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And he can tell. “Use me to come, baby,” he says as he brings his thumb to my clit.

He shifts his position, so he’s on his knees. So he’s fully lifting me into the air.

So I’m fully at his mercy.

I rock against him. “To the left,” I say.

And he moves his thumb a milimeter.

“More.”

A little more.

More.

There.

“Don’t stop,” I groan, as I work him.

He digs his nails into my hips and growls, “fuck me, diavolesa.”

Matteo watches as I rock against him. As I take every bit of control I can, rubbing my clit against his thumb, pulling him deeper again and again.

I rock against his digit until I’m there, groaning his name as pleasure floods through me.

My sex pulses around his cock, pulling him closer, deeper, further.

Mine.

It echoes through my head like a mantra.

It’s only for tonight, but tonight it’s the only fucking thing I want.

After I finish, he gives me a moment to catch my breath. Then his hands find my hips, guiding my body over his, until he’s there.

I work him through his orgasm, watching bliss spread over his expression. His brow furrows and softens. His eyes flutter closed.

His shoulders shake.

His lips part with a low, deep groan.

When he’s finished, I soak in one more moment of our bodies intertwined, then collapse under him.

He collapses next to me.

I wrap my legs around his hips. Loop my arms around his neck.

Even with the tie around my wrists, I can pull him closer.

He presses his lips to mine and kisses me like I’m his everything.

I’m not, anymore.

But it feels good to pretend anyway.

Eventually, we clean up, go back to our hotel room, fuck with our bodies locked together, staring into each other’s eyes like we’re madly in love.

This time, I stay on top. I come three times, clean up, fall asleep in his arms.