Page 24 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)
He chuckled—a sound as rich and smooth as the chocolate ganache I spotted on one of the dessert plates—and nodded toward the feast before us. “Dig in.”
And dig in I did.
Each bite was an explosion of flavor that made me want to weep tears of joy—or maybe that was just the truffle oil talking.
There was lobster bisque served in espresso cups, its creamy richness perfect for sipping.
Tiny lamb lollipops with mint pesto made me question every life choice that had led me to eating anything else before this moment.
With every morsel that melted on my tongue, I found new appreciation for being wrapped up in this lavish world of Matt Caine’s making—even if it did come with an overly affectionate billionaire who didn’t know when to quit with the kisses. Not that I was complaining… much.
Matt’s hand, steady as a surgeon’s, closed around something sinfully creamy—a spoonful of panna cotta that wobbled like a belly dancer’s hips. “Open wide,” he said, and I could almost hear the unspoken say ahh hanging in the air.
I obliged, mouth parting to welcome the spoon. The panna cotta was a silken seduction, vanilla-bean flecks winking at me like tiny culinary stars amid a cloud of cream. As it dissolved on my tongue, sweet and rich, I could swear I heard angels hitting high notes in approval.
But the moment was shattered by the rogue smear of cream that clung to my lips and the side of my mouth like an embarrassing badge of gluttony. I reached up to wipe it away—dignity still had a place at this table—but Matt was quicker.
Before I could react, he leaned in and licked the cream from my lips with deliberate slowness. His tongue traced a path that sent shivers down my spine and made my toes curl. I might have let out a sound that was part whimper, part gasp—my dignity took a nosedive right out the window.
“All clean,” he murmured, leaning back with a smug grin.
By the time we worked our way through the gastronomic masterpiece laid before us, I felt like a stuffed turkey on Thanksgiving—fit to burst and slightly regretting every delicious bite.
Matt chuckled at my predicament, shaking his head as if amused by my inability to pace myself around gourmet food.
“You look ready to pop,” he said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m going to shower,” he announced, standing up and stretching in a way that showcased every glorious muscle. “Don’t get too comfortable.”
As he disappeared into the bathroom, I sank back into the couch cushions with a groan of contentment. My laptop beckoned, its screen glowing like an inviting portal to code-land.
I tapped away at the keys, immersing myself in lines of code that made sense in ways human relationships rarely did.
Just as I hit a particularly tricky segment of coding logic, Matt emerged from his shower looking hunky and annoyingly fresh.
He wore nothing but silk pajama pants that hung low on his hips, revealing more than enough chiseled abs to make me lose track of what I was doing.
My breath caught in my throat as last night’s passionate memories flashed through my mind like an R-rated highlight reel. Every touch reignited in vivid detail—enough to make anyone’s hard drive overheat.
He moved closer and sat beside me again, reaching for my laptop. Before I could protest, he gently but firmly took it away from me. “That’s enough work for now,” he said, setting it aside like it was some sort of forbidden fruit.
My heart leaped into panic mode. “What are you doing?” I asked, eyes wide as saucers.
A knowing smirk played on his lips. “Relax,” he said softly. “We’ll just be kissing.”
“ J ust kissing, my ass,” I muttered under my breath as I found myself in quite the compromising position.
Naked, pinned against the couch with Matt looming over me like some kind of erotic storm cloud.
His hand, a confident presence, found both our hard cocks and began a symphony of friction that had me seeing stars.
Rewind to just minutes ago, when Matt decided that personal space was a concept as foreign to him as moderation.
He took his seat next to me on the couch, close enough for our thighs to exchange secrets.
Then, like a man starved, he gathered me into his arms and captured my lips with his own—hot and demanding.
It was like being kissed by a hurricane, all-consuming and impossible to escape from.
They weren’t just kisses; they were a full-on assault.
His lips were demanding, and his tongue swept into my mouth, hot and insistent as it tangled with mine.
There we were, our lips locked in battle, tongues dueling for supremacy.
I tried to push him away, not because I wanted him to stop—hell no—but because I needed a damn second to catch my breath.
But Matt was relentless. He devoured me with such intensity that I shivered and squirmed beneath him, my body lighting up with an array of sensations that left me dazed and breathless, my heart pounding like a jackhammer.
