Page 181 of Vicious Intentions
“Dio, sei così bella in ginocchio per me, tesoro.”God, you’re so beautiful on your knees for me, sweetheart.
“Se dovessi morire, ti prego, fa’ che sia così.”If I have to die, please let it be like this.
I’m not sure he realizes that I understand every word he’s saying. Or maybe he does, because his words of praise begin to take effect on me, too.
While I continue to lavish his cock with attention and care, my core clenches with need, my desire for him starting to dripdown my inner thighs. I don’t even question why I’m so turned on right now. Why I feel like I’m about to combust.
Matteo’s pleasure has always coaxed mine to life. Even with a phone screen between us, it had always been this way. Is it any wonder why all of me feels as if it were about to burst into flames? Especially when he takes charge and begins to thrust himself deeper into my mouth.
Sensing Matteo is close to tipping over the edge, I relax my throat and swallow him until I feel his crown hit my tonsils. The animalistic sounds he makes only drive me to do it again, and again, until the taste of his essence coats my tongue. I moan out at the forbidden taste, needing more of it, only for him to rise up, grab me by the hips and fling me to his side.
“I said stop!” He growls, his eyes looking like a storm about to engulf me whole.
He said stop!? When? Was he talking? I can’t remember.
“The first time I come inside you will not be with your mouth,” he growls, his intense gaze pinning me to the spot.
Before I can say anything in return, his mouth drops on mine, claiming it and inhaling the very breath out of my lungs. I melt into the mattress, my hands in his hair as his body hovers over mine. After snapping my panties off me by the hips, Matteo grabs my leg and swings it onto his waist, my other leg mimicking the move without even being told.
I let out a loud wail when Matteo begins to rub his hard cock over my wet slit, his crown hitting my clit with torturous precision. His tongue wrestles with mine as our bodies ignite into a fever-pitched dream. I need him inside me more than I ever needed anything, but I’m too close to coming undone to utter a word.
“Come for me, wife. Let me see how pretty you break apart for me.”
Matteo’s words are all the incentive I need to do just that, as I fall off what feels like the highest skyscraper known to man. I’m falling, falling, knowing he is right there to catch me. My soul is ripped out of my body in a loud scream, white light blurring my vision. I’m still flying high, the aftershocks rippling through my body when he groans out my name, his eyelids squinting in agony as he comes on top of me.
We’re both still heaving when Matteo sits back on his heel, staring at the slick heat running down my stomach. My heart is still trying to simmer down when I watch him use his index finger to write his name on my flat stomach. His black gaze burns into mine when he thrusts two fingers into my pussy, my back arching at how wonderful the intrusion feels. I feel my core clench around his fingers as he leans down, grabs my nape, and presses his temple to mine.
“Let’s make something clear, wife. I will not be cheated on.” My eyes widen in alarm.
“I—”
“When I tell you to come, I mean I want all of it. Every last ounce of your pleasure,” he demands, pounding into me with a maddening tempo.
Matteo’s eyes are on mine as he coaxes every little bit of my orgasm, discontent with leaving any of it behind. When my body begins to writhe maddingly, beads of sweat coating my brow and my knees feeling like they are about to buckle, Matteo inserts another finger. This time, when my orgasm hits me, it feels like I’ve just been swallowed up by a tidal wave.
I’m drowning under the intensity of it all, as Matteo’s fingers and intense stare rearrange my very brain chemistry. I’m not sure how long he kept me under. All I know is that it’s his kiss that brings me back to life. My body feels more than sated. It’s light as a feather.
“Much better,” he coos, pressing a kiss to my temple and bringing me into an embrace.
My heavy head nestles in the crook of his neck, sleep ready to welcome me with open arms. But just as I’m about to surrender to my slumber, a million questions pop into my head.
How can I ever go home after this?
How can I ever go back to who I was after Matteo?
How can I ever be expected to leave him when I feel more like myself in his arms than I have ever felt on my own?
How will I ever be able to survive without him?
Exhaustion gives way to sleep once the answer to all these questions becomes clear.
I won’t survive.
There’s no surviving with… or without Matteo.
Chapter 40
Annamaria
