Page 51 of Ruined By Protection (Feretti Syndicate #5)
“We were dancing round the kitchen table just like I did with Mom, like Melissa loved too apparently. And then Sandra told me…”
“Dancing?” I interject, floored by the unexpected behaviour of two grief-laden women. Trying to picture Noah and I fucking dancing after a kill, or when one of ours is murdered.
“Yeah you know, to Florence,” she chirps. I’m shaking my head, befuddled and trying to work out the feminine psyche when Hazel suddenly leans across and kisses me—not a little peck, but desperate and hungry. When she pulls back, her breath comes fast.
"I need to relax," she purrs, her fingers tracing the stubble along my jaw. "Help me forget for a while?"
"You're in luck," I say, hoping to lighten the mood. "Because I just happen to be a Zen master in relaxation."
That pulls a laugh from her. "You? The man who checks his phone every three minutes and sleeps with one eye open? A Zen master?"
"Hey, I'm wounded." I press a hand to my chest in mock offense. "I'll have you know I'm totally serene once you know me. Just ask anyone."
"Right…" She can hardly contain her giggles which is good to see, along with the shadows under her eyes receding just a little. “So can I count on you to impart some of that?”
“Coming right up, bella.” I turn the key and the engine roars to life.
Fifteen minutes later I pull the Maserati into a familiar lot. The Remington Hotel towers above us, its glass facade glowing fiery orange in the setting sun. I turn to face her with a grin and wait for her to notice where we are.
It takes a moment but then recognition flashes across her face as she stares at the entrance where valets in crisp uniforms wait to assist with any requirement.
"Are we... staying here?" Her voice catches slightly, those eyes wielding a wicked glint.
I try to keep my expression neutral even as heat builds under my skin at the memory this hotel holds. "I thought it was the perfect place to fuck you properly. Just for the sake of relaxation."
Her breath hitches as she absorbs the hunger rising in me. A delicate blush blooms on her cheeks.
"Three years ago, we started something in this hotel," I continue, reaching across to trace a hard fingertip around the outline of her plush lips. "Something that got interrupted. I figure we deserve a proper resolution."
The valet approaches and I reluctantly pull my hand away from her face. I exit the car, tossing the keys to the young man while walking around to open Hazel's door.
"Besides," I murmur against her ear as I hand her out of the car, "I've spent three years dreaming about how I claimed you in the elevator here. Seems a shame to miss the chance for a do-over."
"You're impossible," she whispers, with no rancor—only excited anticipation.”Next you’ll be bursting into the kitchen and stealing their lobster.”
"Don’t tempt me, bella." I remind her, guiding her through the revolving doors into the grand lobby. "You of all people know that I’ll do whatever you tempt me into."
The blush deepens on her cheeks as we approach the front desk and I can't help the smug satisfaction that courses through me at seeing her rising desire.
The elevator doors slide shut, cutting off the lobby noise. Hazel stands beside me, her honey-blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, catching the soft glow from the overhead lights. The simple dark dress Lucrezia insisted she buy hugs every curve.
She catches me staring and a small smile plays at the corners of her mouth. "What?"
"You're fucking beautiful," I say, hoarse with the desire pooling in my gut. "And I've been thinking about being inside you since we left Sandra's house."
Her eyes widen and she takes a step closer, placing her palms on my solid chest. "Matteo..." Shit, she’s about to blow me sweetly off.
"I know it's not the right time." I run my hand through my hair, frustrated with myself. "You just came from remembering Melissa and here I am thinking about bending you over as soon as we get to the room."
She reaches up and traces my jawline with her fingertip, pressing her lush curves into my straining pelvis. "I asked you to help me forget, didn't I?"
The elevator climbs past the fourth floor, then the fifth. I watch the numbers illuminate one after another, trying to maintain control. But when Hazel presses herself against me, her intoxicating floral scent going straight into my brain, my restraint snaps.
"Fuck it."
I slam my palm against the emergency stop button. The elevator jerks to a halt between the seventh and eighth floors. Before Hazel can react I have her pinned against the mirrored wall, my mouth crashing down on hers.
She responds immediately, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she opens for me. I slide my hands down her sides, gripping her hips and lifting her as I tug the fabric of her dress up her thighs. She wraps her legs around my waist, the position pressing my hard bulge directly against her core.
"This is what you do to me," I growl against her neck, grinding against her. "Every fucking minute of every day I want to be balls deep inside you."
She moans, her head falling back against the glass. "Then what are you waiting for?"
