Page 52 of The Cost of Corruption

“Look at me, Chastity,” he said, sliding one hand up my back and cupping the nape of my neck for support. “And tell me you want this.”

I’d never wanted anything more.

Not food. Not water. Not sleep. Not even air.

Nothing more than him.

“I want you inside me, Matteo.”

He didn’t make me wait.

With one tilt of his hips, I felt the pressure of his tip easing into my opening.

The sensation was so overwhelming, so profound, that I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t blink. Couldn’t look away from his brutally dark gaze as he pulled me close, touched his forehead to mine, and, with an almost painfully slow pace, pressed inside me.

Nothing I’d ever felt before, nothing I’d ever imagined, prepared me for the sensation of Matteo’s body inside mine.

The sense of fullness as the walls of my pussy stretched to accommodate his thickness. The way each stroke went deeper. Harder. The realization of just how big of a man he really was made my head spin.

This couldn’t be real. There was no way pleasure like this could exist in the ordinary world.

The closeness of his body. The electric awareness running through every nerve in my body. The crackle of intimacy between us. This was heaven, plain and simple.

There was no other answer.

This was true bliss.

“Oh God, Matteo,” I cried out as the tempo of his thrusts increased.

“That’s right.” His low moan rumbled in the air between us. “Say it again. Tell everyone who you belong to.”

Oh fuck.

How was it possible for his words to deepen the impact of his touch? How could they make the fire inside me so much hotter?

“Matteo!”

“Louder.”

It was a command. Some deep animal part of me instinctually understood the importance of the moment and wanted to comply.

No—not just wanted to.

Neededto.

“God, yes. Matteo!” I cried out loud enough to fill all the empty space in the empty restaurant. Loud enough for my voice to slip through the gaps in the door and through the thin panes of glass and out into the street where anyone and everyone could hear. “Yes! Don’t fucking stop.”

And he didn’t stop.

He kept going. His hips thrusting and grinding against mine. His pace and intensity increasing until I felt tension—a wonderful kind of tension coiling so tightly inside me that I feared it might snap me in two.

And apparently, Matteo could feel it, too.

His grip on the back of my head constricted as my legs began to shake. “Let go and come for me.”

Another set of commands.

I couldn’t help but comply.

---