As we round the stairs, I catch a glimpse of Matteo. His jaw grits tight enough to break teeth. His fists clench as we pass, and then Vittorio takes the stairs two at a time. The slap of his wet feet hitting the steps as the water runs out of his bottoms is the soundtrack to the lust burning through us.
He jogs down the landing and kicks the door open to my room. He flips me onto the bed, his joggers shoved off and abandoned on the floor, as I wrestle myself out of my costume. When it reaches my hips, he yanks, tugging it down the rest of the way before rushing me, his hands gripmy thighs as he pushes them back, slamming his face straight into my pussy. I yelp out as my hand grasps into his hair. This seems to be my new favourite thing, gripping tight as I grind myself against his face. My resolve lost, left behind somewhere in a wake of lust and need. He licks his tongue through my lips and whispers into my pussy.
“You’re fucking mine.” He nips at my clit, and my back arches off the bed. “Fuck, you were made to fit my dick. I can see now how perfect you are. How full you’ll be when my cock fills you. You’ll fit me like a fucking glove.”
He pulls back and spits against me. I groan a filthy groan.Fuck. That’s so fucking hot. He slides a finger in, and I buck again as he sucks a lip into his mouth, rolling his thumb around my clit as he pulls back and dives in with his tongue. He rubs his face harder into my pussy.
“Fuck, you smell delicious. You taste even better.” He sucks my clit into his mouth, and I gush against his chin. “Fucking hell. Ari. You’re so fucking wet for me.”
He slides up my body, his dick pushes against my clit as his body crashes into mine. Our naked flesh becomes one as he kisses me breathless. The taste of me on his skin mixed with the scent of chlorine makes my head spin. I grind my hips and feel his cock slide between my lips. Just a tiny flick of my hips and he’ll be inside me. I gasp. I’m so fucking close. I lift my ass just enough to feel the head of his cock press against my entrance. I thrust forward, and the tip slips in the tiniest bit. I gasp as my orgasm is right there.
But the fucker, he pulls his hips back. I glare at him and growl. He leans up and flicks my nipple, biting down on the other one before pulling back and sliding backbetween my legs. His body rubs against my clit, and I grunt. “Fuck, fuck.” I can’t hold it back.
“Naughty fiancée.” He bites down on my clit, and I gasp. I grab his hair as I curse and rub his face into my pussy. I come so fucking hard as I ride him. The sting of the bite crashes into the orgasm as I scream his name while I come on his face. The smile spreads across his lips as he thrusts his tongue and sucks my clit as I buck and flail against him.
I gasp as I come down. The orgasm ripped through me, and he kisses my pussy. “No dick before marriage. I won’t fuck you until you’re mine and only mine.”
He places a chaste kiss on my inner thigh as he climbs off the bed, leaving me panting and writhing still on my back. He gets to the door, winks at me, grabs his bottoms from the floor, and stalks out of my room naked, slamming the door behind him.
I flop back against the bed and gasp, “What the fuck?”
Arianna
Chapter Twenty
I wake up feeling on edge. My skin is cold and clammy. It feels like it’s buzzing, my brain feels exhausted, and my body still aches a little. The surrounding air feels eerily calm, you know, that uncomfortable calm just before all hell breaks loose, which doesn’t fill me with anything but dread. It’s the morning of the wedding. I peel myself out of bed and shower, trying to wash the day off me before I’ve even started it.
When I head downstairs, the house is a bustle of movement and chaos. People milling around, I feel like I’m walking around in slow motion compared to everyone else. Marianne is barking orders, where people need to be, what time vehicles need to leave and arrive to transport the staff to the event. I haven’t done anything. Vittorio and Marianne have planned it all, even down to the dress. I don’t care about any of it. It’s a means to an end, isn’t it?
I never grew up imagining my wedding. Alfredo took my innocence before I even knew what I wanted from a man or a wedding. But Vittorio wants this to be special; he wants the world to know I’m his, and he is mine.
He wants to take my name, abandoning the Ricci name altogether. Vittorio Bianchi. It has a nice ring to it, and it will send a message to everyone out there. Especially his father and brother. Bellino has been quiet, too quiet. But it’s the calm before the storm. I know he’ll come for me. It’s inevitable, but when and where? I don’t know.
I don’t even know whether they will attend the wedding. I’m not sure if I would want them there. I suppose if they were, they could just kill me. I’m sure Bellino will love to murder me, a vision in white, blood cascading around my lifeless body like a Renaissance painting. Especially if he could do it in public, but who knows?
Marianne has informed me to grab my overnight bag, and the boys will be ready to drive me to the venue. I throw in everything I think I’ll need, but I don’t even know where I’m going, and the more I think about it, the more I feel this could be a set-up. What the hell am I thinking? I’m not going through with this. It’s too fast. I can’t.
There’s a knock on my door. I blow out a breath as I crack it open. Matteo stands there, black tux and earpiece in. He glances down at me, his eyes searching for something. He looks handsome, and I give him a soft smile.
“You don’t have to do this,” he croaks.
“Yes, I do.” I hold my bag out for him to take, and I step past him.
“Arianna, wait.” He grabs my arm, stopping me from heading down the hallway. He drops my bag, and as he pulls me towards him, his other arm reaches up as if tocup my face. His hot hand tremors as he slides it up my cheek.
I whip my head at the last second. His face crashes into the side of my face before I pull away. My nostrils flare as I stand there dumbfounded. On my fucking wedding day. Is he shitting me? I lean down, snatching my bag off the floor, and turn on my heels.
Storming down the hallway, when I reach the end, I turn and look over my shoulder and glare at him. “That won’t happen again,” I snarl.
My eyes bore into him with fury. His eyes widen, his posture sags. He looks defeated. His eyes are glassy, but he straightens himself and nods, before he follows after me and falls into step behind me.
When I reach the car, Luca is there with the boot open. He glares at me, clutching my own bag, then at Matteo. Luca steps forward, taking my bag from me and placing it in the boot. He nods and opens my door, then scowls at Matteo as he gets in the driver’s seat before Luca slides in beside me.
I stare out of the window, trying to concentrate on nothing, but everything floods my mind. The scenery whizzes past as my mind tries to match the speed, filling it with regrets, possibilities, and the men in my life—past, present, and future. What the fuck is this? A mental breakdown on my wedding day? It doesn’t bode well. Is it some kind of omen?
We pull up at a manor house that’s absolutely stunning. I break from the fog that’s descended on me to appreciate the beauty of it all. The imposing iron gates, surrounded by natural stone walls. The neatly trimmed lawns and hedges surrounded by wildflowerborders, the dull buzz of insects buzzing from plant to plant. The place looks serene. The humming sound is loud above the noise of the engine. Until the screech of the gates sounds before they creak open. As Matteo drives onto the grounds, our eyes meet in the mirror, and I have to look away.
I’m angry, so fucking angry, you pick the day of my wedding to finally make a substantial move.
