Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

M atteo

We were pulled out of bed and the tangle of our bodies by a demanding Layla only a few hours after we made love.

I had to send Amy in to take a shower while I was feeding Layla because the sight of her all glowing and soft and wearing my shirt was keeping my cock so hard it fucking hurt. She thought it was funny. I promised her a spanking later for laughing at my pain. Then she turned my cock to stone when she blushed and told me she was looking forward to it.

If Layla weren't in my arms, I would have followed her into the bathroom and given her delicious round ass the spanking she wanted. Something she wanted that I never planned on giving her. When I realized the bastard hit her, I decided I would never spank her. I never want her to fear me.

In the past, I've spanked women to add to the pleasure of taking them from behind and during anal. I enjoyed it, but it wasn't necessary for me to come. Although I did it so often, I didn't even think of it when I was with Amy. And I'm a bastard for the relief I felt when she asked for me to spank her again.

While I always did my best to ensure a woman was soaking wet to take my cock, one woman—a cardiologist who worked in the hospital—told me she didn't need it. After our first time together, she asked me to spank her and fuck her without concern she wasn't as wet as I always tried to ensure she was. I did as she requested. She came quickly and so hard it shocked me.

She explained she enjoyed a small measure of pain that happened with spanking and rough sex since I had to work harder to get my cock deep into her. Afterward, she told me she was into BDSM. I had heard of it. However, I had no plans to learn anything about it.

Up until her, I was extremely vanilla, almost boring. Sex was strictly in a comfortable bed, missionary, and a few times from behind. At the time, I wasn't even into anal. With my size, I didn't want to ask for more than a woman seemed comfortable with. Rafe had the talk with me before I went to college to always keep a woman's pleasure as the priority and to ensure she came several times before I did.

I learned a lot about the lifestyle and what appealed to her. And the longer we discussed it, the harder my dick got.

Control was the one thing I always had to have—in everything. She noticed. As a submissive, she hoped I was already in the lifestyle so I could be her dominant. We already had the talk about me not looking for anything lasting. I was concerned about committing to something that would require a level of trust I believed she would need.

She shrugged and said she knew me well enough. All she needed was someone who was clean to tie her up and treat her like a whore for a few hours. She also wanted someone to tell her what to do so she didn't have to think. The relationship lasted for almost three years before she met someone who matched her in every way and was interested in a long-term relationship.

Once our relationship ended, I didn't seek out another in the lifestyle. While I enjoyed it, I preferred to keep things simple. I've found many women, especially women who had to be seen as in control and strong, longed to give up control in bed with a partner they trusted. A hand around their throat, their orgasm withheld if they didn't follow instructions—being given instructions—was welcomed and made them wet. If a woman didn't welcome it, I had no problem leashing it at the moment. But I never saw them again.

I'm grateful as hell that Amy welcomes it. I can't wait to find out what else made her wet while she read. That is going to be fun.

Layla wasn't the only one who needed to eat. We're sitting down to dinner after I put Layla down for bed.

And we're having an argument that I don't want to have. I wanted her to be more accepting of this. But she's only digging in her heels.

"I don't want Layla to be a tablet kid or plopped in front of the television. If she's with a nanny who is here in the condo with you at the same time, the nanny can engage her more and keep her occupied. It's important to me that you have time for you."

Her cute mouth opens to argue with me.

I hold up a hand to let me finish. "I don't want you to wake up ten or twenty years from now resentful of me or Layla and wonder what if—for anything. But especially the art that gives you so much joy. I'll take care of her when I'm home. I also want to have time with you. There's no getting away from the fact that as the wife and mother, so much is going to be on you. I want you…"

"Matteo."

I'm worried she's annoyed with me, but her smile is indulgent and happy.

"You win." The words are soft. "Also, I don't think tablets are evil. I think they're like televisions. If people are using them to watch the kids, so they don't have to? Then yes, it's bad. The same way I don't want a nanny to raise our kids. I don't want a tablet or television to watch our kids either."

"You said you wanted me to knock you up." She blushes all the way to her ears. I love it. "How many do you want? Three more for the four you wanted?"

"Yes, please. Is that all right? Are four too many?"

