Page 23 of Tempting Tessa

Called Dad again. Straight to voicemail. Ass.

Natalia says the G-spot stimulator needs more curve. She’s right.

Need to fire Marcus from R&D. Keeps hitting on the testers.

Then I see my name, and my pulse quickens.

Had a dream about him last night. Woke up soaking wet. This is getting ridiculous.

My cock throbs against my zipper. She dreams about me. Gets wet for me even in her sleep.

Decided to approach Matteo for funding. Risky, but I don’t want my dad funding me. Better the devil I know than the one who raised me.

Met with M today. He agreed too easily. Something’s off. The way he looked at me...like I was something he wanted to devour.

I scan further down the page and what I saw has me ready to pull my cock out and cum all over her pretty purple pillows.

Had a dream where he bends me over his desk and makes me call him Daddy while he fucks me. Woke up soaking wet. What the fuck is wrong with me? He’s Dad’s best friend.

I turn the page, hungry for more of her dirty thoughts about me, and my cock nearly bursts through my zipper when I read her latest entry.

After what happened in his office, I can’t stop thinking about his face between my legs. How it would feel to grip that thick black hair and just ride his mouth until I cum all over him again. I’ve never squirted before. Never lost control like that. What is he doing to me? It’s like he knows exactly which buttons to push. I hate how much I want him. How much I crave his voice calling me his good girl. I touched myself three times yesterday just thinking about it.

So my little stellina wants to ride my face? Wants to grip my hair and grind that sweet pussy against my mouth? I’m rock hard just picturing it—her thighs clamped around my head, her juices coating my chin as she uses my tongue like her personal fuck toy.

I close the journal and put it back exactly where I found it, making sure everything is exactly as it was when I entered.

On my way out, I pause at her dresser and open the top drawer. Lace panties in every color stare back at me. I select a pink pair—the same style as the ones I took from her in my office—and pocket them. A memento. Something to keep me company while I wait for my plan to unfold.

I make sure to lock her door when I leave. After all, I wouldn’t want anyone else breaking in. She’s mine to violate. Mine to claim. Mine to breed.

The lobby is busier now, with a few residents milling about. I nod at Tom as I pass.

“Have a good evening, Mr. Marino,” he calls.

“Oh, I will,” I respond, patting my pocket where her stolen panties rest.

Chapter 8

Contessa

There’s a difference between being watched and being hunted. And right now, my skin is crawling with a predatory heat that says I’m not just being observed—I’m being stalked. Only one man has ever made me feel this way, like I’m prey being stalked by something with bigger teeth.

Mrs. Whitmore drones on, her diamond earrings catching the light as she tilts her head. Her husband nods along, his eyes glazed over from too much champagne or boredom. Probably both. “—and that’s why we’ve always supported the children’s hospital,”

“Excuse me,” I murmur, setting my champagne flute on a passing waiter’s tray. “I just spotted someone I need to speak with.”

I turn slowly, bracing myself, and there he is. Matteo fucking Marino, standing across the ballroom like some dark god in a custom tuxedo. His eyes lock with mine instantly, as if he’s been waiting for me to acknowledge him. A smirk spreads across his face, and I want to smack it right off.

I lift my chin and turn away, heading for the bar. I need something stronger than champagne if I’m going to survive this night.

“Whiskey, neat,” I tell the bartender, drumming my fingernails against the marble countertop. The black dress I’m wearing suddenly feels too tight, the slit up the side exposing too much thigh. I picked it to make a statement, but now I feel like I’ve put myself on display for him.

“Make that two.” His voice slides over me like warm honey, and I close my eyes for a brief second before turning to face him. Matteo stands too close, invading my space like he has every right to be there. Up close, he’s even more devastating—the silver at his temples catching the light, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass.

I don’t even get a chance to say something bitchy before he’s being an ass.

“It’s a charity event. I’m being charitable.” His eyes drop to my cleavage, then back to my face. “Nice dress.”