Mated To The Dragon Of Manhattan (A BBW Paranormal Romance Book 1) (19 page)

I worked hard to keep my building excitement off my face. "But how would that even be possible, though? How would it even be possible that I'd have a way out of marrying Truman?"

Matthew studied my face intently for a long moment, seeming to be deciding something, before abruptly pulling his hand from mine, picking up his coffee mug, and taking a sip. "Well, I guess I'm just speaking in hypotheticals. I guess I just want you to have some hope that you're maybe not as trapped in as you think you are. And that's because I don't think you are."

"How do you figure, though?"

I knew if I pushed him too far, too soon, I might out myself, and I definitely didn't want to do that. Though wanting confirmation of his plans as badly as I did, I was finding it extremely difficult to slow down in my questioning.

"How do you figure I'm not completely trapped, Matthew? Because the way I see it, I'm pretty well locked in to marrying Truman."

He took another sip of his coffee and set the mug down, keeping his gaze on the surface of the dark liquid. "Well, maybe, maybe not. Sometimes life has a way of surprising us. Sometimes when we think we're locked into something...whether that be an impending marriage, a current marriage, or even a work-related position or title than we think we deserve to rise above...the planets align in a way that gives us a way out. And not only a way out, but a way to get everything we've ever dreamed of."

I was sure he was going to tell me his plans next. I was sure he was going to confirm everything.

But, to my extreme disappointment, he suddenly looked up from his coffee and smiled, revealing his perfect white teeth. "I'm probably just babbling now, aren't I? In fact, I'm sure I am. I guess I just want to lift your spirits. Give you some hope that things might turn out okay for you in the end. Because after all, isn't that what friends are for? To lift spirits? And to that end, I propose we change the subject to something more uplifting. Like your painting. Which Annabelle tells me you've been doing a lot of lately in preparation for a charity fundraiser? So, tell me. Is that something you could see yourself happy doing in the long-term? Using your artistic talents to help benefit charities?"

Profoundly disappointed, though trying my damnedest not to show it, I answered his question with what I thought was just the right amount of enthusiasm. After that, he asked me even more questions about myself, things along the lines of what I liked to do for fun, and places I hoped to travel to someday. And again, I answered with what I thought was just the right amount of enthusiasm, even attempting to hone my
acting
chops even further by flirting a little bit. When I said that number one on my future vacation destinations list would be Hawaii, and Matthew teasingly asked if I was a one-piece bathing suit girl or a bikini girl, I theatrically batted my eyelashes at him, smiling.

"Well, that would depend. That would depend on whether there were any tall, handsome men on the beach that I thought might enjoy seeing my curves in a bikini."

Matthew grinned, the effect unexpectedly dazzling. "Well, I hope I'm not overstepping my boundaries as a friend in saying this, but just let me say that if
I
were on that beach, I'd definitely enjoy seeing your curves in a bikini. I'd probably actually walk over hot coals in the sand, just if I could even get one tiny little peek."

I giggled, still
acting
, though somewhat to my surprise, I could somehow tell that I was being pretty convincing, and had been the entire time. "Well, I might be pretty flattered by that...maybe even enough to give you
two
tiny little peeks."

Matthew's grin got even bigger. "Just two? What about if I crawled on my hands and knees through a pile of unusually sharp, jagged sea glass?"

I giggled again. "Well, for that I guess I'd give you
three
tiny little peeks." I paused, continuing to hold our eye contact. "And maybe a tiny little peek through a hole in the cabana wall while I was changing, for a bonus."

Matthew swallowed, and I thought I heard the very faintest of low growls rumble in his muscular chest, though with pop music coming from an overhead speaker nearby, I couldn't be sure. And I decided that after my bold comment, I should probably move on to something not about bikinis and the beach, lest I begin to lay it on too thick, if I hadn't done so already.

"Sorry. Now
I've
probably overstepped my boundaries as a friend. I'm having a lot of fun just unwinding with you here, though what I just said
did
kind of make me feel bad,  being that you're not only a married man, but you're the husband of one of my very good friends. And I'm sure Annabelle probably wouldn't appreciate me talking to you about whether or not I'd wear a bikini to the beach. So, maybe we should move on to-"

"Annabelle and I haven't had much of a marriage in a very long time. I don't know if she's ever mentioned this or alluded this to you, but it's true. We're really only married on paper these days. And we both long ago ceased to care what friendships the other might have. And this is part of why I'm here for you, Brette. Because I can be. Because I care about you and I want to help you through this difficult time you're having with Truman. That is, if you
want
me to help. If you
want
me to be there for you. As a friend. And as a supporter."

For some reason, a wave of nausea suddenly rolled over me. And I began to feel slightly dizzy, my own personal indicator of anxiety that hadn't completely gone away a hundred percent since I'd overcome some of my anxieties and fears when I'd helped in killing Dominic. However, my dizzy spells
had
been occurring far less frequently. Though this didn't make the one I was experiencing at the moment any easier to bear. But I knew that bear it I must. And after taking a deep breath, I just powered through it and somehow even managed a little smile at Matthew.

