The dressing room is barely big enough for one person to turn a full circle, never mind two horny people with a mind to get their freak on, but Matteo and I make the most of the small space by remaining standing.
He rips the curtain closed behind us, pushes me against the wall, and kisses me so hard I lose my breath. In a moment he pulls away, panting.
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“I bit you.”
“I know. Do it again.”
He grins, looking like a pirate with a horde of fresh booty, then lowers his mouth to mine and very deliberately takes my lower lip between his teeth. He gives it a gentle bite, then licks it as I begin to melt.
“You like it when I bite your mouth,” he says, husky and victorious. “Let’s see where else you like it.”
He runs his hand over my ass, down the back of my thigh, then slides it up under my skirt. He removes my panties with some kind of ninja mind-trick move because one second they were in their proper place and the next they’re around my ankles.
He palms me right between the legs and squeezes the way I squeeze a cantaloupe to see if it’s ripe, then sinks to his knees in front of me and shoves my skirt up to my waist. Staring at my exposed flesh, he growls, “Fuck, I’ve wanted this.”
Can a person spontaneously combust? Is that a thing? If so, I’m about to.
Then his mouth is on the most intimate part of me. He makes a deep humming sound, like the yummy noise I make when I have a mouthful of ice cream. It reverberates all the way through my pelvis. I have to bite my tongue so I don’t shout.
His eyes drift closed. He grips my hips and feasts on me, sucking and licking, making a meal of it, swirling his magical tongue around the sensitive little bud at the top—then gently biting it.
Heat rockets through me like I’m channeling fire through my veins. I jerk and gasp, gripping his hair, my nipples tingling and my heart pounding like mad.
“You like that, too,” he says with a low chuckle.
“No more talking.” I rock my hips nearer to his mouth, desperate for it.
Matteo’s blue eyes grow dark. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispers, then slowly lowers his mouth to my sex, watching my face as he starts to suck again.
Waves of heat roll over me, blistering hot. His tongue is soft and warm, wet and knowing, quickly finding the right rhythm that makes me weak. The pleasure is so intense I can hardly breathe. Seeing this powerful, gorgeous man on his knees in front of me is its own kind of pleasure, too, incredibly intoxicating. His teeth scrape my clit again and I shudder, my head falling against the wall.
Matteo takes my hands and presses them to my waist, so now I’m holding the fabric of my skirt, freeing his hands. In one swift move, he yanks down the neckline of my dress, scoops my breasts out of my bra, and pinches my hard nipples. Sparks erupt throughout my body. He strokes his thumbs back and forth over my nipples as he continues licking between my legs. I’m so turned on I moan, unable to stifle it.
He whispers roughly, “Fuck my mouth, bella. Come in my mouth.”
Okay, he’s allowed to talk a little.
I arch against his hands, my eyes sliding shut as I lose myself to pleasure. I’m starting to sweat, little beads of perspiration dampening my temples and neck, blood drumming under my skin. My body takes over, and I lose control of the motion of my hips. I begin to buck against Matteo’s mouth, grinding, swiveling, my breath coming in short hard bursts and my body trembling.
He grunts into me, soft sounds of satisfaction that drive me even higher.
I can tell he loves this. He loves seeing me come undone, loves giving this to me as much as I love receiving it. He’s the one on his knees, but I’m definitely not the one in control.
He uses one of his hands to pinch and stroke the flesh he isn’t licking. I think I might die. Then he slides a thick finger inside me and starts to slide it in and out as he suckles my clit. He releases my breast and grips my ass, hard, pulling me closer to his face, digging his fingers into my skin, his tongue working faster and faster as my heartbeat goes arrhythmic.
His mouth is so good, so demanding, pulling and stroking and twisting. Deep inside me a coil begins to tighten. White-hot heat builds at the base of my spine. My nipples are throbbing and my clit is pulsing and he’s sucking oh God he’s sucking it so hard—
He bites my clit and I come.
