Page 89 of Cavaliere

My mouth falls open as his hands start to move down my sides; the anticipation of where they’re headed is almost too much to take. His hands freeze when they get to my hips.

“What is this?” he asks, pulling away from my breast. “And where are your fucking panties?”

Oh shit.

The tattoo.

Matteo’s questioning gaze searches my face, looking for some sort of answer. His eyebrows lower even further as he takes in my wide eyes. We don’t break eye contact as he slowly lowers to his knees. Only then does he move his gaze to where he feels the second skin under his hands.

“Is this what I think it is?” he rumbles, brushing his thumb over it lightly.

“If you think it’s a tattoo, then yes, it’s what you think it is,” I say dumbly. The feeling of being bared to him while he’s still fully clothed is starting to creep up on me. I had zero regrets about my decision earlier, but now I’m second-guessing it. What if he really does hate it? I’ll want the ground to swallow me up so I can crawl into a hole and die.

“I know it’s a fucking tattoo, Wren.” Matteo rolls his eyes. “Are these fingerprints?” There’s an edge in his voice that I can’t quite put a finger on. Some intuition in me tells me I need to answer this correctly, or this conversation could go very badly. And if my kitty doesn’t get some cream soon, I’m going to fucking riot.

“Yes,” I say slowly, unsure if that was the right answer.

I hold my breath, waiting for him to respond. Matteo doesn’t say anything for what feels like an hour before he finally gets out in the same tone, “Whose fingerprints are they?”

Whose fingerprints are they?

Is he fucking for real?

I’m going to punch him in the face if he thinks I would get a random guy’s fingerprints tattooed on my body. I’m not even joking. I’ll fucking do it.

I take a few quick breaths, trying to find every ounce of patience I have left to answer him without losing my shit. “They’re yours…” I say slowly, hoping to get it through his thick skull.

The room is quiet, and I hear Matteo’s sharp inhale as his nostrils flare before he pushes up into a standing position.

“Wha—” I start to ask what he’s doing until I see him frantically undoing his belt and pants. He takes his hard cock out that I’ve been tortured with from behind most of the night, giving it one long, hard stroke.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasps. His hands are under my ass, lifting me up so I can wrap my legs around him. The head of his cock presses against my clit, making me cry out. One of his hands leaves my ass to grab his cock, guiding it down my slit and to my entrance, which is dripping for him. Only him.

He doesn’t make me wait, slamming home. All of the air leaves my lungs, making a silent cry leave my mouth as it drops open, and my head flies back against the locker. A dull ache barely registers in the back of my head, but that feeling quickly disappears from the fast and hard pace Matteo has set.

His face is wild, and he pounds into me, all control gone. I can feel my walls start to flutter around him, and I know I’m not going to last. There’s been too much build-up tonight. The anticipation made this dance so much more intense. He adjusts his angle slightly, making me cry out. Every stroke hits that tiny spot deep inside. The spot that no other man has been able to hit.

“Come, Wren,” Matteo growls. “Fucking come for me.” My walls start to tighten at his words, the familiar tingling feeling growing at the base of my spine and working its way to my toes. “Yeah. That’s it.” Matteo reaches between us, rubbing my clit at the same pace he is pounding in and out of me. That’s all it took. One more thrust and I clamp down on him in a vice grip, milking his cock. If I was coherent enough, I would have seen his eyes roll back into his head as he let out a choked groan, spilling his release deep inside of me.

“Holy shit,” I pant, feeling him softening in me and the mixture of us dripping down my thigh.

“You really got my fingerprints tattooed?” Matteo lets out a rough laugh in disbelief as his damp forehead rests on mine.

“Yeah,” I say shyly. “I take it that you like it? I did it as a little birthday present for me but for you.”

“I fucking love it, Wren,” he says as he lightly rubs his thumbs over both sides. “I know I shouldn’t be touching it, but I can’t fucking help it. Any guy that has the balls to see that part of your skin will know you’re fucking mine before he dies.”

“Why would he die?”

“Because I’ll fucking kill him for looking at what’s mine.” He says it like it’s not a big deal, like something like this happens every day.

Fucking psycho.

All of the men in my life are crazy.

Matteo throws my dress at me before he tucks himself back into his pants. “We should get back out there and enjoy your party. I have a gift for you at home. I don’t want you to think I’m a cheap ass and didn’t get you anything.”

What? Not once in my life would I ever describe Matteo as a cheap ass.