by Eden Summers
“Would you consider greed a purpose? Indulgence? I’m with you for no other reason than my own selfish desire.” He stares at me, unblinking. “You intrigued me from the first night we met. You became my distraction. Then an obsession. And even after I found out you were a complication, and a potential threat, I still wanted more.”
He leans closer, the heat of his mouth breaching my own as he reclaims my cheeks with his palms. “I haven’t fallen for anyone since Grace, Layla. I’ve fucked, but never fallen. Not even close, until you.”
His spiel sinks under my skin, the tendrils of hunger and longing infusing me with more delicious hope.
“I want you,” he murmurs, harsh and low. “I need you.”
He speaks to my weaknesses. My insecurities.
I’ve never been wanted. Not by lovers. Not even my late husband.
Being needed is just as foreign. My daughter doesn’t require her mother anymore. She moved on effortlessly, already growing independent at such a young age.
There’s only Matthew.
Only the man I shouldn’t desire, but do with a level of force that’s beyond my control.
“I had to agree Emmanuel would remain untouched if I wanted to leave my previous life behind. The same goes for his wife and children.” He adds pressure to my waist, slowly dragging me closer into him. “Those rules will always remain in place, hanging like a noose if I break them.”
“What happens if you defy the rules?”
“Then I’d owe Lorenzo a debt. I’d be his again. With no way out this time.”
“And if I break the rules while we’re together?” I whisper.
“I don’t know.” He holds my gaze, unblinking. “It’s a grey area. Especially when I don’t understand your connection to the Costas.”
I’m not willing to give him that insight.
Not yet.
“You should’ve left me alone, Matthew. I would’ve done your dirty work for you. We both could’ve got what we wanted.”
“I have what I want,” he growls. “Don’t you?”
He can’t ask me that.
He can’t possibly understand what it would mean to choose him, not only forsaking revenge, but my family, too.
I lower my attention to his shirt buttons, itching to unfasten them and press my skin to his. I’ve grown tired of words. I need more. Something to tether this wildness inside me. Something to dissolve the doubt.
“Do you really want them dead?” he murmurs. “Was that the plan?”
I don’t know anymore. I don’t know anything.
The loss of Grace should cement my bloodlust. Instead, I’m fearful of the cost my actions might inflict upon the man I’m growing to admire.
A sinner with the control of a saint.
“Which one of them hurt you?” He runs his thumbs along my hips, gently coaxing. “What did they do?”
“You didn’t dig that deep into my life?”
“Bishop tried. He couldn’t find a connection.”
He uncovered my name. My reputation. My family’s sins, but not the circumstances surrounding my husband’s death or my child’s abduction. Good. That means Cole’s cover-up is tight. Not that I ever had any doubts.
I slide a fingertip over his top button, my gaze trekking the movement. “I’m not ready to share.”
But I have to make a choice.
I’ve reached the peak of this mountain. There are only two courses of action to take. I can return to the protection of where I came from, living a life where I’m judged and loathed. Or I can take the last step off the cliff, plunging myself into an abyss of recklessness and potential bliss.
Safety and sadness.
Or risk and the possibility of emotional reward.
“I need to think first.” My heart thunders a frantic beat.
I have to decide if I’m going to choose Matthew over my family.
To pick him instead of revenge. Can I choose this gloriously secretive man, with his adamance and determination, in place of everything I’ve ever known and relied on? Can I step toward something that scares the absolute hell out of me?
I glance up at him, desperate to read his thoughts as those dark eyes hold mine.
He drags me closer, forcing my knees to spread around his waist, the material of my dress hitching to the top of my thighs. “We need to discuss it, amore mio.”
“I know.”
“Soon.”
I nod. “But not now.”
His palms add pressure, pressing my crotch into the hard length hidden beneath his zipper. I gasp at the contact, hypersensitive and hungry.
Things are different now. Cautious. Intense.
Yet the underlying energy between us is stronger. The attraction more fierce.
Every inch of me vibrates for him. It hurts to breathe. To refrain from all the luscious thoughts that shouldn’t fester at a time like this.
It’s as if one spark against the kindling of our magnetism will ignite an inferno I’ll never control. A passionate explosion of lips and hands and spirit.
Flames flicker in his eyes, the hellish severity enough to cause arrhythmia.
“You’ll learn to trust me, Layla.” He grinds into me, the friction grazing my clit. “Give it time.” He leans closer, his stubble brushing my cheek as he speaks near my ear. “Until then, let me atone for the secrecy.” A hand slides to my thigh, his calloused palm delving beneath the pool of material at my crotch. “Let me show you how much I need you.”
There he goes again with the need.
The want.
The necessity.
I may willingly succumb to him, but his yearning for me makes me soar. Fly. Free fall.
He slides his fingers beneath the elastic of my panties, skimming my clit before moving farther to part my folds.
“I won’t lose you,” he grates into my hair. “Not over issues that are out of our control.” His lips find my neck. “There are too many things I want to do to you.”
“Then do them.”
“My pleasure.” In a jerk of movement, his hand leaves my flesh. He shoves off the tiles, holding me in his arms to take me with him.
