Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
He’s not exactly being gentle anymore, but I hardly mind at all.
My body courses with adrenaline as he pounds into me, and the thought of him losing himself while buried deep inside me has my pussy clenching and clit throbbing.
“See?” he pants between thrusts. “You fucking like me. Just. Admit it.”
I let out a strangled laugh, gripping impossibly tighter to the headboard.
“I like your dick. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Rossi.”
His hand swats against my ass, and I let out a squeal that blends into a groan as Matteo changes the angle of his hips to thrust into me particularly roughly while yanking my hair further back.
“Brutal,” he comments. “Absolutely savage.”
“Still true,” I gasp, as he shifts again, snapping his hips as he hits a spot that has me seeing stars.
“My little liar,” he growls as he angles himself over me, his chest pressing into my back as his lips move to my ear. “You like me a hell of a lot more than you want to admit.”
“Sure, Rossi,” I breathe. “You and your massive ego.”
He chuckles darkly, slowing his rhythm ever so slightly.
“My ego’s not the only thing that’s massive.”
“God,” I groan. “Even while fucking me, you’re incorrigible.”
“And you love every fucking second,” he whispers before reaching forwards.
His palm cups my face, and he uses his grip on my jaw to move my head to the side so that he can capture my lips in a kiss that makes me forget my own name.
Our mouths crash together in a frenzy of teeth and tongues, the desperation between us almost palpable.
His thrusts are slow but deep, each movement deliberate and agonisingly intense.
"Don't tell me you're getting tired," I whisper breathlessly as he slows, pressing a kiss to the back of my shoulder.
He lifts his head, eyes twinkling.
"Me? Tired?” he scoffs. “I run ninety minutes non-stop on the pitch. You think you can wear me out?"
"Big talk, Rossi. But actions speak louder than words."
"Is that a challenge?"
"It might be."
With a playful growl, he slaps my ass again, his laugh mingling with mine as we continue our game of push and pull - equal parts passion and playfulness.
“Fuck, Matteo,” I whisper, my breath shuddering as he leans in and bites down gently on my bottom lip.
“That’s it,” he growls, voice hoarse. “Say my name, bella. I want to hear it.”
I try to fight the urge to give him what he wants - my pride still clinging to some shred of control - but when he angles his hips and hits that spot again, the name falls from my lips without permission.
“Matteo,” I moan, and his groan of satisfaction sends a wave of heat cascading through me.
“You sound so good when you say my name like that,” he mutters, his breath hot against my skin. “Told you you liked me.”
“Don’t. Get. Cocky,” I manage through gritted teeth, even as my legs tremble.
He chuckles darkly.
“Too late.”
And then his hand moves from my jaw to my throat, his fingers applying just enough pressure to make my pulse race even faster as his lips brush against my ear.
“You’re mine, Daphne,” he tells me. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I gasp, the word slipping out with more truth than I want to admit.
“Mine,” he repeats, grinning wickedly as he bends lower at the knees while pounding into me at a relentless pace. “Fuck, Daphne; you’re mine.”
He uses his grip on my hair to guide me back impossibly further. I follow his lead with ease, my body arching, the change in angle causing the pair of us to gasp into the night.
I can’t take it anymore - can’t do anything other than squeeze my eyes to a close as heat begins to course through my body from head-to-toe. My walls tighten around his thick, hard length, and I feel myself beginning to lose all control as my thighs tremble.
The world shatters around me as he thrusts into me one last time, his name ripping from my throat as pleasure overtakes every inch of my body. Matteo continues thrusting wildly as I ride out the waves of my orgasm, my body tensing and growing rigid beneath his hands.
His hips begin to stutter and his rhythm falters, and after a few more rough, hurried thrusts of his hips, he follows me over the edge with a guttural groan, his arms locking around me as if he's afraid I'll disappear.
We collapse into the mattress, bodies tangled, breaths erratic.
And just as I expect him to shift away, Matteo rolls onto his back, pulling me with him.
My body stiffens slightly in surprise.
This has never happened before.
At the gala, I had barely caught my breath after our tryst before hurrying out of the bathroom stall to compose myself. And in the stadium’s changing room, there wasn’t exactly room for anything other than the raw, heated desperation between us.