Page 12 of Ruined By Protection
Instead, I lock eyes with him and slowly part my lips.
He places the lobster meat on my tongue, his fingertips barely brushing my bottom lip. The contact sends electricity shooting through me. I close my mouth, tasting the sweet, rich meat along with the ghost of his touch.
"Good?" he asks, his voice lower than before.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The lobster practically melts in my mouth, buttery and decadent.
Matteo watches me chew and swallow, his eyes never leaving my face. There's something primal in his gaze, something that makes me feel both vulnerable and powerful at once.
"More?" he asks.
When I nod again, he prepares another piece. This time when he feeds me I close my eyes, savoring both the flavor and the sensation of his fingers against my lips.
I open my eyes to find him watching me with an intensity that steals my breath. No one has ever looked at me like this—like I'm precious and wild all at once.
CHAPTER 4
Matteo
Watching Hazel eat from my fingers is a special kind of torture. Her eyes flutter closed as she takes each piece of lobster, those full pink lips closing around the morsel—and my fingertips. My cock stiffens against my zipper with each small brush of her mouth.
She sits perched on the table, honey waves cascading over her shoulders, catching the light from the overhead fixture. The harsh kitchen lighting should make her look washed out, but instead it gives her skin a golden glow. Her cheeks have a flush that wasn't there before—hunger or arousal, I'm not sure which. Maybe both.
I break off another piece of lobster, larger this time. "Open," I command.
Her eyes meet mine, a flash of defiance in those hazel depths before she parts her lips. I place the meat on her tongue, deliberately letting my fingers linger against the soft wetness of her mouth. She doesn't pull back. Simply closes her lips around my fingertips for the briefest moment before I withdraw.
"Fuck," I mutter under my breath.
"What?" she asks, slightly breathless as she swallows.
"Nothing." I break off another piece, trying to focus on the task rather than how badly I want to replace the lobster with my tongue. "Just making sure you're getting enough to eat."
Her legs remain slightly parted where I'd positioned her on the table, and I'm standing between them, close enough to feel the heat of her body. Her work uniform—that tight black shirt and those form-fitting pants—leaves little to imagination, but my mind fills in the blanks anyway.
"It's delicious," she says, and her tongue darts out to catch a drop of buttery juice on her lower lip.
My cock throbs painfully at the sight. I shift my stance, trying to ease the pressure.
"Don’t you want some?" she asks, noticing I haven't eaten any myself.
"I'm enjoying watching you eat," I admit, my voice rougher than I intended.
Her eyes widen slightly, pupils dilating. She knows exactly what's happening between us. The air feels charged, electric with possibility.
I break off another piece of lobster, this one dripping slightly.
I dip the lobster piece into the aioli I brought with me and hold it up to her lips. "Try this."
She opens her mouth, taking the morsel and my fingertips together. This time, she closes her eyes and makes a small noise in the back of her throat—a moan so soft it's almost inaudible, but it hits me.
Fuck me. I want to be balls deep inside her right fucking now.
The thought is so intense it's almost painful. I want to lay her back on this table, push those tight pants down her legs, and bury myself in her. I want to hear that moan again, louder this time, with my name mixed in.
As she chews I notice a small smear of the garlic aioli on the corner of her mouth. Perfect.
"You have a little..." I gesture to the corner of her mouth.
