Page 110 of Bellini Born
“My beautiful wife likes that idea, doesn’t she?”
My eyes slid closed, and I let out a breathy “uh-huh.”
The tip of his nose grazed the crook of my neck, his lips brushing against the skin there. “Or maybe it’s that she likes being called my wife. Is that it,dolcezza?”
A moan slipped past my parted lips as that verbal claim settled right between my thighs.
“What’ll it be tonight,bella? Do you want me to treat you like my wife, my queen, or my whore?”
My knees buckled, forcing Matteo to tighten his hold around my waist to keep me upright.
Jesus fucking Christ.
A husky chuckle rolled through his chest, the vibrations making my nipples tighten painfully. “Want to know what I would choose?”
“Please.” Lust swirled so densely in the air that I could barely see straight.
“I was thinking I’d like to go for the trifecta. Sample all three. How does that sound?”
My swallow was so thick, it was a wonder I didn’t choke on my own saliva. “Yes.” The word was drawn out on a hiss.
When he pulled back, his burning gaze seared right into my soul, setting it on fire. That was one blaze I was more than happy to let consume me, to destroy me, until there nothing was left but ashes.
“Champagne? I had a sixty-year-old bottle delivered for the occasion.”
Heat flooded my cheeks as memories of the last time we’d brought bubbly into the bedroom flashed before my eyes.
“Dirty girl,” Matteo murmured, reading my mind. “I was planning on using it for a toast to commemorate the day, but if there’s something else you’d rather do . . .”
Dropping my gaze to the floor, I shook my head. “A toast is good.”
“As you wish.” He threaded his fingers with mine, and together, we walked into the kitchen, where he proceeded to pull what was undoubtedly an obscenely expensive bottle of champagne from the fridge and popped the cork.
Pouring the gold liquid into two crystal flutes, he offered one to me, and my fingers pinched the dainty stem between them.
Matteo held his own glass up, his eyes locked on mine as he said, “To fate, to family, and to forever with you.”
We clinked and drank.
My eyebrows lifted when the liquor flowed over my tongue, lighting up my taste buds.
Having gauged my reaction, Matteo asked, “You like it?”
I took another sip, licking every last trace that clung to my lips and humming. “It’s delicious. Though I’m not sure it’s worth what you probably paid for it.”
“I would have to disagree,” he countered. “Watching you practically purr in pleasure as you enjoyed it is worth every penny.”
It was a toss-up as to which was smoother, Matteo’s line or the champagne.
He held up the bottle, shaking it gently. “More?”
My head was already swimming, and I didn’t want anything to muddy the memories of tonight—my wedding night.
“No, thank you.”
“So polite,” Matteo mused, his thumb tugging on my lower lip as he held my chin in his grasp. “I sure hope you remember those manners when we make it into the bedroom. I would prefer to worship you, but if you start begging for a punishment, I’ll have no choice but to give you one.”
I wanted it all. The gentle caresses and the fingers digging into my skin so hard they were bound to leave bruises behind. Having my hair tucked intimately behind my ear, as well as having it pulled by the root, while he forced me to take his cock in my mouth. The tears born from both ecstasy and pain.
