Chapter 146 Light Me Up
Valentina
The hotel wasn’t just five-star. It was fantasy. The kind of place you didn’t find on booking sites or luxury lists—because people didn’t write about it. They whispered. Recommended. Protected.
A palace at the top of Paris.
And the moment Matteo unlocked the penthouse door, I understood why.
Champagne was already chilling in a hammered silver bucket beside a velvet lounge. A trail of rose petals marked the path from the entrance to the bed—an actual canopy draped in sheer black, positioned directly across from a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass.
And through that glass?
The Eiffel Tower.
Close.
Towering.
Gleaming in gold and steel against the violet dusk.
I didn’t speak. I didn’t breathe. Not until I stepped inside and felt his hand at my lower back, warm and commanding.
“Strip,” Matteo said.
I looked at him. Blinked. “Excuse me?”
He didn’t repeat himself.
Didn’t need to.
His fingers slid down to the zipper at the small of my back and tugged, slow and firm. “Right here. In front of the window.”
I looked at the glass. At the glowing tower beyond. At the street lights and pedestrians and rows of apartments across the way.
“They can see.”
“They might see,” he corrected. “If they’re lucky.”
My dress dropped.
He turned me to face the glass.
“Take it all off, baby girl. Let them see how perfection looks when it belongs to someone.”
My fingers trembled, but I obeyed. The straps fell. The fabric slipped from my hips. I stepped out of it, out of everything—until only the diamond around my neck and the bruises from his mouth marked me.
Matteo prowled behind me like a storm on legs, undoing the buttons of his shirt, one by one, eyes burning as they dragged over my bare skin.
“Do you know what you are?” he murmured.
I swallowed. “What?”
“Obscene,” he said, stepping closer. “And holy. You make men sin just by existing, and you don’t even apologize for it.” His hands found my waist. “That’s what kills them.”
I shivered.
“You came for me in that restaurant, silent and shaking, with the taste of dessert still on your tongue.” His lips brushed the back of my neck. “And now I want more. I need more.”
He bent me forward against the glass, palms splayed. My breath fogged the window in hot, desperate swirls.
“I’m going to try my damnedest to put a baby in you tonight,” he growled.
My heart slammed.
He nudged my legs farther apart with his knee, reached between, and found how wet I already was.
“Do you want that, Valentina?” he asked, voice low and lethal. “To be filled up until there’s nothing left of you but me?”
I whimpered. “Yes.”
His cock was hard and hot against my back. “Say it louder.”
“Yes, Matteo. I want it. I want you.”
“Good fucking girl.”
And then he thrust inside—deep, brutal, claiming.
The city watched.
Or maybe it didn’t.
Either way?
He fucked me like it did.
Like the whole world was our audience.
And I was the only thing he’d ever burn for.
His breath was a curse and a promise against the nape of my neck.
But then—he pulled out.
I gasped at the sudden emptiness, the ache of being left wanting.
Before I could beg, he spun me around and dropped to his knees like a sinner at a shrine.
One hand hooked behind my thigh, lifting, throwing my leg over his broad shoulder. The other gripped my ass, holding me exactly where he wanted.
And then—his mouth.
Fuck.
Tongue like velvet fire, relentless. He devoured me like he owned the hunger. Like every flick and drag was punishment and worship combined.
My head fell back, fingers scrambling for something—anything—to hold. The glass, the air, his hair.
“Matteo—”
He groaned. “That’s right. Say my name like you’re about to fall.”
And I was. My legs trembled, muscles clenching, toes curling.
He felt it.
Paused.
Lifted his head, lips glistening with me.
“No,” he said, voice low and merciless. “You don’t get to cum for me yet.”
I whimpered, but he was already rising, already guiding me to the bed.
And that’s when I saw them.
The restraints.
Soft leather cuffs clipped to the headboard—black, sleek, padded.
I turned to him, heart pounding.
He raised a brow. “Lay back.”
I did.
He climbed over me like a king reclaiming his throne, fastening each wrist with agonizing care. His fingers brushed my skin, but gave me no relief.
Once I was bound and helpless beneath him, he knelt beside me, eyes burning with heat and something darker.
“I’m only going to cum once tonight,” he said. “But you…”
He leaned down, brushed his lips over mine.
“…you’re going to cum until you physically can’t anymore.”
My breath caught.
“I want you hoarse from screaming, soaked in sweat, too fucking wrecked to speak.”
“Matteo—”
“No,” he said softly, lips grazing my ear. “Not Matteo. Tonight, I’m the god you pray to for mercy.”
He rose just enough to slide two fingers inside me, slow and deep.
“You tell me when you’ve had enough,” he growled. “And only then—when you’re broken and beautiful and begging—will I finally give you what you really want.”
His hand slid to my stomach. Flattened.
“Only then will I plant my seed in you.”
I was floating. Drifting in some delirious haze of sensation while his fingers curled inside me with maddening precision.
And then… I heard it.
A faint click.
My eyes fluttered open.
There—on the nightstand—was a sleek black box I hadn’t seen before. Minimalist. Velvet-lined. Dangerous in its elegance.
Matteo followed my gaze and smiled, dark and slow.
“You noticed,” he murmured.
He reached for it, the motion so fluid, so deliberate, it sent a fresh shiver through me. He opened the box like it was sacred.
Inside… was glass.
Clear. Smooth. Cold.
He lifted it by a ring at the base, holding it up so I could see. A sleek, sculpted glass plug—elegant and obscene.
“You’ve taken me here before,” he said, still slowly thrusting his fingers inside me, “but not like this.”
The toy caught the glint of the Eiffel Tower’s lights through the window, sparkling in his grasp like something precious.
He leaned in, brushing a kiss across my lips.
“I want to watch you take it. While you’re stretched wide, wet and desperate. While my fingers ruin you and you beg me to stop teasing and just fuck you already.”
He kissed down my throat.
“And I will. But not before I feel this glass heat inside you… not before I see you clench around it and whimper just for me.”
My breath hitched.
He smiled, fingers slipping out of me slow and deliberate.
“Ready to be filled, baby girl?”