Chapter 34
Present
Upper-East Side, New York City
TWO WEEKS LATER, THE DATE sat warm and steady in my chest – March first. One month. Our wedding anniversary, real in all the ways that mattered now.
We’d just come back from dinner, the kind of place where the lights were low, the glasses heavy, and the servers spoke in murmurs.
Francesca still smelled like her perfume and night air when we slipped into the library, closing the door behind us and shutting the world out.
The room breathed differently in the dark. Deep red curtains pooled against the walls. A gold globe caught the low light and reflected it softly, like a sun that knew how to behave. Lamps glowed instead of shone.
I went to the bar and poured us drinks, the quiet clink of ice echoing just enough to feel intimate. Whiskey for me. The same for her – she pretended it was my influence, but I knew better.
Behind me, I heard her move toward the record stacks.
I followed without thinking, my steps slow, deliberate. My body brushed her back as she flipped through the records, my presence announced in heat and proximity rather than words. She exhaled softly when she found what she was looking for, like she’d been waiting for this moment all day.
She set the record down and eased the needle into place.
The first piano notes filled the room – soft, intimate, almost shy. I recognized it instantly from my collection. Quarto de Hotel by Hareton Salvanini.
I stepped closer, leaned my hands on the table in front of her, caging her in without touching her.
“This is what I hear when I see you,” She said quietly.
The saxophone slid in, dark and slow, the sound curling through the air – melancholic, aching, beautiful. The kind of music that carried longing in its bones.
“How so?” I asked, my voice low.
She turned her head just enough, not fully facing me. Her hair fell forward, hiding half her face, the way she did when she wanted to say something honest but shy.
“Black suit. Whiskey eyes. That old-school Hollywood smile.”
Something felt fuller in my chest.
I leaned in, closing the space between us, and kissed her like there was no tomorrow, no need to come up for air. Her hands found me immediately, like they always did, like they always would.
The music played on around us, wrapping us in its dark, aching beauty as we kissed – slow, deep, endless – celebrating one month, one lifetime, and everything still to come.
I didn’t know how long we kissed before we finally pulled apart – long enough that the music felt like it had rearranged itself around us, long enough that her lips were swollen and my chest felt too full.
“Come sit,” I said softly, already guiding her away from the record player.
She laughed under her breath. “You’re bossy.”
“You love it,” I replied, pressing a kiss to her temple as I steered us to the couch.
The library couch was deep and low, worn in the best way. I sat first and pulled her with me, settling her comfortably at my side. The lamp nearby cast a warm glow over her skin, catching in her hair, making her look unreal in that way that still caught me off guard.
I reached for the box I’d hidden on the inside pocket of my suit.
“Close your eyes,” I said.
She arched a brow.
I chuckled. “Trust me.”
She did, eyes fluttering shut, lips curving into a soft smile.
I placed the box in her hands. “Okay.”
Her eyes opened. She looked down, then back up at me, suspicious and excited all at once. Slowly, she opened it.
The rubies caught the light instantly – delicate but unmistakable. A fine necklace, elegant, timeless. Matching earrings beside it.
“Matteo…” she whispered.
“For every room you walk into. And every sunrise I get to see you in.”
She swallowed, eyes glassy but smiling. “You’re surprisingly romantic, Mr Diablo.”
I smiled back. “You should know. You married me, Mrs Diablo.”
She turned her back to me and moved her hair out of the way. I fastened the necklace around her neck, my fingers brushing her skin, lingering longer than necessary. Then the earrings. I kissed the spot just below her ear when I finished, unable to help myself.
She turned to face me, still touching the necklace like she needed to be sure it was real. “I love it.”
“I’m glad.”
She smiled, a little shy. “Okay… My turn. Don’t judge!”
I raised a brow, surprised. “You got me something? You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” she cut in, already reaching into her bag. “But you’re going to like this.”
“I wasn’t expecting anything.”
She smirked. “That’s what makes it fun.”
She handed me a candle – simple, expensive-looking.
“A candle? Thank you.”
“Not just a candle,” She laughed softly, leaning closer, her voice dropping. “Once it melts… It turns into body oil.”
I looked back up at her slowly.
“I thought we could keep our game going,” she added sweetly.
“You’re trouble…” I set the candle aside and pulled her closer, my arm sliding around her waist. “Does my gift come with rules?”
