Matteo kisses me like he’s trying to erase every moment of pain between us.
His hands cradle my face, his touch rough and desperate, like he’s terrified that if he lets go, I’ll slip through his fingers. His lips move over mine with a hunger that steals my breath, swallowing every doubt, every fractured thought.
And for a moment, I let him.
I let myself drown in him. In his warmth, his scent, the way his body presses against mine like it belongs there.
Because the truth is, I want him. I want to lose myself in this—just for tonight. I want to forget what I know, forget the war raging inside my heart.
So I kiss him back. Hard.
His grip tightens, a low growl vibrating in his chest as he presses me against the door. Heat pulses between us, fierce and demanding, and when his hands slide down to my waist, pulling me closer, I let out a soft gasp.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to rest his forehead against mine, his breath ragged. “Maria…”
I close my eyes. If he says he loves me again, I’ll break.
So I kiss him before he can. I don’t want to think right now, I don’t want to feel. I just want his body against mine. But then he rips his lips from mine again and presses his forehead against mine.
“Maria,” he breathes. “We need to—”
“No, we don’t.” I grab the back of his neck. “You can either fuck me right here, right now, or you can leave this room and never come back inside.”
My words are enough to ignite a fire within his eyes. He crashes his lips down onto mine. The kiss is searing and unlike anything he has ever given me before. It claims every cell in my body and torches me with his mark.
I need this tonight. I need him. Because after tonight, it will all fall apart.
Our mouths crash together with ferocity, tongues battling for dominance. He lifts me into his arms, carrying me to the edge of the bed before lowering me with careful hands. I rip my lips from his, breathless, staring him dead in the eyes.
“Get on your knees,” I demand.
Something wild and dangerous flashes in his eyes. A challenge. For a heartbeat, I think he’ll resist—Matteo has never been one to yield control. But then, slowly, deliberately, he sinks to his knees before me, his gaze never leaving mine.
Power surges through me, intoxicating and raw. I reach out, threading my fingers through his dark hair, gripping just tight enough to make his breath catch. His hands slide up my thighs, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
“Is this what you want?” he asks, voice rough like gravel. His thumbs trace circles on my inner thighs, inching higher with agonizing slowness.
I don’t answer. Instead, I tighten my grip on his hair and pull him closer. His hot breath fans against me through the thin fabric of my nightdress, making me shiver.
“Maria,” he breathes my name. “Tell me what you want.”
Instead of answering, I simply place my foot on the edge of the bed and lift my dress to reveal my throbbing core. There is a buzz that moves through the air.
His eyes darken with a deep lust and passion. “You want me to eat you out?”
“Yes.” I thread my fingers deeper into his hair. “I want you to make me come with your mouth. Make it feel like the first time you ever touched me.”
I don’t give him a chance to respond. I shove his head to my pussy, forcing him into action.
He gives himself to me completely, his mouth claiming me with a reverence that betrays his hunger. My head falls back as his tongue sweeps against me, precise and knowing. He remembers everything—every spot that makes me tremble, every rhythm that drives me wild.
I roll my hips against his face, chasing the pleasure that builds like a storm inside me. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open for him as he devours me. When he slides a finger inside, curling it just so, I cry out, my body arching.
“Oh, yes!” I sigh into the dimly lit room. “Fuck me with your mouth.”
Matteo knows my body better than I do. He knows exactly where to press, where to lick, where to suck until I’m trembling and incoherent. My thighs quiver around his head, and I can feel his smile against me, smug and satisfied even as he worships me.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against my flesh. “Let me hear you, Maria. Come undone for me.”
Another finger joins the first, stretching me, filling me, while his tongue continues its relentless assault. My thighs begin to shake. I’m close—so close—but I don’t want it to end. Not yet. I want to prolong this for as long as I can.
I pull his hair again, forcing a grunt from deep within his throat. The sound drives me crazy.
“Don’t stop,” I command, my voice breaking as he circles my clit with maddening slowness. “Don’t you dare stop.”
He hums against me, the vibration sending a jolt up my spine. His hands grip my hips, pulling me closer to his hungry mouth.
“Fuck,” I breathe. I feel myself nearing the edge. This man works me in ways that I cannot fully comprehend. “Matteo, I’m going to…”
He bites down gently on my clit and that is my undoing. The orgasm rips through me, splitting me in two.
“Yes!” My scream fills the room. My voice echoes against the walls as I roll my center into his mouth as the orgasm rides out.
Matteo hums in appreciation before he pulls away and looks up at me with shining eyes. He laps up my wetness, holding eye contact from knees, the crescendo of my orgasm dripping from his lips.
I grab his chin and slam my lips against his. I taste the sweetness, and my heart hammers in my chest. He rises to his feet, his hands making quick work of removing my dress. And then I stand before him naked and bare.
Usually, this would be the time that I would reach for his length and get on my knees. But I don’t. This isn’t about him tonight. Tonight, I take what I want from him. It’s about my pleasure. My wants and needs.
