Matteo's Rapture

Treize

Emma Chassériaux

Tw: This chapter depicts sexual assault.
I know I listed triggers in the introduction
before chapter one and disclosed a warning (one that was final) but I realized some of you probably haven't read this in a hot minute so I just want to prepare you. Please don't read if you find this topic to be extremely triggering <3

Laglio, Lake Como, Italy
The Lucchese Manor
The third of July, 12:05 a.m.

There's aren't any words, none.

I can't even breathe, every possible inhale is stolen and swallowed by his lips. They're scorching, feverish with a mind numbing need.

It's sensational and paralyzing at the same time. I don't even realize he's slipped his tongue in until I'm gasping against his mouth when he rocks his hips into mine. My body jostles up the sheets and the knife falls from my hand, clattering to floor.

He's kissing me and I'm kissing him back.

I'm drowning.

"S-Stop."

And his taste is a blinding, dangerous combination. Minty like the toothpaste we share with a faint trace of tobacco.

I can feel him, all of him, his hard member grinding against my most intimate place. Every part of my body tingles with these familiar fireworks I used to get whenever he touched me this way. "M-Matt—" I tear my lips away from his, desperate for the air he's depriving me of. My head cranes upwards when he abates, his lips peppering open mouthed kisses along side my jaw and the junction between my neck and ear—finding the spot he knows all too well.

He discovered it first after all.

"Matteo, s-stop," his hands grasp my waist, squeezing while he starts to make his way down my neck. "M-Mat-oh!" He yanks my tank top up, expertly kissing down the valley of my breast before trailing briskly across my stomach.

Oh my god, oh my god.

"Matteo, w-wait, wait!" I try to sit up slightly when his fingers curl around the waistband of my pajama pants but I'm suddenly shoved back down, my elbows knocked out from underneath me.

"Coricare." He commands gruffly and I nearly melt.

This is wrong.

"W—"

This is wrong.

My body lurches, shifting with each rough tug of my pants. Adjusted to the darkness, I can just faintly make out the sinful image in front of me. His touch is searing, burning in the most addicting way. I'm gushing down there, I know it—needy and wet for him. "Matteo," I'm breathless, blindly reaching for him when he starts to take off my underwear but he twists his wrists, swatting at my prodding hands. "wait—aspettare, I—"

I'm nothing but a fucking mess, loudly moaning when his mouth covers my cunt—spreading my thighs further apart when I reflexively try to close my legs. His skilled tongue traces my folds, igniting a suppressed side of myself. A side that only exists with him, a side only he's capable of coaxing out.