I shake my head. "There is nothing in this world I would rather do than fill you with our children. I think Layla will be an awesome big sister. Our children won't need to be worried about being protected. We'll do that."

"Now that she's asleep, let's work on giving her a little brother or sister."

She sighs. "I still need to finish cleaning up dinner. Five minutes."

Shaking my head, I exhale. "I don't like you cooking and cleaning. I hate you taking care of me."

Her eyes go wide. "What?"

"I'm aware I should. For a minute when you told me you made me lunch that first day, I did. But I don't like it. It makes my skin itch. I take care of you in everything. All those men who want their women to make them a sandwich turn my stomach even more now. I don't even like when you bring my food to the table. I can only get through you bringing me lunch because I get to see you and Layla."

Her head goes down. When she lifts her face to mine, tears are running down her face. It's a kick to my chest. I'm out of my chair, and she's in my arms.

She sighs. "If nothing else, hopefully, therapy will help me stop being such a crybaby."

I pull back to look down on her. "Hey, I don't want to hear you put yourself down like that. From your childhood alone, you went through tough shit. Then you had someone beat you so badly that you thought it was safer to run with a baby than to continue living in that environment. Now you're waking up to all the ways he mentally and emotionally manipulated and abused you. If you didn't cry over it, I would think something was wrong with you."

"Every day, you have me falling deeper and deeper in love with you. Thank you for loving me and Layla." Her love is glowing in her chocolate eyes. I swear my heart is going to burst outside my chest. "For years, all I've heard is that my worth was based on what I could be and do for a man. I felt like I needed to pay you back for…I don't know being with me, loving me. Here you are, giving me a car, the art, the nanny. How can I pay you back for all of that?"

"You do pay me back—by loving me too. Your happiness makes me happy. It's not about you cooking me dinner or making me lunch. And it sure as hell isn't about you cleaning our home. Just you, it's all you."

Her small hand runs down my chest as one eyebrow goes up. "Are you sure there isn't something else I could be doing to pay you back? Like you bending me over the island the way you fantasized—and I did more than a few times."

I catch her hand and send my other hand into her hair. Pulling her back to meet my eyes, I shake my head. "I want nothing more than to bend you over right here right now. But I refuse to even joke about us making love as some sort of currency. There will be times when you aren't up to making love, whether it's because you're tired, or once you're pregnant and you don't feel comfortable, or when you are on your period and don't want to be touched. I never want there to be a time when it's sex to satisfy me—not making love for the connection we both need."

She glows like the sun. "I'm an idiot for never seeing how clearly you've loved me from that first day."

"No, sweetheart, you were understandably slow to trust in what you saw. Say it. I need to hear it again."

"I love you, Matteo Castillo. Will you please bend me over the island to fulfill the erotic fantasies I've had of you doing it?"

Capturing her mouth I taste her words on her lips. Her kiss is chocolate sweet and scotch neat, intoxicating as it sets fire to my veins. I finally understand addiction in a way I never did before. I'm addicted to this woman's mouth, the smell of her, her little moans and whimpers, her soft body against mine, her tight pussy around my cock, and the taste of her juice on my tongue.

It takes four seconds to get the sundress she's wearing off. I need to see all of her. Fucking hell, I could come just looking at her. "You bad girl, running around without any panties."

She moans. "I didn't want to waste any time."

I undo her bra and spin her around so her back is to me. Cupping her breasts, I weigh their precious weight in my hands. I've never been a breast man, but she makes me one. I love how responsive she is when my mouth is on them.

Fuck. She is soaking wet, her juice running down her inner thighs. I send my fingers into her and find her clit. All it takes is a few swipes of my fingers for her to shatter in my arms.

She's clinging to my arm to hold her up. Now she's ready. The island is too far away. I press her down so that her breasts meet the wood of the dining table.

I undo my pants and free my cock. Just one quick taste. I can't resist. I'm down licking the cream of her come. So fucking delicious. Her juice is sweet, like a strawberry to me, with a hint of tartness that only makes me want more. But her come— fuck . My cock is leaking as I suck deep to swallow as much as I can.

