by Cora Reilly
Matteo smirked.
“What?” I asked, checking my dress for any stains.
“You look like a sophisticated lady.”
“I’m not a sophisticated lady,” I said quickly and was about to take another gulp of Champagne but stopped with the rim against my lips. With a glare, I set it down. “I’m not.”
“I didn’t say you were. I only pointed out that you look it.”
He was right. I fit in, which brought me back to my earlier problem. Why was I becoming more like a trophy wife every day? I downed the rest of my Champagne in one large gulp, not at all lady-like, making Matteo laugh, and I couldn’t help but do too. It felt good to laugh with him, and even better to see mirth banish some of the darkness in his eyes.
Miriam called for everyone to settle around the tables, and asked us to sit next to her with other important guests. Unfortunately Aria had to sit across from me, so I couldn’t even talk to her in case I got bored. I was wedged between Matteo and a woman I didn’t know. Luckily the first course was served almost immediately, so I had something to do. Miriam as well as the other women around us were more interested in Aria anyway, probably because she was Luca’s wife and knew how to do proper small talk.
Suddenly I felt Matteo’s hand on my knee. I shot him a look but he was immersed in a conversation with Luca and the host. I took another bite of my Carpaccio but stopped mid-chew when his hand began its ascend higher, toward the lacy edge of my hold-ups. I had to suppress a small shiver at the sensations his light touch sent straight to my center. I clenched my legs together and tried to focus on the conversation Aria was having with the other women. The corners of Matteo’s lips twitched in reaction. Of course that wasn’t the end of it. When was it ever?
Matteo’s fingers slipped between my legs despite my attempts to lock him out, and then his fingertips slipped under the edge of my panties and lightly stroked the crevice between my leg and vulva. I reached for the glass and took a deep gulp of the wine.
“What do you think, Gianna? Would you be interested?” asked the hostess Miriam. Her eyebrows were raised but due to all the Botox, the rest of her face was static, and her expression resembled one of mild boredom.
My eyes darted to Aria, hoping she’d help me out. I had no clue what Miriam was talking about. Matteo’s fingers had distracted me completely.
“I know you love modern art, and it’s not easy to come by a private tour through the Guggenheim. I’m sure Matteo can spare you for a few hours,” Aria said with a meaningful look.
I could have kissed her. She always saved the day. “Yes, I’d love to –” Matteo’s fingers slipped between my lower lips, gently nudging them apart, finding me wet and aching, the stupid bastard. He was still talking to Luca and the other men as if nothing of interest was going on under the table.
Aria and the other women were watching me expectantly. I cleared my throat and kicked Matteo’s leg hard, before I said. “I’d love to take you up on that offer.” Could I sound any more sophisticated? Trophy wife all the way.
Matteo’s finger traveled up my slit until it reached my clit where he started to draw small circles. I pressed my lips together to stop a moan from slipping out. Thankfully, Miriam went on another monologue about a trip to the Caribbean and I was back to pretending to listen. Only Aria gave me the occasional odd glance, as if she thought I might not be feeling well.
If only she knew. The waiters entered the room with out main course, but I hardly cared.
Without even intending to, I parted my legs a bit more, giving Matteo more room to explore my wet folds. His fingers slipped up and down, teasing my opening, before they returned to my throbbing clit. I clutched my wine glass. It wouldn’t have surprised me if I’d broken it in two from my tight grip. My breathing was shallow. Matteo kept up the slow rhythm, driving me closer and closer toward release. I should have pushed his hand away, should have stopped this madness before this turned into the most embarrassing night of my life, but need had taken over and banished any hint of reason. After a few bites of veal, I put my fork down. I was hungry for only one thing.
Matteo slipped a finger into me and I barely managed to keep in my whimper. I was getting so close. Could I even be silent?
But I was too far gone to care. Matteo still wasn’t looking at me. Instead he was completely focused on the conversation, or at least he pretended to be. I hated him for his acting talent. He brought me closer and closer, taking his time. God, this was the most delicious torture.
