I fuck into her with purpose. I make sure she takes every inch, make sure she remembers exactly who’s inside her.
She moans my name - breathless, wrecked and fucking mine - and I swear I nearly lose it right then and there.
" Matteo ," she whimpers, her fingers tangling in my hair, yanking me closer.
Then, I feel it.
Her body locks around me, tight and hot and so fucking perfect, and she shatters .
Her walls clench down hard , spasming around my cock as her orgasm crashes through her. I groan, pressing my forehead against hers, my thrusts turning rougher as I fuck her through every last pulse of pleasure.
“That’s it, Daphne,” I rasp, my voice tight, my muscles straining. “Give it to me. Give me everything . I’ve got you.”
Her moans are breathy and uneven, her body still trembling as she rides out the aftershocks, and fuck - I can hear how wet she is.
It’s obscene. Erotic.
It’s fucking perfect.
"You feel so fucking good," I mutter against her throat, dragging my lips along her jaw, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against her sweat-slicked skin. "Your perfect little pussy is So. Fucking. Tight. "
She shudders, her nails still digging into my shoulders, and I can’t stop now.
I won’t stop until I’m buried so deep inside her that neither of us can breathe.
Her hands slide over my arms, gripping my biceps and holding onto me like she needs me to keep her anchored. I capture her lips in a desperate, filthy kiss as my own pleasure builds, rising fast, too fast -
All the while, I thrust harder, faster, deeper .
The heat in my spine tightens, my cock thick inside her, and she feels it - she knows - because she turns her head, lips brushing my ear.
“Come on,” she whispers, her voice fucking deadly . “I want to feel you cum inside me.”
That’s all it takes.
I let out a guttural groan, my head dropping against her shoulder as my hips stutter and I finally , finally let go.
I press as deep as I can, owning every inch of her. My release pours into her pussy in thick, hot pulses, my whole body locking as I pulse, emptying myself fully inside her.
Fuck.
It’s overwhelming, raw and all-consuming, my vision going white-hot as I shudder, as I give her everything.
For a long, breathless moment, neither of us move.
We’re just locked together, panting, our bodies still shaking with the aftershocks.
Then, slowly, I collapse against her.
She lets out a soft oof of surprise, and we laugh together. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and sex and her .
Her fingers trace lazy circles against my back, and I let my eyes fall shut for a second.
Dio , this is dangerous .
I should pull out. I should move. I should do something .
But I don’t.
Instead, I stay inside her, still hard, still buried deep, still owning her body in a way that makes my chest tighten .
Eventually, I force myself to move, to leave the warmth of her body, and I swear I nearly groan at the loss.
She lets out a little whimper when I slip free, and fuck, that sound? That fucking sound ?
It’s going to haunt me.
I sit up first, watching as she slowly pushes herself upright, straddling the hard bench. Her legs are trembling, her skin still flushed, her lips swollen from my kisses.
She’s stunning.
Something flickers across her face, but she doesn’t pull away.
She does glance down, though.
I catch the slight flush of pink on her cheeks when she sees the mess I’ve left between her thighs, but before she can react, I reach out, tilting her chin up with a knuckle.
"You’re beautiful," I murmur, my voice still thick with satisfaction.
She blinks up at me, eyes wide, and then - slowly - she smiles.
My chest tightens, and I feel myself becoming overwhelmed at the weight of this.
Because that smile?
It wrecks me.
She has no idea. No fucking idea what she’s done to me, what she’s doing to me.
I grin back, lazy and knowing as I lean back on my knees, reach for my hoodie and tug it back over my head.
“Well,” she says, smoothing a hand over her hair, trying to gather herself. “That was…”
I arch a brow.
“ Incredible? ”
She shoots me a look.
“Not quite what I was going to say.”
I smirk, pulling the hoodie into place.
“Liar.”
She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t argue.
Instead, she grabs her bra and her blouse, dressing quickly. I do the same, turning and watching once I’m finished as she reaches for her jeans, sliding them up her still-trembling thighs.
She must feel me watching her, because she huffs, standing up straight as she fastens them.
"What?" she asks.
I shake my head as I stand up and step in close.
"Nothing," I say, voice low as I brush my knuckles against her chin again, tilting her face up to mine. "Just enjoying the view."
She scoffs, shoving at my chest.
It’s a mistake, because she only makes herself more aware of how fucking solid I am.
I chuckle, catching her wrist before she can move away. She looks at me knowingly before she slips on her shoes, using me for balance.
I lace our fingers together before I can think better of it, and fuck, it feels right .
“Come on,” I say, tugging her towards the door. “I should take you back to your car before you make me lose my mind again. ”
Her pulse jumps beneath my fingers, but she plays it cool, arching a brow.
“ You ? Lose your mind? I thought you were always in control, Rossi.”
“Hmm.” My smirk darkens. “You’re testing that theory every time you open your mouth, bella .”
She huffs a laugh, but she doesn’t pull away. She lets me keep her hand in mine as I lead her through the quiet halls of the stadium and out through the dim car park until we finally reach her car.
I lean against the driver’s side door, blocking her way.
“So,” I drawl, arms folding over my chest. “I’m curious. Are you going to run from this again, giornalista ?”
She lifts her chin, her expression unreadable.
“I don’t run.”
My gaze flickers to her lips, then back up.
“Good,” I murmur, pushing off the car and stepping back. “Then I’ll see you soon.”
I don’t kiss her again. I could , but I don’t.
Instead, I let her watch me as I walk away - because I know she’s watching.
And I know that, for the first time, she’s not running.
Not yet , at least.