Protecting What's Mine

by Jennifer Sucevic

  Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, I slip my feet into a pair of black flip-flops before heading out the door. It’s late, and I’m on the top floor, so I’m not worried about running into other residents.

  The short ride up to the rooftop is uneventful. Just as I assumed, the place is deserted. Chairs and tables are scattered around a rectangular pool with a small area for grilling off to one side. The other half is a lush garden oasis filled with small, ornately sculpted shrubs, a walking path, and tons of brightly blooming flowers.

  It’s all stunningly manicured.

  Kicking off the sandals, I throw my towel onto a chaise lounger and walk toward the edge of the pool. Using my arms for balance, I dip a toe in the water, hoping it won’t be too cold.

  A low groan escapes me.

  It’s a tad cooler than bath water, but not by much.

  Diving in, I’m immersed in warmth while gliding through the clear liquid. I’m about fifteen feet away from the other side of the pool when I finally surface. It’s larger than I realized. Certainly not Olympic in size, but big enough to swim laps and get in a good workout. Ducking under, I do a few breast strokes before changing over to freestyle. Then I turn over, slicing my arms through the water as I begin backstroking. Gazing up at the velvety night sky, I feel the tension inside me wane.

  The dull ache I seem to get every time I’m around Matteo dissipates.

  This swim is precisely what I needed.

  I’m glad I decided to come up here. Between running along the lake and swimming in this gorgeous retreat, who needs therapy?

  A good forty minutes pass by before I make my way to the side of the pool. I don’t think I’m ready to leave yet, though. I want to wrap up in my towel and sit under the starry night sky, enjoying the quietness of the city for a while.

  A noise punctuates the air, drawing my attention to one of the loungers off to the side. My breath stalls in my lungs as my gaze collides with Matteo’s.

  He no longer wears the suit jacket he had on earlier, but the black pants and white shirt remain. His tie is gone, and the first two buttons of his dress shirt are unfastened. His long, muscular legs are spread out in front of him. His elbows rest casually on his knees. His eyes never relinquish mine. He picks up the towel I carelessly threw on the chaise before diving into the pool.

  Unfolding it, he says huskily, “Out of the water, Grace.”

  Goosebumps break out across my flesh at the way he says my name.

  He’s not asking.

  He’s telling.

  I know it’s safer to hide out in the water, yet I lift myself out in one fluid movement. I wouldn’t put it past him to wade in after me. With one leg, I kneel on the blue tile before straightening to my full height.

  He doesn’t say a word about my revealing suit. The only telltale sign that he’s affected is the heat that sparks in his eyes as they roam over my body. Although the night air is cool, his gaze makes me feel flushed from head to toe.

  Wordlessly, he holds out the towel. I tentatively reach for the terrycloth, hoping he’ll hand it over.

  He doesn’t.

  “Turn around.”

  The command shoots straight through me. In the blink of an eye, the forty minutes spent in the water evaporates, and I’m just as achy as when I was tossing and turning in bed while thinking about him.

  He stands and moves behind me. The heat of his body radiates outward. I’m painfully aware of him. My body tenses as I await his touch. My breath hisses out as he gathers up the long strands of my hair in his hands and closes the thick towel around them before gently squeezing. He repeats the motion a few more times until my hair is no longer dripping.

  It’s so relaxing that my eyelids drift shut as I enjoy the sensation of being taken care of. He moves down to my shoulders and arms, thoroughly rubbing each section of wet flesh until it’s dry. He lowers the towel to the center of my back and rubs in soothing circles. I want to moan at the feel of his hands on my body but don’t. My lips stay firmly pressed together.

  He makes his way to my barely covered cheeks, where he spends a lot of time massaging the firm globes with the towel. I’m so relaxed that I could melt into the ground.

  “Turn.”

  A shiver courses through me. His voice sounds rough as sandpaper. Barely harnessed power vibrates from his chest.

  He strokes the towel over and around my breasts, lifting them so that not a drop of moisture remains. As he continues drying my chest, my nipples stiffen into peaks that beg for more attention. His eyes stay fastened to them. I see desire and longing swimming in their heavy-lidded depths.

  When I can’t stand another moment of his torture, he drops his hands to my ribs and exposed belly. He takes his time sweeping the fabric around my waist and hips before dipping lower. He sits back down on the lounger.

  “Spread your legs.”

  As soon as I part them, he resumes patting me dry. His hand goes right to my core, pressing the cottony material against my clit before rubbing in a slow, circular motion with the perfect amount of pressure to make me feel as though I might explode at any given moment. I try to stifle it, but the deep, guttural sound still manages to find its way into the night air.

  Watching his expression, I try to get a read on his thoughts, but can’t. His feelings are shielded by shuttered eyes.

  He smooths over my inner thighs with care before skimming down my calves. Sweeping back up again, his hand arrows to my aching lower lips.

  His hungry eyes flick to mine. “You still owe me a kiss.”

  “You got your kiss in the limo,” I remind him breathlessly.

  His gaze turns flinty, his lips bowing into a wicked grin. He reaches out and fingers the strings of my bikini bottoms. Within a heartbeat, the ties are plucked, and the tiny black bottoms float to the ground.

