Page 114 of Offside Angle

The sound that leaves him is somewhere between a groan and a whine. He shifts beneath me, and I feel the way his body reacts to the praise before he even speaks.

“It sounds better in Spanish,” he mutters, almost petulant.

I laugh softly, the sound vibrating between us. “Does it now?”

“Mmm… yes,” he answers, and there’s the smallest smirk tugging at his lips.

I bite down on my own bottom lip, shaking my head at him even as heat coils low in my stomach. Before I can say anything else, he starts moving again — slow strokes over me through my boxers. The friction is barely enough, and it’s driving me insane in the best way.

“This slow enough, smug photographer?” he asks, teasing.

Then he gets bolder.

His fingers slip under the waistband of my boxers, and the second his warm hand wraps around me properly, skin to skin, I have to bite back a moan. My fingers tighten on his sides as he strokes me slowly, teasingly, barely giving me enough pressure to satisfy.

I nod, jaw clenched, because for a few long seconds I genuinely can’t form words. My toes curl against the sheets as I fight the urge to thrust into his hand. He’s barely touching me and it already feels too good.

I force myself to breathe and look down at him, my voice coming out rougher than I intend. “Keep going like that,” I manage, switching back into Spanish without thinking. “Just like that, mi cielo… fuck.”

Matteo’s eyes darken at the sound of my voice, and I feel him give me one long, slow stroke that makes my hips twitch.

I have to close my eyes for a second.

If he keeps this up, I’m not going to last nearly as long as I want to.

Matteo’s fingers tighten around me, giving me one long, deliberate stroke that makes my vision blur for a second. My control frays dangerously at the edges.

I let out a low, warning groan.

“Cariño… if you keep touching me like that, this lesson is going to end very quickly.”

He blushes, the color spreading down his neck, but the little smirk that follows is pure trouble. He strokes me again, slower this time, testing how far he can push. “Maybe I’m a fast learner,” he says, cocky even as his voice wavers.

I smirk down at him and reach between us, popping open the button of his jeans. “Yeah?” I murmur. “How about now?”

He lets out a noncommittal little “mm” sound, not impressed yet. Like he wants me to try harder.

Brat.

I grab his thighs and gently untangle them, pulling them apart so I can work his jeans down. I keep my eyes on his face the whole time, one eyebrow raised in silent challenge.

Matteo lifts his hips without being told, helping me as I drag the denim lower. But the second I have to shift back and move out from between his legs to actually pull his jeans all the way off, his expression changes.

He pouts. Full, bottom lip pushed out, slightly dramatic pout because now he can’t reach me anymore.

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. He looks ridiculous. And unfairly adorable.

I toss his jeans somewhere on the floor and crawl back over him, settling between his thighs again. I lean down until my mouth is right above his. “Miss me already?” I tease.

Matteo glares up at me. His hands find my waist again, sliding his fingers under the waistband of my boxers determined.

I catch his wrist before he can slip his hand back between us. Slowly, I bring it up and press a soft kiss to the center of his palm. “Ask, cariño.”

Matteo’s eyes widen. “Absolutely not!”

I look down at him for a second, then decide to be just a little mean. I bring his hand to my mouth and slowly suck his middle finger between my lips, dragging my tongue along the underside.

The sound that comes out of him is new.