Page 27 of House of Lies

“Do you have any plans for today?”

“Not really. Why?”

“Come with me.” He intertwines his fingers with mine.

“Where are we going?”

Mattia would have turned around and smacked me for asking a question a few months ago. Now, he squeezes my hand lightly, a smirk on his lips.

“You’ll change into something more comfortable and come with me. I’ve been thinking about something.”

“You’ve been thinking? That’s great news, Mattia.” I laugh, following up the stairs.

“I’m going to fuck the brat out of you, Wildfire.”

“You can try.”

He stops, spinning me around in his arms, his fingers digging into my waist as he pushes me back until I hit the banister behind me. He glares down at me with the most intense stare I have seen so far, bending enough to gather the material of my dress into his hands. He lifts it slowly. The rhythm of my heartbeat speeds up. My throat is as dry as the desert.

“What are you doing?” I murmur. “Anyone could pass by.”

Employees are living on the grounds. Some of his men have quarters inside the house. He steps two stairs down, his face at the same level as mine. Mattia’s hand finds its way between my legs, his finger sliding up and down, touching my clit lightly, like an afterthought, just to watch my lips part, eyes widening, a soft whimper escaping my lips.

“And they’re going to see me fuck my wife the way she’s meant to be fucked.”

His words turn my mind off and my body on.

“And how’s that?” I arch an eyebrow.

“With my cock buried so deep inside you, you’ll purr. My hand around your throat, my handprint on your smooth ass. At my mercy, Wildfire. This is how you’re meant to be fucked.”

“I don’t?—”

I don’t think this is a good idea.

I meant to say this, but he doesn’t allow me to. With his hands on my waist, he spins me around, one hand pressed between my shoulder blades, bending me forward. He pulls the dress around my waist, exposing me to anyone who might happen to pass by.

“My wife has this bad habit of walking around the house with no underwear. I wonder why that is. Is it so the thought alone would drive me crazy?” I throw him a look over my shoulder. He kneels on the stairs behind me, caressing my ass before he slaps me so hard I falter, moving a few inches forward. I clench my fingers on the banister to keep myself in place. “Or is it so I can easily do this?” he asks, flattening his tongue on my pussy.

I close my eyes, my chin resting on my chest, my hair spilling around my face. He licks me up and down, sucking on my clit without a care in the world, stopping just for a split second to slap my ass again. The sound reverberates in the quiet mansion. He went down on me this past month more than he did in the previous two years of marriage. It’s a pleasurable distraction. He knows exactly when to stop. He lets me taste the orgasm on the tip of the tongue so that he can take it away from me. My knees are shaking. I’m a mess by the time he stands up and slaps my ass again. I’m afraid to look. I hear the sound of the zipper.

“You understand why I will not undress, don’t you, Wildfire?” I nod, but it’s not enough for him. “Say it.”

“I understand.”

He bends over my body, his breath tickling my ear. “Good girl,” he whispers as he thrusts inside me in one unforgiving motion.

My eyelids flutter as he wraps his hand around my neck, pulling me back until my back meets his chest. He catches my wrist, bending my hand behind my back. I give him the other one willingly. He rewards me with a kiss on my shoulder. I feel his lips curving on my skin into a smile. He’s ruthless in his thrusts. My pussy stretches to accommodate him, my inner muscles clenching around his cock. I can lie to myself that I hate everything he’s doing or stop and enjoy myself. I have chosen the latter lately. He’s not giving me any reason to fight him. I carry the baggage of the past with me, and I will always do so. But my life is more manageable when I don’t fight him every breathing second.

I take what I need when I allow my body to mold into his. I’m using him as much as he’s using me, and I’m not worried about pregnancy. I’ll never give the bastard a child. I’m not a stranger to his hand wrapped around my neck, but at the same time, I am. He choked me a couple of times when I disobeyed him or when he thought I made a fool of him in front of other people. But Mattia doesn’t trigger any warning signals in my brain this time. My lips are parted as I struggle to breathe, but the more pressure he applies, the closer to orgasm I get. He fucked me up really bad. He fucked me up so bad there was a time I didn’t think I was going to enjoy sex with someone, less alone with him.

But here I am, a shaking mess, one of my feet slipping on the step below as he continues to fuck me, my body betraying how much I’m enjoying this. I freeze as I see Domenico at the bottom of the stairs. I squirm into Mattia’s arms, but all he does is squeeze my neck a little tighter, digging his fingers into the skin of my waist, his rhythm not faltering, not even for a second.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asks Domenico.

“Mattia—” I try to warn him, but it doesn’t help when it sounds like I’m moaning his name.

“I don’t care if he’s watching, baby. I’m not done with you yet.”

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