His Tesoro: An Arranged Marriage Age Gap Mafia Romance (Empire of Royals Book 1)
His Tesoro: Chapter 48

“I need to feed you,” Matteo said, trailing his fingers down my arm. The car was dark as we headed home. “Do you want to order something when we get back?”

A sign on the interstate made me gasp as I pointed at it. “Oh my gosh. Can we go to Sonic? Mila and I used to see ads for it on TV.”

“What’s Sonic?” Romeo asked.

“It’s a drive-in. So you eat in your car,” I said, bouncing excitedly. “It seems so fun.”

Matteo ran his hand over his face. “Tesoro, please, I beg you. Let me spend more than a couple of dollars on a meal for you.”

I leaned forward to kiss his prickly cheek. “This will probably cost more than the hot dog.”

He grumbled, but didn’t stop Romeo from taking the exit. A few minutes later, we pulled into the restaurant and parked by an illuminated menu. Matteo was closer, so I unbuckled and crawled over him to get a better look. His hand rested on my ass, giving it a hard squeeze, and I smacked his shoulder.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“A table to eat at,” Matteo said.

I grin. “I will order for you, then. Romeo, Angelo—do you know what you want?”

“Oh, yes,” Angelo said. “This is so much better than some pretentious party food.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Romeo rolled down the window for me and I placed our order, making sure to get enough milkshakes for all of us, even though the guys insisted they didn’t need dessert. Silly Mafia men. I also got a plain burger for Noodle. He had been such a good boy at the party. Just having him around made me feel more settled.

“You happy?” Matteo asked once we had our food.

“Yes.” I leaned into his side as I dropped my voice. “And this means that we won’t have anything else we need to do when we get home.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “You devious, naughty girl.”

Matteo carried me out of the elevator, his body practically buzzing with energy. Enzo took his post outside our door, and I gave him a little wave as we charged past him. Angelo had offered to take care of Noodle’s evening routine, so my husband and I were free to head straight for our room.

Matteo laid me down on the mattress, bracketing me with his arms as he leaned over me. “I have an idea for something I’d like to try.” His voice was low and sultry, sending a shiver through me.

“What’s that?”

His lips parted, and then he hesitated for a moment. This caught my attention—it was so rare for my husband to second-guess anything.

“I used to be a member of a club when I was younger. A BDSM club,” he clarified.

My heart sped up.

“Have you ever heard of rope?” He pinned me with his heated gaze.

“Like tying someone up?”

He nodded. “It’s something I enjoy and would like to share with you. I’ve done some research on how to modify it so it’s safe for you.”

“You want to tie me up?” I sounded breathless as I pressed my thighs together, growing wet just at the thought.

“I think you’ll enjoy it.” He ran his thumb across my lips and I parted them, taking his finger in my mouth and sucking on it. “Good girl,” he murmured. “So good for me.” He pulled his thumb out, running it along my lower lip.

“What do you like about it?” I asked.

“Mmm, many things. I like seeing my partners fall deeper into submission. Rope is about trust and communication and body language. It’s the interplay of pain and pleasure, of dominance and submission. It gives me a feeling of control that I crave.”

A spark of arousal shot through my stomach, but I also felt an uncomfortable, jealous feeling tighten my chest.

“What is it?” he asked, brow furrowed as he took in my scowl.

I stalled answering him, not wanting to sound petty and immature. He collared my throat, his hold on me pure dominance as he forced me to meet his gaze.

“I don’t like thinking of you with other women.” I spit out the words, trying to free myself from his hold. He wasn’t having it. He pinned my hands down, allowing no movement. A smile twisted his lips, adding to my outrage.

“Don’t laugh at me,” I snapped.

“Never,” he said, his expression sobering. “I was smiling because I like seeing you possessive over me.” His lips skimmed against my skin. “You have nothing to worry about, tesoro. None of those women meant anything to me. I didn’t have a connection with them beyond what we did in a scene. Playing with you would be completely different.”

“Why is that?” I asked, still a little grouchy.

“Because I care for you. Because watching you fall apart with pleasure is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Because I don’t want this to be a one-off scene. I want more with you. I need everything.”

I buried my face in his neck, needing a minute to take in his words. He stroked my hair in a soothing, patient rhythm.

“How would it work?” I finally asked.

“We’d start slow. Explore how your body responds, what you like and don’t like.”

“And if I don’t like it?”