  “It wasn’t those lips I wanted to kiss.”

  My belly hollows out.

  His eyes dart to my freshly waxed pussy. His face is perfectly level with my lower lips. I want to feel his mouth against me more than anything.

  He reaches over and slowly strokes one thick finger over my slit.

  Another low moan of desire slides from my mouth. I couldn’t stop it if I tried.

  Matteo leans forward and traces the same path his finger traveled seconds ago with his tongue. I want to die. Or maybe I want to sink to the ground and spread my thighs so I can feel the velvety flatness of his tongue stroking over me. Darting inside.

  He grazes the top of my slit rather than probe deeper with his tongue. Of their own volition, my fingers thread through his inky black hair as he continues laying butterfly-like kisses against me. I want him to bury his face between my legs and ravage me instead of giving me chaste kisses. It’s pure torment, and he knows it.

  “Please,” I whine. “I need more.”

  But he doesn’t give it to me.

  He instead pulls away, leaving me to shake and gasp before reaching down and picking up my bottoms. He holds the material against my trembling hips, tying both sides together so that I’m once again covered.

  It feels like my entire body is being scorched by flames.

  Gaining his feet, he wraps the towel around my shoulders and picks me up, cradling me in his arms.

  “Are you ready?”

  Ready to leave?

  Ready to be fucked?

  I have no idea what he’s asking. But the answer to both questions is the same.

  “Yes.” My throat is dry and raspy. My body feverish. I’ve never wanted a man more than I want this one.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When we reach my door, he doesn’t release me. I’m so agitated. The feel of those wide hands holding me against his muscular body, singes my flesh. I’m barely coherent at this point. All I know is that I need to feel this man buried deep inside me. I have no idea what’s happening between us, if this is nothing more than a one-night stand. Maybe we’re just finishing what was started in the limo a week and a half ago.

&
nbsp; I don’t know.

  And furthermore, I don’t care.

  This is what he does to me.

  I don’t think rationally when I’m anywhere near him. And when he touches me, I’m lost.

  All the reasons this shouldn’t happen flee from my mind.

  After I open the door, he strolls into my condo with me cradled in his arms. He moves stealthily through the front entryway, into the living room, to where the wide sweeping windows showcase the city below.

  As soon as my bare feet hit the hardwood, his fingers pull at the ties of my suit until both the top and bottom fall to the floor and I’m standing naked in front of him. My natural impulse has always been to shield myself or quickly duck under the covers. Like any woman, I have flaws and body image issues. I like my breasts and the curve of my ass, especially now that I’ve gotten back into running. But my legs are short, not long and lean the way I wish. And my waist isn’t as whittled as it once was.

  I resist the urge to hide. Instead, I draw in a deep breath to calm everything racing around inside me. I’m backlit by the lights blazing from downtown. Matteo’s eyes roam over every part of me just as they did out by the pool. The condo is plunged in darkness, but I’m able to see the appreciative glow in his eyes.

  “You are stunning, bella. Completely stunning.”

  Needing to make the first move, I walk toward him, unfastening each shirt button one at a time. Excitement I’ve never experienced before rises up within me. It’s crazy just how much I want this. How much I’m savoring the process of stripping Matteo bare.

  Once I’ve removed the white shirt, I start on the trousers. I unbuckle his belt, pop the button, and slowly lower the zipper. The soft sound sends shivers racing down my spine. The gabardine loosens, settling around his narrow hips before I push it down his thighs.

  Matteo steps out of the pants, left in an impressively tented pair of black boxer briefs. I skim my palm over his long, hot length. He’s more than a handful. My mouth waters because I desperately want to see all of him.

  My fingers hook into the elastic band and push them down. His thick erection springs free. I shove the boxers down and wrap my hand around him, stroking his shaft from root to tip.

  “Mmmm, that feels so good,” he murmurs.

  Yes, it does.

  Standing on my tiptoe, I brush my lips against his. He opens, and I slip my tongue inside his mouth. I may have been the one to start this, but he quickly takes control. In an instant, the kiss turns more demanding.

  He’s the one in charge, and I love it.

  “Do you want to be fucked?”

  “Yes.” I breathe the word out on a lusty sigh.

  “Hard? You want me to fuck you hard so that you can no longer think?”

  “Yes,” I whimper at the stark image he paints, “that’s exactly what I want.”

  “Good. Because I need to fuck you nice and hard until all you can think about is my cock pummeling your pussy.”

  Wanting more contact, I try to kiss him again. He evades me and captures my hands, backing me up until I’m pinned against the window. I gasp at the feeling of the cool glass against my heated skin, and the erection pressing into my belly. I’m so drenched that wetness smudges my inner thighs.

  I’m so ready for him.

  I’ve never felt this kind of hunger before. I’m so close to splintering apart that one deep stroke will push me over the edge.

  Matteo fists the base of his cock and brings the head to my opening. He caresses the tip against my aching pussy lips but doesn’t dip it inside me. He simply continues to stroke the hard length against my quivering flesh.

  “So very wet. Your pussy is crying for me, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I groan. I feel flooded with wetness.

