Matteo (23 page)

Chapter 50

Gosh – her strut still makes my cock do somersaults.

I watch Ellie make her way over to the dessert table, her fingers interlaced with Tilly’s. She looks fucking spectacular in that short, hip-hugging navy blue dress. It’s covered in lace and glittery things that make her eyes sparkle. She lets go of Tilly’s hand just long enough to grab her camera and take a few snaps of the food laid out on the table. Then, she lets Tilly pick out her favorite treats and stack them high on a plate. They giggle together when a chocolate éclair falls off of the plate and tumbles under the table. Then, Ellie stoops down and kisses Tilly on the crown of her head.

I can’t believe that beautiful woman is all mine. I’m one lucky bastard.

I glance up just as Michael circles the bar and slides into the stool next to me. “Hey man.” He sets down a beer in front of me.

“Hey,” I say punching him in the shoulder. Our relationship has been much better since I left Cartwright Moretti Stevenson and hung out my own shingle. Going our separate ways professionally has relieved a lot of the tension in our personal relationship.

He chugs back nearly half of his beer in one gulp. “Can you fucking believe that little brat just got married?” He tips his beer bottle in the direction of the dance floor where Madison and Domenic are slow dancing to a fast song, staring at each other like there’s nobody around for miles.

“It’s crazy. I still can’t believe it,” I say, feeling a silly smile curl my lips. I glance over at Ellie. She and Tilly are sitting with Aunt Margret; Ellie’s scribbling away on her notepad. I chuckle. I doubt she has enough paper – Aunt Margret will talk until the sun comes up tomorrow morning. Chatty old hag.

Michael leans close to me. “She has no idea, does she?” A grin slides across his lips.

“No fucking idea,” I say with a wicked chuckle.

This ring is burning a hole in my pocket. The moment I saw that two-carat white gold antique-style diamond engagement ring, I knew it belonged on my Ellie’s finger. Yes – I know that we’ve only been together for a few months, but it feels like every minute that passes and she’s not my wife is a minute wasted…I don’t want to waste another second.

That’s why I rented the penthouse suite at the Gingham Hotel tonight. I’ve had candles and rose petals set up. There’s champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries laid out for us. I’m going to get down on one knee and ask her to marry me.

And she’s going to say ‘yes’.

Then, I’ll make her my wife as soon as she’ll let me. And we’ll spend the rest of our lives together.

There’s just something about that woman that makes me want to give her happily ever after. And nothing will stop me from doing just that.

She sneaks up on me, coming from behind and lacing her arms around my neck. She places a kiss on the side of my face and I could drown in the scent of her. “What are you two over hear grinning about?” She eyes my brother and me warily.

“Not a thing,” Michael says with a suppressed grin as he quickly jumps out of his seat, returning to the table where our parents are sitting with Mackenzie, Tilly and Ruth.

“Well, fine then,” she mumbles, puckering her lower lip as she sits in my lap and looks into my face. “You’re not gonna tell me, either, are you?” She sets her camera and notebook down on the bar top.

I chuckle. “Not a chance.”

“Fuck you,” she mutters as she slides her lips over mine and her margarita-flavored tongue glides into my mouth.

I pull away and smirk at her. “All night long, baby.”

She throws her head back and laughs lightly. “You’re silly.”

I let my eyes linger on her face. I let her beauty soak in. This love has changed me. It has shaped me into a man. I can’t even remember who I was before she strutted into my life. And now, there’s no turning back for me.

My future is with her.

Next to her.

On top of her.

Inside of her.

Forever.

