Matteo Lane Nude Novels & Stories

the bitch replied, and I wanted to pull out her tongue because of her lies. "Quit lying, Britney. What Frey said was true," I heard Clay reply. Are they dressed now? I want to turn around already. Not that Matteo is right in front of me. Pi has been running wild in my head. "The boys are still naked," Matteo said as though he were reading my mind. I didn't say anything and just nodded my head. I still had my head down. I think I am going to suffer from a stiff neck after this. Why can't I just look up for a while and see his face? Argh, this is frustrating.

“Rico’s not here, but we are. Say hi to the camera, boys!” In the background, laughter erupted. Matteo killed the call and stormed over to a laptop on a nearby crate. His fingers slammed across the keys as he pulled up the live CCTV feed from the west compound. The screen loaded. Nearly twenty of Matteo’s men were lounging around like they were at a fucking pool party. Some smoking, some drinking, a few of them roasting meat on a makeshift grill. One guy even waved directly at the camera with a big stupid smile. Matteo’s face went dead white. “What the fuck did you do?”

He fucking knew what I was trying to do. I climbed into the huge bed and pulled the covers up to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart. Minutes later, the bathroom door opened again. Matteo came out freshly showered, wearing only black sweatpants that hung low on his hips. Water still glistened on his tattooed chest and shoulders. He looked powerful. Dangerous. Irresistible.

I licked my lower lip. "You know, you shouldn't stare at someone in such a perverted manner, Deirdre," he murmured. I quickly averted my gaze. "I wasn't even staring at you." "I don't need to see your eyes on me to know you were," he smirked. "I didn't." For a moment, he stood there naked, showcasing his smooth stomach, muscled arms, and a substantial erection that demanded attention. I couldn't tear my gaze away. Matteo walked towards the edge of the bed, crawling underneath the covers. "You can lie on top if you want," he offered.

A gasp erupts in my throat when my dress is ripped apart, and my back lands on the bed. Matteo is on me in a matter of seconds, his gentle eyes savoring my naked body. And I lay bare and open to him—confident. Not afraid to show off my scars. Matteo did that. He made me realize how beautiful I am. How strong I am.

"Mate" ***

He was Italian, of course, with tanned skin that hinted at hours spent under the Mediterranean sun and a body that looked like it had been carved by the gods themselves. Matteo's dark, unruly hair fell across his forehead in just the right way, and his eyes-deep, molten brown-were like a promise of trouble. He wore a white linen shirt, unbuttoned just enough to reveal the smooth plane of his chest, and loose-fitting khaki pants that hung low on his hips. The way he held his drink, the way he tilted his head as he laughed—it was like he knew every woman in the room was watching him, and he didn't mind