“Take off your clothes,” I command, ignoring the ache rising in my chest. “All of them. Now.”
His eyes spark with a gleam of mischief, and he smiles. “Your wish is my command.” And so he takes his clothes off, layer by layer, until he stands bare in front of me.
“Lie down,” I say, voice steady. “I’m going to ride your cock.”
A flicker of surprise crosses his face, quickly replaced by raw desire. I am normally the one who lets him take charge.
He moves to the bed, lying back against the pillows, his arousal evident. I follow, my confidence growing with every step. Tonight, I’m going to get my fill of him.
I climb onto the bed, straddling him. His hands immediately reach for my hips, but I catch his wrists, pinning them above his head.
“No touching,” I whisper against his ear. “Not until I say so.”
His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. “You’re killing me, Maria.”
“Good.” I position myself over him, teasing us both by sliding against his length without taking him in. His hips buck involuntarily, seeking what I’m denying.
His eyes are dark with need, his lips parted, waiting. I place my hands on his chest and slowly take him in, inch by inch. We moan in unison, the sound filling the large room. The sweet scent of our joint arousal takes over, only driving me further over the edge.
I take him all the way in, until my hips press against his—then I pause, letting my body adjust to his massive size.
“You’re so beautiful, it hurts,” he murmurs, reaching for me.
His words are like a sword to the chest.
I slap his hand away. “No touching.”
I lift myself up and then slam myself down. I repeat the motion again, and we both nearly come undone from that stroke alone.
His groan tears through the room as I set a merciless pace, rising and falling on him with deliberate slowness, then quickening until we’re both gasping. I grip my breasts, squeezing so tight that I feel the ache in them. His hands fist in the sheets, knuckles white with restraint.
“Maria,” he pleads, his voice strained. “Let me touch you.”
I shake my head, rolling my hips in a way that makes his eyes roll back. Power surges through me, watching him come undone beneath me. This man, who has always been so controlled, so commanding, is now at my mercy. It’s invigorating.
Sweat glistens on his chest as I ride him harder. I lean forward, changing the angle, and gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside me. His eyes lock with mine, dark and desperate. I remove my hands from my breasts and place them firmly on his hard chest.
“That feels so good,” I breathe, my nails digging into his chest. “So fucking good.”
Something cracks open inside me with every thrust—a dam of emotions I’ve kept buried for far too long. Grief, rage, love, guilt—they all collide in a violent storm beneath my skin, threatening to swallow me whole. But I don’t let them. Not now.
Right now, I need to stay inside my body. I need to feel every inch of him, every burn of friction, every heartbeat against mine.
The pain, the betrayal, the chaos of what comes next—
That can all wait.
Tonight, I choose this. I choose him. One last time.
“Touch me. Touch me, Matteo,” I breathe, the words trembling on my lips.
Because this isn’t just lust.
It’s more.
It’s a silent goodbye between lost souls, wrapped in pleasure and pain.
I want to memorize this—burn it into my skin. The way his hands fit around my waist. The heat of his chest against mine. The way his breath falters when he looks me in the eye.
His heartbeat. His gaze.
I felt it—the pain in his voice when he told me he loved me. Words torn from the ruins of his soul. Knowing this might be the end. Knowing that losing me would break him.
And I want to hold on to all of it.
Because after this… I don’t know if I’ll ever feel it again.
Matteo grabs my hips and lifts himself so he can take control of the pace. He rams into me with such force that my scream is a mixture of both pleasure and pain—the good kind. “Fuck, baby!”
“Oh, yes!” My breasts bounce up and down mercilessly. “I’m almost there.”
Matteo lowers himself and then presses his hand against my back so that we come together—chest to chest. His arms circle around me, pulling me in tightly. His assaults on my core relentless and merciless until I finally feel the thread snap and my walls collapse around him.
“Matteo!” I bury my nose into the crook of his neck and allow the orgasm to overtake me. My walls carry him over the edge, too, and he finds his release at the very end.
We ride out our orgasms until our bodies melt into each other, and we are left satiated and spent. For a long moment, we stay like that, tangled in each other, our breaths mingling, hearts pounding in unison. His arms remain wrapped around me, holding me against his chest as if he can keep the world at bay just a little longer.
I should move. I should pull away. But I don’t.
Instead, I let myself sink into the warmth of his embrace, memorizing the feeling of his skin against mine, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear.
Matteo’s fingers trace lazy patterns along my spine, sending shivers across my sweat-dampened skin. He presses a gentle kiss to my temple, so different from the desperate ones we shared earlier.
“I love you, Maria,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re the gravity that holds me together. Without you, I’ll fall apart.”
He doesn’t say the words, but I feel them—the plea buried in his silence: Don’t leave me. It trembles beneath the surface of every breath. He doesn’t dare ask, not out loud. Not with the weight of everything between us.
I want to answer him, to say something—anything—but the pain and betrayal tighten around my throat like a vice. The words die before they ever reach my lips.