I clutch his shoulders, my legs tight around his waist as he takes three steps and plants my back against the freezing tiled wall. Our lips meet. Our teeth. Our tongues.
He turns rabid, devouring me. His hands on my body. His breath in my lungs.
I gasp. Cling. Claw.
I fight to unfasten his buttons only to be stopped when he hefts my dress over my shoulders. He throws the material to the floor, his hips strong and adamant against mine, his lips finding my neck.
He licks. Sucks. Bites.
One hand circles my nape. The other finds my hip. Both dig deep into flesh, possessing, demanding, while his cock teases my clit through my panties.
“We’ve got more to discuss.” His voice vibrates against my skin. “It won’t be easy.”
I nod.
I know.
From his life and mine.
But the world can wait.
I need respite from the revelations. To have him against me, on top of me, inside me. Each moment is a reminder of why I took this risk in the first place. “For now, all I need to know is that this is real.”
“It’s fucking real.” He digs his fingers harder into my skin. Pleasure and pain. Animal and man. “It always has been.”
I ignore Cole’s disagreement whispering through my mind.
Keira’s denials, too.
The voices have to stop.
“Fuck me.” I grind into him, whimpering as clit meets cock. “Hurry.”
He pulls back, his eyes narrow, as if noting my first significant instance of sexual confidence.
I shove the jacket from his shoulders and rip at his shirt. Rabid. Starved for more.
He keeps watching, keeps stalking me with his gaze.
“What?” My cheeks heat under his scrutiny. “Why did you stop?”
“Because hearing those words is beyond
a fucking turn-on,” he growls. “Keep going, amore mio. Tell me exactly what you want.”
Heat blazes down my neck. “Jesus Christ.” I fist the hair at his nape and yank his face to mine. “Just fuck me.”
He grins. “Don’t worry. I will.” He licks my lower lip, following it with a bite of teeth. “Within an inch of your life.”
My pussy flutters, tingling and tight.
He smothers his mouth against mine and undoes his zipper while leveraging me against the cold tiles.
He doesn’t take off his pants. Doesn’t remove my underwear.
One minute, he’s consuming me with kisses—the next, he’s ripping the lace apart at my crotch and shoving his dick home.
I cry out as I’m filled, the walls of my pussy exquisitely stretching to accommodate his girth.
Fuck.
He’s brilliant.
Perfect.
He pulls back, pressing our foreheads together as he thrusts into me. “You’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
He growls in approval, the vibration thrumming into my chest. “I’ll never lose you.”
My heart pangs.
I can’t reciprocate. Not this time. Not without lying.
“Say it.” He keeps plunging his cock into me. Harder. Faster. More punishing. “Tell me I’ll never lose you.”
“Matthew…”
“Tell me,” he demands.
I’m on the cliff’s ledge, arms hesitantly open, heart painfully fragile.
I can’t leap. Can I?
“All that I have is yours, amore mio. The money. The assets.” He steals my lips, punishing me with a rough kiss. “But you’re mine. I won’t lose you.”
I cup his cheeks, my closed eyes burning as I nod.
I don’t have a chance to contemplate the severity of my capitulation before he drags me from the wall with strong hands on my hips, his dick remaining inside me as he walks us to the bedroom across the hall.
The space is bathed in darkness, the only light coming from more candles on the nightstands.
He places me on the bed, decimating our connection when he descends to his knees, grabs my ankles, and drags me in one rough slide to the edge of the mattress.
I struggle to catch my breath as those forceful hands yank at the waistband of my shredded panties, dragging the elastic to fall to the floor. My legs are plastered wide, my sex on full display when he swoops in to plant his mouth directly over my pussy.
I jolt with the contact, the sudden rush of lips and tongue not merely kissing, but utterly ravaging.
His fingers dig into my thighs, the appreciative rumble from his throat vibrating deep in my core.
I grasp the bed coverings, wiggling my ass for more. “Matthew…”
I want to tell him how I feel. How I hurt and yearn and crave for this to be real. Truly real.
For the possibility of living without recrimination to be something other than a fairy tale. For this paradise to be more than an illusion.
“I need you, too,” I admit. “I need you too much.”
His growl turns to an animalistic snarl, his mouth rising to latch on to my clit. He sucks, flicking the sensitive nerves with his tongue while two fingers plunge inside me, curling into my G-spot.
I struggle for breath, my core snapping tight around his digits, the pleasure infusing me all the way to my toes.
But he’s too far away.
I need skin to skin. To touch instead of being touched. To give pleasure instead of merely receiving it.
“I want you inside me.” I strangle the bed coverings, my legs squeezing around him.
“I’m not even close to being done here.”
“Matthew.” His name is panted from my drying lips. “Don’t deny me.”
He pauses, edging backward, his stubble scratching my inner thighs. “I’d never fucking deny you.” He rises to his feet, roughly shucks his pants, then crawls on top of me. “My mouth not good enough for you, amore mio?”
“Your mouth is divine.” I grab him around the nape and drag him closer, licking his lips in a quick tease, tasting my own arousal. “But I want to be close. I don’t want space between us.”
He grinds his hips as his nostrils flare, the tip of his cock edging into me. “No space. No lies. No secrets.”
