R U S S O 18+

R U S S O 32

R U S S O 32

Jameson sipped his drink from a plastic straw, watching as things grew thick between Anastasia and Mateo. He planned on stepping over and asking them what was wrong, but whatever it was, he knew they'd stare at him like he was batshit crazy.

His eyes followed them, ears opened wide, being nosy as they were heading past him and out of the party. It was normal for Jameson to make a joke or remark, but seeing how neither of them were in the mood, he kept his lips sealed.

Carly watched, too, with her lips pinched tight.

"I was getting up to walk away," Anastasia tries to explain while keeping up with Mateo.

It might have seemed innocent to her, but not to Mateo.

She adds, "I was going to tell him off."

Scuffing, Mateo said, "Not fast enough."

She asserts, "I wasn't going to hook up with him."

"And how should I know after seeing you two cozy on the couch?" he asks.

She rolled her eyes. Although she didn't like being accused of something, she treated him the same way before. She didn't want to hear the excuses, but the only difference is that Mateo wasn't going off of an old photo.

"I'm not fucking anyone else but you. But even if I were, I'm a grown ass woman and can sleep with who I want."

She was pushing him. Pushing him to where he would show her how they were to be.

Mateo stopped walking and turned around, Anastasia's body bumping into his. The air was knocked out of her by how abrupt it was, her eyes darting up the emotionless ones he had.

"So do what you want." He shrugs lightly and speaks a little too calmly. "Be grown, but just remember the consequences of that."

With a slight crease in her forehead, she says, "How mature of you, Mateo."

"I don't fucking care," he said roughly. "That's supposed to be an insult because I don't want you fucking on somebody else?"

Anastasia may have tried to find a way to be upset with this claim on her, but she's aware that a part of her didn't find it to be a bother. She questioned what was wrong with herself for wanting him to claim it and make her his.

"You don't control me," she claims, with not much truth behind her words.

Mateo repeats, "So do what you want. Fuck somebody else." His mouth was saying one thing, but his eyes read another. They dared her to, sending her a warning.There may not be a title as of yet, but he owned her just as much as she owned him.

And the reason for this was her own existence.

Because Anastasia looked the way she did, spoke the way she did, walked the way she did, and had a pair of lips that he loved kissing and a pussy he loved fucking, he couldn't let her go. He can't fucking help it. If Mateo had a choice, he wouldn't feel these things at all because they were so intense, but he didn't care. All he wanted was her, and he had her.

Did she see what she did to him?

Did she even know?

"You're not stable," she utters, staring up at him and shaking her head.

"I thought we went over this already," Mateo asked.

It was his passion for her that made him like this.

"It's not healthy."

"I do not care," Mateo says calmly.

Anastasia was at a loss for what to focus on—his face or his lips—her gaze flickering to both at this fast pace with no thoughts in her mind. With his hair pushed back off his face, it brought out a different attraction, and she felt something erupt inside her stomach with the dark blue lights beaming on him.