LXIX. When the haze of pleasure lifts

LXIX. When the haze of pleasure lifts
Matteo pulls my lower lip between his teeth, not hurting, but asserting his control, his dominance, as one of his hands slides up again. He presses his thumb over my sensitive nipple and rolls it, making me gasp—and that little gap between my lips is enough of an invitation.
He pushes his tongue into my mouth again, not really seeking a slow kiss but making sure I can taste myself. It’s deep, sloppy, and messy, enough to light more fire under my skin and make me crave more than his fingers.
Matteo’s hand leaves my breast only to wrap around the back of my neck, his palm warm and firm, pulling me even closer into the kiss he controls entirely. Every time my tongue tries to meet his, he pulls back just enough to make me chase him, just enough to remind me that wanting him is a kind of humiliation he savors.
“You feel that?” he murmurs, thumb dragging along my lower lip, smearing my taste across it before he pushes the pad of his thumb inside my mouth. “That’s what you do to me. That mess. That fucking need.”
I suck slowly at first, then harder when he curls his thumb slightly against my tongue, making a low growl vibrate in his chest, dark and approving.
“Fuck… look at you.” Matteo’s voice cracks at the edges, ruined by the desire he’s trying so hard to pretend he isn’t drowning in. “Always pretending you’re done with me, that we didn’t mean anything. And then you open that mouth for me like this…”
Matteo’s thumb slips out, wet, and he drags it down my chin, my throat, until he reaches the valley between my breasts.
“…like you were made for me.”
He cups one with his hand and leans closer, his hot mouth closing around my nipple, sucking like he wants to rip another moan out of me—and he does. My head throws back, eyes rolling again, and the sound that comes out of me is edged with agony and pleasure.
Matteo’s free hand pinches the other nipple, twisting with a force that burns and pulls more cries from me, alternating between flicks of the tongue and teasing with its tip, rolling the sensitive peak, then shifting from sucking to biting, dragging his teeth lightly over the swollen nipple he just abused, and the sting makes my whole body jolt.
The hand on my other breast tightens, fingers digging in, thumb rolling the sensitive peak with slow, cruel precision. It’s too much and not enough, pleasure and pain so deeply tangled I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
When he pulls away from my breasts with a loud, torturous pop, he looks at me with those dark eyes and straightens on his knees, pulling up his own shirt to reveal each of the six packs of his abdomen, tense muscles carved for violence, and tattoos slick with sweat, until it’s on the ground, near the forgotten pillows.
My eyes drop to the tattoo on his chest, gothic letters stamped with pride. ROMANO, spread across it, rising and falling with his unsteady breath, and something dark, hungry, almost triumphant flashes in his eyes.
“The way you’re staring at our name…” he murmurs, his voice low and wrecked. “Still want to pretend you’re not branded with it?”
“I’m not a Romano,” I try to bite back, but my voice sounds too soft, too weak for my taste.
“No.” Matteo’s hand closes around my jaw again, guiding my face up and making me look at him properly. His thumb strokes the line of my cheek, almost gentle, but not really. “But you belong to one.”
I open my lips to retort, but his thumb slips inside my mouth again, pressing down on my tongue and keeping me from saying a word. His gaze doesn’t falter, and he doesn’t blink either—he watches me with such sacred attention that when I feel something catching my entrance, my face contorts in pleasure and his in profane satisfaction.
The thick head brushes when I need it most, pushing in slowly but just enough to tease. I spread my legs wider on instinct, my inner walls pulsing around the tip—and damn, just having him there, shallow, making me teeter on the almost, on the edge of possibility, sends dangerous shivers through my spine.
Matteo’s hips stutter, making his cock slide in a bit more, but it’s still torture. His free hand hooks under my knee, bending my thigh and giving him more access to fuck me the way he likes. But he doesn’t.
Instead of going all the way, Matteo pulls his hips back, making the tip slip out. The loss of the tip makes me gasp, and he takes the chance to push his thumb deeper into my mouth.
“Suck”, he orders, his voice rougher at the edges, with something that definitely no longer sounds like anger. “Like you did with my cock.”
I swirl my tongue around his thumb, obeying before my mind can catch up. He smirks, satisfied, and rubs the swollen tip against my clit this time, making me suck harder on his finger.
“Yes, that’s it—” he groans, sliding his cock between my soaked folds, gathering my excitement mixed with my earlier pleasure to make it slicker. The sensation is so good that both of our breaths hitch and, finally, he loses his composure.
Matteo’s cock sinks in slowly, stretching me perfectly to his thickness and letting me feel every vein that sends shivers to every damn inch of my skin.
My hips jerk instinctively, trying to take all of him faster, but he’s still holding my body in place, both hands locked on my hips now, eyes never leaving mine, not even for a second. Thankfully, he doesn’t tease me too much, pushing deeper and deeper and deeper until finally—finally he’s completely inside of me.
He sighs, a sound that teeters between a needy grunt and a moan, too raw to escape Matteo Romano’s lips. His fingers sink into my waist, and he pulls me harder against his hips, even though we’re already connected, and I can feel his pelvis pressing against my throbbing clit.
I arch my body, and he leans toward me, as if pulled by an astronomical force, until we’re chest to chest, skin to skin, with no space left between us. His deep breath, however, teases my nipples, which brush against his solid muscles, sliding so easily through our sweat.
Matteo doesn’t try to move yet… It’s almost like he wants to remember the feeling of being inside me, etching it into his mind, deep in his bones, in his soul, to satisfy a craving he denied himself for too long, and now he’s too far gone to keep fighting against it.
Every time his cock throbs inside me, a new shiver runs through my body, and my walls clench in response. My mind tries to reason it out, saying this shouldn’t be happening, but it’s muffled by the lust and neediness I’ve also been fighting all day.
And maybe it’s bad of me to surrender to Matteo after everything that happened between us—after Enzo having such an effect on me. Maybe I am, really, a terrible person…
But when Matteo draws his hips back, all I can think about is pushing mine forward, chasing that delicious sensation of being filled again. But he doesn’t let me, of course. His grip is so strong that I can’t move an inch.
He forces me to endure the loss, to be content with only the tip inside, but not with any sadistic pleasure in punishing me. Actually, it’s as if he’s punishing himself. As if he also knows this can only end one way.
Matteo looks deeply into my eyes and slides his thumb out of my mouth, but this time, he doesn’t spread saliva across my lips or my chin. He doesn’t try to make a mess of me… He just stares at me, deeply into my eyes…
And just like that, as expected, when the haze of pleasure lifts, nothing but regret remains.