Hazel
Matteo’s hands grip my ass cheeks, pulling me against the hard length of him. I'm instantly dizzy with want, my body responding to his touch as though it's been programmed to do only that.
"Turn around," he commands. "Face the mirror."
I obey without thinking, my body turning until I'm staring at our reflection. My cheeks are flushed, eyes wide and bright with desire. Behind me, Matteo's eyes lock with mine in the mirror, dark and intense.
"Don't look away," he says, one hand sliding up my spine to grip the back of my neck. "I want you to watch me fuck you good and hard."
He presses my back until I bend toward the rosy glass, positioning me so my ass pushes up against him. The hem of my dress is bunched around my waist then his fingers hook into the sides of my underwear.
"These need to go," he murmurs, sliding them down my thighs until they drop to my ankles.
His hand slides around my hips and between my legs, finding me already wet for him. I gasp as one finger slides inside me, then another, his thumb circling exactly where I need it.
"Look at me," he reminds me when my eyes start to flutter closed from the overwhelm.
I force them open, meeting his gaze in the mirror as his fingers work inside me. The sight of us reflected—my dress hiked up, panties around my shoes, his hand between my legs, the voracious need in his eyes— intensifies my pleasure a thousandfold.
"That's it," he encourages, his fingers curling forward to hit that perfect spot inside me. "Keep your eyes on mine while I make you come."
I bite my lip to keep from crying out, knowing we're suspended between floors in a public elevator. His fingers move faster, deeper, his palm holding me firmly in place against the mirror.
I grip the elevator handrail, my legs trembling as Matteo's fingers work their magic. The pressure builds inside me, coiling tighter with each stroke. His eyes never leave mine in the mirror, watching every reaction, every flutter of my eyelids as I fight to keep them open.
"That's it," he whispers against my ear. "Let go for me."
My body obeys, shattering into a thousand pieces as my pleasure erupts. I bite my lip to muffle my cry, but a moan escapes anyway. My knees nearly buckle but Matteo's strong arm hooks around my waist.
As the last tremors fade, he slowly withdraws his fingers.
"Don't move," he commands, his fingers suddenly appearing before my face.
"Open," he says, his voice husking with lust. "Clean them."
I part my lips and he slides his fingers into my mouth. The taste of myself coats my tongue, and I whimper around his fingers. His eyes darken further as he watches me lick them clean.
"Good girl," he praises.
Without warning he thrusts into me, filling me completely in one powerful stroke. I gasp, my body shuddering with the sudden invasion. He's thick and hard inside me, stretching me in the most delicious way.
"Fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. "You feel so goddamn good."
My palms press against the mirror for support as he begins to move, each thrust making my body tremble. I'm still sensitive from my first orgasm, every nerve ending alive to his touch.
I can barely keep my eyes open as thrills course through me but Matteo's command echoes in my head.
"Eyes on me," he growls, one hand gripping my hip while the other slides up to cup my breast through my dress. "Watch what I do to you."
Our gazes lock in the mirror. My lips are parted, cheeks flushed. Behind me Matteo's expression is intense, possessive. Each thrust drives me forward, my fingers splayed against the glass.
"You see that?" he says, his voice rough as he maintains a relentless pace. "Look how fucking perfect you take me."
I moan, unable to form words as he fills me completely, over and over.
"That's it," he continues, his words punctuated by the sound of our bodies meeting. "This pussy is mine. Say it."
"It's yours," I gasp, the words tumbling out without thought.
His rhythm changes, slows to deep, grinding thrusts that hit something inside me that makes my vision blur.
"Who makes you feel this good?" he demands, his fingers digging into my hip.
"You do," I whimper, feeling another orgasm building impossibly fast. "Only you."
"Damn right," he says, his voice strained with his own approaching climax. "No one else. Not before. Not after."
The possessiveness in his voice should bother me, but instead it pushes me closer to the edge. My legs tremble, threatening to give out entirely.
"I'm close," I warn him, my voice barely recognizable.
"Me too," he groans. "Come with me, Hazel. Now."
His command, coupled with a particularly deep thrust, sends me spiraling. My second orgasm crashes through me, more intense than the first. My body clenches around him, pulling him deeper.
"Fuck," Matteo groans against my neck, his hips jerking erratically as he follows me over the edge.
My legs finally give out as unbelievable, almost intolerable pleasure washes through me. Matteo's strong arms hold me up as we both collapse against the wall, panting and spent.