Page 76 of Silent Vows

Before I can respond, he lowers himself, his lips finding the hollow of my throat, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses down to my collarbone. His hands slide over my hips, deftly unfastening my pants and tugging them down along with my underwear. I step out of them, the cool air brushing over my bare skin as he stands and looks at me like I’m something sacred.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his hands skimming up my sides before settling on my waist.

He guides me to the bed, sitting me down before he kneels between my thighs. My breath catches as his hands part my legs, his fingers trailing along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. His eyes flick up to meet mine, holding my gaze as he presses a soft kiss just above my knee.

“Matteo…” I whisper, my voice trembling with anticipation.

“Trust me,piccola,” he says, his voice dark and commanding.

He doesn’t wait for a reply. His lips blaze a trail up my thigh, each kiss growing closer to where I ache for him. When his mouth finally finds me, a strangled cry escapes my lips. The first touch of his tongue is electric, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through me.

Matteo takes his time, his mouth exploring me with an intensity that leaves me trembling. His hands hold my thighs apart, his grip firm but gentle as he devours me. He alternates between long, languid strokes of his tongue and gentle, focusedpressure, drawing soft moans and gasps from me with every movement.

My hands find their way to his hair, tangling in the dark strands as my hips lift instinctively to meet him. “Please,” I gasp, my voice breaking as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter inside me.

He hums against me, the vibration sending another wave of heat through my body. “Let go for me, Bella,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice rough and full of promise.

It’s all I need. My release crashes over me like a tidal wave, my back arching off the bed as a cry tears from my throat. Matteo doesn’t stop, his mouth and hands guiding me through every pulse of pleasure until I’m trembling and breathless beneath him.

When I finally come down, he presses one last kiss to my inner thigh before rising. His lips are swollen, his eyes dark with desire as he leans over me. I pull him down, kissing him deeply, tasting myself on his lips. My hands work quickly, stripping him of his clothes until he’s bare above me.

He presses himself against me, the heat of his body reigniting the fire that had barely begun to fade. “I need you,” he whispers, his voice raw.

“You have me,” I reply, my voice a breathless promise, my legs wrapping around his waist to draw him closer.

Matteo’s gaze locks with mine as he aligns himself, the intensity in his eyes sending a shiver through me. When he finally pushes into me, it’s slow and deliberate, every inch a careful, measured claim. The sensation is overwhelming—the stretch, the fullness—sending a ripple of pleasure through me that makes my breath hitch. A soft gasp escapes my lips as my body adjusts to him, the deep, perfect fit a testament to how we belong together.

He stills, his forehead pressing against mine, his breath warm and unsteady against my lips. For a moment, we stay like that, our bodies connected, our breathing synchronized as we absorb the depth of the moment. I can feel the rapid beat of his heart against my chest, mirroring my own, and it grounds me, filling the space between us with something raw and unspoken.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough, and possessive, but there’s a tenderness in the way his lips brush over mine as he speaks, as though he’s asking for something deeper.

“Always,” I whisper back, my voice trembling with the weight of the truth in that word. My hands grip his shoulders, feeling the taut strength beneath my fingertips as he begins to move.

The first thrust is slow, deliberate, sending a wave of sensation through me that pulls a soft moan from my lips. He sets a steady rhythm, each motion unhurried but intense, his hips rolling into mine with a precision that leaves no space between us. Heat coils low in my belly, spreading outward as the friction builds, each movement lighting me up from the inside out.

I feel every inch of him, the warmth of his skin pressed against mine, the powerful muscles of his back shifting beneath my hands as he moves. His hands roam my body with purpose—gripping my hips to pull me closer, sliding up my sides to cup my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks with a gentleness that makes my chest ache.

The way he looks at me steals the air from my lungs. His eyes burn with an intensity that lays me bare, making me feel seen, cherished, and utterly his. My body responds instinctively, arching into him, meeting each thrust with a hunger that matches his.

The pleasure builds with a relentless intensity, every nerve ending alive with the sensation of him—his heat, his strength,the way his body molds to mine as though we were made for this. The coil in my belly tightens, my breath coming in shallow gasps as the pressure becomes almost too much to bear.

“Matteo,” I gasp, his name a plea, a prayer, as my hands slide up to tangle in his hair, holding him close.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, his lips brushing against my ear. His movements quicken, his thrusts deeper, the angle sending sparks of pleasure through me that push me closer to the edge.

When my release finally crashes over me, it’s like an unrelenting wave, pulling me under and leaving me trembling in its wake. My back arches, my body clenching around him as a broken cry of his name spills from my lips. The pleasure is overwhelming, consuming, and I cling to him as though he’s the only thing keeping me from unraveling completely.

The sight of me coming undone pushes him over the edge. His movements grow erratic, his hips pressing hard against mine as he groans against my neck, his body shuddering with the force of his release. I feel the heat of him spill into me, his breath ragged and uneven as he collapses against me, his weight grounding me in the aftermath of everything.

For a moment, the world fades away, leaving only the sound of our breathing and the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my chest. He doesn’t pull away; instead, he wraps me in his arms, holding me close as though afraid to let go. His hand rests protectively over our growing child.

But Mario’s words echo in my head—about choices and secrets, about the roles we play. About things that run in blood.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Matteo murmurs, pulling me closer.

But I can’t shake the feeling that some secrets run deeper than blood, some choices echo through generations. And this—Mario, Elena, the web of lies and family bonds we’re all tangled in—is just the beginning.

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