9. Matteo
Matteo
I’ve got a hard-on that could drill through concrete and a woman who’s been driving me fucking insane all night.
The car purrs up the gravel driveway of my estate, headlights sweeping across the stone facade as we pull to a stop.
Tessa sits beside me, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her thighs pressed together as if she’s trying to contain the wetness I know is there.
“We’re here,” I say unnecessarily, my voice rough with need.
I exit first, circling around to open Tessa’s door. Her purple hair catches the moonlight as she steps out, her black dress hugging every curve of her lush body. I place my hand on the small of her back, feeling her heat through the thin fabric.
“You’re shaking,” I observe, guiding her toward the front entrance.
“I’m not,” she lies, chin lifting in a defiant way that makes me want to bend her over the nearest surface.
I don’t bother arguing. I can feel the tremor in her body, smell her arousal. She’s been wet since I fingered her in that hallway, and we both know it.
The massive oak doors swing open as we approach. My security system recognizes me, and the house lights come on automatically, illuminating the marble foyer. Tessa hesitates at the threshold, like she’s just now realizing what she’s agreed to.
“Second thoughts, stellina?” I murmur against her ear.
She swallows hard. “Just wondering if I’ve lost my mind.”
“You haven’t.” I press my palm more firmly against her back, urging her inside. “You’ve just finally admitted what we both know.”
The door closes behind us with a heavy thud that echoes through the cavernous entryway. I don’t give her time to take in her surroundings, steering her directly toward the staircase.
“No tour?” she asks, a hint of that sarcasm back in her voice.
“The only room you need to see right now is my bedroom, and you’ve been here before.” I guide her up the stairs, my hand drifting lower to cup her ass. “Unless you’d prefer I fuck you right here on these steps?”
She stumbles slightly, and I tighten my grip on her, steadying her. “I’m not an animal, Matteo.”
“No?” I squeeze her ass harder. “Could have fooled me with the way your pussy gushed all over my fingers earlier. It was very animalistic of you.”
Her sharp intake of breath tells me everything I need to know. She loves the filth coming out of my mouth, even as she pretends to be offended.
We reach the second floor, and I guide her down the hallway to the double doors at the end.
My suite takes up the entire east wing, a testament to the rewards of a life spent in service to men more powerful than myself. I push open the doors with one hand, keeping the other firmly on Tessa’s lower back, guiding her inside.
“Welcome back to where it all began, stellina,” I say, hitting the switch that illuminates the room in soft amber light.
She steps into the center of the room, her eyes taking in the massive four-poster bed, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the garden and pool.
I shrug out of my jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair. “You know how many nights I’ve spent in this bed thinking about you?”
She lifts her chin. “I don’t care.”
“Liar.” I unbutton my cuffs, rolling up my sleeves to expose my forearms. Her eyes track the movement hungrily. “I’ve jerked off to thoughts of your pussy more times than I can count.”
Another twitch, more pronounced this time. Her thighs press together.
“Do you want to know what I think about when I stroke my cock?” I ask, fingers moving to the buttons of my shirt.
She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t look away either.
“I think about spreading those thick thighs of yours and burying my face in your cunt.” I pop open the top button of my shirt. “I think about how you’ll taste on my tongue, how you will clench when I suck on your clit.”
Her breathing quickens, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Sometimes—” I undo another button, exposing more of my chest “—I think about bending you over my desk, shoving that tight little skirt up around your waist, and fucking you until my cum is dripping down your thighs.”
She lets out a small sound, something between a gasp and a moan. Her nipples are visible now, hard points pressing against the silk of her dress.
“Other nights—” another button falls open “—I fantasize about those gorgeous tits of yours. How perfect they’ll look with my cock sliding between them, how your pretty mouth will open to catch the head each time I thrust up.”
Her hand moves to her throat, fingers pressing against her pulse point, trying to slow her racing heart. Her eyes never leave my hands as I continue unbuttoning my shirt.
“I think about how your pussy will feel when I finally slide inside you.” I shrug the shirt off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. The St. Christopher medal gleams against my chest in the low light. “How tight you’ll be, how wet, how you’ll stretch around me.”
Her eyes widen as they travel down my torso to the trail of dark hair disappearing into my waistband.
