Page 26 of Wicked Bloodlines

Matteo shoved the sweater higher, yanking it over my head and tossing it somewhere into the darkened corner of the office. My bra followed, the delicate fabric giving way beneath his impatient hands. Then his mouth was on me again, tongue circling one nipple while his palm cupped the other, rough and possessive. I tangled my fingers in his hair and held on, grinding against the hard ridge of his cock through his pants.

Matteo pushed me to my back on the desk. The edge dug into my thighs, the wood cold and unyielding against my heated skin. He pressed his hand against the front of my slacks, a firm, deliberate pressure, and the sound I made was a sharp, broken thing. Never had I experienced anything like the pleasure in this man’s arms and I knew I never would again. But it wasn’t only the pleasure Matteo gave me I longed for. I was becoming addicted to the man himself. Matteo might be a lot of very bad things, but he wasn’t a bad man. He was the bogeyman to his enemies, but he’d been kind to me when he hadn’t needed to be.

He unbuttoned my pants and yanked them over my hips and down my thighs, tossing them to the side. He brushed his thumb through my folds, circling my clit before lowering his face to my pussy and taking a long, slow swipe.

I cried out, struggling to find the desk with my heels to brace myself. Matteo just shoved my knees to my shoulders and held them there by the backs while he ate my pussy like he’d been starving for me.

“Already wet for me,” he growled, his voice thick with want. “Fucking soaked, and you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Shut up,” I breathed. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

His laugh was dark, almost mean. “That’s all you want? To be fucked until you can’t think?”

“Yes.” The word came out ragged, the one honest thing I could give him right now. “Please.”

Matteo stepped back just enough to unfasten his pants and shove them down his hips. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, and the sight of it sent a fresh wave of heat rolling through me. I sat up and reached for him, wrapping my hand around his cock and stroking, feeling him pulse against my palm.

He groaned and shoved my hand away so he could line himself up and slam into me. The brutal, gorgeous stretch made me cry out even as I wrapped my legs around his waist to give myself some leverage. I loved that he didn’t pretend to be a gentleman when he got like this. Matteo Luca was a glorious savage when he fucked me. And he was mine. At least, he would be once the wedding happened.

He gripped my ass and held me right at the edge of the desk, forcing every inch of his cock inside me over and over in a teeth-clattering ride. “This what you need?” His voice sounded guttural, practically unhinged, like I’d finally driven him over the edge. “You want to get fucked right here on my desk, Sofia?”

“You’re the one who can’t keep his hands off me.”

He laughed, low and mean, then drove into me again, harder this time. He palmed my breast, squeezing so hard it bordered on pain, but that just made it better. “You gonna come for me?” He bit the words out.

“Yessss!” I hissed out the word as a fierce orgasm ripped through me, tearing a brutal scream from my throat.

I barely registered the sound of my own scream before Matteo dragged me off the desk, hands under my ass as he manhandled me over to the office couch. I only managed to hook my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. Matteo lay on top of me, pinning my wrists over my head. “You want more?” The rough edge in his voice sent me straight back to desperate.

I nodded. Words weren’t my strong suit at the moment. My body sure as hell wanted more, even if my brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders.

He reached between us to guide his cock to my pussy, then drove into me like he meant to make me remember this for the rest of my life. I had the feeling he wasn’t wrong. The slap of skin, the scrape of his stubble against my jaw, the way his free hand closed around my throat just tight enough to make my vision go fuzzy at the edges. And I craved every fucking second of it.

I locked my legs around his hips. God, I was greedy! I ground up against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, wanting it filthy and rough because nothing else could drown out the unacknowledged fear the silent watcher had planted inside me. Also, I still had no idea what Matteo would do if he found out the information I had in my possession or what I wanted to do with it.

I wanted more. I wanted all of him. I dragged my nails down his back, hard enough to make him hiss, then clutched at his ass, pulling him deeper, urging him on. He obliged, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. I could feel his cock swelling inside me, feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap.

With a deep, guttural groan, Matteo shuddered as he came. I followed soon after, my vision going white at the edges as pleasure crashed over me, drowning out everything else. For a moment, there was nothing but the two of us, lost in each other.

As we came down from our high, he collapsed onto me, his breathing ragged. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, feel the sweat cooling on our skin. He looked at me, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite name. “Fuck, Sofia,” he muttered, his voice rough. “What are you doing to me?”

He groaned before turning us so that he spooned me while we lay on our sides. Closing his arms tightly around me, he settled us both before stilling. A couple seconds later, a soft snore came from him and I almost smiled.

I waited until his breathing went deep and even, the soft rumble of his snore a steady rhythm against my neck. The moonlight through the office windows cast everything in silver and shadow. His arm lay heavy across my ribs, possessive even in sleep. I’d be lying if I said his possessiveness didn’t give me a thrill, even if I knew I was only a passing phase. This was an arrangement of convenience after all.

The cool air hit my bare skin the moment I slipped from beneath his arm. Goosebumps rose instantly, a physical shiver that had nothing to do with fear or cold and everything to do with the absence of Matteo’s arms around me. I stood beside the couch for one moment, naked and cold, watching the rise and fall of his chest. His face in sleep had lost the hard edges, the calculating sharpness. He looked younger. Vulnerable. The thought made my chest ache in a way I couldn’t afford to examine.

My clothes lay scattered across the floor where he’d tossed them. I turned my back to the couch and started collecting and dressing. The normally soothing and warm cashmere sweater felt more like icy sandpaper. I turned it right-side out with fumbling fingers, the soft fabric catching on my engagement ring. Once I finally got my slacks on I stepped into my boots. The folding blade still rested right where it should in a narrow pocket on my outer ankle. I looked back at Matteo, naked and peaceful, sleeping where I’d left him. Far as I could tell, he hadn’t moved.

In one of the side rooms inside his office, I found a comforter folded neatly at the foot of a queen-sized bed. Apparently, even in his study, he had all the comforts he wanted. I draped the white, plush cover over him carefully. The sight of him so relaxed did something to my insides I had no idea how to process. My chest felt tight with emotion and for the briefest of moments, I imagined he was my partner rather than my jailer. Or, worse, my captor and tormentor. Matteo had turned out to be vastly more complicated than I first thought.

At the door, I stopped, glancing back once more because I couldn’t help myself. The moonlight seemed to paint him in silvery light, even as the shadows cast from his desk lamp amplified the dark, foreboding I’d first felt upon coming to this place. I turned away before the ache in my chest grew and made me more vulnerable to the man than I already was. Then I carefully opened the door before shutting it once I stood out in the hallway.

My footsteps were soft on the plush carpet, nearly silent. The villa slept around me, a sleeping giant of stone and wealth and secrets. Once in my suite I changed quickly, trading the cashmere for a black turtleneck, the slacks for black yoga pants. The boots stayed.

The hair comb box sat on my vanity. I lifted the lid. The thumb drive nestled in its bed of silk, exactly where I’d left it. I closed the box and left it there. The drive wasn’t what I needed tonight. If all went well, I wouldn’t need it at all.

The east hall was the service corridor, the one the staff used to move between the family quarters and the kitchen without crossing the main house. I’d found it easy to move through those halls rather than out in the open. The staff might not say anything unless asked out in the open where others knew who’d seen me, but here in their private space, I felt safer moving around in the shadows. It had been my experience that the staff were usually as eager as I was to remain unnoticed.