Matteo

The suite unfolded before us. The first thing you noticed wasn’t the space. It was the light.

Evening had settled over Miami, the sun bleeding its last fire into the horizon, and through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the entire skyline glowed.

And right in the middle of the living room, a pool shimmered beneath golden light. Its water caught the sunset like melted amber, soft waves dancing against marble edges.

Beyond it, a terrace opened wide to the city below… plush white loungers, a table laid with champagne, and the faint hum of traffic far beneath us.

Adriana stepped inside slowly, her bare feet sinking into the velvet rug with wide eyes.

She took it all in…the chandelier above the pool, the sleek glass bar lined with bottles, the grand piano near the window, even the scent of roses that drifted through the air.

“Oh my God…” she breathed. “Matteo, this is—”

“Home,” I said quietly, watching her face.

She turned to me, lips parted in disbelief. “You call this a suite?”

I smirked. “An A-list suite. Only the best for my wife.”

Her cheeks flushed at the word wife. She drifted toward the pool, crouching near the edge as if she couldn’t believe it was real. The golden light reflected on her skin, softening her features.

For a man like me, who’d lived in blood and shadow for years, moments like this were rare. She made even the impossible look peaceful.

“Matteo, there’s a pool in the living room,” she said, looking up at me in mock disbelief.

I walked up behind her, sliding my hands to her shoulders, then down her arms. “You sound surprised,” I murmured. “You’ve been married to me for months. You should know by now that I don’t do ordinary.”

She laughed… that soft, melodic sound that undid me every time and leaned back into me. Outside, the last of the daylight melted into night, Miami turning into a glittering sea of lights.

“Matteo, I’d like to have a warm bath before we leave. Is that alright?”

“Of course, baby,” I said, watching her disappear into the bathroom with her effortless grace.

I followed a few minutes later. She was bent over the marble tub, pulling out a small bath bag from her carry-on while the water rushed down in a steady stream. Steam curled around her, softening every edge of her body.

Without a word, I moved beside her, pouring in the bath bubbles until the surface began to foam. She giggled softly. “Matteo De Rossi, Don of Daivoli, preparing a bath for me?”

I smirked, testing the water with my hand. “You bring out that side of me, Adriana.”

She smiled, that quiet, unguarded kind that belonged only to me. “Well… do you like it?” Her voice trembled a little.

“Of course,” I said, meeting her eyes. “Only a weak man thinks showing emotions to his wife makes him soft. I’m not a weak man.”

She exhaled, almost in relief. “You’re far from weak, Matteo. I never thought you’d be like this. You surprise me every day.”

I tried to speak, but words failed me. Maybe because she was right. I hadn’t always been good to her. I’d fought my want for her, punished her for making me feel too much.

She saw the tension in my jaw, and pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek.

“I love you, Matteo,” she whispered.

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her against me.“I love you, Adriana,” I said. And for once, I meant it without fear.

The air in the bathroom was thick with anticipation. She stood before me, her eyes locked onto mine, a challenge and an invitation all at once.

Her body was proof of our passion; it had faint bite marks and purple bruises that were slowly fading.

With deliberate slowness, she began to peel off her clothes, each movement a deliberate seduction. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her thong, sliding it down her legs and letting it pool at her feet.

The fabric fell against her skin, leaving her standing there in nothing but a long-sleeve top that clung to her curves.

I watched, my breath catching in my throat, as she tugged the top over her head. The fabric slid off her arms, revealing a matching bra that struggled to contain her swollen, rock-hard nipples.

They strained against the lace, a silent plea for attention. I hummed deep in my throat, the sound vibrating through the room. Her body was a work of art, every inch of it marked by our fucking, yet still achingly beautiful.

She slipped off her bra, letting it fall to the floor, and her breasts bounced slightly as she moved. Her nipples were a deep pink, the peaks tight and begging to be touched.

With a smirk, she stepped into the bathtub, the water lapping at her thighs. She rested her head on the edge of the tub, her eyes never leaving mine. “Won’t you join me, husband?” Adriana purred, her voice thick with desire.

The words sent a jolt straight to my cock, which twitched in anticipation. I nodded and began to strip off my own clothes. My shirt came off first, followed by my pants. My eyes never left her as she lounged in the tub, her skin glistening under the water and soap.

My underwear came off last, my dick springing free, pre-cum glistening at the tip. It stood proud and thick. She gasped, her eyes fixated on it, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to taste it right then and there.

I stepped into the tub, the water warm against my skin, and she made room for me, her body shifting to accommodate mine.

I leaned back against the edge, and she settled between my legs, her weight resting on my hard chest.

My hands moved of their own accord, beginning to massage her shoulders, my fingers working out the tension that had built up over the days of our relentless sex.

Adriana’s low hums filled the air, a melody of relaxation and desire. Her breathing quickened as she relaxed deeper into me, her ass nudging against my cock.

I kissed her neck, my lips brushing against her skin, and she closed her eyes, her mouth parting in a silent sigh.

Her ass pressed back against the tip of my cock, and I felt my cock thicken, the head piercing her as she moved.

I wrapped my hand around her tits, squeezing gently, and she whimpered, throwing her head back. Her hair cascaded over my chest, and I whispered into her ear, “What do you want me to do, princess?” My voice was rough with need, my fingers tightening on her nipples.

Adriana gasped, her body tensing for a moment, “Use your words.” Her breath came in short gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “I want you to make me come with your mouth,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible. “I’m sore.”

“Lo farò, amore,” I murmured against her neck, my lips brushing her skin. I meant every fucking word. I would do anything for her, anything to make her feel good, to ease the soreness that came from how hard I fucked her.

She bent forward, her ass in the air, her swollen, glistening pussy on full display. The sight was almost too much for me, and I growled, “Fuck. All the times I’ve fucked you mercilessly, and it’s still not enough, baby?”

“N-No,” she whimpered, her voice breaking on the word. I lost control then, my desire overwhelming me. I pressed my mouth to her clit, sucking gently, my tongue swirling around the swollen nub.

My hands kneaded her ass, my fingers digging into the soft flesh as I held her steady. “Matteo, God,” she moaned, her voice a mix of pleasure and desperation. She gripped the edge of the tub, her knuckles white, as she arched deeper into my face.