I unbuckle my belt slowly; the leather sliding through the loops with a soft hiss. “I think about marking you. Leaving bruises on your thighs, your neck, your tits. So everyone knows who you belong to.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out. I can see her struggling with herself—the part that wants to tell me to fuck off warring with the part that wants to beg me to fuck her.
I unbutton my pants, dragging the zipper down with deliberate slowness. “Do you touch yourself and think of me, Contessa? Do you fuck yourself with your fingers and pretend they’re mine?”
“I—” she starts, then stops, her cheeks flushing.
“Tell me,” I demand, pushing my pants down my hips until they pool at my feet. I step out of them, standing before her in nothing but black boxer briefs that do nothing to hide my raging hard-on.
“Sometimes,” she admits, the word barely audible.
I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my boxers. “Sometimes, what?”
She swallows hard. “Sometimes I think about you when I touch myself.”
“Good girl.” I push the boxers down, freeing my cock. It springs up against my stomach, thick and veined, the head already glistening with pre-cum. “This is what you do to me. Every. Fucking. Time.”
Her eyes widen, fixated on my cock. I wrap my hand around it, giving it a slow stroke from base to tip.
“You like what you see, stellina?” I ask, pumping myself lazily. “This cock has been aching for you for weeks.”
I take a step closer, still stroking myself. “You want this inside you? Want me to split that pretty pussy open with it?”
She doesn’t speak, just nods, her eyes glazed with lust.
“I wonder how badly you want it.” I circle my thumb over the head, spreading the pre-cum. “Take off your dress. Leave your panties and heels on.”
For a moment, I think she might refuse. Then her hands move to the zipper at the side of her dress. She drags it down, then shimmies the tight fabric over her hips until it joins my clothes on the floor.
My cock twitches in my hand at the sight of her standing there in nothing but a black lace thong and those fuck-me heels.
I circle her slowly, my cock in my hand, eyes drinking in every inch of her body. The back view is just as incredible—that plump ass barely contained by the black lace, the dimples at the base of her spine, the cascade of purple hair down her back.
She shivers as I complete my circuit around her, and I see goosebumps rising on her skin.
“You like being watched, being admired,” I say, not bothering to phrase it as a question. The evidence is right there in her hardened nipples, the way her chest flushes.
Her mouth opens, ready with some smart-ass denial, but I cut her off.
“Don’t lie to me, Contessa. I know.” I release my cock and step closer, trailing my hand down her back. My fingers trace her spine, stopping just above where the lace disappears between her cheeks. “I know exactly what gets you wet.”
I lean in, burying my nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. She smells like expensive perfume and arousal.
“What if I asked you to get on your knees for me?” I whisper directly into her ear, my breath hot against her skin. “Would you do it?”
She turns her head, those brown eyes defiant despite her obvious arousal. “I thought you were the one that wanted to be on your knees with my pussy in your mouth.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. Even now, naked and trembling with need, she still has to challenge me. It’s what makes her Contessa. What makes me want her more than any other woman I’ve ever known.
I push up against her, forcing her backward toward the bed until her knees buckle against the edge of the mattress. My hand slides between her shoulder blades, shoving her down until her chest hits the silk sheets. With my foot, I kick her legs apart, spreading her wide for me.
“What the fuck do you think—” she starts, but I cut her off with a hard slap across her right ass cheek. A bright red welt blooms instantly on her skin.
“Whoa, that fucking hurt!” she yelps, trying to squirm away.
“I know,” I say, rubbing the reddened flesh with my palm. “It was supposed to.”
Her body shivers under my touch, and I can see her thighs trembling. I bring my hand down again on the other cheek, watching as it turns the same angry red.
“You gonna behave now?” I ask, massaging the heated flesh.
“Fuck you,” she spits, but her ass pushes back against my hand, seeking more contact.
She’s such a little fucking brat and there’s nothing I love more than taming one.
Gripping the thin strip of lace between her cheeks, I yank it upward, hard and sudden, watching as the fabric disappears between her pussy lips.
The sound she makes is somewhere between a gasp and a moan, her back arching instinctively as the lace digs into her most sensitive flesh.
“You like that?” I ask, twisting the fabric tighter, watching her squirm. “Your pussy’s eating these panties up like it’s starving.”