“You’re taking me so well,” he hisses, mid-thrust. “You like this, don’t you? You like how I’m fucking you.”
I don’t reply. A second later, there’s a smack on my ass. The sound that escapes me is a cross between a whimper and a moan.
“Answer me, princess. I asked if you liked how I was fucking you.”
“Y-yes,” I cry.
I turn my face back into the mattress and moan. My hips move back and forth to try and catch more of him as he slides in and out of me. Soon enough my thighs start to quiver. My toes curl. Matteo ceases his thrusts for a moment, holding me against his cock as I orgasm.
He lowers his head and groans as I clench and contract against him. He exhales a soft breath before he resumes slamming into me again at a ferocious pace. His fingers dig so forcefully into the soft flesh of my ass that I know there’ll be imprints on it once he’s done.
I take everything he has to give and eventually I’m rewarded by a muted “fuck” as he comes inside of me. And some other garbled sounds.
He drops to his side, taking me with him in a spooning position. I count one second, then another. Five more seconds pass before I shift away. He slides out of me and lies on his back, latent shivers still rolling through him.
I should feel a lot of things right now. I wait for the shame to arrive.
It doesn’t.
What arrives instead is clarity. Cold, inconvenient, and completely useless.
I made a choice tonight. I know who he is. He knows who I am. We weren’t confused about each other and yet… here we are.
Ugh, Lindsay, what the hell were you thinking?
I shift away and sit up.
He’s lying there watching me with an expression I can’t fully read. Not smug or calculating, which is a relief because I’m much too aware of how bad this is for him to add to it.
“So… after months of chasing, this is the result. I hope you’re not too disappointed.”
I turn away from his gaze, trying to keep from blushing, but when I look back he’s still looking at me. With a look I’ve never experienced before. Something that looks dangerously close to?—
“Don’t,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow.
“Whatever you’re about to say. Don’t.”
A beat of silence.
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he says finally.
“Good.”
“You need to put on your clothes,” I say, sliding out of bed and crossing my arms over my very naked chest.
He arches an eyebrow. He looks comfortable, arm behind his head, legs stretched out, like he didn’t just rock my world while somehow managing to make it crumble at the same time.
“This was your plan, wasn’t it?” I hate that my voice cracks. “Show up here, say a few pretty words, make me vulnerable and then sleep with me. To what end?”
He sits up on the bed, throwing me an irritated glance.
“I didn’t force you to get into this bed with me, princess. And I seem to remember you clenching around my cock as you came, multiple times. So save the dramatic act. We’re two consenting adults. And we had a good time.”
My chest feels like it’s caving in.
“What was I thinking?” I whisper, looking down at my feet in shame.