My orgasm is so violent my entire body stiffens as it rips through me. My back arches. My mouth opens in a silent scream. Wave after wave of pleasure tears through me, and all I can do is gasp and jerk helplessly, hearing Matteo’s chest-deep growls of approval as I wring myself out against his mouth.
When the last of the convulsions are over and I’m a shaking mass of gelatinous limbs, Matteo rises. He gathers me in his arms and kisses me deeply so I can taste myself in his mouth.
“You’re so delicious.” He nuzzles my neck, sliding his hands up and down my waist and rib cage, learning my shape. “So beautiful. So perfect. I could eat you for every meal.”
I sigh lazily, boneless and satiated, the biggest, dumbest shit-eating grin on my face. “Oh stop. Stop it some more.”
He shrugs off his suit jacket, hangs it on a peg, unbuttons his shirt, and smiles at me indulgently when I gape at his bare chest. “Here. You can even touch it.” He takes my hands and flattens them over his stomach.
I stroke his skin, and it’s like satin. Like muscular, hairless satin. He certainly has beautiful breasts. A giggle slips past my lips. I’m feeling heady.
“Oh, she’s laughing at me,” says Matteo, mock angrily. He pretends to glower. “That won’t do.” He wraps his hand around my wrist and drags my hand lower, until it rests on the impressive bulge straining against his trousers.
To Matteo’s obvious satisfaction, my giggle vanishes.
He’s big. Not just long, but girthy, if that’s even a word. Thick. Suddenly I want to be the one on her knees, wielding the power.
“Those eyes,” Matteo murmurs, just before I sink to the floor.
I unclasp his belt and unzip his zipper with a few ninja moves of my own, my blood rising again at the thought of what awaits me. When I pull down the elastic of his briefs, his erection springs out at me like a jack-in-the-box that’s been wound one too many times.
“I see this big boy has as much patience as you do,” I say, glancing up at Matteo’s face.
He looks down at me with a tight jaw and avid eyes, but says nothing.
Turning my attention back to the important matter at hand, I wrap my fingers around his girth, fascinated by the pulsing vein running underneath, by the deep-red flush on the crown. His cock twitches impatiently in my hand, making me smile.
“All right, pal, hold your horses.”
When I apply my mouth, I’m gratified to hear Matteo’s sharp intake of breath above me. I’m even happier when I get a low groan as I take the length of him as far as I can down my throat. He curves his body over me, propping himself up against the wall with one hand and sinking the other into my hair to cradle the back of my head.
I withdraw slowly, furling my tongue around the crown, pleased with the taste and feel of him, pleased even more when he mutters something in Italian, his voice strained.
I want to make him feel as good as I do. I want to watch him unravel, too.
Using more suction on the head, I stroke his shaft. Both hands are required to do an adequate job. His hand in my hair starts to tremble.
“Strawberry mouth,” he says, breathing hard. “I love that soft red—”
He cuts off with a groan when I swallow his length again, stopping for a moment to fondle the velvet heft of his balls.
I start up a rhythm. A steady stroke and slide, swirling my tongue around the head as I withdraw, opening my throat to take him deep. He flexes his hips in response, tentatively at first, as if he’s trying to make sure it’s not too much, then with more ease when I hum an encouragement. My knees are burning against the carpet, and my heart is flying in my chest. I’m soaked between my legs, from his mouth and my own arousal, skyrocketing again, making me squirm restlessly the longer I have him in my mouth.
“Touch yourself,” he whispers hoarsely.
I slip my fingers under my skirt and stroke my wetness as I continue to suck him. I know he’s watching me, and that gets me even hotter.
He shudders and moans as my head bobs, and I work my fingers between my legs. We’re both getting close. The temperature in the dressing room has shot up at least twenty degrees.
“Not yet,” he rasps, tightening his hand in my hair. “Fuck. Kimber. Not yet.”
When I glance up at him, his face is strained. A vein throbs in his neck. His eyes are dark and hot, and a thrill sings through me, high and sweet, like a single chord played on a violin.
