Matteo is achingly gentle as he sits up and pushes me onto the rug. I'm on my back, vulnerable and overpowered, and I don't give a damn.
For a few minutes, he hovers over me, with one hand propping himself up and the other lightly skimming my skin. I'm almost writhing now, needing more of his touch. He's not giving it yet, though, not bestowing his long fingers or his beautiful mouth. Stingy bastard. I want it all. Tease. That's what he's doing.
Teasing me mercilessly.
I let out an impatient little grunt.
"What?" he whispers, his eyes meeting mine. That smirk is back, paired with the slow roll of my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "What do you want?"
I shudder in a breath and shake my head.
He pauses, removing his hand from my breast, and I almost scream in frustration. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No, hell no," I hiss, leaning up to kiss him.
But he evades me with a chuckle and sits up. "Oh, that wasn't a stop noise. It was a, how do you say it? Horny noise?"
I giggle. "A horny frustrated noise."
"Let's do something about that, then. First," he moves to my feet and begins unlacing my boots. "These need to come off."
He takes his sweet time unlacing them, then slips one off my foot. I want to just kick and strip away everything touching my body and fuse myself to him, but he has other plans.
"Cute socks," he observes, holding up one of my feet. They're black-and-white striped. "And look at these little feet with the black nail polish."
He runs a finger down the sole of my foot. Normally I'm ticklish, but it seems that every touch of his sends an electric current through my body.
"Other foot," I say.
"You're quite demanding." He bites his lip and removes my other shoe and sock. "And what's all this?"
He tugs at my skirt-leggings combo.
"Layers. It's cold out."
"Are you still cold?"
No. I might spontaneously combust. I shake my head.
"So is this a one piece or what?" He pretends to lift my skirt, inspecting the fabric.
"Ugh, no. It's two." I push both the skirt and leggings down, and shove everything down my legs until I'm only in a pair of black lace panties. I settle back on the floor, my legs tightly closed.
"Ohhh." The word comes out as an appreciative growl. But instead of lowering himself down upon me, he sits on his knees and stares. For a second I think he's going to get up and leave, and then he undoes the final two buttons on his white shirt, slowly stripping it off.
Maybe I'd been in a fog last night, or it's something about this sumptuous, regal-looking décor. But he looks more sinewy and sexy today in the light of the fire, slightly older and hard. His collarbone accentuates his muscles and his cheekbone highlights his pouty mouth. He's muscular but not ripped.
"Aren't you going to..." my voice fades as he slowly unbuckles his belt and pulls it out of the loops of his leather pants.
"Going to what? Fling myself on top of you? Evangeline," he lowers himself to kiss my nose then maddeningly sits back up, "what kind of men have you been with prior to me?"
I huff out a laugh. "Well, the last guy I made out with was two months ago."
Matteo's eyes flare red. I wonder if he knows that I can see the red in his eyes, or if he thinks I'm a full human who cannot. "Two months ago. Hmm."
I skim my hands over my breasts, then squeeze. "Yeah that guy went like this." I pantomime a squeezing motion on my boobs. "Then he said, honk, honk. And that's when I kicked him out of my room."
Matteo laughs, and it's the first time I've seen him genuinely mirthful. With his hands on his spread thighs, he tips his head back and chuckles, and the sound is so wonderful that I have to laugh, too. While still grinning, he nudges my hands aside and cups my breasts with his cool palms.
"I'm glad to know I won't have a lot of competition with the college boys."
"Hardly."
"Good. Because I'm a very competitive man, and above all, I like to win."
"That brings me back to my original question. Why are you taking this so slow?" I regret the words as soon as they're out of my mouth. Why am I so eager for sex — or death? Somehow between the kissing of my nipples and the stripping off of clothes I've forgotten that he's a fucking vampire.
He brushes a lock of hair out of my face, and again skims his hands over my body, stopping at my stomach. He seems to spend a lot of time staring at my breasts, or maybe I'm imagining that.
"When you look at a beautiful painting, do you breeze by with just a glance? Or do you take your time and savor?"
I snicker.
"What?" he asks, tilting his head.
"That's a really good line. Bravo."
"Ouch. That hurts." He clutches his hands to his chest as if he's wounded. "I'm serious. I don't believe in rushing sex. Ever."
"I'm sure you do believe that. But you could've fooled me last night."
"You modern women are so impatient," he murmurs, almost to himself, and a tantalizing thrill goes through me. There. He just acknowledged that he's lived a long time. "And last night was... unusual."
"Yeah. Sure was."
"I like looking at you." He traces a ring around my belly button, then trails his fingertips to the edge of my panties. "And I want to see all of you."
With his index finger, he slowly tugs the edge of my panties down, over my hipbone. I'm breathing hard now, because he's just so damned intense. All of my wisecracks and comebacks have evaporated.
Slowly, he nudges my panties lower, so that part of me is exposed. He pauses and dips his head, kissing the spot between my belly button and where my hair begins. I rake in a breath at the feel of his lips.
He lifts his head. "You like that?"
I swallow and nod.
"Good. There will be more. Count on it."
He sits up and slides the panties down my legs. I assist by lifting my hips, and he tosses them aside, near a velvet ottoman. Then he stares at me, his gaze raking over every intimate part of my body.
"Fucking beautiful," he whispers.
My legs are still fused together. Now, I've been touched — fingered, as Kerri calls it — by guys before. But never have I felt so exposed as I do today.
Matteo rests his hands on my knees and nudges them apart. I butterfly my legs so that I'm showing him my all.
"Just like that, Evangeline. My god. Look at you." He captures his full bottom lip in his mouth and stares between my legs with those glowing red eyes.
"Can I touch you?" The hoarse, rough tone is back, and combine with how respectful he's being, it's making me melt.
"Yes," I say clearly, not wanting there to be any question about what I desire.
With a gossamer touch, he skims his thumb over my labia, so soft and subtle that I whimper.
"You're already so wet."
Wet doesn't even cover it. I'm soaked, more than I've ever been. Probably messy, but I don't dare look because I don't want to feel shame or embarrassment right now. All I can see are his intense eyes, his dark brow, his strained muscles, as if it's taking great effort to hold himself back from attacking me.
His thumb delves a little deeper into me, then his fingers take over, skimming between my folds. My clit throbs with need. Never have I felt such want as I do now, and it's making me go mad because I can't control my feelings.
I squirm, wanting a firmer touch, wanting him to take the ache away, wanting those cool fingers of his to eliminate the heat circulating in my veins.
He gently rubs my clit in circles, then slides his middle finger into me. I respond by spreading my legs wide and pushing myself into him.
"Why am I like this with you?" I blurt, in a whisper.
"Like what?"
"Needy. Horny. Slutty."
"I don't know, but I'm glad you are."
He adds a second finger and with great control, moves in and out of me, the wetness making a subtle, dirty sound that's drowned out by the crackling of the fire. I'm close to detonating, and I know that only a graze of my clit will bring me to orgasm.
A wicked grin spreads on his face. "You can't come just yet, amore. I'm just getting started with you. Try to control yourself, please."