Page 24 of Matteo

"Who said you could touch what is mine?" The growl rips from my throat, raw and possessive. Mafia boss or not, she's always been the one able to unravel me.

She looks up, eyes glinting with challenge and heat. "Well, hurry up and touch me before I explode," she whimpers, words edged with desperation.

I pounce back onto the bed, swatting her hand away, claiming her flesh as my territory. My fingers circle her clit, coaxing it into a swollen bead of pleasure. With my otherhand, I slip two digits deep inside her, and she's so damn tight and wet, it's like coming home after a decade in the desert. "Fuck, Baby," I hiss as her slick heat coats my hand. I pull out, bringing my fingers to my mouth, tasting her. Honey-sweet and addictive. "Look how creamy you are." And then those fingers are back, plunging into her, stretching her, while I offer her a taste of herself.

"I'm not gonna last more than two mins in that hole," I warn, voice laced with the promise of imminent release. "You're gonna have to cum for me now, Princess."

Her body is a live wire under me, writhing, begging for release. My fingers pump into her, targeting that spot that turns her moans into symphonies. Slow, torturous circles on her clit, each one a whispered promise of ecstasy.

And then her face transforms—a portrait of divine pleasure. Legs quiver, hands grip the doona like it's a lifeline. I feel her tighten around me, muscles clamping down hard. It's like she's trying to keep me there, make me part of her.

"Fuck, yes..." The command is a rumble from deep within me. "Cum all over my hand, Princess."

She detonates, a cascade of pleasure washing over her features. Her scream is pure bliss, music to my ears, the sound of a woman possessed.

"Good girl," I breathe out, feeling the aftershocks tremble through her.

Heat coils in my veins, my need clawing at me with sharpened nails. I free my throbbing dick, lining myself up with her still-quivering entrance. Slowly, I sink in, inch by agonizing inch, until I'm consumed by her, enveloped in thewarmth and tightness that's haunted every fucking dream for ten goddamn years.

The heat between us is a living thing, fierce and untamed. "Oh, Fuck, Princess, this is gonna be the quickest fuck in history," I groan as I pull back, only to drive into her with all the force of my pent-up desire. "You're so wet and so tight!"

"Fuck, I've missed this sweet cunt." The words tear from me as I set a pace that's nothing short of savage. My world narrows to the slap of skin on skin, the tightening of her around me, the slick heat that welcomes me home.

I'm lost in it—this primal dance. This is my happy place. This is where I belong. Her cries filled the room, raw and unrestrained. "Fuck Matteo!" Eleanor's voice shatters against the walls, and I feel her body clenching, squeezing, pulling another orgasm from deep within her.

Her pleasure triggers my undoing. Her pussy tightens to the point of pain, wringing me dry. I explode with a ferocity, lighting up every dark corner of my soul. "Fuck, Princess, I love you," I rasp out, locking onto her eyes, those depths that have haunted me for years.

"I love you too, Matteo," she gasps, her voice a broken whisper. "I never stopped."

"Never stopped either, Princess," I respond, bending over her, our breaths mingling. My lips crash onto hers, a desperate seal over a vow ten years in the making.

"Get that ass back into the shower," I command once the kiss breaks, a smirk playing on my lips despite the emotional storm inside. Power surges through me again, raw and undeniable. "Let's go find our son."

I watch as she rises, the sway of her hips a siren call I'll always heed, no matter how deep into darkness my life drags me. In this chaotic world of crime, where power is taken and held by bloodied hands, she's the one constant. The queen to my king. And together, we'll face whatever comes next.

Chapter Thirteen

Eleanor Wang

The water from the showerhead pelts my skin like a reprimand for forgetting Niko. I scramble back into the steam, grabbing at the shampoo with slippery fingers—no time for conditioner, just scrub the grime out. Matteo's silhouette fills the doorway, and then he's there behind me, firing up the other nozzle.

"Rich folks and their fancy showers," I say, eyeing the second stream of water. Fighting over hot water is not my style—I'm the queen of this tiny kingdom, and I don't share my throne. Matteo chuckles, shaking droplets from his dark hair like some kind of playful beast.

"Added it just for you," he says, the corners of his mouth tugging up. "I know you hog the heat."

"Smart man," I reply, stepping out and snatching a towel. Water drips down my tattoos, pooling on the tiled floor as I dry off quickly.

I rifle through my bag, hoping Matteo has done his part. "Hopefully you grabbed my toothbrush and beautyproducts," I grumble, searching for the essentials that make me feel less feral.

"Drawer, your side," Matteo calls from the mist, pointing to the bathroom vanity. "Toothbrush is there. As for the rest, give Angel a list, and he'll sort it." His tone is all casual-like, but that's Matteo—underneath the nonchalance, he's got the world on a string.

"Is there anything Angel can't get?" I ask, half-joking, half-serious. It's insane, the reach these people have.

"Angel's a tech wizard," Matteo says, stepping out himself, beads of water tracing lines down his inked chest. "He'll get you whatever you need."

"Great," I sigh, thinking of the monstrous list Niko's probably conjured up in his head. "That's not a relief because I can't cover whatever million-dollar dreams he's cooking up."

"Princess," Matteo starts, and I can almost see the invisible crown he places on my head with that word, "I'm a billionaire. Whatever you or Niko need, it's yours."

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