Davina King
Matteo got out of the shower and instead of putting clothes on, he came out in nothing but a towel. It hung low on his waist, water still dripping down his torso and v-line.
I knew he was doing it just to get back at me for only being in a towel when he got back. Unlike him, I had a genuine excuse. He was just doing it to be a dick. The sly smirk on his face told me that.
He told me that we were going somewhere, but he wouldn't say exactly where. Then he retreated back into his room.
When he came out he wasn't dressed in his typical button down and dress pants. Instead he wore a pair of black jeans with a gray t-shirt. The fabric of the shirt clung to his upper arms, making it look like he could make one wrong move and it would tear.
I will say that it's nice to see him not so dressed up. I honestly prefer when he dresses down. It makes him seem more normal considering how far from it he actually is. It also doesn't make him seem like one of those rich assholes that has so much money they don't know what to do with it.
I've come to learn that Matteo makes more money than I would ever see during my life time, but he wasn't stuck up with it. All in all, it made Matteo himself more tolerable. Had he been one of those people that bragged and flashed their money around, I probably would've thrown him out of a window by now.
-
We got down to the buildings garage a short while later. Any time we would come down here would let me know that Matteo would be driving instead of having a chauffeur. Which meant we weren't going out in public.
It wasn't often that Matteo drove himself. I had only seen him do it a few times. The car that I had seen him drive the most though, was his all black Audi.
The tint on the windows was definitely illegal but the cops would be stupid to try and do something about it. I knew that he had all of the NYPD in his back pocket. Matteo probably paid them a more money than I could count.
As Matteo drove, he kept one hand on the steering wheel while his opposite arm rested down on the center console. I took notice of how the veins on his hand were more prominent now with the grip he had on the wheel.
It probably sounds weird but I've always thought that Matteo's hands were attractive.
He has an all black ring that wraps around his right index finger. This ring was one of the main reasons I liked his hands. Every time he would grab me with that hand, the ring was cold against my skin in contrast to the warmth of his hand itself.
They were also the perfect size to wrap around my throat, as I now know from experience.
A cough brought me out of my fixation on his hands. It wasn't an actual cough, anyone with ears could tell it was fake. I looked up to see he still had his eyes on the road in front of us, but now his famous smirk was playing on his lips.
I didn't even need to ask him what is was for. That damn smirk told me that he had caught me admiring his hands. I rolled my eyes to look away from him.
My expectation was a cocky comment about my staring or my eye roll and I prepared myself for it, but it never came. No, instead it was the feeling of his hand coming into contact with my bare thigh due to the shorts that I was wearing.
Of course, exactly what I hadn't prepared myself for.
For a minute he just rested it on my leg closer to my knee. I tired to keep my head up as much as possible, as if I wasn't paying any attention to him slowly making his way up. Matteo's thumb dipped between my thighs slightly, he used it to run back and forth over my skin.
A shiver coursed through my body and I could feel the goosebumps rising. Not only did I feel that but a slight tingle ran through my lower region. It caused me to clench around nothing. Both of my thighs tensed slightly at the action, and I knew he felt it when he finally looked over to me.
I could see him out of the corner of my eyes. I refused to turn my head to look at him. His gaze lingered for a few seconds, looking down to where he held onto me. He eventually turned back to focus on the road again.
It took everything in me to not grab his wrist and move his hand up just a little further to where I wanted it most. My knees started to press together at the thought of his fingers rubbing patterns on my clit to get me off as he still drove.
Even though my eyes were on the road, I wasn't paying attention to where we were going. The only thing I could see clearly were the images that danced in my head of what he could be doing to me right now.
That was until he pulled his hand away. The images disappeared and I realized that the car came to a stop outside of a warehouse.
Why couldn't it have been just a little further away?
Matteo, of course, just had to send a cocky ass smile my way before he got out of the car. I took a breath to compose myself before I got out as well. Just like at the club, he walked in front of me to lead me through the hallways of the warehouse.
A few people had passed by us. Each one of them nodded their heads to Matteo to acknowledge him, before they looked down to the floor. I'd come to learn that it wasn't just normal people that were scared of him. The people that worked for him seemed even more terrified of him.
I don't understand it. I'm not scared of him, so why are the people that work for him?
It was probably pure stupidity for me to not be scared of him. Perhaps it was because I had known him less than an hour when he saved my life. I can't really explain why, but I don't think I could ever be afraid of Matteo, and that thought scares me.
He's dangerous. He's a criminal. He has all the power and money he'll ever need. He's tortured and killed people.
So why do I feel safer when I'm with him than I have ever felt in my entire life?