He pulls me to my feet and kisses me again, roughly, his chest pressed against mine so I feel how hard his heart beats, how his skin burns.
“Do you have—”
“Yes, here—”
“Hurry.”
He fumbles in his pocket, withdraws his wallet, finds a condom, rips it open, and takes it out. I watch him roll it down the length of his erection with my heart in my throat. As soon as he’s situated, he grabs my thigh, pushes me against the wall, pulls my leg up to his waist, and angles himself between my hips.
I feel him, hot and hard between my legs, hungry for me, and cling to his shoulders as he finds the way of it with one sure, hard thrust.
We both groan in relief as he slides inside.
Finally.
I feel him everywhere at once, in my fingers and toes, underneath my eyelids. He’s the burning-hot center of me, the center of everything, my breath and my heartbeat, the life in my cells. I don’t know how I ever imagined sex was adequate before this. His body is a revelation, but it’s not that. It’s this feeling. This earthquake of sensation, this detonation inside me that feels like I’m being ripped apart and put back together, all at once. Like I’m shedding my skin for something new and completely wonderful.
Like everything bad that’s happened was worth it because it was all leading up to this.
We stare into each other’s eyes as he thrusts inside me. His chest is slick with sweat. My breasts are still bared, jutting out from the shelf of my bra, and my nipples drag against his skin with every movement, sending shock waves of pleasure between my legs. He’s supporting most of my weight with his hands under my ass because the one leg I’m standing on is Jell-O, but he shows no signs of fatigue as he pumps into me over and over, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts.
“Ever since I saw first you,” he says hoarsely, his lids half-closed and his face flushed. Dark strands of hair are stuck to his forehead. He turns his face to my neck.
“What?” I breathe, arching into him, almost, almost there again.
Against my throat, he whispers, “I’ve been yours,” and presses his teeth into my skin.
His next hard thrust takes me over the edge. I dig my fingers into his back and bite his shoulder to muffle my scream as I writhe against him.
With one final hard jerk, he comes. I feel him throb and pulse inside me, feel the length of him somehow grow longer. A shudder runs through his chest. He gasps, and it sounds like my name.
It’s several long moments before I come back to myself. When I do, I blink up at Matteo. He smiles down at me in hazy, wonderful satisfaction, his face aglow.
I say, “If you tell me that was mediocre, I’ll neuter you.”
He laughs weakly, squeezing my butt. “All these threats against my poor testicles. You should be nicer to them.” His voice softens, and so do his eyes. “They like you.”
“Oh, lucky me.” When he pinches my behind, I laugh and relent. “I like them, too.”
Matteo lifts his brows.
“And some of your other parts.”
He purses his lips, waiting, and I sigh. I take his face in my hands and kiss him. “And the guy all the parts are attached to.”
“How romantic,” he deadpans. “Stop or I’ll blush.”
“Listen, you just banged me senseless in a dressing room. I’m in no shape for witty repartee. Can I have my leg back now?”
He frowns at me. “Are you always like this after sex?”
“Amazingly adorable? Why, yes. Yes I am.”
I send him a brilliant smile. He grins back at me. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”
I lower my lashes, my smile turning coy. “I think the rubbing has already been done, sir. Now give me back my leg. I’m cramping.”
He doesn’t give me back my leg. Instead he starts to massage my bottom, then my hips, working his thumbs into my muscles and staying buried inside me, smiling and gorgeous as a teenage dream. He whispers, “I could stand here like this forever.”
He’s going to give me atrial fibrillation if he keeps looking at me like that. His eyes are selling me a fairy tale, and though I know I’m crazy about him and there’s no going back from this, I’m not ready to roll out the red carpet for another white knight just yet.
Considering the last one turned out to have rusted armor and a lame horse.
When I push lightly against his chest, Matteo reluctantly withdraws from my body. He kisses me again, with infinite tenderness, then adjusts my skirt before discarding the condom into the tiny wastebasket in the corner. He buttons his shirt and tucks it into his pants. As he zips up and buckles his belt, I put my boobs back inside my dress and smooth my hair. Then I look around the floor for my panties.