  Taking his time, he continues rubbing his cock against me with measured strokes, giving me just enough to tease. When I can’t stand a moment more, he positions himself at my entrance. I want to impale myself on his thick shaft and be done with it already. I crave the satisfaction I’ll find once he’s buried in me. But he doesn’t slide in any further. My insides stretch to accommodate his girth, the muscles contracting, wrapping around him, trying to draw him deeper.

  He groans.

  Flexing his hips with tiny movements, he thrusts. With each quick piston-like action, I tighten my muscles around him until his jaw clenches. Until sweat breaks out across his dark brow. Until his entire body is whipcord tight. Just when I think he’ll bury his cock inside me and give us what we both want, he pulls out.

  “What-”

  I don’t get another word out before he twists me around so that my naked front is forced against the window overlooking the city. Turning my head, I lay my flushed cheek against the glass and close my eyes. The heat of his body disappears, and I shiver. I hear the ripping of a package, and then he’s back in place. His body completely covers mine from behind. Heat once again floods through me.

  “Open your legs.”

  I don’t need to be told twice.

  My back arches as I widen my stance. He spreads my cheeks and thrusts inside me with one smooth movement, driving his thick cock all the way home.

  A scream tears from my mouth at the fullness now seated deep inside me.

  I can’t believe how perfect this man feels. He gives me a moment to adjust, to breathe, before flexing his hips. His pelvis grinds against my ass. He slips almost all the way out before quickly propelling back inside again. Each time he slides home, I moan in ecstasy.

  My eyes open as he continues fucking me against the window. There’s something erotic about being sandwiched between cool glass and his warm body. My breasts are smashed against the pane, my nipples flattened. It feels exquisite. The animalistic way he continues pounding into my hot sheath sends me climbing until there’s nowhere left to go but down.

  “Fuck, bella, fuck!”

  Exactly.

  The feel of him pummeling me is sheer poetry in motion.

  Utter bliss.

  It doesn’t take long for an orgasm to streak through me. Cries of pleasure fall from my lips. He grunts, quickly following me, muttering words in Italian that I don’t understand, but love hearing nevertheless.

  Once I’ve been wrung completely dry, my entire body goes limp as a noodle. I’m exhausted. But completely sated.

  What just took place between us feels addictive.

  The sex I’ve had in the past has been nothing like this.

  Matteo pulls out and gathers me in his arms before I sink to the floor. He carries me to my bedroom, heading straight to the bed I’d left almost two hours ago in search of relief.

  Pulling back the covers, he gently sets me down before slipping in beside me.

  A contented smile stretches across my lips. “You’re staying?” Surprise laces my weary voice. I figured he would gather up his strewn-about clothing and get the hell out of Dodge.

  “For a little bit.” His mouth curves into a devilish grin. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

  One thought floats through my head as I curl up next to him.

  Thank God.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I open the door as Chloe raps her knuckles against it. Her eyes skim down me and fill with concern.

  “You not feeling well?”

  Her question throws me off. “I feel great.” My brows pinch together in confusion. “Why?”

  Truth be told, I feel marvelous.

  I think Matteo pounded the last six months of stress right out of my now limp-as-a-noodle body. Maybe even a year. I feel lighter and brighter than I have in a long time.

  She gives me another hard look and says, “Because it’s one o’clock on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and you’re sitting around wearing sweat-pants and a T-shirt. That’s why.”

  I glance down at my outfit before correcting her. “Actually, they’re yoga pants. Completely acceptable attire.”

  One perfectly manicured brow gets cocked. “That doesn’t make it any better.”<
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  I shrug. “It’s a lazy weekend.”

  “Hmmm. I don’t think so.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Her eyes narrow and fill with suspicion. “No. It’s more than that. You look….” She trails off as she searches for a word, “different.”

  “Excuse me?” A gurgle of surprised laughter escapes. “What are you talking about?”

  “I think,” she declares triumphantly, “that you got laid last night. Which means that you’ve been holding out on me.”

  My mouth tumbles open.

  How can she tell? Is it written across my face?

  When I say nothing, she continues. “Yeah, you’re definitely glowing! And you seem a whole hell of a lot looser than before. Like someone gave you a much-needed tune-up. Maybe a few of them.”

  I wave a hand dismissively. I don’t want to discuss Matteo. There’s nothing more to say other than, Yes, we had sex last night. And it was incredible. “You’re crazy.”

  “That goes without saying,” she replies easily.

  I lead her through the living room and head out to the sun-filled terrace.

  “So, am I right? Did you get lucky last night?” Before I can formulate an answer, she says, “I didn’t even know you went out. Where’d you go and why wasn’t I invited?”

  As we sit down across from one another, she gives me another searching look. One that tells me she won’t be dropping the subject easily. Chloe can be as tenacious as a terrier when she sinks her teeth into something juicy.

  Her hand flies to her mouth. “Don’t tell me that Sasha finally wore you down.”

  I burst out laughing. “No, it wasn’t Sasha!”

  “But it was, in fact, someone.” She looks moments away from leaping over the table. “Who? I want a name!”

  “No one you know,” I admit begrudgingly. What made me think that I could hide this from her?