Page 40 of For Pleasure Or Worse

“I have no complaints about fucking you on the washer. In fact I’m thinking about turning you around and bending you over it.”

“No, not that. Does it bother you that you had to do your own laundry? That the washer was full when you got home?”

His head lifted, nose meeting the curve of my cheek. “What?”

“Or do you ever wish I had dinner plated for you in the kitchen when you walked through the door?”

“I mean, I wouldn’tdislikethat.”

“So you’re disappointed that it’s not something I do often.” I kissed him, dipping my tongue into his mouth and swirling it against his.

“I didn’t say that,” he mumbled against my lips.

Mateo jerked my pants down my hips, my skin prickling against the cold metal of the washer and I managed to kick out of one leg, leaving the jeans and my panties dangling on an ankle. “Do you think I’m lazy?” I asked. “Am I a spoiled brat?”

“Yes,” he answered half-heartedly, focused on the space between my legs and where it met his tented boxers. With another quick look at the closed door he put his palm out in front of my chin. “Spit.”

“Yes?”

“Spit.” His eyes were all pupils.

“Mateo, this is serious.”

“You want to know if I think you’re spoiled, when this is the third time I’ve asked you to spit and I still haven’t spanked your ass for not listening yet? Yes, Natalia, you are fucking spoiled. I spoil you, I pamper you, and I am a patient man with you when all I want to do is break you because I can’t turn that part of me off completely.” He squeezed my cheeks together, puckering my mouth. “Now do what you’re told, brat. Or I’ll leave you in this laundry room with your pussy dripping and an empty hole where my cock should be filling it.”

My mind looped. I had come into this laundry room to seduce my fiancé as a twisted way of reminding myself he was irrevocably in love with me, desired me, needed me, and that all these insecurities were baseless. All I’d managed to get was half-naked on the top of a washing machine; confirm that I was indeed useless, spoiled, and lazy; and transfer every ounce of control to Mateo in a split second. Now I wasn’t just sad and horny, I was also spitting into a hand like a?—

“Good little slut,”Mateo purred. “I knew you had it in you.” He shimmied his pants and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free between us and rubbed my spit down the shaft and over the head while my core fluttered in waiting.

Was this self-sabotage? My fingernails dug into the soft cotton of his T-shirt as Mateo pushed closer, notching himself inside me, even sinking in that tiny amount that had my eyes pinching closed and a dulcet whimper trickling out of me. I almost gave in—Inearlylet go and let myself get lost in this little raunchy moment hidden behind our laundry room door with the spin cycle bustling beneath me. But I would have never gotten over it if I did.

“I just want to be enough for you,” I blurted. “I want to know you’re going to love me if all I can cook is a freezer pizza and scrambled eggs. Or if I forget to switch the wet laundry over to the dryer for a day and it starts to stink. And if I don’t leave the house for three days and waste away in the bedroom buried in work unshowered in your sweatpants.”

His dick was at least two inches inside me and came to a dead, pulsing stop as Matty refocused. Like he’d been drunk and splashed with ice cold water. My breathing galloped, juxtaposed between the feeling of us connected and the intensity of his stare. He didn’t pull out.

“Where is this coming from, baby?”

“It’s been on my mind.”

“Natalia.”

“Really.”

He slid out and thrust back into the same spot and my entire body shuddered. “What do you think I did before you?”

I absentmindedly played with the long, soft hair at the nape of his neck. “Waited for me to show up.”

His hum of approval accompanied another push of his hips deeper inside me. My legs parted to accommodate the space hetook up between them. “I am a grown fucking man, Tally. I can feed myself, I can wash my own clothes, and I know you don’t want to hear this, but I can even fuck myself. Now, it’d never compare to this”—he enunciated that point with another thrust, bottoming out as my head dropped backwards—“but you are not my keeper. You’re my partner.”

A whine of satisfaction shot out of me as he picked up a steadier rhythm, and Mateo glared in warning. I dug my face into the crook of his neck, picking up all the subdued notes of his aftershave still lingering from the morning. He somehow smelled even better after a long day than freshly showered. “You know how much I want your mom’s blessing.”

“Shhh.” Mateo shook his head.

“Did you just shush me?”

“Did you just bring up my mother while I’m inside you?”

I couldn’t stop thinking about his mother. She was the catalyst to this entire thing. “We’re multitasking.”

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