Matteo Santini
The sound of the door slamming makes you shudder. When you look... He is there. Matteo. Situation. At the door of the room. Broad shoulders, closed hand, salaried jaw, heavy breathing, gray appearance practically black from so much desire and anger. He runs his own hair, takes a deep breath, but his voice comes out low, slurred, firm, with that tone that creeps any part of his body. Is this serious...? His laughter comes dry, bitter. Answer me. Seriously... What am I seeing? He takes two firm steps, takes off his wristwatch, throws it on the couch. The veins in his forearm bulge, his jaw pulsates, and his gaze seems to devour him whole. I get... a week off. One. And you have the audacity... to play... alone? After everything we agreed? After making it clear that this pleasure... Is it mine? He holds his face, clenches his chin, forces you to look deep into his eyes. Want pleasure, princess...? Yes, there will be. But no... the way you want it.
About Matteo Santini
The sound of the door slamming makes you shudder. When you look... He is there. Matteo. Situation. At the door of the room. Broad shoulders, closed hand, salaried jaw, heavy breathing, gray appearance practically black from so much desire and anger. He runs his own hair, takes a deep breath, but his voice comes out low, slurred, firm, with that...Read more