Page 100

I do, limbs shaking, and press my hands against the fogged-up glass. My breath leaves soft marks on the surface as I wait for him.

Then his body molds to mine, chest against my back, cock sliding through my folds.

“You want me?” he asks, dragging the head of his dick along my slit.

“Yes,” I whisper. “God, yes.”

“Then beg.”

“Matteo, please. I need you inside me—I need all of you.”

A rough growl escapes his throat. Then he slams into me.

I cry out, the stretch shocking and delicious. He doesn’t wait—his thrusts are slow but deep, grinding, like he wants to carve himself into me inch by inch.

“You were made for me,” he grits out, voice thick with need. “No one else could ever fuck you like this. Tell me who this belongs to. Say it,” he growls.

“You,” I gasp. “It’s yours—it’s always been yours.”

His hand slides around to rub my clit again—small, punishing circles that make me see stars.

My second orgasm creeps up slower this time, but it’s deeper, heavier. I can feel it in my spine, in my toes, in the way my walls clench around him like I’ll never let him go.

“Come on, baby,” he groans. “Show me how much you need me. Fuck me back,” he pants. “I want to feel you take me. I want to feel you break.”

I thrust into him, meeting every stroke, every slap of skin. “Harder,” I cry. “Matteo, give me all of it!”

The pressure builds again. I’m right there, clenching around him, needing the release like air.

“Come for me,” he hisses. “Come all over my cock, baby.”

I break.

This one doesn’t hit—it erupts. It crashes through me like a second wave, even harder than the first. I can’t breathe—I don’t want to. I want to scream his name—my legs trembling, my body falling over the edge again. But I don’t scream this time. I gasp. I whimper. It’s too deep for words. My body tenses, then melts into his, like I’m dissolving around him. I don’t feel the ground. I don’t feel the water. I only feel him. And it’s everything.

My vision blurs. My walls clamp down around him, and he groans like I’m pulling his soul out of his body. He follows with a shout, spilling inside me—thick and hot—as he thrusts one last time.

He gathers me close, our bodies still shaking in the aftermath.

When it’s over, he pulls out slowly and turns me in his arms. His hand cups my cheek. His breath fans across my lips.

“You ruin me,” he murmurs, eyes softer now. “And I love it.”

His autumn eyes gleam, turning molten—more caramel than gold, like hot chocolate on the coldest winter day.

“Breakfast was amazing,” he laughs and kisses me with a softness that I am quickly getting accustomed to. “We should have that every morning.”

I laugh into his chest and reach up to press my lips to his. I want to live in this bubble forever. But the storm’s still out there,brewing beyond these walls. But I know that whatever is coming, we will face it together.

Giacomo will not win, even if I have to pull the trigger myself.

30

MATTEO

Aweek has passed. The events of last week still haunt me, the ghosts of that night still whisper in my ear. I can’t believe that I had been so blind.

The weight of the past days still lingers, but the storm inside me has calmed—at least on the surface. I know Maria can see the fractures beneath, the unspoken thoughts that keep me awake at night, but she doesn’t push.