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“Well, same here. It’s about time I had my turn,” I say, outsmarting her by flipping her onto her back.
She gasps, surprised, and I lower myself down her body until I find her delicious pussy.
“Matteo,” she huffs my name. “Yes. Oh, yes. I love when you eat my pussy.”
I lap my tongue at her folds and roll my thumb over her clit, already swollen and tender. I inhale her lovely scent of female arousal and dive in, licking her cunt, sucking her juices relentlessly. I love her tangy taste with its hint of sweetness.
“Yes.”
She bucks her hips, and I flick her clit with intensity, matching the flicks of my tongue in her pussy until her lower body contracts, and she lets out a long moan. I don’t stop teasing her as she comes, licking every bit of her female cream like an obsessed man until she stops trembling.
Then I lift myself over her body while she’s still reeling from the orgasm and slam into her with a hard thrust, all the way to the hilt.
Her walls contract and pulse, and she moans again, her eyes on mine.
“I love… fucking you,” I say. I fall short. I want to tell her I love her, but old insecurities hold me back. The emotion is in me; growing, expanding, and knowing it exists sends me into a crazy overdrive.
“Yes. Fuck me, Matteo. I’m yours.”
“Mine,” I say, and fuck her deep. “Mine,” I growl. I thread my fingers with hers so our hands are connected. I roll my hips, withdrawing halfway, only to plunge deeper. “Mine.” With one more thrust, we both come, moaning in tandem, my hot cum spilling into her as she comes apart in my arms.
A warm glow flows through me, and as I come back from the orgasm, another sentiment fills me. Freedom—a different kind from the one I’ve dreamed of for so long.
19
Sienna
“How are weddingplans coming along, Sienna?” Clara asks me.
Matteo came to the house to talk to my father, and I’m waiting in the living room before we go to yet another wedding-related appointment.
Three days ago, I told him I loved him. And when he said he’d help me, I believed him. He contacted someone to do the fake IDs, but it’ll still be a week before they’re ready. Now more than ever, everything is on the line.
If this falls through—I’m fucked. Not in a sexy way, like he’s been doing to me at every opportunity. No. I’ll be fucked in the worst way possible.
“Sienna?” Clara asks again, lifting her teacup to her mouth.
She offered me some, but I refused. I’m uneasy being here at my father’s again. He’s treating me like nothing happened, but we both know I can’t respect him after I learned about who exactly he wants to marry me off to.
I blink out of my reverie. “They’re coming along. The wedding planner you found is a joy to work with. She has good suggestions, and I just go with whatever she thinks is appropriate.”
“Good.” Clara reaches for a biscuit she made herself. She’s always taken great pride in baking. “I understand you’ve spent a lot of time with Matteo.”
A chilly sensation spills into my stomach. “It’s hard not to when he’s my bodyguard and is under orders to hover constantly,” I manage to say in a casual voice. I look at my French-tip manicured nails like this subject is no big deal.
Clara looks around us, then leans closer. “Sienna… I hope you know what you’re doing.”
I swallow a lump in my throat. “What do you mean?” I ask to buy myself time only. It’s obvious Clara isn’t an idiot, and she picked up on our attraction.
She squints. “Matteo is an attractive man.”
I tilt my head to the side, acting like I don’t know what she’s implying. “And?”
“And you’ll marry a man who isn’t.”
Ouch.“Two facts I agree with.”
“If you’re sowing your wild oats before your marriage… just be discreet about it. When you two are in the room, the looks you give each other are fiercer than a strong heat front.”
