Page 14 of Ruined By Protection
"Beautiful," he whispers, reverence in his voice. His rough palms cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my hardened nipples. I arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping my lips.
His mouth replaces his hands, hot and wet as he sucks one nipple between his lips. The sensation shoots straight to my core and I dagger my fingers through his dark hair, holding him against me.
"Please," I gasp, not even sure what I'm begging for.
Matteo's hands move to the waistband of my pants, unfastening them while I lift my hips to help him get them off-now. He hooks his fingers into both pants and underwear, tugging them down my legs in one smooth motion. I'm completely naked, perched on the edge of a table in the middle of the hotel kitchen.
I should feel exposed, vulnerable. Instead, I feel powerful under his hungry gaze.
Matteo steps back, his eyes roaming over every inch of me. His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he takes me in. The intensity of his stare is almost physical, like a caress across my skin.
His fingers work the buttons of his own shirt, revealing tanned skin and defined muscle beneath. He shrugs it off his broad shoulders, and I can't help but stare.
Matteo's body is a work of art—sculpted chest dusted with dark hair that narrows to a trail disappearing into his pants. A black cross tattoo marks his left wrist, while an intricate compass design adorns his right forearm. My eyes trace the lines of a tattoo peeking from his left shoulder blade, though I can'tmake out the design. His abs flex as he moves, and I spot Italian script curving along his ribcage.
Scars mark his skin here and there—a thin white line across his collarbone, a puckered mark near his right shoulder.
He unfastens his belt, then his pants and boxer briefs join the growing pile of clothes on the floor.
My breath catches in my throat as I take in the sight of him fully naked. He's magnificent—all hard muscle and tanned skin. But it's his cock that makes my eyes pop. Thick and long, it curves slightly upward and pulsates, already fully hard.
Holy shit. How will he fit inside me?
The thought must show on my face because Matteo smirks, a knowing look in his eyes as he steps between my thighs.
"Don't worry, bella," he says, his accent thickening with desire. "I promise you'll take all of me."
His hands grip my hips, pulling me to the very edge of the table. I feel exposed, open to him as he positions himself at my entrance. One hand slides between us, fingers gliding through my folds.
"Fuck," he groans. "You're so wet for me."
I whimper as his thumb circles my clit, my hips bucking involuntarily against his hand.
Matteo positions himself, the blunt head of his cock pressing against me. He enters slowly, inch by torturous inch, stretching me in the most delicious way.
"So tight," he hisses through clenched teeth. "So fucking perfect."
I gasp as he pushes deeper, the slight burn giving way to intense pleasure. My fingers dig into his shoulders, anchoring myself as he fills me completely. It’s too much, I can’t inhale from the overwhelm of him.
"Take a breath," he grits against my ear, holding still to let me adjust to his size.
When he starts to move, I see stars. He pulls back almost completely before thrusting forward again, establishing a rhythm that has me panting.
"Look at you," he growls. "Taking my cock so well. So fucking beautiful."
His words send heat flooding through me, adding to the building pressure at my core. Each thrust pushes me closer to the edge.
"You feel that?" he demands, grinding against me. "Feel how perfectly we fit together?"
"Yes," I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him deeper.
"Such a good girl," he praises, increasing his pace. "So wet, so tight around me. You were made for this—made for me."
His dirty talk pushes me higher, the tension coiling tighter with each thrust. His fingers dig into my hips, sure to leave marks, but I don't care. I want to be marked by him, to carry the evidence of this moment on my skin.
"Mine," he growls with a particularly deep thrust. "Say it. Tell me who you belong to right now."
"Yours," I cry out, the word torn from somewhere deep inside me. "I'm yours, Matteo."
