Chapter 181 Ruin Me
Chapter 181 Ruin Me
Valentina
The house didn’t quiet all at once.
It softened in layers.
First the staff withdrew. Then the distant hum of conversation from the lower level disappeared. Doors clicked shut down the hall. Footsteps faded. The city beyond the windows continued its restless movement, but inside the estate, everything narrowed.
Matteo closed the bedroom door with deliberate calm.
He didn’t rush toward me.
He watched me.
That was always worse.
“You’ve been patient all day,” I said, unpinning the earrings I hadn’t bothered to remove since Palm Key.
“I have,” he replied, loosening his cufflinks one at a time. “And patience has a limit.”
The air between us shifted.
There was no softness in his gaze tonight. No negotiation. Just heat layered over command.
“You told me not to hesitate,” he reminded me.
“I did.”
“And I don’t intend to. I’ve been waiting days for this moment.”
He crossed the room slowly, not hurried, not frantic. When he reached me, his hand slid into my hair at the nape of my neck, not yanking — anchoring.
“You were extraordinary,” he murmured. “Do you know what it did to me watching you take control like that?”
His thumb traced the line of my jaw.
“It made me want to claim you in every possible way.”
Heat flared low in my stomach.
“Then do it,” I said quietly.
That was permission.
His mouth crashed over mine, not gentle, not exploratory. It was possession without apology. His other hand slid to my waist, pulling me flush against him so I could feel exactly how much he had meant it when he said he’d been thinking about this all day.
He kissed like a man who had restrained himself too long — teeth catching my lower lip, tongue demanding entry, breath hot and unsteady against mine.
“You think you can command men and then come home untouched?” he murmured against my mouth. “You think I’m not going to remind you who you belong to?”
I arched slightly into him.
“Remind me.”
His hand slid from my hair to my throat, firm but not cutting air, thumb pressing lightly under my jaw as he tilted my head back.
“You were issuing orders with blood still on the air,” he said. “Do you know how that looked?”
“Competent?” I whispered.
“Incredibly fuckable.”
The word landed hot and dirty and made my pulse spike.
He walked me backward until the edge of the bed hit behind my knees. I sat without breaking eye contact. He didn’t immediately follow me down.
Instead, he looked at me.
Evaluating.
“On your knees,” he said softly.
The command hit somewhere deep.
I didn’t hesitate.
He watched every inch of movement as I lowered myself onto the carpet in front of him. His hand remained in my hair, not forcing — guiding.
“Good girl,” he murmured.
Heat pooled low and immediate.
He stepped closer, the dominance not theatrical, not exaggerated. Just steady. Controlled.
“You wanted this,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I wanted this.”
He exhaled slowly.
His hand tightened slightly in my hair as he leaned down, brushing his mouth against my ear.
“I’m going to take my time,” he said. “And you’re going to take me.”
The words alone were enough to make my breath stutter.
I did exactly what he asked.
Slow at first. Testing. Letting him set the rhythm. His hand remained in my hair, fingers flexing when I adjusted, when I shifted.
“Look at me,” he ordered quietly.
I did.
His expression darkened.
He guided me deeper, not rough, but firm. Controlling pace. Controlling depth. My breathing shifted, body responding, tension tightening low in my stomach.
“You can take it,” he murmured.
I tried.
I did.
He began fucking my mouth faster and deeper than we starter out. I moaned over his cock as he did.
His hand gripped my hair tighter at that and he thrust deep and he held it there for a second.
He pulled back for a few more faster strokes and then he went as deep as he could possibly go.
But it was just a little further than I could take apparently, my throat tightened reflexively. My body reacted before my mind could catch up. The sudden gag reflex hit hard and sharp.
I pulled back abruptly.
“Stop—”
I barely made it to my feet before my stomach lurched.
I ran for the bathroom.
The door barely shut before I dropped to my knees again — this time not for him.
Behind me, I heard him move fast.
“Valentina?”
There was something almost panicked in his voice.
I rinsed my mouth, breath uneven.
“It’s okay,” I said, though I was still catching my breath. “I just—”
He was at my side immediately, hand on my back, no dominance now. Just concern.
“I pushed you too far,” he said, jaw tight. “I should have—”
“I suppose this type of thing happens to people from time to time,” I interrupted softly.
I leaned back against the cabinet, looking up at him.
“Sorry I had to stop everything so abruptly,” I added. “Everything is ruined now.”
His hand slid to my face, thumb brushing beneath my eye.
“Nothing is ruined,” he said firmly. “We can lay down. We can just hold each other. Or…” His voice softened slightly. “If you want to continue, we shift. Slower. Gentler.”
The offer wasn’t weak.
It was control in a different form.
I studied him for a moment.
“I don’t want to stop,” I admitted. “Just… not like that.”
He nodded once.
“Then we don’t.”
Back in the bedroom, the energy was different.
Still charged.
But not sharp.
He eased me onto the bed this time, following without command. His kisses were slower now, mouth mapping my skin instead of claiming it. His hands traced instead of gripping. The dominance didn’t disappear — it transformed.
“You still belong to me,” he murmured against my collarbone.
“Yes.”
“But I don’t break what’s mine.”
That line hit deeper than anything else had.
This time when he moved over me, it was deliberate, controlled, steady. His hand remained at my hip, grounding, not forcing. The rhythm built slowly, breath mingling, tension coiling in a way that felt less explosive and more consuming.
When release came, it wasn’t violent.
It was earned.
Later, wrapped in his arms, my head resting against his chest, he brushed a strand of hair from my face.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly.
“I’m fine,” I murmured.
He pressed a kiss to my temple.
“Next time,” he said softly, “I’m still going to ruin you.”
I smiled faintly against his skin.
“Next time,” I agreed. And drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, I barely made it out of bed before my stomach rolled violently again.
I flew from the sheets, hand clamped over my mouth as I sprinted for the bathroom.
Behind me, I heard Matteo sit up sharply.
“Valentina?”
I didn’t answer.
Because this time—
It definitely wasn’t about him pushing too deep.