Page 82 of Matteo

Amy hits her climax with a cry so loud I worry she’ll wake Layla. Her whole body goes limp. I roll her under me, holding her tight. God, she is so damn stunning. I love every inch of her delectable body. There’s nothing better than her body pressed against mine. The way she softens to fit me—it’s on another level completely.

She cuddles into me. “Matteo.” She sing songs my name.

“Go to sleep,” I mutter. “You need your rest.”

Her giggle is fucking adorable. “Your cock is still hard and poking into me. There’s no way I could sleep through that.”

Another giggle floats up to me seconds before she grips my cock. Aw damn, two minutes isn’t going to be easy—shit. I promised her three minutes. Why the hell did I agree to three minutes?

I almost jump out of my skin when her tongue teases the tip of my cock. Sonofabitch. Squeezing my eyes shut, I begin counting down. No fucking way am I going to be able to last three minutes. A moan comes out of her and slides down my spine sharper than a scalpel.

Nope, can’t do it. I grasp her by her throat and pull her away.

“Hey!” She’s outraged. “I still have at least a minute.”

“Times up.” I’m pretty sure it’s not, but I’m going to come all over her without being inside her.

“I love your body, Matteo. Please let me have my minute. I’ll suck your cock so well, I promise.” I’m stunned at her determination as she opens her mouth and licks the side of my cock. “Hmm, yum.”

Taking advantage of my shock, she licks all the way to the head of my cock. With each small lick, her soft little tongue is tearing my skin from my bones. She sucks the first few inches into her hot mouth.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m fighting not to come and losing. My brain is trying to work out if it’s less embarrassing to come on the comforter or the side of the bed when she goes onto her knees beside me. I roll her under me.

Her gasp of surprise is swallowed by me as I plunge deep into her soaking-wet cunt. In the blink of an eye, she’s fucking me back, begging for me to fill her with my come. Thank fuck she comes fast. I follow her right into paradise.

“Matteo, I’m going to get you back for not giving me my full three minutes.” Amy sighs.

“We’ll try again after four kids and twenty years,” I promise her.

“I’m holding you to it.” She warns me.

I get us both under the covers. She still needs a nap. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. Now, take your nap.”

A little hand runs along my bicep. “You know, I’m glad you have me seeing Hillary. Before seeing a therapist, I would have driven you and me both crazy, not really believing you meant it about taking care of me and Layla. Like you were just saying it to be nice, to make me love you more.”

“I’m glad she’s helping you, mi amor.”

“I was thinking about something Hillary said. How it wasn’t good to have any one identity. What if something happens to you to lose your identity? It reminded me of how lost you seemed when you talked about you giving up on being an oncologist…”

“Before I met you and Layla, I think that would be a valid concern. Now, it’s more important for me to ensure you and Layla are taken care of. I thought I was only doing good by seeing patients, the hands-on of doing it. With time, I’ve come to understand that I’m helping more people—not just patients by hiring more doctors and nurses and paying them well.”

Her sigh is happy. “I’m glad. I worried you’d resent not working the way you used to.”

“Not in the least. It’s more important to me that you and Layla are taken care of than all the other stuff. There’s only so much guilt a person can carry around for something I didn’t have control over. I was born into a rich family. I’ve given away as much of my money as I could and done as much good as possible with it.” I really am over it.

“Good,” she sighs into my mouth.

And that’s how we fall asleep. Perfect.

CHAPTER 25

Amy

We’re leaving the art museum again. I’m so damn grateful for Matteo asking if I wanted to come here again and tell him that.

He doesn’t say anything until we’re both in the car.

He’s quiet for a minute, not even putting his key in the ignition. “I’m not a huge fan of art. I could appreciate it when it was in front of me. However, I didn’t search it out. I went to the National Gallery of Art in D.C. for a date in the first few years of living in Baltimore—just once. All the amazing art close by, and I only bothered going once. Without you, I wouldn’t have cared in the least.”

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