13. Matteo
Matteo
I’m not a patient man by nature, but for Contessa, I’ve cultivated patience like a fucking art form.
Yet again, getting into her apartment was embarrassingly easy.
My visit serves two purposes. I’m done with her ignoring me, and she just filled her birth control yesterday so I need to swap that pack out for another Marino sugar pill only special.
If she’s not pregnant already, I sure as hell don’t want the protection back in place.
Contessa Gallo will give me a baby, an heir. She’ll carry my heart outside of my body, and if I have my way, she’ll carry the Marino name instead of Gallo before my little bambino comes into this world.
Gathering the packet of real pills, I pocket it and slide the new and improved foil packet into the case before heading back to her front room and settling into one of her chairs.
I choose the armchair facing the door, angling it slightly so it’s the first thing she’ll see when she walks in. Then I settle in to wait, pulling out my phone to check on a few business matters while I’m here.
A key slides into the lock. The door swings open, and there she is.
She looks fucking magnificent in a tight champagne-colored dress that hugs every lush curve of her body.
Her purple hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, exposing the elegant line of her neck.
The neck I marked with my teeth a week ago.
She doesn’t see me at first, too busy kicking off her heels and dropping her keys in the bowl by the door. The door swings shut behind her with a soft click.
“Hello Contessa.”
“What the FUCK, Matteo?” she gasps, fumbling for the light switch. “How did you get in here?”
I enjoy the shock on her face as the light reveals me sitting in her chair like I own the place.
“Your security is shit,” I say calmly, not bothering to stand. “And you’ve been ignoring my messages.”
Her chest heaves with indignation, those magnificent tits straining against the fabric of her dress. “So you break into my apartment?”
“I didn’t break in. I have a key.” A small lie.
“We both know I didn’t give you a key,” she snaps, her eyes darting around the room like she’s looking for an escape route.
“Yet here I am.” I spread my hands, letting my gaze travel slowly down her body, “You look good enough to eat, stellina.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Get out.”
“No.” The word hangs between us, simple and absolute. “I gave you a choice, Contessa. I laid out exactly what I wanted, and you chose to ignore me.”
“That was my choice! To say no!”
“Ignoring isn’t saying no. It’s being a coward.” I can feel my temper rising, my patience wearing thin after a week of her childish silent treatment. “I don’t appreciate being ignored.”
“Well, I don’t appreciate you breaking into my fucking apartment!” Her voice rises, that famous Gallo temper flaring. “This is insane. I’m calling the cops.”
She won’t. We don’t call the cops. She realizes what she said when she follows up with, “Ugh, I’m calling my dad.”
She reaches for her phone, but I’m faster. I’m on my feet and across the room before she can unlock the screen, my hand closing around her wrist.
“You won’t be calling anyone.” I keep my voice low, controlled, even as I want to bend her over the nearest surface and fuck the attitude out of her. “You’re going to put the phone down and talk to me like an adult.”
Her cheeks flush, but she opens her mouth to retort. I cut her off before she can start.
“Come here. Now.”
The command hangs in the air between us. For a moment, she looks like she might tell me to go fuck myself. But then—like a puppet on strings—her body moves toward me. One step. Two. Three.
She stops just out of arm’s reach, her breathing shallow, pupils dilated. This is good. She can listen. Her mind might be fighting me, but her body—her body knows exactly who it belongs to.
“Closer,” I demand, not moving from my seat.
Another step. Now she’s close enough that I can smell her perfume mixed with the scent that’s uniquely her. My mouth waters.
“What do you want?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Everything.” I reach out, wrapping my hand around her wrist and tugging her down until she’s straddling my lap. “But I’ll start with this.”
I capture her mouth with mine, swallowing her gasp of surprise. My hands find her ass, squeezing the firm flesh as I grind her down against my hardening cock. She moans into my mouth, her hands coming up to grip my shoulders.
When I finally break the kiss, we’re both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen, her eyes glazed with arousal.
“You’re done ignoring me,” I tell her, my voice rough with need. “You’re done pretending you don’t want this. If you can look me in my eyes right now and tell me you absolutely do not want this, want me, I’ll get up and leave. It’ll be like none of this ever happened.”
It actually won’t be like that. If I have to kidnap her and do a little psychological warfare to get her to be mine, I will. But you know, for Conrad’s sake I’m going to try and avoid that. I’d hate to have to kill my best friend.
She stares at me, those big brown eyes searching my face for something—a weakness, maybe, or a sign I’m bluffing. But I never bluff. Not about things that matter.
“Matteo, this is insane,” she whispers, but she doesn’t move off my lap. Her pussy is pressed right against my cock, the heat of her seeping through our clothes.
“Answer me,” I demand, gripping her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll go.”
She opens her mouth and closes it again. I can see the war happening behind those eyes—propriety versus desire.
“I...” she starts, then stops.
“That’s what I thought.” I release her chin, letting my hand slide down her throat, feeling her pulse race under my touch. “So, let me tell you how this is going to work.”
Her eyes narrow, that defiance flaring again. “How what’s going to work?”
“Us. This arrangement.” I tighten my grip on her ass, grinding her down harder against my cock. “I’m going to spell it out for you.”