Thank you for purchasing

“Matteo”

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grab your copy of the other stories

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

Esquire Girls Series

Amber’s Story

Up All Night (Amber – Book 1)

In your Arms Tonight (Amber Book 2)

Live for the Night (Amber Book 3)

When the Night is Over (Amber Book 4) - (The conclusion to Amber’s story)

Or get Amber’s full story, all in one boxed set:
Amber Nights (Amber – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

Madison’s Story

Waiting, Always  (Madison – Book 1)

Yours Always (Madison – Book 2)

Loving You Always (Madison – Book 3)

Always & Forever (Madison – Book 4) – (The conclusion to Madison’s story)

Or get Madison’s full story, all in one boxed set:
For Madison, Always (Madison – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

Ruthie’s Story

Desire, Untamed (Ruthie – Book 1)

Blinded by Desire (Ruthie – Book 2)

Desire Ablaze (Ruthie – Book 3)

Beyond Desire (Ruthie – Book 4) – (The conclusion to Ruthie’s story)

Or get Ruthie’s full story, all in one boxed set:
Ruthie’s Desire (Ruthie – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

Hailey’s story

Moment of Weakness (Hailey – Book 1)

A Moment in Time (Hailey – Book 2)

Beyond this Moment (Hailey – Book 3) – (The conclusion to Hailey’s story)

Esquire HEAT Series

A Very Eager Intern

A Very Frustrated Attorney

Chapter 1

I swirl the red around in my long-stemmed wine glass, glaring at my buzzing cellphone on the mahogany coffee table. I sink back into the plush, beige cushions of the couch and with my free hand, pull the cream throw blanket tighter around my shoulders.

The phone rings once more.

Twice.

Three times.

My resolve breaks.

I pounce on it and hit ‘Answer’ right before the call is filtered to my voicemail.

When wrestling against my better judgment, my neediness wins out every time…at least when it comes to him.

“Madison, I’m coming up.” His commanding voice rushes out of the earpiece before I even have the chance to say ‘hello’. “I’m entering the lobby,” he announces.

“You’re
here
?”

“I said I’m coming up, Madison.”

“That’s a bad idea, Chase.”

“Go unlock the door. I’m in the elevator.”

“No, Chase.” I glance over at the tabloid laying on the coffee table. As many times as I’ve told myself that I am done with this bullshit, I always somehow end up underneath him, sweating and panting and screaming out his name. And he enjoys it. He gets high off of the power he has over me. “Not tonight,” I mutter under my breath tossing back the last of my red wine and setting the goblet down on the coffee table.

The line goes dead as the elevator climbs to my 16
th
floor apartment.

I rush over to the door and turn the locks shut.

Within moments, his palm is banging against the door. “Madison – open up.” His tone is even but firm, betraying no emotion in particular.

I press my back into the door but say nothing.

“Madison – open the door. Stop playing around.”

I’m not playing. I’m definitely not playing. I’m serious this time.

I press my ear to the door and hear him grunt angrily. His voice drops. “Madison – I know you’re standing right there, leaning against the door. You like listening to me beg, don’t you?”

“No – I don’t want you to beg, Chase. I want you to leave.”

He pounds into the door again. “Open. This. Door. Madison.”

“I’m sick of you embarrassing me, Chase.”

“Maddie…” His voice is now soft and coaxing. “Come on, pretty girl. Let me in.”

I turn around and glance into the peephole.

He’s standing there, looking utterly gorgeous. As always. His jet-black hair brushed back off of his forehead, his chiseled face freshly-shaven, that moist bottom lip pouting slightly, those dark brown eyes veiled with mystery and intrigue. And he’s the only man I’ve ever met who can look so utterly debonair in a three-piece, custom-tailored periwinkle suit with a pale pink shirt and matching pocket square.

What the hell!

I throw the door open and head back towards the living room without even looking at him.

I feel his arm circle my waist as he whips a bouquet of white lilies from behind his back.

White lilies…my favorite.

I spin around to look at him. I snatch the flowers out of his hand and set them down on the table, struggling to maintain my poker face.

“You keep embarrassing me, Chase,” I say accusingly as I reach for the tabloid sitting on the table.

