Page 32 of Tempting Tessa

I try to close my legs, suddenly self-conscious, but his hands grip my thighs firmly, keeping me spread open for his inspection.

“Don’t hide from me,” he commands, his eyes locked on my used pussy. “I want to see what my cock did to you.”

His thumb traces around my entrance, which feels tender and stretched. The sensation makes me whimper.

“Your body was built to take me,” he says with such certainty it makes my core clench again. “Made for my cock. Tall and thick and utterly fucking perfect.”

I roll my eyes despite the flutter in my chest. “You’re not that special, Marino.”

But he just smirks, continuing to examine me like I’m his favorite toy. His fingers dip inside me again, making me gasp as he collects some of our mixed fluids and spreads them over my sensitive folds.

My stomach chooses that exact moment to let out a small but unmistakable growl. Heat rushes to my face as I realize I haven’t eaten since lunch.

Matteo tuts, his eyes narrowing at the sound.

“When’s the last time you ate something?” he asks, his voice shifting from sex-drunk to concerningly alert.

I shrug, trying to play it off. “I had a protein bar at some point.”

“At some point,” he repeats, shaking his head. “You mean this morning? Yesterday?”

“Does it matter?” I try to close my legs again, but he’s still kneeling between them, his hands now resting on my thighs.

“It fucking matters,” he says, and I swear I can see genuine worry flash across his face before it’s replaced by that commanding expression again. “Your body needs fuel, Contessa. A fueled body is a fueled brain.”

I snort. “Are you seriously lecturing me about nutrition while your cum is drying on my pussy?”

He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he slides his hands under my ass and hoists me up, pulling me to the edge of the bed. Before I can process what’s happening, he’s standing, scooping me into his arms like I weigh nothing.

“What the fuck?” I yelp, instinctively grabbing his shoulders to steady myself.

“We’re getting you something to eat,” he states, carrying me naked through his bedroom toward what I assume is an en-suite bathroom. “Then we’ll continue this...discussion.”

“I can walk,” I protest, though my legs still feel like jelly from those back-to-back orgasms.

“Sure you can.” He smirks, kicking open the bathroom door with his foot. “But I like carrying you.”

The bathroom is bigger than my entire apartment’s living room, all marble and glass with a shower that could fit six people comfortably. He sets me down on the counter next to a massive sink, my ass cold against the marble.

“Stay,” he commands, like I’m a fucking dog, then turns to grab a washcloth from a nearby shelf.

“I’m not a dog,” I snap, but I don’t move. Partly because I’m curious about what he’s doing, and partly because my legs are still trembling.

He wets the cloth with warm water and turns back to me, stepping between my legs again. Without a word, he begins to gently clean between my thighs, wiping away the sticky residue of sex and cum.

“I can do that myself,” I mutter, but my protest lacks conviction. There’s something weirdly intimate about him cleaning me like this, more intimate than the filthy fucking we just did.

“I know you can,” he says, his touch surprisingly gentle as he works. “But I want to take care of what’s mine.”

I should argue with that possessive statement, but the warm cloth feels too good against my tender flesh. I lean back on my hands, letting my head fall back slightly as he continues his ministrations.

When he’s done, he tosses the cloth and steps back, his eyes roaming over my naked body like he’s memorizing every curve and dip.

“Wait here,” he orders, then strides out of the bathroom, still completely naked and apparently not giving a single fuck about it.

I take the opportunity to really look at the bathroom. It’s ridiculous—a giant glass-walled shower with multiple showerheads, a soaking tub big enough to swim in, and what looks like heated floors. Everything screams money, but not in that tacky, gold-plated way. This is old money, the kind that doesn’t need to show off.

Matteo returns a minute later, still gloriously naked. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, not fully hard but definitely not soft either. The sight makes my center clench. Fucking down, girl.