“Then we don’t do it.”

“Does that mean…” I trailed off, not even wanting to speak the words aloud. He gripped my chin, raising a single eyebrow. I huffed. “If I don’t like it, will you go to the club and replace other women to tie?”

Matteo’s expression darkened like thunder. “No, wife. I will not be replaceing other women.”

Even though his voice held stern censure, it eased the tightness in my chest. I chewed my lip. “What do you mean that you like being with someone submissive? I don’t know if I can do that, be that. I don’t want to be a doormat.”

A sound like a growl rumbled in Matteo’s throat. “You will never be a fucking doormat. You are my queen. Your submission is something you give freely, and have already given me. How does it feel when I train you in the office? When I’m controlling during sex?”

My cheeks burned. “It feels good, in a dirty way.”

Matteo nodded, no sign of judgement in his expression. “There you are, tesoro. You gift me your submission beautifully already. I crave control. You crave letting go.”

“Oh. I guess I thought submission was something different.”

“I might push you to your limits. I’m a dominant, commanding asshole. But you always have the power. If anything feels off and we need to pause, just tell me or say yellow. And if you get scared or hurt or want to stop for any reason, say red.”

I ran my fingers along his jaw and nodded. He shifted so he was straddling my hips without putting his weight on me.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky.” His gaze lingered on me, and it made me feel sexy, not self-conscious.

He cupped my cheeks and then slowly ran his hands across my collarbone, my arms, and then back up, tracing a pattern up and down my torso. I breathed in sharply when he cupped my breasts, but he kept his touch frustratingly light. I tried arching into his touch, and the smirk tugging on his lips told me he knew exactly what I was doing.

“Is someone feeling needy?” His lips brushed against my ear and a shiver went through me.

His hands continued their path down my body, squeezing my hips and thighs. He teased the bottom of the dress, pushing it up my legs before taking it off completely. I inhaled sharply. He’d barely done anything yet and my skin was already on fire.

He lifted my leg and pressed his lips to my ankle. The feel of his fingers, lips, and breath against my skin built the heat in my core, especially as he worked his way up my leg. But when he got to my pussy, all he did was press a feather-light kiss to my clit through my lace underwear before kissing his way up my other leg.

“Matteo,” I whined when he returned to my sex, this time just breathing on it. “I need more.”

He chuckled darkly as he sat up. “You’ll take exactly what I give you, tesoro.” His skin was all heat against mine as he stripped off my bra and took my nipple into his mouth, leaving me squirming.

When he moved off the bed, I let out an indignant noise and reached for him.

“So needy,” he responded with a chuckle.

He disappeared into the closet and emerged with a black bag. He pulled out a length of rope before getting back on the bed and arranging me into a seated position. He sat behind me, his chest pressed tight against my back, supporting me and making me feel cherished and protected. Then the length of rope was in his hands, trailing across my skin.

“How does that feel?” His words vibrated against my neck.

“Good,” I said. The rope was firm and textured, but not too rough.

He hummed as he started wrapping the rope around my chest. He lifted my breasts, squeezing each in his large hands before running the rope underneath them. His hand collared my throat, and I shuddered. “You’re doing so well for me.” When he removed his hand, I looked down at the diamond rope pattern on my chest. Its hold on me was firm, like an extension of Matteo’s touch. “How does it feel?”

I turned my head and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Good.”

He returned my kiss with a hard one of his own before moving out from behind me and lowering me to the bed. The movement caused the rope to shift against my skin, the friction of it contrasting with the softness of the mattress. Then he moved my arm out to the side and closed a wide padded cuff around my wrist. I met his gaze, eyes wide.

“I’m not going to bind your arms tight, just enough for you to feel it.”

“Feel what?” I whispered.

“Feel my control over you.”

He tied a length of rope to the wrist cuff and then attached it to the side of the bed frame before repeating it on the other side. I pulled against the rope, a flicker of panic running through me when I realized I couldn’t move, couldn’t get up. His hands were heavy on my stomach as he observed me, patient as I adjusted to all the sensations.

His touch grounded me. I took a deep breath and my muscles relaxed.

“So good,” he murmured against my skin. “So brave, so beautiful.”

His words filled that hurt place inside me that never felt like enough, healing the raw edges of the wound I’d carried for so long. I didn’t fully believe that I was brave or beautiful, at least not yet, but I would never tire of hearing him say it.