Her fingers traced the collar of my shirt. “Oh, there are no rules.”
I tilted my head, amused. “Is that a promise?”
Her smile softened, eyes warm. “Always.”
I kissed her again – slow, teasing this time.
One month down felt like nothing at all compared to everything ahead of us.
“So…” I began before he could take things further. “I was thinking we could make up for Valentine’s Day.”
Matteo’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile, his gaze raking over me. “What did you have in mind?”
I smiled, lighting the wick with a match from the mantel. The flame steadied, small but steady, and I let a few drops of the molten wax fall onto my palm. It transformed instantly, warm liquid pooling like liquid silk, unscented now but silky against my skin.
“Lie down for me. On your stomach, baby.”
Matteo smirked, running his tongue over his teeth. He complied with a chuckle, stretching out on the couch, his broad shoulders flexing as he took off his shirt. The low light from the fireplace played over the ridges of his back, highlighting the muscles.
I straddled his hips carefully, my dress riding up my bare thighs against the rough fabric of his trousers.
Holding the candle tilted over his back, I let the warm oil drip down and spread it across his shoulders, the slickness gliding effortlessly over his skin.
“Missed this,” he groaned, his voice muffled against his arm. “Your hands on me. Feels like forever.”
I laughed softly, working the oil in firm circles, thumbs pressing into the knots along his spine.
The library’s warmth enveloped us, the crackle of the fire a rhythmic underscore to my strokes.
His skin gleamed under the amber glow, each glide of my palms revealing more of him – warm, alive, responding to every touch.
I leaned forward slightly, letting my breasts brush his back through the low neckline of my dress.
“Tell me. What would you have done for Valentine’s if we hadn’t been busy?”
He turned his head, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “Taken you right here. On this couch. Fucked you slow until you begged.” His words were blunt, laced with hunger, and they sent a rush of wetness between my legs. “But now? I’m at your mercy. Make it good, amor.”
I smiled against his skin, pressing a kiss his jaw, before pouring more oil, letting it drizzle down his back in rivulets that I chased with my hands.
“You’re tense here,” I teased him, digging into the muscles of his lower back, my nails grazing just enough. “Thought about me all day?”
“Every damn minute,” he admitted, his hips rocking subtly upward, pressing against me. “Imagining you like this. Naked. Oiled up. Riding me instead of massaging.”
The oil made everything slick, sensual, my hands slipping over the valley of his spine.
I leaned down, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You feel so good under me, Matteo. So hard already. I can feel your cock twitching against the couch.”
His response was immediate – a low, maybe slightly pissed-off chuckle rumbling from his chest. One hand shot back, fingers tangling in the hair at my nape, fisting it with just enough force to arch my neck. The pull sent a jolt straight to my pussy, making me gasp.
He yanked me down, twisting slightly to capture my mouth in a fierce kiss. His lips crushed mine, tongue thrusting deep. I melted into him, my hands splaying on his oiled back as he devoured me, the grip in my hair unrelenting, possessive.
Before I could catch my breath fully, he shifted, sitting up straight on the couch, his back against the armrest. His hand found my wrist, tugging me upright with effortless strength.
“Come here,” he murmured, voice rough, pulling me onto his lap.
Our mouths met again, hungry and unhurried this time, tongues sliding together in a slow exploration. The kiss deepened, his teeth nipping my lower lip, drawing a soft moan from me that vibrated into him.
I broke the kiss first, sliding down until I knelt between his legs. My fingers went to work on undoing his trousers. I tugged them down, his cock springing free, thick and hard.
Smirking, I reached for the candle and tilted it carefully, letting a generous stream of the oil pour directly onto his dick. It coated him, dripping down to his balls, the warmth making him twitch under the sensation.
“Fuck, Francesca.”
I wrapped my fingers around him, the oil making my grip glide effortlessly as I began stroking – slow at first, from base to tip, twisting my wrist at the head to spread the slickness.
His cock throbbed in my hand, veins pulsing under my palm, pre-cum mixing with the oil to make everything impossibly smooth.
I worked him, watching his face twist with pleasure, the way his abs tightened with each stroke.
“Pull your dress down,” Matteo commanded, eyes locked on my breasts popping out of my dress. “I want to see those gorgeous tits.”
I didn’t hesitate, shoving the dress down to bunch at my waist. My nipples hardened instantly, begging for attention under his gaze.