Beg For Me- Mattheo Riddle x Reader

26. Wrong Name

Forty minutes.

Forty whole fucking minutes. Could you survive that? Could you withstand the intensity of locking eyes with Theodore while out on the dance floor--fully aware that in a mere forty minutes, you'd be ditching him for his best friend, who would undoubtedly have his tongue halfway down your fucking throat within seconds? Amongst other parts of him?

Surely, you thought, initially. Surely, you could navigate this without a damn hitch.

And yet, as the seconds ticked away, the problems seemingly multiplied, each one more intricate than the last. Did your strategic dance around the room, weaving between curtains and moving with the rhythm of the crowd, make you a coward? Or were you simply just a troubled girl, trying to avoid an explosive drama?

Cursing Emily and her carefree advice, you acknowledged that her fearless disposition most likely wouldn't have flinched at such a predicament. However, you, caught in a tumult of conflicting emotions and uncertainties, found the prospect far more overwhelming than you thought you would.

And as thirty-five minutes finally fucking ticked away, urgency propelled you across the room, each step hastening toward the bathroom as if evading a blazing fire.

The door swung open, revealing a sanctuary of stark white tiles and dimmed lighting. Your breaths resonated in the confined space, a palpable blend of anticipation and trepidation saturating the air. In the mirror, you appraised yourself, eyes reflecting the tempest swirling within. The bathroom, a cocoon of silence, seemed to pulse with your internal turmoil.

Every moment lingered like a suspended breath, the minutes stretching thin as you awaited Mattheo's arrival. Each heartbeat echoed in the quiet space, the air electrified with the promise of an electric encounter, a typical mix of ecstasy and chaos that Mattheo was known to cause.

And then, before you could even process it, the bathroom door creaked open, prompting you to look up. Despite having only been in there for about 30 seconds, Mattheo smoothly glided into the room. You caught his dark eyes in the mirror, wasting no time before his intense gaze locked onto you, and with a practiced motion, he secured the door shut and locked it behind him.

"Matt-"

He shook his head, his voice cutting through the air, low and deep. "Quiet, Raven."

Mattheo closed the distance with deliberate steps, his predatory focus narrowing onto you. Hunger radiated from his eyes, an intensity that filled the room. As his gaze swept over you from head to toe, the air thickened, and the sound of your heart pounding echoed in the confined space, a rhythmic accompaniment to the charged atmosphere.

"Turn around," Mattheo commanded, his voice authoritative and husky, laced with a potent blend of desire. "Face me."

The air seemed to hum with anticipation as you slowly spun around, obedient to his directive. His eyes, now intensified with lust, burned into the exposed curves of your form, claiming every inch with an intensity that left no doubt about the restrained fervor filling the room.  Mattheo circled around you, his predatory nature manifesting in every calculated step. The fabric of his black suit jacket strained against the contours of his strong shoulders, emphasizing the raw power that simmered beneath the surface.

His eyes, dark pools of desire, moved with precision, taking in the sight of your body adorned in the tight red dress. The sharp lines of his jaw tightened as he absorbed the visual feast before him, a hunger burning in his gaze that echoed the primal instincts of a predator closing in on its prey.

And then, he stopped behind you, his hand coming up to graze your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lips, softly tugging down your bottom one before releasing it.