Chapter 13
Brook Simons
I’ve lost my godforsaken mind. I’m certifiable.
No sane person would go to their boss’s apartment on a Sunday morning.
No one with half a braincell would give the man who crushed her heart in high school another chance.
No woman with an ounce of self-worth would traipse across the city to fuck an overbearing asshole.
Yet here I am, staring at the high rise containing Matteo Ricco’s doorstep.
This may be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but other than to avenge my mother and enact my revenge, I’ve never wanted anything this much before. Retribution is no easy task. It may be years before I annihilate my father, but Matteo is within easy reach.
I roll my shoulders back and step through the fancy glass revolving door and into the lobby. Halfway to the reception desk, an elevator dings off in the distance, and Matteo emerges from a side hall.
I agonized over what to wear and finally settled on the green casual top and jeans he bought from the boutique yesterday.
Mr. Carter, my landlord and part-time employer, nearly had an aneurysm when the ritzy car pulled up to his curb with fancy gift bags in my name.
I was an idiot for putting my address down for delivery, but sending them to my mother’s apartment would’ve been too hard to explain.
Even in my simple clothes, Matteo’s grey sweatpants and tight black t-shirt make me feel overdressed. Heat throbs low in my belly as he stalks toward me with hungry eyes.
He nods at the man behind the desk as he weaves his much bigger fingers through mine and tugs me after him. Apprehension closes a fist around my stomach when he pulls me into the elevator.
“Wait, maybe we should go to a hotel,” I say.
He crowds me against the back wall and cups my nape as the doors slide closed.
“No. I need you in my home.”
His low rumble sounds thick with sleep even though predatory awareness wafts from him.
Despite the fear intensifying my lust, something deep inside me unfurls. Even now, with desperation reflecting in the golden flecks in his irises, he exudes control. He cares for me. His bulk blocks my view of the world, but his hand on my nape is gentle.
I switched back and forth between hot and cold last night as I recalled our time in the dressing room. My jaw aches even though my time on my knees was short. Matteo Ricco is not a small man. He could easily hurt me.
But he doesn’t. He won’t.
I shouldn’t trust him, but I do, and right now, with his clean, masculine scent in my nostrils and his eyes piercing into my soul, I can’t even remember why I shouldn’t trust him.
“Kiss me,” he demands.
I swallow and splay my hands over his abs. His hard, muscular abs.
“Beg me,” I quip.
I don’t know where the words come from, but once they leave my lips, they won’t disappear.
Realizing this may be the only time I have an ounce of control throughout the day, I gather my courage and lean into my cold bitch persona.
“You’re a vicious, spiteful little rabbit, aren’t you, Brook?”
Although his words are harsh, his tone and mannerisms are not. My insides melt as his eyes soften and lips tilt in the smallest of smirks.
“You like it. Now beg me to kiss you,” I rasp.
His low, animalistic growl vibrates through my bones and wakes a primal part of me. He tightens his grip on my nape and shuffles closer, pressing his abs harder against my hands while keeping our bodies separated.
“Please, Brook. I’m begging you. Give me your mouth. Your kiss. Your pleasure. I need everything, little rabbit,” he rumbles.
I slide my hands up his torso, marveling at his physique, and press my body against his as I wrap my fingers around his nape. He’s so big. So strong. So hard.
So mine.
I rise onto my toes and tug his head down to mine. The moment our lips touch, our hunger ignites a firestorm between us.
I don’t need oxygen. I need him. Every inch of him.
The elevator dings. He growls into my mouth and lifts me off my feet. I wrap my legs around his waist and groan as his long, hard cock mashes my clit through our clothes.
I’m empty. Too empty.
His powerful hands grab my ass and roam over my back as our tongues and teeth duel. I spear my hands into his soft hair and demand more as he strides through the elevator doors.
Nothing exists beyond my need. He sets me on the foyer table and strips my shirt over my head. I yank the hem of his shirt up and watch in mesmerized delight as he pulls it off and tosses it aside.
My insides clench. Slick arousal dampens my panties. He’s a visual feast. I hover on the edge of an orgasm just looking at him.
He overwhelms my senses with more kisses, his hands, teeth, and tongue peppering my mouth, face, throat, and ears with sensual demand as he lifts me into his arms and carries me deeper into his apartment. I return his hunger tenfold, desperate to consume every inch of him.
His soft hair, softer lips, hard muscles, and smooth skin enthrall me.