He stops me, taking me gently by the wrist and bringing the back of my hand to his lips. “I’m here with you. I don’t care what that rag says,” Chase announces dismissively gesturing towards the magazine with his chin, “I’m here with you – not with
her
.” He makes the statement as if it’s sufficient to excuse his behavior.

His lips crash over mine in a passionate kiss that makes my stomach flutter. It takes every ounce of strength in my body to push him away.

Tears spill down my face. “What you did – With
her
–Why
her
?”

“Why are you letting that get to you, Madison? She’s nobody to me. And you…you’re just…
everything
.” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth in that way that makes my skin tingle, in that way that makes me imagine him biting down into my flesh.

I look him directly in the face. “This is serious, Chase.”

“I’m being serious, Maddie.” His eyes lower, peering at the bit of skin peeking out from beneath my plum-colored satin robe. He pulls on the sash and the robe tumbles from my body.

I’m exposed.

Wearing nothing but my flimsy, lace g-string in front of Chase DuBois, my ultimate weakness. He leans back against the wall and flicks his thumb across my pebbled nipple. I sigh with want.

“Take those panties off,” he orders in a lusty rasp. Goosebumps spread across my skin as the implication of those words registers in my body.

I lean forward and slide my underwear to the floor.

He strips out of his pants and sits on my couch. He slips a condom over his stiff cock and spreads his legs wide. “Come here.” His voice is a low growl.

I ease into his lap and tingles creep up my spine as his cock pierces through me. He grips my waist in place and surges through me with blunt, heavy thrusts. My breasts bounce each time he slams his pelvis into mine. I squeeze my eyes shut and thread my fingers through his hair. His warm hands trail slowly up and down my back. I moan his name and he answers with primal grunts. I love it when he takes me savagely. Just like this.

I feel the orgasm building within me…I’m getting close…So close…Just a few more strokes…

His body stiffens against mine. His face is red with strain. His short fingernails rip into my hips as he empties himself into my body.

He didn’t wait for me…

The bastard.

He throws his head back against the couch and calms his breathing before tapping my butt softly. “Get off,” he says still breathless.

I move and sit on the couch feeling half-done as he rolls the condom off and heads to the bathroom. I pull the robe around my shoulders and fasten the sash at my waist.

Shit – I did it again
, I think feeling utterly disappointed in myself.

He reemerges a few minutes later and I hand him his pants and boxers. He tosses me a charming smile as he slips back into his clothing. “Fucking you feels so much better than fighting with you,” he muses as he playfully taps my nose with his finger.

“Stop seeing her,” I demand. My arms are folded tightly across my chest.

He sighs heavily and looks at me with irritation. “I’m not
seeing
anybody, Madison.” The inference in those words is that he’s single. He’s not committed to anyone or anything…not even me.

That hurts.

“You know what I mean,” I retort. I’m pouting and I have every right to. I’ve been gifting my body to only him since I was 19. Yet he runs around town slamming every ‘model’ or ‘socialite’ that comes his way.

It’s not fair.

I want
more
.

He tucks his shirt into his pants and fastens his belt. “You’re a beautiful woman, Madison. But I need…variety.”

The words sting deeply. So deeply. “Fine then. Go. Get your ‘variety’. But you can’t have
that
and have me. I refuse to be just another – another
flavor
.”

He leans in close to me. “But you’re my favorite flavor,” he whines with a wicked grin before deftly running his tongue along the skin between my breasts.

“Stop it!” I hiss weakly, gripping my throw blanket and pulling it to cover my chest. I can’t feel this exposed, this vulnerable while I’m trying to push him away. “I’m serious, Chase,” I growl, leering at him.

He sighs heavily before glancing at his reflection in the decorative mirror adorning my living room wall. He swipes his finger across his tongue and then thumbs his eyebrows into place because god-forbid that Chase DuBois’ eyebrows be out of place.

He glances over at me, bundled up on the couch in the fetal position. “You’ll be back,” he shoots casually, confidently, as he strolls out the door, dragging my heart under his shoe.