Accardi by allison franklin novel

"You were my favorite hurt, and my hard chapter ten 68 * 8 tool? Voglio te. Sei mia, Trento. Mi Senti? Tell me," Matteo growled into her ear before latching his teeth into the soft skin of her shoulder. Genevieve was completely lost. She wasn't sure how much of his strength he'd wring out of her. They were both sweaty. Her skin was sensitive, craving his every touch, and when he gave it to her, she could feel it soaking into her soul. Matteo flipped her onto her back. His face remained savage. The intensity in his gaze set her skin on fire. His hair was damp around his face.

His ragged breathing drew her eyes to the tattoo on his chest. She reached her hands up and ran them over his bare skin. He threw his head back while his hand worked along his shaft. She flattened her palm over the family coat of arms. "Do you like it? Soon you'll have one to match," Matteo murmured.

"Matteo," Gen begged, urging her hips up for him. His eyes darkened impossibly further. "Say it again," he ordered, rubbing the tip of his cock through her wet folds. Gen threw her head back against the pillows as a swirl of pain and concentrated pleasure racked up her spine.

She clutched the bedsheets now coated in their sex. His hand wrapped around her throat, and her eyes flew open. He held his cock at her entrance while his other hand squeezed just enough to make her impossibly wetter. "Say it again," he repeated. "Matteo," she breathed around his hand. Matteo growled and pushed himself forward. Gen's torso lifted off the bed at the sharp pinpoint of pleasure. His grip around her neck remained firm as he hammered into her. He used his free hand to hold himself over her while he drove in and out of her sore pussy.

"Again," he ground out against her ear. "Matteo!" she screamed as her orgasm hit her out of nowhere. "Gen," Matteo groaned as his pelvis struck her once, twice more before he stilled. Gen's nails cut into his back as she felt his hot cum coat her insides again. Gen woke up the same way she had the previous day. Sun streamed through the front window warming the skin exposed outside the tangled sheets. She sighed and glanced over to his side of the bed. It was empty. She stretched and immediately hissed when her lower muscles protested. Then her mind snapped into awareness.

She shot up. Had she really had sex with a complete stranger? A supposed mafia boss? She skimmed her hand between her legs and felt the slick wetness still there. A sharp pain of nerves clawed at her chest. It hadn't been a dream. She'd had sex with a stranger and let him cum inside her? Thank God she was on birth control. But, oh, she would still have to get tested for STDs! How could she have been so trusting of a complete stranger?

Her heart hammered as the reality of the insecure decision-making landed on her now sober shoulders. Was he even still there? Had he left her alone in his home? Oh God, was she trapped here now? Every Dateline she ever watched flashed before her eyes. How long had he been asleep the night before? She tried to remember, but it was all a haze of sweaty skin, whispered promises, Italian words she couldn't understand, new impossible positions, and climaxes that only seemed to get more and more intense.

No one would ever be able to satisfy her the way Matteo had. The room was slightly warmer, and she could hear the shower running. She glanced at the clock. Her flight was in four hours. She needed to leave if she was going to make it to the hotel and get her things in time. For the briefest flicker of a moment, she considered canceling the high she would get at a later date. Maybe she could stay at Jada's empty apartment... or here. Her head fell back on the pillow, and a tear fell down her cheek. She put her hands over her eyes.

She knew if there was a time to leave, it would be now. They both knew what last night was. She'd been explicit: she wanted a one-night stand, and he'd agreed. Tomorrow was Monday, which meant she had a reality to get back to. Gen stepped down from the bed and grimaced at the ripped dress. She spied his hoodie at the end of the bed and put it over her head. She walked into his closet. Her brow furrowed at the small selection of clothes. She expected rows of suits, expensive shoes, belts worth more than her rent.

Instead, there were no suits, only one of which he'd worn at the bar the other night, and a small duffle with casual clothes. The idea that this was some kind of secret house he took mistresses to flitted through her mind. She grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants. She had to roll the waistband multiple times before it would stay up on her hips. Gen stepped out of the closet and glanced once again at the bathroom. The shower was still running. She left the bedroom and tiptoed down the stairs. She retrieved her jacket and her purse.

She checked her phone and found no messages, a stark contrast to the day before. She took a deep breath as she stepped up to the door. She knew once she unlocked the door he would be alerted. Gen closed her eyes and fought the useless tears pricking them. She stood firm. She turned the lock, pulled the door open, and sprinted out into the cold air. She bounced on her feet, stealing glances at the window of his bedroom as she tried to flag down a taxi. After several stressful minutes, a taxi finally pulled up to the curb.

She launched herself inside and told him she needed to rush and would pay extra if he got her to the hotel in less than twenty minutes. The tires squealed as the taxi took off. Gen sat back in the chair and finally let the tears roll down her face. She buried her head in her hands, refusing to look back. If only she had. Maybe if she'd seen him running out into the street with his towel clutched in a tight fist against his hip and an expression of deadly determination, she would have realized running from Matteo Accardi was as futile as running from death itself.