Page 72 of Italy Can Bite Me

I toss the fabric away and Matteo actually stops breathing. “Cristo,” he murmurs. “Your tits are magnificent, cara.”

I lay back on the sand, arching deliberately. “And now they won’t have tan lines.”

He drops to his knees beside me, his eyes wild. “Madonna santa. I want my mouth on you so fucking bad, bellissima.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Katie.” His voice holds that infuriating mix of desire and restraint. “I… I can’t.”

“That’s fine.” I aim for casual but my heart is racing. “I’m sure one of those surfers down the beach will come get a closer look.”

“No one touches you,tranne me.”

The next second, his shirt vanishes in a blur. Before I can blink, he’s on me, pressing me into the sand. His kiss isn’t gentle—like last night—it’s desperate and demanding as if he’s been holding back and can’t anymore.

A wave surges over us, cold and relentless, but it might as well be pure lava for how it sets my body ablaze beneath his. The pressure of his lips, the scratch of his stubble—my entire being instantly craves its own undoing.

Then his mouth moves lower, his lips tracing my collarbone before he finds my nipple. There’s no gentle exploration, no timid testing—he pulls me into his mouth, hard and insistent, his teeth grazing the sensitive nub.

The waves drown out my moan, and Matteo doesn’t pause. His hands frame my breasts, his fingers pressing into my skin like he’s starving for me. His mouth moves to my other nipple, his tongue delivering a wicked flick before sucking me hard. I’m already gasping for breath.

I’ve never felt this—never been so worshiped, so desired. I always considered my breasts to be average—practical, at best. But the way Matteo devours me makes me feel like an absolute goddess.

“Matteo. Oh my… yes.” I pant, my nails digging into his back.

My hips buck up seeking friction. Every nerve ending is firing at once, and I can’t tell what’s sending me reeling—his mouth, his hands, the weight of him pressing me down.

I reach between us, slipping my hand into the waistband of his swim shorts. He props himself up on his arms, giving me space, and the lust in his eyes as I squeeze him is overwhelming.

Holy fuck, I finally get the eggplant emoji.

He’s so thick and hard I can barely get my hand around him.

My confidence soars when he groans, the sound vibrating through my whole body. “Fuck, Katie,” he growls, “you have no idea what you do to me, bella.”

My lips find the sensitive spot on his neck, and I suck hard, hoping to mark him. His hips thrust in response, and I start to stroke him, my hand moving with slow, deliberate movements, enjoying the way he throbs in my grasp.

His curse cuts through the rush of the waves. “Dio, sì, principessa. Keep doing that.”

The water crashes over us, soaking us both, but I’m completely lost in him. My world narrows to the man above me, the way his muscles tighten under my fingers, the way his lips part as his breaths grow urgent. The taste of salt water adds a raw, primal edge to our passion, driving me to stroke him more intensely.

Matteo leans close, his mouth brushing my ear. “Are you wet for me, Katie? With all this water I can’t tell. Are you?”

“Yes,” I gasp, the word torn from me. “God, yes.”

His hand slides between us, pinpointing my clit with breathtaking accuracy. The first touch of his fingers sends my body into a frenzy, and I’m on the brink—balancing it all—clinging to the moment but aching to surrender.

Then he freezes.

He pulls out the condom hidden in my suit, staring at it dangling from his fingers. His expression turns to stone.

“Of course you planned this. Seduce Matteo to break his rule. I walked right into your little game.”

“No wait. Please listen—”

He surges up, snatching his shirt and throwing it at me. “Put this on.”

“Are you kidding me?” I struggle with the clinging fabric. “It’s only sex. You have it all the time. What’s the big deal?”

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