Her bratty little huff is adorable.
“First rule: no more ignoring my calls or texts. When I contact you, you respond. Immediately, preferably, but I’m aware that certain situations may arise, so within ten minutes in those circumstances.” I smirk at her knowing she’ll be a brat about this.
“That’s ridiculous—”
“Did I say I was finished?” I cut her off, my voice dropping low. “You had your chance to back out. You don’t dictate things anymore, Contessa.”
She swallows hard but stays silent, which I take as progress.
“Second rule: no flirting with other men. No dancing with them, no letting them buy you drinks, no batting those pretty eyelashes for attention.” I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear. “You belong to me now, and I don’t share what’s mine.”
Her breath comes faster, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “You can’t control who I talk to.”
“I’m not.” I slide my hand up to wrap around her throat, not squeezing, just holding her there. “Talk to whoever the fuck you want. But the second I see you flirting, using that body to tease another man, there will be consequences.”
“What kind of consequences?” she asks, her voice barely audible.
I smile, slow and predatory. “The kind that will leave you unable to sit comfortably for days and them at the bottom of the Atlantic.”
Her thighs clench around me, and I feel a fresh wave of heat against my cock. She’s getting wetter by the second.
“Third rule: you will eat regular meals.”
This catches her off guard. “What?”
“You heard me.” My hand slides from her throat down to her collarbone, tracing the delicate structure. “I don’t care if you cook for yourself, order in, or let me cook for you—which is my preference. But no more of this skipping meals bullshit.”
“You’re not my nutritionist,” she snaps.
“No, I’m the man who’s going to be fucking you senseless on a regular basis, and it’s my job to make sure your body is properly taken care of.” I slip my hand under her dress, sliding up her thigh until I reach her panties. “Fourth rule: these come off when I tell you to. No arguments, no sass.”
Her breathing quickens as my fingers trace the edge of her underwear.
“Fifth rule: when we’re alone, you call me Daddy more. I find I quite like hearing it fall from your pretty little mouth.”
“I’m not calling you that,” she whispers, but there’s no conviction in her voice.
“No?” I slide my hand between her legs, pressing my fingers against her panties. They’re already soaked through. “Your lips say otherwise.”
She whimpers when I apply pressure to her clit through the thin fabric, grinding the heel of my palm against her. God, that sound goes straight to my dick. Nothing turns me on more than breaking through that stubborn pride of hers.
“You’re so fucking wet,” I growl, circling her clit with my thumb. “Tell me who you’re wet for.”
She bites her lip, fighting it.
“Say it,” I demand, slipping my fingers beneath the elastic of her panties to touch her bare pussy. She’s fucking drenched, her slick coating my fingers instantly. “Who does this pussy belong to?”
“You,” she gasps as I slide a finger inside her.
“And what do you call me when I’m touching you like this?”
She trembles in my lap, her hips rocking against my hand involuntarily. I can tell she’s fighting it; that stubborn streak warring with her desire. I add a second finger, curling them to hit that spot that makes her thighs shake.
“D-Daddy,” she finally whimpers, the word falling from her lips like a confession.
Fuck, I love that sound. I want to bottle it and keep it with me forever.
“Good girl,” I praise, rewarding her with deeper, faster strokes of my fingers. “Such a good girl for Daddy.”
Her head falls forward onto my shoulder as she rides my hand, her breath coming in sharp little pants against my neck.
I pull my hand away abruptly, making her whine in protest.
“Not yet,” I tell her, bringing my wet fingers to my mouth and sucking them clean. She tastes like fucking heaven.
“Please,” she begs, grinding her hips down against my cock.
I stand up suddenly, lifting her with me. She weighs nothing in my arms, her curves fitting perfectly against my body as I hold her. Setting her down on her feet, I brush a strand of hair away from her flushed face.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, watching her eyes struggle to focus.
She hesitates, clearly thrown by the change in direction. “What?”
“I asked if you’re hungry,” I repeat, tucking that stray hair behind her ear. “When’s the last time you ate something?”
She hesitates, biting her lower lip as she considers the question. I can see her weighing her options, deciding whether to fight me on this or give in.
“Yes,” she finally admits, her voice soft.
“Let’s go to dinner.” I run my thumb across her bottom lip. “I made a reservation at Portofino.”
Her eyes widen slightly. Portofino is exclusive, the kind of place where you need to know someone to even get on the waiting list.
“I just need to change and go to the bathroom first,” she says, gesturing down at her dress.
I nod, watching as she turns and walks toward her bedroom. Her hips sway with each step, and I imagine bending her over right there in the hallway, hiking up that tight dress, and burying myself in her heat.
I hear her moving around in her bedroom, then the sound of the bathroom door closing. I strain my ears and hear exactly what I expected—the sound of her medicine cabinet opening, followed by the telltale foil pop of a pill packet.
My lips curl into a smirk as I imagine her standing there, thinking she’s being so fucking responsible taking her birth control pill.
I’m going to pump so much cum into her tight little pussy, over and over, until my seed takes root. I’ll fill her with my baby, watch her belly grow round with my child.
And fucking love every goddamn second of it.