“I’m not immune. But you’re Lorenzo’s little sister, and you just got out of a shitty situation, and fuck!” He scrubs his hands over his face. “You’re Lorenzo’s little sister,” he repeats. “I was trying to show you that your curves are beautiful, not get in your damn pants.”
“You think my curves are beautiful?”
Sure, he said they were useful for fucking and such, but he didn’t say they were beautiful.
“Dani,” he groans, flopping his head back against the couch.
“What?” I shrug.
Matteo closes his eyes for several seconds and then swerves hishead to the side lazily, opening his eyes and looking at me. “Yes, your curves are beautiful.”
I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. Earlier, he called me beautiful when he said he wouldn’t mind a beautiful woman staying with him, but I just thought it was a figure of speech. But this is different … Matteo thinks my curves are beautiful.
“Thank you,” I tell him, standing.
“Where are you going?”
“To my bedroom. I’m … tired.”
He quirks a brow, but doesn’t argue, and I head upstairs, on a mission to relieve the tension that’s built between my legs. I might’ve picked duds for sexual partners, but I’ve become an expert at getting myself off. All I need is my …
“Shit!” I hiss when I realize I don’t have my vibrator or an electronic device on me. I don’t even have my tablet to pull up a book and skim it to find a sexy scene that I can use to get myself off.
My thoughts go back to Matteo holding me up on his strong shoulders with my legs wrapped around his neck. I climb onto the bed and lie against the fluffy pillow, reaching into Matteo’s sweats and my underwear.
With how turned on I am from him touching me, it won’t take long. My fingers slide between my lips, and I groan at how wet I am. The pad of my finger finds my clit, and I close my eyes, recalling the way Matteo lifted me against the wall and told me to squeeze my legs.
Only this time, my underwear is off, and my pussy is dripping wet for him.
And instead of his face stopping inches away from me, his tongue darts out and licks my clit until I’m coming so hard that I’m tugging on his hair and screaming his name.
“Holy fucking shit.”
I pop my eyes open, thinking I just cursed out loud as my orgasm hit. Instead of being alone in my room with the door closed, I find the door is open, and Matteo is standing in the doorway, watching me finger myself.
“What are you doing?” I squeak out, embarrassed.
“I was going to my room and heard a noise. I thought maybe you were upset since you’d left the room so abruptly. So, I opened it, thinking you were crying, only you were …”
He nods toward me, and I glance down.
Shit! My hand is still down my pants.
I pull it out, and he groans.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He tilts his head up. “How is this my life?” He shakes his head and then glances back at me. “I’m pretty sure I’m being punished for everything I’ve ever done wrong in my life.”
I pout at that, a bit taken aback. I mean, he literally called me beautiful, yet the idea of me pleasuring myself is punishment?
“Nobody told you to open my door,” I snap. “And maybe if men were a little less selfish, women wouldn’t have to resort to pleasuring themselves.”
“I’m selfish?” He barks out a laugh. “You’re the one taking your fucking pants off and parading around in your goddamn underwear! You’re the one grinding against the couch.You’rethe one fingering yourself and making ungodly noises in the room next to mine, knowing I can’t fucking touch you! I’m selfish?” he spits. “No,you’refucking selfish.”
“Who says?” I shrug.
“What?”
“Who says you can’t touch me?”
