Page 77 of Mafia King: Matteo
I take a deep breath. I need a hot soak in the mammoth bathtub.
I take my time and enjoy a bubble bath. His mansion is humongous, but it’s cold. I can warm it up with a few area rugs and add colorful accents to the rooms.
I wash my hair, sinking under the warm water, and when I pop up, the bracelet catches the light and sparkles as if it’s winking at me.
I’d be naïve to think our life will be idyllic.
My father’s words haunt me. Why would he tell Alexsei he’s suspicious of Matteo? Matteo has treated me like an equal, and aside from the games at the beginning, he’s been as transparent as a man can be in his position.
When my fingers show signs of water wrinkles, I stand, grabbing a thick towel that I wrap around my hair. I grab another to dry my body as I exit the tub.
“There you are,” Matteo states as he leans against the doorway without a door. My nipples turn hard under his gaze. He unbuttons his shirt and slips out of his shoes.
I feel my heart beating faster in my chest.
“I want you on your knees,” he states as he walks toward me naked. His large cock is stiff and throbbing.
I dry off quickly, pulling the towel from my head and letting my hair cascade over my shoulders. I drop the towel that is between us as his lips take mine by force. His kisses are hard and demanding. He’s a man who knows what he wants, and he wants me to suck his cock.
I sink to my knees and grab his cock with my hand. I stroke him slowly, watching my painted nails move over his cock that pleases me. I slip him into my mouth, and he moans as his hand fists my wet hair, and his pelvis moves to my rhythm.
I’m slick between my legs, ready for him to take me. I glance up, and his eyes are watching my lips that move over his bulging cock. I suck him and run my tongue over his head in a swirling motion that leaves him gasping.
“Turn over with your ass in the air,” he barks.
I comply, thankful for the large fluffy mat beneath me. I am on my hands and knees, and he circles the head of his cock inside my pussy.
“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs before he grabs my hips and slams inside me. I feel my body produce more juice at the thought of him coming inside me. I brace myself before he slams into me again, causing me to wince in surprise. I’m tight, but his giant cock stretches me to accommodate him.
He slides inside me as his palm pushes my lower back, and his other hand curves around my hip to pull me toward him as he creates a rhythm that slows. His cock strokes, and waves of pleasure flow over me, causing me to tuck my chin toward my chest. Saliva drips from my lower lip, and I’m helplessly spellbound.
He consumes me. My nipples are stiff peaks, and my breasts jolt back and forth as he pounds me harder and harder. He slides his hand over my belly, and his finger strokes my clit, and we climax together as my screams of euphoria fill the room.
He holds himself in me as if he’s willing a baby. When he’s satisfied, he pulls out and pulls me to him. He lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bed, where he tosses the bedding back.
“You must be tired. I have to work.” He kisses my forehead and disappears into the closet. He pops out minutes later, and I watch him leave the room dressed in a matching jogger outfit.
I am tired, and my body is satiated. It’s been a long day. I close my eyes and try not to think about what will unfold next. My father plans a hostile coup, and my fiancé needs an heir to solidify his empire.
I wake in a room where heavy drapes filter the morning light. It takes a few seconds to remember I’m in my new home. I look to the other side of the bed, and it is empty. I slide my hand over the soft bedsheet and find it’s cold. I wonder if he came to bed last night.
After brushing my teeth, I flip on the recessed lighting that illuminates my new wardrobe. I run my fingers over the tops of the hangers, and the clothing moves gently against my fingertips.
I walk to the casual clothing area. After working all week, I rejoice in a weekend to explore my new surroundings. I pull my hair into a messy bun and descend the huge staircase, listening as I walk. I hope to hear someone speaking so I can discern who’s home. Is my fiancé here? Without him filling me in on his calendar, I have no idea when he works.
When I pass the dining room, I know the kitchen is next. My feet are clad in no-skid socks, so I don’t make a sound.
“Ahhh,” Federico exclaims and smiles. He walks to me, putting his arm through mine, and leads me to a seat behind the marble island that serves as a workspace and an eating area. “Good morning, Principessa.” He puts his hand out, indicating I’m to sit. “What would you like for breakfast? Coffee Americano or espresso? Eggs? Waffles?”
“You don’t have to wait on me. I can do it myself.”
He flings a hand to his forehead. “Mio Dio!” he exclaims.
I giggle at his Italian expression. “What?”
“You are not behaving like a principessa. You are to be waited on like the princess you are,” he states as a fact.
“You mean the princess I’ll be after the wedding? I’m no one, really.”
