Page 96 of My Italian Love Affair

I reach between us and wrap my hand around his cock, guiding him closer until he’s exactly where I want - no,needhim.

Matteo curses under his breath in Italian, the sound going straight to my throbbing clit. His whole body tenses, his jaw clenching as he barely holds himself back.

“Dio,” he groans. “You’re going to ruin me.”

And then he thrusts into me.

A strangled moan rips from my throat, my head snapping back against the counter as he fills me in one swift,overwhelming motion.

My body stretches as my thighs clench around him, and he curses again, his grip on my hips turning bruising.

“Fuck, Daphne,” he breathes, his voice raw and broken. “You feel…” He trails off, exhaling sharply. “So fucking good.”

I can’t speak. Can’t think. Can’tbreathe.

All I can do is hold onto him as he moves, rough and relentless, like he can’t get deep enough, close enough.

Each thrust drives me higher, each sharp snap of his hips pulling me closer to the edge. My heels dig into his back as I cling to him, lost in the heat, the urgency, the sheer intensity of it all.

One of Matteo’s hands slides up my hips and arms until he’s tangling it in my hair, wrapping the auburn strands around his hand and wrist and using his grip to angle my head. He pulls me closer so that he can kiss me again, his tongue moving swiftly against mine as his mouth moves passionately.

The kiss is deep and hungry, like he wants to consume me whole. His teeth nip at my lower lip, and I whimper into his mouth, feeling the coil inside me tighten all over again.

His movements turn almost frantic as he uses his hold on my hip and my hair to pull me flush against him with each punishing thrust.

He’s thoroughly pounding into me now - the rhythm of his strong hips relentless - and my body tightens, my nerves sparking like a live wire.

I’m close.Sofucking close.

The edge is right there, and I’m teetering on it, ready to fall.

Matteo’s grip on my hair loosens, causing my head to lollslightly to the side against the counter. My lashes flutter open ever so slightly -

And that’s when I catch our reflection in the floor-length mirror.

The sight steals what little breath I have left.

Matteo hovering over me, his suit jacket long gone, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the hard planes of his chest. His dark eyes are locked onto me, filled with something raw and possessive, his jaw tight with restraint as he moves.

And me…

Well. My cheeks are thoroughly flushed, my black dress bunched up around my hips and my legs spread open wide around him. My lips are swollen and parted, my expression utterlywreckedas he practically bounces me on his cock.

The way he’s taking me - sprawled against the marble counter, my heels still on, my legs wrapped around his body like I never want to let go - it’s so obscene, so intoxicating -

And the sight of it tips me over the edge.

A whine erupts from the bottom of my throat as the pleasure detonates inside me, white-hot and all-consuming. My pussy clenches tightly around his cock, milking him for all that he’s worth, and Matteo groans as my ankles dig into his back.

He drops his hand away from my hair so that he can hold onto both of my hips again, and his grip turns bruising as he thrusts impossibly deeper and faster.

He fucks me harder against the counter as I ride out the waves of my orgasm, and with a strangled cry of his own and one last, harsh thrust of his hips, Matteo cums, burying his cock deep inside me as he finds his own release.

For a moment, neither of us move, our chests rising and falling in sync. The only sound in the stall is our ragged breathing along with the distant hum of music from the ballroom.

Eventually, Matteo exhales a rough chuckle, his forehead dropping to my shoulder.

“Well,” he murmurs, his voice thick, still breathless. “Didn’t expect that.”

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