Chapter 5: "That's Not Your Call"

Leah's POV

"What is this place?"

I'd known Matto had money, but standing here in person was the first time that wealth felt truly real to me.I'd always thought my own family was well-off, but standing next to what Matto had, we didn't even come close.

Does Anna have any idea what kind of man she let slip through her fingers?

"Home," he said simply, stepping out of the car first and coming around to open my door. "We're home."

He couldn't be serious. This was actually his house?

I turned in a slow circle, taking in every detail around me — every inch of the décor radiating a kind of effortless, extravagant wealth that made my brain stall.

"This is really your place?"

I still hadn't recovered from the shock.

"Our place." Matto guided me through the front door. "You're the mistress of this house too."

Anna had actually written this man off as broke? What on earth had she been thinking?

"Hungry?" Matto asked, already a few steps ahead of me.

"No, I had something to eat earlier." I pressed a hand to my stomach — no, nothing was going on in there.

"Perfect." He turned, pushed the front door shut behind us, and pressed me back against it in one smooth motion. His fingers traced lightly along my cheek, a slow smile spreading across his face. "If you're not hungry, then we should take care of something else."

"Right now?"

Wasn't this a little fast? We'd signed the marriage agreement just this morning — and now we were supposed to jump straight into bed?

I tried to edge backward, but the door was already there.

"Are you turning me down?" Matto tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Still thinking about that spineless ex of yours?"

"God, no." The image of Elias and Anna together flashed through my mind and my stomach turned. The last thing I wanted was to think about him. "Why would I?"

"Then what are we waiting for?"

"I just—"

I never got the rest of the sentence out. Matto's mouth covered mine before I could finish, and whatever he was doing with his tongue, he clearly knew exactly where to find the spots that made my brain go offline. It was just a kiss, but I could already feel heat pooling low in my body, slick and undeniable.

By the time I surfaced from the haze, my clothes were half off and the cool air hit my skin like a splash of cold water. I jolted back to awareness. "Wait — hold on."

Matto pulled back, a flicker of displeasure crossing his face, but he stopped. "Fine. If you're not ready, we'll drop it." He said it flatly, then turned and walked further into the house without looking back.

That wasn't what I meant.

I just didn't want to do it here, pressed up against a front door — that seemed exhausting. I tried to follow him, but my legs had turned completely useless on me. I made it two steps. "Don't go!"

What kind of man starts something like that and then just walks away?

Matto looked back over his shoulder, a trace of genuine confusion in his eyes.

I pointed down at my own legs with the most pitiful expression I could manage. "This is your fault. I can barely walk."

He paused for a moment, then came back, scooped me up without ceremony, carried me upstairs, and set me down on the bed. "Rest a minute, then we'll take a bath."

I seized the opportunity to loop my arms around his neck and pull him down with me, wrapping my legs around his waist before he could retreat. "I don't need to rest."

Matto glanced down at the position we were now in, then looked back at me with open amusement. "Weren't you just turning me down? Changed your mind that fast?"

"I never turned you down."

I huffed. "I was being considerate. I didn't want you running out of steam halfway through and making me carry you."

"Running out of steam." He repeated it like I'd just issued a formal challenge. "Who was it that couldn't walk after one kiss? Was that me? Hmm?"

"It definitely wasn't me."

I held my ground — he wasn't going to get me to admit it. Matto laughed, low and genuine, but his hands didn't stop moving. He stripped off the rest of my clothes and dragged his mouth from my jaw downward, trailing teeth and lips along my skin.

A tingling warmth spread through me with every touch, and my body shivered against my will.

"Ready?" he murmured against my ear.

"Yes…" I breathed.

He stopped completely.

"Why did you stop?"

That feeling had been strange and consuming, and my body was already reaching for more contact without my permission.

"I'm going to run a bath." He pulled away with zero hesitation.

I pushed myself up on my elbows and called after him, not entirely sure he heard me: "We're already at this point — what do we need a bath for?"

Weren't we past the warm-up stage?

"To give you a chance to settle into it." He came back a moment later and carried me into the bathroom.

Settle into it? I blinked. He couldn't still think I was hesitating, could he?

The tub filled quickly. Matto got in behind me, pulling me back against his chest so we sank into the water together.

"Turn your head."

He tilted my chin toward him and kissed me again. I was already dizzy from it when I felt one of his fingers push slowly into my entrance.

That hurt. I'd been impulsive. Was it too late to reconsider?

I couldn't make a sound — I just grabbed his arm and held on, trying to find some way to manage the sting.

"Relax," he said against my lips, then moved his mouth lower. "Don't tense up."

I wanted to relax. I genuinely did. But it hurt.

"We're not in a rush." He licked along the shell of my ear, his finger working slowly inside me.

"I — I can't — it's too much — can we stop, please?" I pushed weakly at his arm.

"Baby, you're the one who wanted this." He didn't pull back. "You'll adjust."

"Please — I can't — I really can't—" I whimpered, unable to string together a full sentence. "Please…"

"Okay," he said.

His finger went still. I thought it was over — and then a second finger pushed in alongside the first, and the stretch was sharper and more overwhelming than anything before it.

"Ah—" Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but somewhere underneath the pain, something else was building — a thread of pleasure that hadn't been there before, winding tighter with every slow movement of his hand.

"Not enough yet," Matto said, watching my face, and added a third finger.

"Too — too many—" I gasped, looking up at him desperately. "Two. Two is enough."

"Be good." He pressed his thumb against my clit and worked it in slow, deliberate circles. "You need to be stretched out, or it won't go smoothly."

Three fingers, and it still wasn't enough? I braced my hands on the edge of the tub and tried to breathe through the sensation, the pleasure intensifying with each thrust of his hand until something inside me coiled to a breaking point.

Right at the edge, he pulled his fingers out entirely. The slick sound they made leaving me was obscene, and the sudden emptiness that followed was almost worse than the pain had been.

"Don't stop—" I grabbed his wrist and tried to push his hand back. "Keep going."

"Easy. I'll give you what you need." He gripped my hips and turned me around to face him.

His cock pressed against my entrance — thick and hard — and I looked up at him, barely focused, hands on his shoulders. "Give it to me."

"Here it is." He held my hips and pressed me down slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried inside me completely.

"God, you're so thick—" Three fingers hadn't come close to preparing me for this. My lower belly clenched involuntarily, and he sucked in a sharp breath. "Stop squeezing — relax."

"I am relaxed," I managed, on the verge of crying again. How was he this big?

Matto pulled my nipple into his mouth, biting down gently, and the distraction gave him the opening he needed. He began to move — slow, steady strokes — the water around us making wet, rhythmic sounds with every thrust.

"Slow — slower—" I had no strength left. I pressed my palms flat against his chest and let him set the pace, rising and falling with him.

The pleasure built until I couldn't hold it back, and I came first, shaking and breathless. But Matto wasn't done. He stood, lifted me out of the tub, and turned me to face the wall, my hands finding the grab bar as he pushed back inside me from behind. This angle was deeper — he exhaled a long, satisfied groan and picked up the pace.

"I can't — no more — please—"

By the time we moved to the bed, I had already lost count of how many times I'd come. Matto hadn't — not once — and if anything he felt harder than when we'd started.

"Whether you want more," he said, his voice low and utterly unhurried, "is not your decision to make."