For a moment, he looks shocked, and I mentally preen at the fact I’ve caught him off guard. Then he schools his features. “Why? Would that be a problem for you?”
“Yes,” I snip. “Very much so. I don’t fucking share, Matteo. So as long as you’re with me, you better not kiss or touch anyone else.”
The smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth is unfair. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he rasps. “And just for the record, I don’t share either. Keep that in mind.”
I unlock my door and push it open, pausing on the threshold to throw a smoldering look over my shoulder. “Good to know. Have fun with your hand.”
Before stepping inside, I blow him a kiss, then turn and shake my ass deliberately, my dress riding up just enough to give him a peek at what he’s missing. His sharp intake of breath is all the confirmation I need that my little display hit its mark.
Game on, Matteo. Game fucking on.
The lock clicks into place, and I lean against the door, cursing him with every filthy word in my vocabulary. My body is on fire, every nerve ending raw and aching for release.
“Psychotic asshole,” I mutter, already kicking off my heels and heading straight for my bedroom. “Getting me this horny every night and just bailing. That’s just fucking rude.”
He wants a picture? Pfft. I’ll give him a performance he’ll never forget. Wait… yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do. I walk back into the living room and grab my laptop.
On my way to my bedroom, I text him and ask for his email. He replies while I set up my laptop on the nightstand, angling it just right.
Once the device is fired up, I open the streaming app I’ve used once or twice in the past. Basically, it’s like a livestream that can only be accessed via invite. Then I hit start and email Matteo the invite link.
I wait until the app pings, telling [email protected] joined.
“You like watching, Matteo?” I purr, looking directly at the camera.
Pushing my dress down, I let it drop to the floor with a soft thud. My bra and thong follow. I take my time peeling the latter down over my hips and thighs until I can step out of the fabric.
Completely naked, I crawl onto the bed, moving the laptop to the foot of the mattress so he won’t lose a second of my performance.
The sheets feel cool against my overheated skin, and I bite my lip at the sensation. My pierced nipples tighten into hard peaks, partly from the air, partly from knowing he’s watching.
My fingers trail between my breasts, across my stomach, down to the throbbing heat between my thighs. I’m so wet that my first touch makes me gasp, my back arching off the mattress.
I circle my clit slowly, teasingly, but it’s not enough—not after the night I’ve had, not with the memory of Matteo’s hard body grinding against mine still fresh in my mind.
Knowing I need help, I reach for the nightstand drawer, pulling it open and extracting my trusted vibrator. A good friend on lonely nights.
But tonight, as I slide it between my legs, circling my entrance with the tip, I already know it won’t be enough. I’m slick and ready, my body practically begging for release, but my mind keeps conjuring images of Matteo.
Of his scarred face, his tattooed body, the way his hands felt gripping my waist earlier tonight. I push the toy inside me, closing my eyes and arching my back, trying to lose myself in the sensation.
“I wish you’d come inside,” I moan.
This isn’t enough.
Frustrated, I try different angles, speeds, depths. I thrust it deeper, faster, letting my free hand wander to my clit, circling the sensitive bud with practiced fingers. Though it feels good, it’s muted—a shadow of what I need.
What I crave is the weight of Matteo’s body pressing me into the mattress, the fullness of his cock, thicker than this toy, with that wickedly delicious piercing that had hit spots inside me I didn’t even know existed.
“Goddamn it,” I cry, withdrawing the dildo and tossing it aside. It lands on the floor with a soft thud that somehow sounds like mockery. “You’ve ruined me for my toys, you bastard.”
I sit up, pushing my hair back from my flushed face, and make a decision. If regular methods won’t cut it tonight, I need to bring out the big guns.
Sliding off the bed, I pad to my closet and reach for the back corner, where I keep my more creative toys hidden behind winter coats. I pull out what looks like a firm decorative pillow—except it’s mounted with a realistic silicone dildo that stands proud from its surface.
This is my go-to when I want hands-free fun, when I want to ride and grind and take my time. I haven’t needed it in weeks, but tonight’s the night. Smirking, I return to the bed with my prize.
I position the pillow near the head of the mattress, and, fuck, I’m hoping he has an unobstructed view when he watches. The thought makes me throb with want, my body clenching around nothing.