His skilled fingers became the whole center of my being until suddenly, without a warning he pulled them away. Shocked, I stared at him, only to realize that the waiters had returned with our dessert, chocolate mousse. Matteo gave me a grin.
I wanted to rip his clothes off and have my way with him, bring him to the brink, only to deny him release. Matteo dipped a finger into the mousse, the finger he’d used to finger me, and slid it into his mouth, licking it clean. “Hm. Delicious.”
My body was humming with desire, but in that moment I wanted to push Matteo’s face down into the stupid mousse. He picked up his spoon and calmly started eating. Aria gave me a questioning look when I didn’t move.
I grabbed my own spoon a bit too tightly and tasted the mousse. It was delicious, creamy and very chocolaty, but now all it did was remind me of Matteo’s fingers and what they had done mere moments before. Two could play this game. Once I was done with my dessert, I slipped my hand under the table and reached between Matteo’s legs. I found him already hard and that knowledge made me ache even more. I considered stroking myself instead of teasing Matteo, but banished the idea. If I wanted to win this game, I needed to play. My fingers closed around Matteo’s erection. He sucked in a quiet breath before his eyes met mine, one corner of his mouth lifting. I massaged him through the fabric of his pants, feeling him grow even harder and bigger. Unfortunately my own body responded too.
Matteo turned his head to an older guy across from him who’d asked him a question and I used the moment to find his tip and start rubbing that. Matteo had had it easier. He didn’t have as many barriers between his fingers and their goal, but as I worked the head of his cock, I could see from the flexing of his jaw that Matteo wasn’t completely unaffected. And other than me, he would have a hard time hiding his arousal if he got up, and an even harder time if he came in his pants. The thought made me smile.
Aria leaned across the table toward me. I really hoped she wouldn’t notice anything. “What’s the matter with you? You’re acting strange,” she whispered.
I shook my head and mouthed ‘later’, but my hand never stopped their work under the table. I hoped Matteo was getting close. It was hard to tell. He’d angled his face away from me and was actually conducting a coherent conversation with the old man. I squeezed a bit tighter, getting annoyed, and finally got another, albeit small reaction. Matteo tensed briefly but then visibly forced himself to relax. I could have screamed in frustration.
I was about to squeeze again, even harder when his hand found mine under the table and pulled it away. I would have clung to his erection if I hadn’t been worried about injuring him. Even if I’d never admit it to anyone, I loved Matteo’s cock, and particularly the things he could do with it. I chanced a look at Matteo and met his gaze. There was hunger in there, but also something else, something that made me want to go running for the hills, because I had a feeling I knew what it was and I was pretty sure I was starting to feel the same. I wrenched my hand away from his hold, pushed my chair back and straightened.
With a small smile at the other guests, I said. “Excuse me.” Without another look at Matteo, I headed straight toward where I hoped to find the restrooms.
It took all my self-control not to run down the long corridor branching off from the main area of the apartment. When I entered the restroom, I released a harsh breath. My cheeks were flushed, but not so much that anyone would suspect anything. That was what I hoped at least. I gripped the edge of the washbasin and squeeze
d my eyes shut. My heart was slamming against my ribcage. Suddenly someone gripped my hips. My eyes shot open and I stared into the mirror. Matteo towered over me, his gaze practically burning with want. He pressed his hips against my butt. “You left too soon.” His hand slipped under my dress while his other hand pulled down his zipper.
“What are you doing?” I hissed with a glance toward the door. “What if someone comes in?”
“Who gives a fuck? Let them get the show of their lives. It’s probably been years since those bitches got to see a cock.” He pushed my panties aside and thrust two fingers into me. I jutted my butt out, giving him better access. My body seemed to be acting on its own accord even when my brain was screaming at me to push Matteo away.
“Matteo,” I gasped. “Lock the stupid door.”
He moved his fingers in and out in a deliciously slow rhythm. My hips moved against him, forcing his fingers deeper into me.
