I winced, the image of Matteo being raped into submission was vile and disgusting. “Matteo.”
“Please, Marketa. Don’t judge me for the broken man I am now. I’m opening myself to you. I’m giving you everything you need to…”
“To what?”
“To love me.”
My breath caught. “I…”
“Please, beautiful girl.”
With fumbling fingers, I started unbuttoning his shirt. “Is that what you want?” I asked, pushing him gently onto the couch.
“No,” he ripped the blanket off of me. “It’s what I need.”
“Do you love me, Matteo?” My fingers brushed down his tanned, glorious abs before reaching his belt.
“Do you want me to?” he asked, roaming his hands up and down my back.
“No,” I unbuckled his belt. “I need you to.” Crashing my lips to his, I rose to my knees and pushed my mouth against his.
He groaned, gripping my rear. His fingers dug into my flesh like he couldn’t get enough of me. Like it was me and nothing else.
Embracing the moment of control, I deepened the kiss and ripped open the fly on his pants.
A growl escaped him, rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest.
Desire for the man beneath me roared through my body, exploding into the ultimate power of pleasure. Wrapping my hand around the thick veiny ridge of his length, I squeezed him until he bucked under me.
“Mae,” he snarled in warning.
I smiled against his mouth, lowering my body down his cock. Slow. So achingly slow until our hips met. My core tingled with pain at the tightness within.
We both sighed, moving as one.
“You’re so fucking wet and all I did was kiss you.” His hand gripped my hair, pulling my head back.
“That’s all I need,” I breathed, staring up at him as his cock pumped into me.
He licked along the ridge of my mouth, inviting my tongue to dance along with his.
Moving my pelvis in small circles, I rode him, giving him that connection that I knew we both craved.
Matteo wrapped his other hand around my throat, speeding up his hips and stared intently into my eyes. “Tell me how you feel, Marketa.” He pushed into me hard, forcing my head further back.
“Wonderful,” I whimpered, digging my fingers into the muscles of his shoulders. “Matteo.”
He thrust his tongue into my mouth, fucking it like he did my body. “Feels good. Oh so fucking good.”
“Ma-Matteo, harder. Please.”
“What does my girl want?” he purred, brushing his mouth down the length of my jaw.
“I…oh God.” Undulating my hips against him, I took all of him in.
“That’s it. Take my cock, Mae. This pussy is mine, isn’t it?” Matteo held me tight, thrusting hard and deep until all I felt was him. He was inside my body. My heart. My soul.
“Yes,” I cried out.
“Tell me,” he demanded, his voice taking on a rough edge.
“It belongs to you.”
“Say, my pussy belongs to you,” he ordered between thrusts.
“My pussy belongs to you,” I screamed, an unexpected explosion hitting me full force.
“Damn fucking right it does.” Matteo lifted me, lowering us to the floor and towered over me. “This body is mine. It was created to fuck me. And this cunt?” His thumb rubbed over my swollen clit. “It’s mine. You. Are. Mine. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I moaned, arching under him.
“Tell me why.” Matteo spread my thighs, powering into me with so much strength, the carpet dug into my skin.
“Because I’m in love with you,” I blurted, another release washing over me. The familiar tingle brewed, hovering in the pits of my belly while Matteo made use of my body.
A wicked grin spread on his face, his eyes darkening. “Yeah you are.”
“Matteo,” I whined, fighting back a laugh.
“Yes?”
“Tell me,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Don’t worry, beautiful girl. I will tell you. But first?” He released me and flipped me onto my stomach. Pulling me to all fours, he sank back into my body and kissed my nape. “I’m going to fuck you like I hate you.”
(Matteo)
Mae told me she loved me. Did I say it yet? No. I wanted her to squirm. I was a sadistic bastard and I enjoyed making her beg.
She loved me. She actually told me that she was falling in love. With me.
My heart jumped. A shiver of desire rippled down my spine. A sheen of sweat coated my skin at the nervous flutter racing through me.
No one had ever told me they loved me. Not even my father. I knew he did in the way a father should but he was never affectionate. He cared about himself and that was it.