With a small smile at the other guests, I said, “Excuse me.” Without another look at Matteo, I headed straight toward where I hoped to find the restrooms.
It took all my self-control not to run down the long corridor branching off from the main area of the apartment. When I entered the restroom, I released a harsh breath. My cheeks were flushed, but not so much that anyone would suspect anything. That was what I hoped at least. I gripped the edge of the washbasin and squeezed my eyes shut. My heart was slamming against my rib cage. Suddenly someone gripped my hips. My eyes shot open and I stared into the mirror. Matteo towered over me, his gaze practically burning with want. He pressed his hips against my butt. “You left too soon.” His hand slipped under my dress while his other hand pulled down his zipper.
“What are you doing?” I hissed with a glance toward the door. “What if someone comes in?”
“Who gives a fuck? Let them get the show of their lives. It’s probably been years since those bitches got to see a cock.” He pushed my panties aside and thrust two fingers into me. I jutted my butt out, giving him better access. My body seemed to be acting on its own accord even when my brain was screaming at me to push Matteo away.
“Matteo,” I gasped. “Lock the stupid door.”
He moved his fingers in and out in a deliciously slow rhythm. My hips moved against him, forcing his fingers deeper into me.
“Do you really want me to stop so I can lock the fucking door?” He licked my spine from the edge of my dress up to my hairline, then met my gaze in the mirror. I shivered. He slammed his fingers into me again, hitting a sweet spot deep inside of me. His eyes seemed to bore into me, trying to reveal my darkest deepest secrets. My heart lurched, and I knew I’d be doomed if I didn’t stop this madness soon. Sex, that I could deal with, but these moments of silent understanding, these long looks full of too much meaning, they were starting to chip away at the walls I’d taken years to build.
Matteo cupped my breast through my dress, kneading and pinching my nipple in an almost painful way that made me grow even wetter. I closed my eyes to avoid his eyes and soaked in the sensations. Matteo thrust his fingers into me over and over again. I bit down on my lip to keep the sounds in. Matteo’s lips clamped down on my pulse point, sucking the skin into his mouth. I arched, pushing my butt against his hand with all my might as my orgasm jolted through me.
“Look at me,” Matteo ordered, and my eyes flew open, meeting his. “Yes, like that. Fuck, you are so fucking wet and hot.”
I dropped down to my forearms with a shuddering breath, enjoying the last waves of pleasure while Matteo slowed his fingers. He lifted my skirt even higher. I heard him unbuckle his pants and then he wrapped his arms tightly around my chest, pulled me against him and rubbed his tip over my opening. Then he slipped in inch by inch. I tried to jut my butt out, needing to feel him all the way in me, but he didn’t let me. If possible, he slowed even more, edging into me.
“Fuck me,” I whispered harshly.
He reached up and tilted my head to the side before claiming it with his mouth, his tongue taking possession of me. He had finally sheathed himself completely in me and then after a moment of stillness, he started slamming into me. My hands shot out to grip the edge of the washstand. Matteo drove my body against the cold stone as his cock thrust into me, deep and hard.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Matteo rasped. I moaned in response. It did feel better than anything ever had. Everything about this did. God, what was happening?
I tried to shut my brain off and only focus on the way Matteo’s cock filled me up, how he removed himself almost completely to drive me insane only to slam back into me. The edge of the washbasin dug into my palms as I clung to it. Matteo’s hands moved down, clasping my hips. I threw my head back, gasping and whimpering as I tumbled over the edge again with Matteo close behind. The sound of his moans spurred me on even more. A moment before we both slumped forward, our gazes met in the mirror again. And then I knew why I’d hardly considered running in the last couple of weeks, and it terrified me like nothing ever had.
I quickly looked down, trying to catch my breath, and calm my pounding heart and pulse.
Matteo kissed my shoulder blade. “I’m fucking glad that you are mine.”
I stiffened and would have pulled away if I wasn’t trapped between the washstand and Matteo’s body.
When Matteo eventually pulled out of me and we straightened our clothes and cleaned up, I couldn’t meet his gaze. I wasn’t embarrassed by what we’d done. That ship had sailed. I was confused and terrified by what I’d seen in my own eyes.
Matteo
During sex there were moments when I was certain Gianna was falling for me, but then always came the time afterward and I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it. In the past I’d always had girls crushing on me even when I never gave them reason to, but Gianna was a difficult nut to crack, and sometimes I caught myself wondering if maybe she’d never fall for me and was only fucking me to get on my good side. Gianna was clever, maybe she was trying to wrap me around her finger with sex so I’d grant her more freedom and she could run away again.
Gianna put a few strands that had fallen out during our quickie back into her updo. She was frowning at her own reflection and pretending I wasn’t there.
When we left the bathroom, she still ignored me. Then she stopped suddenly. “We can’t enter together. Everyone will know what we did.”
I shrugged. I didn’t give a fuck. Gianna was my wife and I’d fuck her whenever I felt like it. “We’ve been gone for a while. They’re probably suspecting already.”
“Great,” Gianna muttered but then she squared her shoulders and headed back to the tables with the other guests without another glance in my direction. So we were back to playing games?
* * *
That night I woke to an empty bed. I jumped to my feet, and searched the room for a sign of Gianna, but she wasn’t there. How could she have run? I didn’t bother putting on pants. Grabbing my gun holster on the way I stormed out of the room and into the living room.
I had to call Luca and tell him. He’d be furious. He hadn’t been happy when I’d removed Gianna’s ankle monitor. My eyes made out a slender figure in an armchair close to the window. Gianna.
I relaxed and discarded my gun holster on a sideboard before I crossed the room toward her. She must have pushed the armchair closer to the window so she could look out. Her legs were pressed up against her chest and her face rested on her knees. She was fast asleep. But even in sleep her brows were drawn together. I wasn’t sure but she looked as if she’d cried. I stopped beside her, staring down at her sleeping form. She must have moved very quietly for me not to hear her. I was a light sleeper. She’d even managed to put on pajamas. My gaze darted to the elevator console. Had she tried to crack the code and escape? The alarm would have alerted me to any attempts, and yet the suspicion remained. I hated that I didn’t trust her. It wasn’t as if I was used to trusting people, except for Luca, but I wanted to trust my wife. Of course it was difficult to develop trust when Gianna didn’t even have the chance to prove herself.
If I gave her more freedom, and she didn’t try to run, then I could start trusting her, but I had a feeling I’d never see her again if I did. I was too selfish and possessive. I didn’t want to lose her, even if that was what was best for her. My eyes returned to her face and the sadness that seemed to be edged into it.