LXVI. “Swallow every f*cking inch.”

LXVI. “Swallow every f*cking inch.”
I press my fingers against my panties, hoping for some relief, but it’s useless. The need pulses so violently inside me that even my own touch feels like fuel for the fire.
Matteo’s eyes drop straight to my hand between my thighs, and he groans loud again—a raw, animal sound, like the image of me touching myself while choking on his cock is too much for him to handle.
“You’re gonna touch yourself for me while you suck my cock?” he growls, a filthy smirk curling his lips. “What a dirty little slut you’ve become, huh?”
My thighs tremble at the sound of his husky voice, thick with lust, seeping into me like a sweet, poisonous drug.
“That’s it,” he growls, his hand tightening in my hair, guiding my head with more force. “Keep touching yourself while you swallow every fucking inch. Show me what this cock still does to you.”
My fingers slide inside my panties in a swift, desperate motion, and I gasp when I finally touch my own pussy, so hot, slippery, throbbing, and spread wetness easily between my swollen folds.
“Listen to the noise your pussy makes.” He suddenly slams my head down, making me gag. My throat convulses around the thick weight of him, burning, as bile rises sharply in the back of my throat.
I force myself to swallow, and the motion, paired with the gag reflex, makes Matteo groan loudly, completely undone.
“Fuck!” he snarls through clenched teeth.
My hand moves faster, my thumb circling my clit, and I feel my whole body curve toward the pleasure that threatens to crash over me in waves.
“Are you this wet because you’re sucking my cock…” Matteo’s eyelids grow heavy, his gaze so dark I can barely make out his dilated pupils. “Or because you wanted your mouth full of Bianchi’s?”
I pull my head back, letting him slide out with a wet pop, but the taste still lingers on my tongue, salty and thick—so I lick my lips to clean it, slowly, deliberately… just to taunt.
“Maybe both…”
My fingers glide easily over my clit, and I don’t feel any shame looking him in the eyes while I touch myself.
“…Maybe I wanted both of you at the same time.”
I press a wet kiss to one of his tattoos and look up again, my eyes as heavy and dark with need as his.
“…One in my mouth… and the other fucking me from behind.”
Matteo freezes, his chest rising and falling in violent breaths as he tries to contain something that’s outgrown him. The muscles in his neck tighten, and his eyes burn with a fury so visceral I swear I can smell the smoke.
“You trying to die today, Marina?” he grits out through clenched teeth, as if the words hurt him. “You wanna see how far I’ll go when you push me like this?”
He leans in slowly until our faces are level, then rests a hand on my cheek, still wet with spit and his precum. His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth with a gentleness so at odds with the tension in his body that it feels unreal.
“Because if you keep going like this, I’ll ruin you so badly you’ll never be able to think of him again without feeling my cock deep inside you.”
I don’t care about anything anymore. Adrenaline and arousal mix inside me, making my skin feel electric, my nipples ache, and my throat dry. That’s why I just nod, and only once—a small, but firm movement…
And that’s all it takes for something in him to snap.
“You want to be treated like a whore?” he growls, his voice low and sharp. “Then don’t fucking flinch if I treat you like one.”
Matteo grabs me by the back of the neck again and yanks me into a kiss wilder than the last, more desperate, brutal, and obscene, tasting of himself on my lips. His tongue crashes into mine, urgent and raw, swallowing every moan and whimper.
Then his arms slide under my thigh, and he lifts me as if I weigh less than the fury in his chest. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, as they have so many times before.
He walks with no direction, no thought, no care for where we’re going. Honestly, it’s the last thing on my mind, too. The idea of Luigi walking in and finding Matteo’s pants on the kitchen floor, with his cock buried inside me, barely registers, like a distant alarm I’m too deep in this fog of lust to hear.
Next thing I know, our mouths are apart, connected only by a string of spit, and he’s laying me down on the couch, tossing the hideous pillows to the floor without a glance.
His lips trail down my jaw, leaving a path of wet kisses that grow urgent, more familiar, and less aggressive.
Matteo’s hands explore my thighs, and even through the jeans, I feel the heat and the rough texture of his calloused palms. Hands that have hurt, bled, and killed… and yet somehow, despite all the violence and chaos packed into this six-foot-four frame and over two hundred pounds of pure muscle, he touches me like I’m something precious.
Something he wants—and fears—he might break if he holds too long.
He kisses my neck, right on my pulsing spot, feeling the desperate rhythm of my heart under his tongue, making him let out a sound completely different from the beastly growls that had been echoing in the back of his throat. This one is almost painful. Hoarse, low, but way too vulnerable for a man who claims he wants to break me.
Matteo’s hands keep wandering, sliding higher, exploring my curves under my shirt, feeling every inch of my soft, warm skin, while his tongue traces its own path, hunting for the sensitive places only he knows.
When he finally finds the edge of my bra, I feel him smile against my collarbone. His thumb brushes lazily, its tip threatening to slip beneath the lace, teasing a shiver that runs from my collarbone to the center of my belly.
I can feel his breath getting hotter, heavier against my skin, making my body react before my mind does—my nipples harden even more, and my hips press into his thigh, begging for more contact.
“You really like testing me, don’t you, Marina?” Matteo’s voice is rough, laced with desire and contained fury, blurring into that primitive need that has always made our relationship messy and toxic. “Letting me almost lose control over the shit you do… Is that what you like? To turn me into a monster?”
Once again, my body says enough, arching toward him, pressing my chest to his with a need I no longer know how to name. It isn’t just desire, it isn’t just lust… It’s something dirty and deep, something you feel only when you’re hooked on someone who has the power to destroy everything you are, and even so, you beg for it.
My nails dig into his shoulders, trying to grab onto some control I lost a long time ago, but it only worsens because I can feel the tense muscles under my fingers, his hot skin, and the sweat that’s beading between his shoulders and his neck.
That makes him shove my hips against his hard, allowing me to feel his hard-on pressing between my legs, hot and throbbing, even through our clothes. The denim creates dry, unbearable friction that tears a choked moan from my throat and, for a second, all I can think about is how badly I want to feel it inside me raw.