Chapter 124 Ice and Flame
Valentina
The water stopped, but his eyes never left mine.
He didn’t say another word. Just reached for the robe hanging on the hook, heavy and soft, and draped it over my shoulders like I was something precious—not just his wife, not just the girl who pulled the trigger. Like I was his now in a way that even death couldn’t undo.
I let him lead me, still dripping, the robe barely clinging to my skin as we stepped out of the steam. My feet padded across cool tile, then warmer wood. My heartbeat stayed steady, but my breath didn’t.
And then… he stopped.
Not at the bed. Not yet.
He turned toward the kitchenette like he had all the time in the world.
I watched, pulse flickering hotter with every second, as he opened the freezer, took out a tray, and slid a few perfect ice cubes into a cocktail glass. The sound of them clinking—sharp, clean, almost surgical—made something low in my belly tighten.
We continued to the bedroom.
“Lie down,” he said without looking.
I obeyed.
The robe slipped open when I reclined, and I didn’t fix it. I let him see all of me, let the cool air tease across damp skin while I waited, spread out across the bed like a storm waiting to break.
He came toward me slowly, rolling the glass in his hand so the ice danced inside.
“You killed a man today,” he murmured, kneeling on the edge of the bed.
“My father,” I corrected, voice flat. “And he deserved worse.”
His gaze met mine, burning with something that felt deeper than pride. Darker than lust.
“And you still think you’re mine?” he asked.
I didn’t hesitate. “Now more than ever.”
His smirk was slow. Dangerous. “Then let me show you what it means to belong to me.”
The first cube hit my stomach with a shock. I gasped, back arching.
He didn’t stop. He slid it in slow, lazy circles—melting it over my skin, watching every twitch, every little sound I made like he was memorizing them.
“You think this is cold, amore?” he whispered, letting the ice trail down between my breasts. “You haven’t seen what I do when I burn.”
I trembled beneath him.
He leaned in, tongue chasing the water trails, lips brushing over chilled skin to warm what he’d just frozen.
The contrast sent sparks down my spine.
He slid another cube between his teeth. Bent lower.
And when the frozen tip of it touched the inside of my thigh, I forgot how to breathe.
The ice grazed higher—my thighs parting before I could even think.
He hadn’t touched me there yet. Not really.
But my body already knew what was coming. It ached for it.
Matteo locked eyes with me as he pushed the cube higher with his tongue, teeth brushing soft skin as the coldness kissed the crease of my thigh.
I gasped again—sharper this time, hips jerking—but his hand pinned me down with one brutal command: still.
“I said lie down,” he growled. “I didn’t say squirm.”
But god, how could I not?
He took the melting cube between two fingers now—slick and dripping—and trailed it up until it hovered just above my pussy. I whimpered as a drop landed directly on my clit. His smirk deepened.
“You want it, princess?” he asked, voice like velvet and sin.
I nodded, chest rising hard, my nipples tight against the damp robe still clinging open beneath me.
“Use your words.”
“I want it,” I whispered.
He raised a brow.
“I want you,” I breathed. “Now.”
That was all he needed.
The cube dropped.
Right onto my clit.
I let out a strangled cry, the shock so intense it curled my toes and snapped my spine off the mattress.
“Matteo—!”
But he didn’t stop.
His mouth was there in an instant—hot, wet, sinful—licking the melt away with slow, agonizing strokes of his tongue. The contrast shattered me. Cold, then heat. Ice, then fire.
“Every part of you,” he murmured against my skin, tongue flicking again, “belongs to me now.”
And then he buried his mouth between my thighs.
No teasing. No mercy.
He sucked me in like a man starving—his tongue relentless, curling just right, sliding over every swollen, trembling inch of me like he’d mapped it out in his dreams.
I cried out, clawing at the sheets, trying to hold on—failing miserably.
“Matteo—please—”
“Not yet,” he growled, pulling back just enough to make me writhe. “You don’t come until I say. You think you get to come just because you’re shaking? Because you killed a man? No, baby. You come when I say so. You want that release, you earn it.”
I whimpered, the pressure unbearable, the pleasure coiled so tightly I felt like I could snap in half.
He reached for another cube.
Slid it inside me.
I screamed.
His fingers chased the ice, pushing it deeper as I bucked against his hand, the cold making every nerve ending explode.
“Fuck—you feel that?” he rasped, watching the way I pulsed around the chill. “So tight. So fucking greedy. You’d take anything from me, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” I panted. “God, yes—anything—”
He slid his fingers deeper, the ice nearly gone now, melted by heat and want and the wicked twist of his touch.
“Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I cried. “Always.”
His mouth went straight back to my clit, flicking with his tongue as fast as possible. As he started thrusting with his fingers I could feel the pressure building.
Only then did he finally give me permission to come. He started sucking on my clit in that moment and I came.
Hard. Violent. Mind-shattering.
I broke apart with his name on my lips, legs shaking, the orgasm crashing through me like thunder.
But he wasn’t done.
Not even close.
He flipped me onto my stomach, dragged me to the edge of the bed by my hips, and growled low in my ear—
“Now I’m going to fuck you until you beg me to stop.”