“Do you really want me to stop so I can lock the fucking door?” He licked my spine from the edge of my dress up to my hairline, then met my gaze in the mirror. I shivered. He slammed his fingers into me again, hitting a sweet spot deep inside of me. His eyes seemed to bore into me, trying to reveal my darkest deepest secrets. My heart lurched, and I knew I’d be doomed if I didn’t stop this madness soon. Sex, that I could deal with, but these moments of silent understanding, these long looks full of too much meaning, they were starting to chip away at the walls I’d taken years to build.
Matteo cupped my breasts through my dress, kneading and pinching my nipple in an almost painful way that made me grow even wetter. I closed my eyes to avoid his eyes and soaked in the sensations. Matteo thrust his fingers into me over and over again. I bit down on my lip to keep the sounds in. Matteo’s lips clamped down on my pulse point, sucking the skin into his mouth. I arched, pushing my butt against his hand with all my might as my orgasm jolted through me.
“Look at me,” Matteo ordered, and my eyes flew open, meeting his. “Yes, like that. Fuck you are so fucking wet and hot.”
I dropped down to my forearms with a shuddering breath, enjoying the last waves of pleasure while Matteo slowed his fingers. He lifted my skirt even higher. I heard him unbuckle his pants and then he wrapped his arms tightly around my chest, pulled me against him and rubbed his tip over my opening. Then he slipped in inch by inch. I tried to jut my butt out, needing to feel him all the way in me, but he didn’t let me. If possible, he slowed even more, edging into me.
“Fuck me,” I whispered harshly.
He reached up and tilted my headed to the side before claiming it with his mouth, his tongue taking possession of me. He had finally sheathed himself completely in me and then after a moment of stillness, he started slamming into me. My hands shot out to grip the edge of the washstand. Matteo drove my body against the cold stone as his cock thrust into me, deep and hard.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Matteo rasped. I moaned in response. It did feel better than anything ever had. Everything about this did. God, what was happening?
I tried to shut my brain off and only focus on the way Matteo’s cock filled me up, how he removed himself almost completely to drive me insane only to slam back into me. The edge of the washbasin dug into my palms as I clung to it. Matteo’s hands moved down, clasping my hips. I threw my head back, gasping and whimpering as I tumbled over the edge again with Matteo close behind. The sound of his moans spurred me on even more. A moment before we both slumped forward, our gazes met in the mirror again. And then I knew why I’d hardly considered running in the last couple of weeks, and it terrified me like nothing ever had.
I quickly looked down, trying to catch my breath, and calm my pounding heart and pulse.
Matteo kissed my shoulder blade. “I’m fucking glad that you are mine.”
I stiffened and would have pulled away if I wasn’t trapped between the washstand and Matteo’s body.
When Matteo eventually pulled out of me and we straightened our clothes and cleaned up, I couldn’t meet his gaze. I wasn’t embarrassed by what we’d done. That ship had sailed. I was confused and terrified by what I’d seen in my own eyes.
MATTEO
During sex there were moments when I was certain Gianna was falling for me, but then always came the time afterward and I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it. In the past I’d always had girls crushing on me even when I never gave them reason to, but Gianna was a difficult nut to crack, and sometimes I caught myself wondering if maybe she’d never fall for me and was only fucking me to get on my good side. Gianna was clever, maybe she was trying to wrap me around her finger with sex so I’d grant her more freedom and she could run away again.
Gianna put a few strands that had fallen out during our quickie back into her updo. She was frowning at her own reflection and pretending I wasn’t there.
When we left the bathroom, she still ignored me. Then she stopped suddenly. “We can’t enter together. Everyone will know what we did.”
I shrugged. I didn’t give a fuck. Gianna was my wife and I’d fuck her whenever I felt like it. “We’ve been gone for a while. They’re probably suspecting already.”
“Great,” Gianna muttered but then she squared her shoulders and headed back to the tables with the other guests without another glance in my direction. So we were back to playing games?
