EIGHT

MATTEO

Alessandro.

My husband, who might be cruel.

Really cruel.

He wanted me to earn my release with loud cries and pleas while he basked in the control.

He wanted to be in charge, watching my body tense and strain until it would break apart under his scrutinizing eyes.

He needed to see me submit, caving in under the humiliation and pleasure he offered.

Yet something about the thought set me on fire as his breath fanned my throbbing dick.

And his mouth taking my cock's head into his mouth didn't help me in any way.

If anything, it disoriented me.

My hand on his shoulders tightened, my nails digging right into the flesh of his back.

“Arghh,” I groaned as his lips hollowed out around me—tight, wet, stimulating.

He would drive me mad.

Soon.

My nails buried themselves deeper, and I was sure by now it had drawn blood.

I guessed he liked that—the feel of my nails burying itself into his flesh—because he repeated the action, slowly, deliberately.

"Alessssss..." I whimpered.

But he continued to tease me, his tongue moving around my cock's head.

"Pleaseee..."

The word slipped out before I could stop it.

Alessandro was instantly disengaging from my cock, a trail of spit following him.

He tilted his head slightly.

"You do know that you'll have to do better if you really want to finish, pretty boy?"

I paused.

His hands started to move below, teasing my balls gently with his gaze fixed on me, daring me to give this up.

"Please, allow me to finish," I begged.

What could I do?

I had to give in.

I was desperate.

"Louder," he said, lowering his head to run his tongue around my slit.

A moan left my lips.

"Pleaseee," I begged.

My voice was louder this time, probably loud enough for the driver to hear.

"Please make me cum Alessandro."

He lifted his head from my cock in order to let out an amused chuckle.

"Good boy."

Then, he was moving again.

Like a predator.

His mouth covered my cock's head and sucked on it like a lollipop.

His mouth was warm.

His breath too.

My head fell backwards,

A groan escaped my lips just as he fed the entirety of my erect length deep into the heat of his tight wet mouth.

"Fawwwwwk," I ground out sultrily as his throat instantly closed around me.

My hips jerked forward, pressing my erect cock further into his mouth.

Then, he was moving, bopping my dick slowly, then faster, and slowly again.

The wet sounds filled the entire space and tangled with my deep moans.

"Pleaseee," I implored.

The irregular pace he was using was badly messing with my mental health.

I thrust my hips forward, desperate as he bopped, hitting the back of his throat.

His hands were instantly on my thighs, keeping me in place with a warning grip.

It was a reminder that control belonged to him and I had to obey no matter what.

Frustration built up inside of me alongside the choking delight of being engulfed.

My body shook tremendously, my thighs trembling as he deep throated me.

My head fell backwards.

"Mmmmhmgh..."

It was getting hard to breathe.

And suddenly, his lips were lifting, moving away as he straightened himself.

My cock twitched, instantly mourning the loss of his lips wrapped around me.

"Come here," he ordered.

He was smacking his lips with a wide grin on his face as he pulled me to him.

Our lips collided in a rough kiss, tongues aggressively diving in and out of the wet space quite unapologetically.

A deep sound left the depths of my throat as he palmed my dick faster than ever.

The tension rising in my stomach built higher and higher until the moment I couldn't hold it back any longer.

"Cum," he commanded. "Cum for me pretty boy, blow your seed in my palm."

I obeyed, my body tightening as the long denied orgasm finally clutched me.

Tightly.

My vision became white as I came apart in his hands, gasping and shaking.

Uncontrollable spasms claimed my body as my fingers dug deep into his back.

"Arghhhh," I moaned.

My cum came relentlessly, spilling over his hands and onto my pants below.

He held me, steadied my body as the climax ate away at everything holding me.

And when it was all over, I looked down.

Everything was a mess.

The aftermath hit hard, shame crashing over me like the giant waves of the sea.

I struggled to catch my breath.

What was wrong with me?

This man and my father had manipulated me into this marriage.

And here I was letting him touch me like this, giving me wanton pleasure.

Maybe my father was right after all.

I was a pathetic fool.

I was quiet as Alessandro pulled his hand away from my dick.

He reached into his pants pocket for a small ombre designer handkerchief.

He started to clean the white mess I had made when I came earlier.

My throat tightened.

He was so gentle with the fabric, going over my now thickening cock.

I hated what he did to me.

But I knew way better than to try to stop him from doing something he wanted to.

It was better to keep shut and pray that he finished before I would come again.

I was still sensitive.

Relief washed over me when he was finally done and he began to calmly clean his hand like nothing had happened.

I reached down to put my semi hard dick into my underwear and arrange myself.

His eyes darted to me.

I froze.

"Don't."

The warning in his eyes and the intensity behind that one word gripped me.

I stayed out.

When he was done, he reached for my dick and proceeded to help me put it away.

"When I play with my toy, I like to put it away myself. Do you hear?"

His voice was jusive.

I nodded.

"Answer me with words," he said, leaning back slightly to stare at me.

His emerald gaze burned into me.

I gulped.

"Yes," I whispered.

He made a small tsk sound.

"Better."

The tension in my shoulders eased the moment his eyes lowered.

But it was back the moment he touched me again, helping me to redo the buttons of my shirt with the same hands that had just finished destroying my composure.

The car slowed to a stop.

"We've arrived," the chauffeur called out from the front part of the limo.

Alessandro turned to me.

"Welcome home, pretty boy."

Something coiled in my stomach.

Anxiety?

Anticipation?

Perhaps a spoon full of both?

Alessandro's hands reached out to cover mine, clasped in between my thighs.

"You'll love it here."

I swallowed.

The chauffeur opened the door.

My face instantly began to burn because there was no hiding what we had done.

Anyone who had overheard needed only to just have a look at me and would know.

Alessandro stepped out first.

Then he offered me his hand which I took without even a second thought.

It was because my legs felt unsteady.

The moment I stepped onto the interlocked floor, he swept me up into his arms, carrying me bridal style like I weighed nothing—just like at the bar.

My gaze rounded.

"Put me down," I hissed, mortified.

He ignored me completely.

We went through massive doors at the entrance and into a grand foyer.

The crystal chandeliers hanging at strategic places was the first thing I noticed.

Staff members lined the hallway, bowing their heads respectfully as we passed.

They didn't seem surprised.

Mayhap he had told them about the wedding or it seems like he did this a lot.

Bringing hot young men with disheveled appearance and flushed skin home.

Yes, I was hot.

Their faces remained carefully neutral.

But I knew they saw everything from exactly how I looked to how Alessandro was carrying me like a prize he had won.

Maybe he did.

He took me up the spiral staircase, his long legs going two steps at a time.

We moved down a long hallway lined with paintings and expensive furniture.

Finally, he stopped at a set of double doors and pushed them open with his shoulder.

The bedroom was enormous with floor to ceiling windows and a bed large enough for four people, covered in red silk sheets.

The colour of the sheets confirmed that the staff knew about the wedding.

Everything about this space, his space, screamed wealth and power.

But I was more intrigued by his taste in artworks hanging around the room.

Alessandro set me down in the center of the room, my legs still quite unsteady.

His hands didn't leave my waist even as he stepped back to stare at me.

His eyes were dark with desire.

"What?" I mouthed as his eyes were raking hungrily over me, somewhat slowly.

It was the same deep seated hunger that I had witnessed at the bar two weeks ago.

He circled around me like a predator assessing its prey, and I stood frozen, unsure what to do or say.

Then he finally came to a stop in front of me, close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from his sexy body.

One word left his lips in a commanding and final tone. "Strip.”