Page 115 of Matteo

“Yes, please,” I murmur. He’s still hard inside me, but he pulls out, letting me down gently to the floor.

“Fuck,” he cries. Looking at me. Looking worried. “I forgot to wear a condom. First time ever.”

My eyes widen, through my lazy post-sex haze. “Doesn’t matter. I’m on the pill.”

“Sorry.”

I’m still coming down from my high as he gently leads me to the bed, guiding me down with the flat of his hand so that I sink into the sumptuousness of it. I could roll around ten times and I still wouldn't fall off.

I look up to find Matteo sliding a condom over his hardness, a fire burning in his eyes.

Oh.

I smile and start to spread my legs apart, but I'm startled when he flips me onto my stomach and pulls me back onto my heels. Before I can even blink, he thrusts into me in one smooth motion, knocking the air clean out of my lungs.

A startled cry escapes me as he gathers me closer and buries his face against my shoulder. The pace between us changes instantly. The slow, careful restraint from earlier is gone, and now every movement he makes is urgent, driven by weeks of anticipation and desire finally set free.

I’m still trembling and oversensitive, still floating in my own hazy paradise and coming down from the first orgasm.

“Elizabeth,” he rasps.

The sound of my name on his lips sends another shiver through me. His breathing grows rougher, more uneven, and I can feel the tension building in him, feel the way he's holding on by a thread. He lets out a ragged groan and buries his face against my neck, his entire body going tight before he finally relaxes against me.

For a few moments neither of us moves.

Eventually, I manage to roll onto my side and find him taking off the condom and disposing of it.

He slides under the duvet, holds out his arm for me to do the same. I jump in and snuggle against him.

“You okay, babe?” He drops a kiss on my head.

“Never been better.” My hand skates over his ridged abs.

“Sorry about that, about not wearing protection earlier.”

I look up at him because he seems really worried about that. “I'm on the pill. I've only just finished my period, so we should be okay.”

I curl up into his side, sighing like a contented kitten. I feel his heart beating under my fingers.

“I won’t forget next time,” he says.

Next time.

“Looking forward to it.” I kiss his skin again. His hand slides down to my waist, and he sighs, like he’s content.

“Do you hurt?” he asks.

“Just a little sore.”

“Sorry.”

I lift my head again. So much concern for how I’m feeling, and his need to know that I’m okay. I love this man. I really think I do. “Don’t be sorry. I had a great time. Couldn’t you tell?”

His lips curve upwards. “I heard.” Then his expression sobers. “You were tight, not that I’m complaining.” I sense there’s a question in there somewhere.

“I haven’t been in a relationship for a few years.”

“No?”