***
That night I woke to an empty bed. I jumped to my feet, and searched the room for a sign of Gianna, but she wasn’t there. How could she have run? I didn’t bother putting on pants. Grabbing my gun holster on the way I stormed out of the room and into the living room.
I had to call Luca and tell him. He’d be furious. He hadn’t been happy when I’d removed Gianna’s ankle monitor. My eyes made out a slender figure in an armchair close to the window. Gianna.
I relaxed and discarded my gun holster on a sideboard before I crossed the room toward her. She must have pushed the armchair closer to the window so she could look out. Her legs were pressed up against her chest and her face rested on her knees. She was fast asleep. But even in sleep her brows were drawn together. I wasn’t sure but she looked as if she’d cried. I stopped beside her, staring down at her sleeping form. She must have moved very quietly for me not to hear her. I was a light sleeper. She’d even managed to put on pajamas. My gaze darted to the elevator console. Had she tried to crack the code and escape? The alarm would have alerted me to any attempts, and yet the suspicion remained. I hated that I didn’t trust her. It wasn’t as if I was used to trusting people, except for Luca, but I wanted to trust my wife. Of course it was difficult to develop trust when Gianna didn’t even have the chance to prove herself.
If I gave her more freedom, and she didn’t try to run, then I could start trusting her, but I had a feeling I’d never see her again if I did. I was too selfish and possessive. I didn’t want to lose her, even if that was what was best for her. My eyes returned to her face and the sadness that seemed to be edged into it.
I slipped my hands under her body and lifted her into my arms. She didn’t wake as I carried her back into our bedroom, back where I wanted her and where she belonged, but where she didn’t want to be.
I put her down on the bed, but I didn’t lie down next to her. I was too angry at myself for my wimpy thoughts. What did it matter if Gianna wanted to be my wife? What did it matter if she’d rather return to Munich and find some other idiot like Sid? She was mine and I wasn’t a good guy. I didn’t give a damn about other people’s feelings. I felt on the edge, like I needed to hit something to get a grip. With a growl, I grabbed my gym clothes, put them on, grabbed my car keys and left the apartment.
I punched the code into the elevator panel and rode it down into the parking garage. I mounted my motorcycle, shot out of the garage and raced through the city toward our gym. Apart from a guard, it was deserted, which was a pity because I would have loved to actually spar with someone, instead of a fucking dummy.
I didn’t bother with boxing gloves. I wanted to feel ev
ery hit. Facing the dummy, I started pummeling it, alternating between kicks and punches.
I was still at it when the gym started filling up with familiar faces. Nobody disturbed me. Apart from a short nod, they stayed the fuck away from me. They all knew what was good for them.
“Trying to kill a poor dummy?” came Luca’s drawl.
I landed another hard kick against the head before I turned around to my brother. He wasn’t wearing gym clothes. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.”
“Why?”
“Because you weren’t there when I came to pick you up in your apartment this morning.”
“You went into my apartment while I wasn’t there?”
Luca rolled his eyes. “I didn’t touch your wife, but I left Aria and Romero with her.”
I nodded, trying to calm the fuck down. I was still on edge. I wasn’t even sure why.
“Take a shower and get dressed. You look like you need a drink,” Luca said in his Capo voice.
I didn’t protest. I felt like a truck had run me over. I must have been in the gym for hours. It was already light outside. Luca and I went to one of our dance clubs. Except for the cleaning ladies, it was still deserted. I grabbed a whiskey bottle from the shelf, and Luca and I settled at the bar. In most social circles it was probably considered too early for alcohol. Luckily we didn’t have to obey those stupid rules.
Luca and I emptied our glasses, then he fixed me with his big-brother-stare. “So what’s going on? Are you already growing tired of your obnoxious wife?”
I downed another glass of whiskey, waiting for the familiar burning to turn into warmth that spread in my chest. “Why do you ask?”
Luca cocked one eyebrow. “Maybe because you prefer spending the night in a sweaty gym than in bed with your young wife.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“And you couldn’t come up with something more entertaining to do than kickboxing a dummy?”
“You’re starting to grate on my nerves,” I said.