Page 12 of Brutal Revenge

I need the confidence booster Matteo’s unwanted attention will reward me, or I’ll run back to Turkey with my tail between my legs mere days from the finish line that was once thousands of miles away.

“Lesson one… don’teveroffer up something you don’t want to give.” Matteo waits for my eyes to lift from his crotch to his face before continuing. “So if that’s something you’ve done, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

This is when I should back down. I’m not overly experienced. I’ve only been with a handful of men, and our exchanges rarely slid past second base. My brothers are possessive jerks. If they had any inkling I was in Sicily, planning to marry a member of the Cosa Nostra, they’d be on the first flight here.

They think I’m at art school in France, and although I could carry on with that lie now, I can’t get my mouth to cooperate with my head.

Matteo is a gorgeous man with dark, messy hair, a facial structure sculptors would muse over for months, and a body that feels as firm as it looks.

He acts like God’s gift to women because he is.

Matteo also didn’t lie. A kiss won’t maintain Antonio’s jealousy for long. I need him green with envy, and who better to get him there than the only man he sees as a worthy competitor?

Antonio is a cocky bastard, but he wilted like a picked flower left on the ledge in the peak of summer when our wedding planner told him why we couldn’t convene in his father’s office for the preliminary wedding plans. I swear he only gripped my arm to keep himself from falling once he discovered his distrust of my word was inaccurate.

Furthermore, sucking Matteo’s dick won’t get me off—I don’t think—but it’ll give me plenty of ammunition to restock the inventory the next time I need to go it alone.

“Azra,” Matteo snaps out, further igniting the fire low in my belly. I’ve never heard my name spoken so sultrily before. “Speak.”

“You told me to only speak if I offered something I didn’t mean to offer.”

Another stretch of silence bristles between us.

It comes with a tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Then, after undoing the sole button on his trousers, Matteo says, “Take my dick out.”

I want to immediately jump to his command, but something inside me refuses to let him treat me as I’ve been treated my entire life.

“Have you heard of manners?”

He smirks but remains quiet when my hands shoot for his zipper.

Yes, two hands, because I don’t see one being adequate.

With a quick yank, tug, and boing maneuver, his cock springs free, and my eyes bulge.

He’s huge—far bigger than the bananas my bestie and I practiced on when we were certain my brothers would make us die virgins. And his seated position hides inches.

“Now stroke it.”

Noticing how his lips twitch from my quick jump to obey his command, I mutter, “I offered to suck your dick, not stroke it.”

His cock grows thicker and longer in my hand. “We’ll get to that…eventually.”

He scoots to the edge of his seat, his shirt riding up high on his stomach and exposing another two inches. I can barely hear anything over the pounding in my head as he instructs the chauffeur to take the long route to Lombardo.

“I’m going to enjoy every fucking minute of this,” he murmurs under his breath, and desire roars through my veins.

His words aren’t for me, but I stroke him harder and faster, desperate to add to the bead of pre-cum at the crest of his cock before circling my lips around his cut head.

I just know he’s going to taste amazing, but I’m in way over my head, so I don’t pretend to know what I’m doing anymore.

“Show me how to please you.”

With a groan that dampens my panties, he grabs my hand and circles it around his thick shaft before he tightens my grip.

A shiver of pleasure rolls through me when the veins pulsating over his dick throb in response to the firmness and speed of my strokes.