I nod, not knowing what I’m agreeing to as my teeth dig into my lower lip.
All I understand is hunger. Desire. Demand.
He nudges farther, sinking deeper. My core clamps around him as soon as he’s fully seated inside me. I’m already so close. The heat in his eyes undoes me.
I could come.
From his gaze alone, I could splinter.
“You’re ready.” He grins, backing out gradually, before sinking in equally slowly. “Amore mio wants to come.”
I mewl, raising my hips to meet his, silently pleading for him to move faster.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You,” I pant.
He clucks his tongue. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
I whimper, my cheeks regaining the heat of unease. “Fuck me.”
He increases his pace a fraction. “How?”
“Hard,” I beg, kicking off my sandals. “Fuck me hard… Please… Hurry.”
“All you had to do is ask.” He slams into me, jolting me farther along the bed. “I’ll fuck you as hard as you want.” He thrusts into me, over and over. Stronger and more ruthless. “I’ll fuck you until you can’t see straight and neither of us can walk.”
Again and again he plunges, each slam pushing me closer to the edge of no return.
“And I’ll still want more,” he pledges. “I’ll never get enough.”
I come undone, every inch of me pulsing, the waves of my orgasm consuming me.
I sink my nails into his shoulders, command his mouth to mine.
We kiss as the pleasure sets my chest on fire and gives my heart wings. Over and over he bucks into me, our legs knocking, my pussy throbbing.
I don’t breathe until the tide recedes. Don’t acknowledge consciousness until he stops moving and leans up on one arm to stare down at me with cocky arrogance.
“Are we done?” I tease.
He raises a brow. “I thought I made it clear we’ll never be done.” His free hand slides around my neck, holding me in a possessive grip. “Not today or tomorrow. You’re stuck with me.”
I want to be stuck.
Unequivocally. Emphatically.
His hips retreat, moving back until only the head of his cock breaches me. “This tight little pussy is mine.” He slams home, harsh and unyielding, sinking to the hilt.
My back arches with renewed pleasure, my chest rising to brush against his.
“These tits…” He pays my breasts homage. Rough, ferocious kisses. Harsh, punishing sucks. “All mine.”
He plunges harder. Unrelenting.
More.
And more.
And so much more.
“That’s not all.” His hand releases my neck, his palm sliding down my body and around my hip. “This fucking ass is mine, too.”
I shudder with the words. Pulse with the deep dig of his fingers into my meaty flesh.
I wrap my legs around his waist. Lick my lips. Fight against the burn in my nipples.
“I’m going to fuck you there, amore mio,” he promises, carnal and severe. “I’m going to stretch that perfect little ass and make it hurt so damn good.”
Oh… My… God.
I come undone again. My imagination succumbs to his filth. My pussy enjoys the ever-loving fuck out of it.
I moan with bliss. Close my eyes. Clamp my core.
“Fuck.” He pistons inside me, following me into mindlessness. “Fuck this perfect little cunt.”
I whimper. Exhausted. Tired. And entirely helpless against the shudders still wracking me.
He pumps harder, his fingers digging.
The pain is intense. The pleasure is incredible.
“Godd
amn you, Layla,” he roars.
Those hips buck once. Twice. His seed fills me until finally, he crashes down upon me, deftly dragging me to my side so his weight rests into the mattress.
We stare, breathing each other’s liquor-tainted air, our bodies joined, the candlelight dancing over our skin.
I wait for morality to nip at my heels. To bite and punish and scar.
Nothing comes.
I remain shrouded in bliss, my gaze entranced by the man who owns my heart, my head free from criticism—at least for now.
I run my fingertips along the scratch marks I left on his chest. “When did you organize the candles and food?”
“This morning, while you were in the shower.” His lips curve. “But I wasn’t entirely responsible.”
I raise a questioning brow.
“I texted Bishop. He called the hotel to make arrangements.”
“Bishop?” His name leaves my mouth with incredulity.
“Yeah, Bishop.” He grabs my wrist with a gentle hand and raises my knuckles to his lips. “He’s cooperative when he wants to be.”
“And a bastard the rest of the time,” I mutter.
“Not always. He actually likes you.”
I scoff. “We’re both good at lying, Matthew, but you didn’t come close to pulling that one off.”
“No more lies, amore mio. I promise his caustic exterior is just for show. He didn’t want you getting messed up in our world. Then, when he found out you were already in the thick of it, he tried to convince me to cut you loose to save you from complications.”
“I’m still not buying it.” I inch closer, snuggling into his side, sliding my thigh between his. “But I don’t need to. I’m here for you, not him.”
“Just as long as you know he’s no threat.” He places a kiss to my forehead. “He’s all talk when it comes to you.”
I stew on his words, unsure what they mean yet unwilling to ask.
We lie there for long moments, his arm sliding around my shoulders to keep me close, my fingers drawing invisible pictures on the muscles of his chest.
My mind drifts to our earlier conversation, the revelations slowly creeping back in. “Why don’t you carry a gun?”
He stiffens. It’s only slight—the mere tweak of corded sinew. “I’ve got my reasons.”
Matty boy wants to earn his very own martyrdom status.
