Once His Contract Bride, Now His Hired Nanny

CHAPTER 9: Becoming One (R18)

The door clicked shut, cutting off the hallway light and sealing them in the semi-darkness of his room. The only illumination came from the flashes of lightning outside, casting brief, blue-white ripples across the heavy furniture.

She barely remembered the path, only the feel of his hand wrapped around hers, steady and warm, anchoring her as the world shrank to the space between them.

His room was darker, lit only by the storm-flashed sky and a lamp by the bed. It smelled like him—smoke and cedar and something uniquely Matteo.

Elena stood by the foot of the bed, her arms wrapping around herself again, the blanket slipping from her shoulders to the floor. Now that they were here—actually here—the reality of it crashed into her. The adrenaline from the office was fading, replaced by a cold, trembling wave of nerves.

Matteo didn't rush. He moved with the predatory grace of a man who owned the space, shedding his jacket and tossing it onto a chair. He loosened his tie, pulling it free in one smooth motion, his eyes never leaving her.

He saw the tremble in her hands.

"You’re overthinking," he said, his voice low and gravelly in the quiet room.

"I can’t help it," she whispered. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "I... I don’t know what I’m doing, Matteo. I’ve never—not like this."

He crossed the distance between them, his presence overwhelming. He didn't touch her immediately. He just stood close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him, smelling of rain and sandalwood.

"You don't need to know what to do," he told her. It wasn't a suggestion; it was an absolute statement. "Tonight, you don't make decisions. You don't manage anything. You just feel."

He reached out, his large hands settling on her waist. The weight of them was grounding, heavy and possessive. She gasped softly at the contact, her hands hovering uncertainly before resting on his chest.

"But what if I—"

"Elena." He cut her off, sliding one hand up to cup the back of her neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind her ear. He forced her to tilt her head back, locking eyes with her. "Look at me."

She swallowed hard, meeting his dark, intense gaze.

"I am not looking for a performance," he murmured, stepping closer until her thighs bumped against his. "I want you. Nervous, shaking, whatever. Just give it to me."

"Okay," she breathed, the word barely a sound.

"Good girl."

He leaned down and kissed her then, slow and deep, swallowing the little whimper that rose in her throat. His other hand moved to the hem of her sweater. "Arms up."

She obeyed blindly, letting him strip the layers away until the cool air hit her skin, followed immediately by the scorching heat of his hands. When he pulled her flush against him, skin to skin, a jolt went through her that made her knees buckle.

He caught her easily, a low groan vibrating in his chest against hers.

"I’ve got you," he growled against her mouth. He walked her backward until her legs hit the mattress, and he lowered her down, following her, covering her body with his own.

The weight of him was terrifying and thrilling all at once. He was so solid, so heavy, pinning her into the soft sheets. She felt small beneath him, but for the first time, the fear wasn't about danger—it was about the sheer intensity of wanting him.

He propped himself up on his elbows, framing her face. He kissed her jaw, her throat, the curve of her shoulder, making her arch her back with a sharp intake of breath. His kisses continue until it reached one trembling peak... and he sucked.

"M- Matteo," she moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, gripping tight. "It’s too... I can’t..."

"Breathe," he commanded, his voice rough, strained with his own restraint. He paused, his forehead resting against hers, their breath mingling in the dark. "I’m not going anywhere. We go at my pace, and I say we go slow. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Tell me to stop if you need to," he said, nipping at her lower lip. "Otherwise, I’m not going to stop touching you until you forget everything outside this room."

"Don't stop," she begged, the desperation surprising even her.

He made a sound—half-laugh, half-growl—and crushed his mouth to hers again. The kiss was wetter, hungrier now. As his hands began to explore her, firm and demanding, her anxiety finally shattered, replaced by a white-hot haze. She didn't have to know what to do. She just had to let him take it.

And he did.

Kisses from her neck to her right breast while his other hand playing with the left. Touching...massaging...tugging at her n*****s.

The heat is insane. Sensations overwhelming.

Her moans grew louder, voice hoarser while her hands kept pulling at her hair... trying to stop him...and force him to continue at the same time.

When his hand reached her panties she froze.

"M-Matteo..." I squirm

"Easy", his voice hoarse and deep and slowly reach out to remove the last layer of protection between us.

His hands so hot she almost burn. Voluntarily she rocked my pelvis against his hands.

But when she realized what he did next, she froze.

His mouth already at the entrance of her core!

"N-noooo." she can't help her broken moan at the sensation. Thighs opening wider involuntarily.

And he takes full advantage of the position. He suck, lick, nibble at her labia.

Her voice already hoarse from moaning, grew more frantic.

When he found her c**t and pintch it with his fingertips while plunging his tongue inside her core...she broke!

Her shout so loud she feared the people outside could hear.

But she can't care anymore. Wave after wave of sensation drown her.

When she went back from high, she realized that Matteo is already on top of her. His rigid member poking hot and heavy at her entrance.

He asked more than once if she was sure.

This time she answered—with words, with hands, with the way she met him halfway.

Matteo groans loudly when he finally entered her... paused... then growls like an animal in pain when he realized he had to stop to help her get accustomed to his size.

The pain is unbearable. It's too much... too full. But little by little the sensation overshadowed it so she started to move.

Her movement broke Matteo's control, and he move, fast… fierce... like an animal in heat.

She started to quake, orgasm almost reaching.

"Come for me, Elena." His voice hoarse, thick with tension as he kept pounding into her.

"Come for me...right...now!"

When they finally lay tangled in the sheets, her head resting on his chest, his fingers tracing idle patterns along her shoulder, the storm outside had faded to a soft, distant rumble.

They had just broken every rule she’d written for herself.

She should have felt panic, guilt, fear.

Instead, she felt… full.

Scared still, yes, of the world outside the bedroom door. But inside, in that fragile pocket of warmth and shared breath, she felt something she hadn’t expected to feel in this house.

Safe.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured.

“Thinking,” she said.

“About?” His fingers paused.

“How annoying you are,” she replied. “And how much I like you anyway.”

He huffed out a low laugh, chest vibrating under her cheek.

“You’ll regret it in the morning,” he said.

“Maybe,” she replied. “But right now, I don’t.”

He pressed his lips to her hair.

“Sleep,” he said softly. “I’ll watch the storm.”

As her eyes closed, heaviness tugging her under, she realized he meant more than the weather.

For now, she let herself believe him.