I was drowning in him—his taste, his scent, the sheer force of his presence.
When he finally released my lips, it wasn’t surrender but strategy.
He peppered little kisses down my throat, each one staking a claim, sending electric shocks through my system, making me arch against him involuntarily, then he tugged at my bathrobe.
I fought back, pulling the fabric around me like the last vestige of defense in a war I was rapidly losing.
But Matt was a conqueror; he always won. With deft fingers and a smirk that should be illegal, he peeled away my robe, leaving me as bare as the day I was born. His mouth found my nipple, and he popped it into his mouth with a hunger that bordered on feral.
I pushed at his shoulders, desperation lacing my voice. “Sensitive there,” I managed to choke out between gasps. “They hurt.”
Matt’s eyes gleamed with mischief—a promise or a threat? “I’ll be gentle,” he purred, pulling me back into his arms to claim the sensitive buds again.
A liar through his teeth—that’s what he was.
Gentle lasted all of five seconds before he turned rougher than sandpaper on bare skin.
His teeth grazed and nipped at my nipples while his tongue flicked mercilessly over them.
Each touch was a tantalizing blend of pleasure and pain that left me shivering uncontrollably.
Matt’s lips latched on to my skin like some kind of insatiable leech.
My breath hitched, caught in a tangle of agony and ecstasy.
I couldn’t handle it anymore. Matt’s mouth on my nipples was a form of exquisite torture I hadn’t signed up for. With a surge of determination, I shoved his face away, finally breaking the seal of his mouth with a pop that echoed in the opulent space.
“You’re a beast,” I spat out, my voice a cocktail of exasperation and raw need. “How’d you like it if someone went to town on your nipples, huh?”
Matt chuckled, the sound low and dangerous.
He reclined back on the couch, arms spread wide as he presented his chiseled chest to me like an offering.
“Go ahead,” he taunted, his eyes alight with mischief.
“I’ve had my share of attention there before, and I assure you—it’s nothing short of amazing. ”
Glaring daggers, I leaned forward. His smirk dared me on. With more bravado than sense, I captured his nipple between my lips and administered the same treatment he’d inflicted upon me—sucking with abandon before sinking my teeth in. Hard.
Matt’s laughter filled the room; it was rich and unapologetic. “Well, well,” he drawled, amusement thick in his voice. “My little pet doesn’t just bark; he bites.”
I sat back, a smug satisfaction blooming inside me at the sight of the bite mark marring his otherwise perfect skin. But Matt only glanced down at his chest and then back at me with that infuriating smirk.
“Feels like a mosquito bite, a mere brush,” he taunted. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, pet.”
Annoyance flared within me like a match struck in darkness. In one swift move, I pounced on him, straddling his lap as I descended upon his other nipple. My mouth was relentless—sucking fervently before delivering another sharp bite.
But Matt? Oh, he just smiled at me with those twinkling eyes that seemed to hold galaxies of amusement.
“My little kitten’s bites are rather soft,” he teased again.
His words stoked the flames of my irritation into an inferno. Challenge accepted.
Determined to make him feel something—anything—I worked harder on torturing his chest and nipples.
My mouth became an instrument of erotic torture—lavishing attention on each peak with an intensity that bordered on obsession.
I sucked hard enough to draw moans from stone and nipped with a precision that left no doubt of my intentions.
Every flick of my tongue was calculated, every bite designed to elicit a response more genuine than amused tolerance.
Matt simply watched me work—his gaze fixed on my mouth as it moved over him with purposeful intent. There was a heat in those stormy eyes that could melt steel, but his lips curled in a perpetual smirk as if to say, Is that all you’ve got?
So I doubled down—biting, sucking, lapping at his skin until each mark told a story of my determination to wipe that smirk off his face for good.
I latched on to Matt’s nipple with the ferocity of a tax auditor smelling blood, or in this case, a particularly savory brand of masculine defiance.
I sucked with the kind of focus that would’ve made my high school career counselor proud, and then, finally—oh, sweet victory, the sound I’d been chasing finally escaped Matt’s lips—a deep, guttural groan that could’ve been ripped from the pages of an erotic novel.