So, instead, I shift from his chest and slide quietly to his side. “We should sleep,” I whisper, barely audible. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
He doesn’t fight me—thankfully. He simply pulls me in closer and presses his lips to my forehead one last time before we slip into silence.
I don’t know how long I lie there, waiting—until the steady rise and fall of his chest tells me he’s asleep.
For a moment, I allow myself to sink into his warmth, wishing this little bubble we’ve created could last forever. That maybe, just maybe, love could be enough.
But reality knocks—loud, insistent, unforgiving. I have to follow through—because if I don’t, everything I’m fighting for slips away.
Carefully, I slip out of his arms and move with practiced quiet. I retrieve the note I wrote before he came home and place it by the lamp, my fingers lingering on the paper for a beat too long.
Then I rush to the closet, pull on a pair of sweats, and grab the suitcase I’d stashed away.
I have minutes at most. I need to be quick.
I look at my phone and see that my mother has responded to the text I sent her a few hours ago.
I’m coming home, Mamá. I will explain when I get there.
Your room is ready, amore. Let me know when you’re on the plane.
I walk back into the room and see that Matteo is still fast asleep. The sheets pool at his waist, and his chest rises and falls gently. My heart squeezes, aching with the weight of what I’m about to do—but I know it has to be done. I have to leave.
I make my way out of the room carefully and shut the door behind me. I race downstairs, making sure to keep quiet to not alarm the guards that stand outside the door. If they catch wind of this, then I am finished.
There are two ways of leaving this fortress—the main door and the secret elevator by the kitchen. I choose the secret elevator. It’s the path of least resistance, and I need every advantage right now.
The kitchen is dark and silent as I slip through it, my footsteps barely a whisper against the marble floor. The service elevator is hidden behind a pantry door—the escape route Emily used. Ironic how I’m now using it to escape my husband.
The elevator descends slowly, each second stretching into eternity. I clutch my suitcase tighter, wondering if I’ve forgotten anything important. It doesn’t matter. I can’t go back now.
When the doors slide open, I’m met with the cool night air of the underground garage. My car is waiting, the keys ready in my hand. The car had been a gift from Matteo that I never got around to using until now.
With adrenaline pushing me forward, I slip into the sleek Range Rover and peel out of my spot, and head for the airport without looking back once. I am only four blocks from the building when I feel the pain behind my eyes.
Tears prick my eyes as I drive. I try to push it all down, but now that I’m alone with my thoughts, I can’t hold it back any longer. I allow them to trickle down my face so I can begin to grieve the man I love.
The night air bites at my skin as I step out of the car, dragging my suitcase behind me. The distant hum of airplanes fills the air, the glow of terminal lights stretching into the dark sky. I move forward, my breath slow and steady—my heart, anything but.
“Don’t look back, don’t look back,” I repeat the same low chant to myself, trying to find the willpower to do this. “Do this for your baby.”
The pain is too much. The love I have for him, deep, soul-consuming, clashes violently with the truth and the betrayal that sticks to the chambers of my heart.
I can’t pretend I didn’t see it. I can’t pretend he didn’t shoot my brother down like it meant nothing.
No matter how hard I try to justify it—no matter how many times he says it was a mistake—I can’t erase the moment he raised that gun.
The image is seared into my memory.
Burned into me.
And it won’t let go.
Tears prick at my eyes again, but I force them back. There will be time to cry—later. Right now, I need to get off American soil.
I weave through the parking bay, the small wheels of my suitcase dragging against the pavement. The terminal entrance is just ahead, glowing like a beacon—my ticket home.
Then, I feel a sudden movement in the air. The hairs on the back of my neck raise in awareness, and my head whips around, trying to see the threat that seems to be looming just around the corner.
My pulse quickens, my instincts screaming at me to move, but my feet feel like they’re sinking into the ground. I inhale sharply, trying to convince myself that I am overthinking. I take another step forward—
“Gotcha, bitch.” Strong arms come around me, and a cloth covers my mouth.
I have no sense of my bearings. My head is tilted upward, and the sharp scent of some chemical fills my nostrils as I try to struggle against the person who has me gripped.
I thrash, my suitcase slipping from my grip as strong arms yank me backward. A muffled scream claws its way up my throat, but the fabric they hold against my mouth blocks the sound, turning it into nothing more than a desperate whimper.
No, no, no!
I kick, twisting in my attacker’s grip, but whoever they are, they’re too strong. I feel myself being lifted, my feet barely brushing the ground as I’m hauled toward something—a car, maybe. The more I fight, the more strength I seem to lose, until my muscles eventually give way, and my vision blurs as it slowly dips into darkness.
The last thing I remember hearing is a familiar voice. One that only sends fear to my belly.
“Time for a joy ride, step-mommy.”
And just like that, the darkness swallows me whole.
I thought leaving Matteo would hurt the most… until the real nightmare begins.
