Page 93 of My Italian Love Affair

“Right back at you, Rossi.”

Matteo lifts his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine.

There’s something raw in his expression - something possessive and utterly wild.

His hand slides higher, his fingers skimming over the lace edge of my underwear, and my breath stutters as a small, needy sound escapes me.

Matteo’s responding smirk is nothing but devilish.

“I knew you’d sound good,” he murmurs.

His voice is rough and teasing, full of that arrogant confidence that should piss me off but only turns me on more.

I open my mouth to snap back, but then his fingers press against my panties, and all thoughts vanish.

My head falls back against the wall as he starts to move his fingers over the fabric in slow, torturous strokes that have me gasping.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” he presses on. “How many times I’ve thought aboutyou?”

I can only shake my head in response.

“You’re all I think about,” he continues.

I hum softly in pleasure as the image of him touching himself while thinking about this - while thinking about me, aboutus- fills my mind.

“You’re all I’ve wanted. Since the moment I saw you.Fuck.”

It’s unfair, really - the way that he can work me up like this without even directly touching me, without any skin-to-skin contact and with a direct barrier between us.

His fingers roll and circle over my clit as well as push towards my entrance, nudging my panties inside before pulling back out. The lace is rough against my skin, the sensationunfamiliar and strange, but not necessarily uncomfortable.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he says. “I bet I could make you come just like this.”

I bite my lip, my hands gripping tightly to his muscular shoulders in an attempt to keep myself balanced and upright. But it’s impossible when he’s touching me like this, when he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me.

“Matteo,” I breathe, my body arching into his touch, my hips lifting upwards towards his magical fingers.

He groans at the sound of his name on my lips, and the thought is enough to have my own eyes fluttering.

“Tell me what you need,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my jaw, but I can’t tell him anything.

I can barely even think, barelybreathe.

Every nerve in my body is purely focused on the way he’s touching me, and I can’t process anything else.

“I need -”

My voice breaks off into a gasp as he applies more pressure, but Matteo’s breath is hot against my ear.

“Say it.”

“I needyou.”

His whole body tenses at my words, and then he’s moving so fast that I barely have time to react.

My legs drop from his waist as he lowers himself to his knees before me. His eyes are dark and hooded, filled with a hunger that matches my own as he blinks up at me.

“Let me take care of you.”

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