I wake the next morning to memories of what happened last night with Matteo flashing through my mind. Stretching, I smile and sink further into the soft covers.
The other side of the bed is empty.
I push the pang of disappointment from my mind. Just because he said all the words I wanted to hear doesn’t mean that we’ve somehow become embroiled in a relationship.
I told myself that I would enjoy whatever this is between us and that’s exactly what I plan to do. I refuse to overthink or overanalyze the situation. If all we do is have fantastic sex-and make no mistake, the sex has been mind-blowing-I’ll enjoy the ride for as long as it lasts.
There’s no reason why I shouldn’t.
I’m a grown, single woman. I have nothing to be ashamed of for indulging in a relationship solely based on sex.
A noise from the kitchen makes me sit up. Holding the white comforter to my naked breasts, I strain my ears and listen for the slightest sound.
Just as I start to relax, chalking it up to an overactive imagination, I hear it again. Someone’s moving around in the kitchen. That last noise was definitely the closing of a cabinet door. The fine hair on my arms stands at attention. As I’m about to get out of bed and throw on some clothes, Matteo fills the doorway looking rumpled.
The tension filling me instantly fades. I smile, realizing that he’s naked and holding two cups of coffee.
“I’d be careful with that, if I were you. One stumble and you could be permanently scarred for life.”
His cock hardens as I stare unabashedly at it.
“Trust me, the thought occurred to me once or twice.”
My eyes move back up to his. “Thank you for bringing me coffee in bed.”
Sauntering closer, he holds out one mug like an offering. I slip my hands around the ceramic and bring it to my lips for a small sip. The dark, aromatic roast scalds my throat.
Perfect.
“I brought you something else as well.”
Setting his mug down on the mirrored nightstand, his erection juts out at me. I can’t remember seeing anything so tempting. I’m fascinated by its length and girth. I lean closer and lick the tip like it’s a lollipop. One hand wraps around his thick shaft as the other settles under the heavy weight of his balls. Gently I begin massaging his sac. My fingers curl around the circumference, gliding up and down his cock before I bring the bulbous head to my lips and suck him deep inside my mouth. I flatten my tongue against the bit of sensitive skin where the head and shaft meet as I move up and down. His fingers tunnel through my hair and sink into my scalp, holding me firmly in place. Hearing his low moan of pleasure makes me hasten my pace.
Just when I think he might be close to coming, he gently pushes me away. A popping sound fills the room as I release his cock. I glance up at him in question. He continues towering over the side of the bed, his eyes burning into mine. Disappointment surges through me that he won’t allow me to finish the job.
I want to make him come.
I want him to fall apart.
I want to bring him to his knees.
Matteo is always composed. Always perfectly put together. Even when he’s working out. He’s not a man who easily loses control.
“Turn over,” he bites out, sending my heart rate skyrocketing.
I scramble to do his bidding. Doggie style has never been one of my favorite positions. I’ve only done it a few times. It was lackluster at best. My boyfriend seemed to enjoy it, but I couldn’t get off.
If anyone can change my opinion about being on all fours, it’s this man. The sound of him tearing into a condom package breaks the silence. As soon as I’m on my hands and knees with my ass in the air, Matteo grabs me by the hips and drags me to the edge of the bed.
“Spread your legs.”
I oblige.
“Further.”
I widen them more. A hand lands on the middle of my back and pushes my chest toward the mattress. I feel open and exposed.
Matteo cups my cheeks and massages the firm globes. My eyes close. His touch feels incredible. I’m not comfortable with the position, but I like what he’s doing. My inhibitions start to dissolve.
A hand slips between my legs and strokes my pussy lips before zeroing in on my clit, rubbing it in tight little circles. I arch against his hand, seeking more contact. His blunt-tipped fingers are pure magic. As I start to spiral, he dips a finger inside my wetness, eliciting a groan.
I’ve never met a man who knows how to work a woman’s body the way he does.
He pumps his finger inside me until my core pulses around him. I want to feel his hard length buried deep inside my pussy, filling me to the brim. Making me lose control. Removing his finger from me, he trails it over the cleft that divides my cheeks. I freeze because no one has ever touched me there.
I gasp when his teeth sink into one of my ass cheeks. The bite isn’t painful, but will leave a mark. His breath feathers over my heated flesh. His tongue darts inside me and I arch, wanting only to get closer.
His hands once again grip my cheeks. The head of his cock brushes against my lower lips. He coats himself in my wetness and enters me. I let out a keening wail as he slides all the way in to the hilt.
He keeps a firm hold on my hips as he continues moving in and out of me. He’s not slamming home, but slowly stoking the fires within, pushing me higher and higher until we both explode with pleasure.
Curling his body around mine, he nips at my shoulder and pulls away. The moment his cock slides free, he delivers a sharp, stinging slap to my bottom. I yelp and turn to glare at him. He grins, his eyes still holding remnants of simmering heat.
Matteo heads to the bathroom attached to my bedroom to dispose of the condom. Reappearing moments later, he pulls on his boxers. My heart sinks and I wonder if he stuck around this morning just to get in another round before disappearing for good.
I hate myself for feeling disappointed.
Maybe even hurt.
I need to get better at this whole just sex thing. If his normal pattern holds true, I won’t hear a word from Matteo for at least a week. I could kick myself for believing him when he told me that he was interested in something more. For being seduced by a romantic dinner. For believing that I was different than the other women who came before me. I want to laugh as that thought slams into my brain. How stupid am I for falling for such an obvious and unoriginal line?
Gathering the sheet around me, I pray that he’ll just leave. I’m not in the mood for any more lies.
“So, I was thinking we could go for a run. Then maybe grab some breakfast afterward.”
The disappointment and hurt that had been bubbling up in me instantly vanishes.
“Sure. That sounds good.” I hold back a grin. I can’t allow myself to get too jacked up. Breakfast and a run don’t necessarily mean anything.
“All right,” he pulls on his jeans, “I’m going home to change. I’ll be back in about ten minutes.” He holds my gaze. “Is that enough time for you?”
“Yep.” I throw off the sheets I’d just gathered around me and hop out of bed. His eyes smolder as they track my movements.
He covers his gorgeous chest by yanking on a shirt. “You’d better get some clothes on,” his words are low, tinged with a hint of a growl, “or we won’t be going for that run. Instead, you’ll find yourself flat on your back for another hour.”
Hmmm.
Sounds tempting.