I squeak as he pins me against the wall and unsnaps my bra. With a few impatient moves, he tosses the fabric over his shoulder and fills his hands with my breasts. Lightning arcs through me as he kneads and pinches my sensitive flesh. I close my fists in his hair and tug.
He growls and trails kisses down my throat. I gasp as he takes my breast into his mouth.
The world spins as he wraps his arms around me and strides to the kitchen counter, never lifting his head, never ceasing his delicious torture of my nipple.
He clears the counter with a sweep of his arm and lays me on my back. The cold marble shocks a gasp from me, but the hot suction of his mouth on my breast steals my attention.
Pressure builds in my core as he unfastens my jeans and wedges his hand into my panties. I teeter on the edge of release as he slides thick fingers over my sex.
He finds my clit with unnerving ease and strokes in time with his mouth suctioned on my breast.
A dam bursts inside me. My core clenches and fresh wetness seeps from my pussy.
It ends too soon.
Matteo rises, pulls my jeans and panties down my legs, tugs my sneakers off my feet, and strips me of my clothes.
Naked and splayed on his kitchen counter, reality sends tendrils of uncertainty down my spine, but he parts my knees with unyielding hands and nips my inner thigh in warning when I push against his forehead.
“I need to taste you, little rabbit,” he murmurs as he skims his lips toward my sex.
It’s too much. Too intimate. Too intense.
He gathers my wrists in his grip and pins my hands to my hip. I gasp and shiver as he licks my bikini line.
“Mine,” he snarls.
He runs the flat of his tongue over the whole of my sex, groans, and dives in like a starving man. An orgasm barrels through me with no warning, clenching my core and arching my back. He has no mercy, licking, swirling, flicking and laving as I suffer through the most intense euphoria of my life.
By the time I regain my senses, he fits the head of his dick to my sopping pussy and pins me to the counter with his grip on my breast.
Fear flits through me, but he thrusts deep inside my body and steals my breath. The horrible, delicious stretch burns all the way to my soul. I sink my nails into his abs to push him away, but he wraps thick fingers around my hip and surges impossibly deeper inside me.
“Matteo! W-wait, I—”
He grabs my chin and captures my heart with his eyes.
“Fucking hell, Brook. You’re so tight. So wet. Say my name in that desperate voice again and I’ll fill this pussy faster than you can blink.”
With ruthless thrusts of his hips, he pulls back and sinks deeper and deeper with each wonderfully painful invasion, never releasing my stare as he claims my body, mind, and soul.
Pleasure builds in my core. He angles his cock and hits something sensitive inside me. I hiss and scratch whatever part of him I can reach as he smirks and targets the same spot over and over again.
Unbearable pressure grows between my legs. He shifts his hand from my hip to my lower stomach.
I shatter into a million tiny, colorful shards of glass as he strokes his fingertips over my clit. Wave after wave of pleasure gushes from my pussy as every inch of me seizes in delicious agony.
Matteo’s rapturous visage fills my mind as my eyes roll to the back of my head. He continues circling my clit as he loses control. Pinching pain streaks through my euphoria as he shoves his full length inside me and finds his release.
Fuck. We didn’t use a condom. I’m not on birth control. I’ve never needed it. My cycles are mild, men aren’t worth the hassle, and life is too busy.
I groan as he leans down and takes my mouth in a sensual, drugging kiss. He frames my shoulders with his forearms, cups my head in his hands, and caresses my face and shoulders with gentle, worshipful fingers.
“You’re okay, little rabbit. I’ve got you. Don’t cry,” he murmurs.
“I’m not, I just—”
I stop as I realize tears soak my temples and sobs wrack my chest.
“I’m s—”
“Don’t apologize. Let it out. I started it, and I’ll see it through to the end. I’m not leaving.” Impossibly bigger emotions slam into me at his declaration. “Give me everything, Brook,” he demands.
I cling to him and cry the tears I’ve refused to shed. Eleven years of misery pour from me until my head throbs and chest aches. All the while, his cock remains deep inside me as his body shields me from the cruel world. He doesn’t rush me. Doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t abandon me.
I cry harder as I realize he will soon. Whether it happens when he realizes I gave him all my firsts or when I choose revenge over him, his gentleness is sure to disappear soon.
It hurts so much. More than my father’s betrayal. I feel more helpless than when I watched my mother battle cancer.
I love Matteo Ricco.
Love him.
But I can’t keep him.
I brace myself for the inevitable and push his hands away.
“I’m okay. Let me up,” I say.