“Allow me.” Matteo snatches them up, then takes one of my ankles and maneuvers it through the leg hole. He does the same with my other foot, then slides my panties over my knees and up my thighs, settling them in place.
“That was almost professional,” I say, trying to hide how much his soft eyes are affecting me. Take it slow, Kimber. This was beautiful, but be careful. Be smart. One day at a time. Eyes wide open. Plenty of time to fall madly in love with him down the road after you get to know him better.
“You’re thinking again.”
When I look up at Matteo, I find him gazing down at me, the smile faded from his face. I’m about to make a wisecrack, but decide to be honest instead. It worked so well the last time.
“I was thinking that you’re incredible, and this was incredible, and I hope we’ll keep doing this as often as possible, and also that we should take it one day at a time because I need to be smart and not fall in love with you too fast.”
He looks amused, thank God. I’d hate to have ruined everything.
“That’s unfortunate, considering I’m already in love with you.”
Boom! goes my heart. A wheezing sound passes my lips. “Wha . . . wha . . .”
Matteo kisses me firmly, winding an arm around my waist. Then he tilts my head back, lightly gripping my jaw. “I’m in love with you,” he says, slowly and clearly, staring into my eyes. “I know it’s ridiculous, and I know it’s too soon, and I know I’m in love with you. I didn’t plan on it. I didn’t even want to admit it to myself until I figured out why I haven’t been able to sleep or eat or think straight since I met you. It’s either love or it’s insanity, and I don’t care which because either way it’s irreversible. It’s fatal. No other woman has ever moved me the way you do, and if you decide you don’t want me, it will be the end of me.
“So whatever happens from now on, you can’t say you didn’t know. You can’t say I didn’t tell you. I’m telling you straight out: I’m in love with you, Kimber DiSanto. Even if the pope does think it’s a sin.”
I stare at him for a long time, searching his face, dizzy with disbelief. “The pope?” I say weakly.
“It’s a long story. Are you all right?”
My laugh is semicrazed. “Oh sure. Of course. Beautiful men tell me every day how much they adore me—”
“Love you,” Matteo growls. After a moment, he adds, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m trying not to pass out.”
He kisses me again. “You’re going to be fine.”
“But what if I pass out?”
“I’ll make sure you don’t hit your head on anything.”
I’m finding it really hard to breathe. “Okay, I need to say something now, and I hope you won’t get mad.”
He waits a beat before saying, “I’ll try not to, but that doesn’t sound good.”
I swallow, moistening my lips. “Does this have anything to do with Brad?”
He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”
He doesn’t look angry at the mention of my ex, so I take that as a good sign. “I mean you came in here the other day, saw us hugging, acted weirded out about it, then left.”
“And?”
“And we haven’t talked about it since. Which means you have no idea what’s going on between us.”
He considers it for a moment. “That’s true. I don’t. But I do know that there’s no way in hell you would’ve come anywhere near this dressing room with me if there was any chance you and he were getting back together.”
“Why not?”
He answers without having to think about it. “You’re a one-man woman. You’re too good to play that game. Too loyal.”
A flush of pleasure spreads through my belly. My heart dissolves into a kaleidoscope of butterflies, flitting through my body on gossamer wings. I feel tipsy, as if I’ve spent the afternoon sipping champagne.
Oh no.
“You’ve got that funny look again.”
I make a small groan of desperation. “I’m finding it very, very hard not to fall madly in love with you. Like, now.”
His eyes blaze with emotion. He says gruffly, “Challenge accepted,” and gives me a kiss so passionate and pure and full of emotion I know without doubt it can never be matched by another man.
The entire time, a bell of warning rings in a distant corner of my mind. If the debacle with Brad taught me anything, it’s that things that seem too good to be true inevitably are.
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Matteo once told me.
Was that a joke . . . or his master plan?