When his mouth descends on mine again, it’s entirely welcome. His fingers slide into my hair, while his thumb sparks embers on my cheek. I drag my hands down his chest, around his ribs, under his suit jacket and up his back, splaying my fingers over his shoulder blades. He pulls me closer, until I’m flush against him.
His tongue slides against mine and I feel myself being reforged. And I’m completely helpless to stop it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize we’re moving. He walks us backwards, his mouth white hot and remaining sewn to mine.
My back hits a wall, a corner of the elevator. Breaking away from my lips, he drags his mouth up my jaw, under my ear. I feel a shiver down to my bones, needing to feel him. He licks along the expanse of my collar bone, scraping his teeth over it as his hands glide along my ass. I gasp when he squeezes it, pulling me even closer.
I can feel him, hard against my thighs, and it has an entirely heady effect. His hands shift forward, bunching up the material of my gown.
“If you want me to stop, princess, now might be the time to find your voice,” he whispers against the side of my ear.
I don’t stop him and I also don’t find my voice. Pretty sure I lost it the moment we got into the elevator and he started kissing me again. I also refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing me ask for it. Or even worse, beg. Tension curls within my spine as his thumb softly strokes the skin of my thigh. He continues to inch higher, closer and closer until his fingers reach the edge of my panties.
I swallow, my throat dry, while every inch of me chimes with want. Slowly, he shifts my panties to the side. I’m not just wet. I’m completely soaked. The gleam in his eyes at that knowledge both pleases me and makes me angry.
That isn’t for you, I want to tell him.
But I settle for staring at him defiantly, daring him to make his next move. He pauses then and, for a second, I think he’s going to step away. Then he smirks before plunging two fingers inside of me. My eyes go wide and a silent scream is wrenched from my throat. Pleasure and pain roll through me.
The elevator could stop at any moment before we reach the penthouse. Anyone could walk in here and see us. Someone could be watching us right now through the cameras and I find I don’t care.
“You think I can make you come before the elevator stops on your floor?” he questions darkly.
His fingers curl within me and I gasp softly, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Doubtful,” I answer panting for air.
I clutch onto his arm for support, my nails digging into the material of his suit jacket as I try to maintain some semblance of control. Control goes out the window when he adds one more finger inside of me, increasing the pace of his thrusts.
A burst of pleasure floods through me. My toes curl. My heart is beating so fast it’s scary. His pace verges on madness as he pounds into me with heightened intensity. My eyes close halfway and I want to look away from the storm that’s about to take me over but I can’t.
The longer I’m swallowed in his dark gaze, the more lightheaded I become. He teases my clit in two expert strokes and that’s all it takes for me to come with a deep moan. I nearly fall forward but he holds me close, still stroking as I come down from the orgasm.
“Good girl,” he whispers.
Fuck.
Through my starry haze, I notice that the elevator doors are wide open. I’m about to tell him that, but he kisses me again. When he reaches down to squeeze my ass, I decide we might as well stay in here.
He is such a good kisser. It’s annoying.
Matteo makes a deep noise in the back of his throat as I kiss him, running my hands down his shirt. I need to feel more of him and I guess he must sense my desperation.
“We should probably get out of here,” he says against my lips.
He loops one arm under my ass and picks me up. As soon as I’m in the air, I go straight for his hair. It’s so soft and it smells amazing. I run my nails over his scalp, provoking a quaveringexhale. He carries me down the corridor and then all of a sudden I’m being set down and spun around.
The door to the penthouse stands in front of me while Matteo hovers behind me. One hand slides low on my stomach, and the other one drifts upwards tauntingly, stopping under my breast.
“Open the door, princess,” he says, right beside my ear.
I don’t even remember inputting the code. One minute, we’re outside, the next I’m surging ahead, dragging him along. My mind only registers a loud slam of the door being shut.
In one rough motion, I force his jacket to the ground. Mine follows in quick succession.
“This is a really, really bad idea,” I have the presence of mind to mention.
“I agree,” he says. “Where’s the bedroom?”
I smile, hooking my fingers through his belt loops as I walk backwards toward the oak door of my room. We’re barely through the door before he begins fiddling with the zip of my dress.