I'm a bastard for loving how incoherent she is in her begging for me to fuck her. It's exactly how I need her to be to take me. I line up my cock to her weeping pussy and thrust into heaven.

Tight, so fucking tight. Her body is still fighting me. I grip her hips and surge deep until we're skin to skin. Closing my eyes, I muster all my strength to keep from coming.

I suck deep on her neck as I begin moving. Christ. Her already tight pussy clings to me. Pulling back, I smack her ass.

Thank fuck all she does is moan and squeeze me again.

"Don't grip my cock, bad girl." I grit out as I spank her ass again.

"I'm sorry, Matteo. Please don't stop. I'll be good."

What she does to me. I'm so fucking close, but she's not, and that won't do. Gripping her hips tight, I give her everything she's begging for—fucking her hard, fast, and as deep as I can go.

It could be four minutes or four strokes, I have no idea, I'm simply thankful when she comes with a gasp of my name. I follow her into heaven as her pussy milks my cock for every drop of come.

"I love the way it feels when you come inside me." Is a breathy little moan that escapes her.

Pulling out of her has her pouting. "I want you inside me all the time. The better for you to knock me up."

I pick her up and take her into our bedroom. "Don't worry, baby. We're just getting started."

She giggles, and it goes straight to my chest.

Amy

I answer the delivery with excitement. I'm grateful the store was willing to deliver the enormous canvases since they wouldn't fit in the SUV. After the last week of working on the smaller canvases and feeling limited by their size. With the memory of how free I felt with the three-foot by four-foot canvas, I went into the art supply store and asked for more in the same size.

For once, I followed Matteo's edicts of refusing to think of price and bought everything my heart wanted. They had two of the three-foot by four-foot and offered to deliver them. While I was waiting for them to confirm how long it would take to produce more, I found paints in colors I didn't have and added them to my purchase. I spent a small fortune and didn't feel an ounce of guilt for doing it.

Doris, our nanny and housekeeper, keeps ahold of Layla as I direct the man to my studio. It really feels like a studio now, with several canvases done and drying throughout the room.

Thanking the man for the delivery, I give him a twenty-dollar bill because it's the only cash I have on me and wonder if it was enough to Doris.

"Oh, sweetie, yes. It was just right for what he delivered." Doris reassures me with a pat on my shoulder.

Relief fills me. I'm so grateful we found Doris. None of the applicants the elite agency sent us felt right. Matteo gave in and changed the requirement that the nanny have Spanish as their first language. His wariness was that school-taught Spanish was different from Spanish learned and spoken in Mexico, the way his grandfather spoke and taught them.

As a former middle-school teacher who taught Spanish, Doris understood Matteo's concern about the differences in Spanish. Since she taught in an area with a majority of students whose parents came from not only Mexico but many Central and South American countries, she understood the differences. She spoke Spanish easily with Matteo and assured him she would teach me and Layla the Spanish he spoke.

Matteo liked her willingness to teach me Spanish because he wanted us to speak Spanish with Layla and our children. Doris would be the one who spoke English with them. For now, with Layla, we would speak both languages within our comfort zone.

I loved how Doris also understood my concerns about having a nanny. I liked that she didn't tell me how she was going to nanny Layla—the way the others had when I explained I had never had a nanny before and wasn't sure how it would work.

Matteo butted in to lay down the law of me getting at least two hours a day to myself. I would have time to spend in my studio or doing whatever else I needed. However, I was adamant that it would include my therapy appointment time on Wednesdays.

She chuckled at us and offered her services as a nanny and housekeeper. She'd never been a nanny, but she used to clean houses as a second job to supplement her low teacher's salary. Matteo didn't even want to discuss it and told her she was hired.

I love him, but he drives me crazy sometimes. It's even more annoying how right he was. It's only been a week, and I'm beyond grateful for her. And Layla loves her.

She isn't living in while we're in the condo because Matteo wanted to be able to make love to me anywhere without worrying about her being there. I had the same thought.

Layla squawks. When she sees she's got my attention, she fists her little hands for me. I take her from Doris and cuddle her. Layla is gnawing on my shirt. I decide to get her dressed in something adorable for her daddy.