"I'd like that. I think having you as a friend might really help me in the long-term, because just having coffee with you today has already helped me feel so much better."

He grinned. "Good. Then, we can have coffee here again soon. Even every day if you'd like. Because I think this just might be the perfect place for us...kind of off the beaten path and usually empty. Because considering all your current problems with Truman, and considering that our new, deepened friendship might cause some sort of friendship awkwardness between you and Annabelle, I just don't think our meeting up frequently is something they even need to know about. Do you?"

I shook my head, mustering what I thought was a sly little smile, even though I still felt sick. "No. Probably best if we just keep our friendship under wraps for now."

Matthew smiled, revealing his straight, white teeth. "Great minds think alike."

Just then, my phone sounded with a text alert, and I wasn't sure if I should look at the text. But Matthew told me to go right ahead, and so I did. The text was from Truman, saying that he missed me and wondering when I was going to be home. My nauseated feeling intensified and became joined by a distinct pang in my heart.

I glanced up at Matthew. "I should go. Truman's missing me." Immediately realizing I went a little off-script, I quickly made an attempt at correction. "Which, these days, usually just means that Mara's tied up doing something or other, and he's bored without her."

I began getting up from the table, but Matthew grabbed my hand to stop me. "Brette, wait. Please. I just have to know something. I just have one more question to ask you." He tightened his hold on my hand almost imperceptibly. "And please answer me honestly. Because it's maybe the most important question I'll probably ask you, ever."

CHAPTER FIFHTEEN

I told Matthew to ask me whatever he liked, hoping the question was something I could answer very briefly, because I just wanted to get home to Truman.

Matthew cleared his throat, still holding me by the hand. "Do you have any proof that Truman's cheated on you with Mara, or do you just strongly suspect? I'm not trying to be nosy, but I do really care, and I just want to know exactly how bad things have gotten."

I gave my head a little shake, suddenly getting very tired of
acting
but determined to persevere. "No, I don't think it's nosy at all; I'm glad to finally have someone to confide in. And no, I don't have any proof that Truman has actually cheated; I only have my strong suspicions that he is."

Matthew began stroking the back of my hand with his thumb with the very slightest of movements. "Well, if you were to get proof...not that I
want
it to be true that he's cheating...but if you
were
to get proof of it...do you think it might help you to move on from him fully, just on the chance that a scenario where you
could
move on from him ever presents itself? I guess I'm just thinking about you getting closure in the long-term. So, do you think getting proof could give you that? Do you think it might allow to you forget all about him, close the door with finality, and move on with someone else? And be happy, thrilled even, if Truman were to suddenly be out of your life for good?"

I was barely even listening to Matthew anymore. All I could think about was getting home to Truman and throwing myself into his strong arms and wrapping my own arms around his neck and inhaling his woodsy, masculine scent. But I realized that whatever Matthew was talking about or trying to get at, he was expecting some sort of an answer, so I dipped my head in a little nod.

"Sure. Proof that that Truman is really cheating would probably make me thrilled if he were out of my life for good."

I suddenly realized that based on what I'd said earlier in our conversation, Matthew probably believed Truman really
was
cheating, and thought that I'd stumble across some evidence soon enough. Something like a pair of underwear that weren't mine in Truman's and my bed, or similar. But how wrong Matthew was. I trusted Truman too much to think there was ever the slightest possibility of me encountering any evidence of cheating like that. Because I knew he'd never cheat on me. Period. But I realized I was still supposed to be
acting
.

I gave Matthew another little nod. "I'm sure finding some evidence of Truman cheating would make me stop loving him forever."

I just wanted to get out of the damn cafe.

Matthew picked up my hand and kissed it. "Good. This makes me very happy as a friend to know that you've got some resiliency in you. That's always a good thing. But now, I'll let you get home to Truman. And as much as I'd love to escort you to the elevator, I'll probably actually let you go first and I'll wait here for a few minutes. Just because it's probably best if we're not seen riding the elevator together, at least not often. A lot of people around here might jump to conclusions."

Miles beyond glad to be leaving Matthew's company, I stood up from the table, pulling my hand from his in the process. However, I did manage to give him a little smile. "Same time, same place tomorrow?"

He grinned. "It's a date."

When I got in the elevator, I took a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer from my pocket and rubbed some of the gel on my cheek and on my hand, the two places where his skin had touched mine. After, I even reached my hand inside my shirt and rubbed a little of the gel on my shoulder, even though he'd only touched me there through a layer of fabric. Then, I immediately called Truman and told him that I'd unexpectedly had the first meeting with Matthew and that I'd be home within minutes.

The elevator seemed to take forever to ascend to the penthouse. And when it finally arrived, I practically leaped out of it, raced past the guards and down to the apartment door, and flung it open. I'd only just stepped into the foyer and shut the door behind me when Truman strode over and took my face in his hands, his expression worried.

"How'd it go?"

I covered his hands with my own, my knees weakening just at the feel of his skin. "Pretty well, I think. I didn't get any specifics on Matthew's plan, or even any crystal clear confirmation that what we're pretty sure is his plan
is
his plan, but the good news is that he did seem to buy my act, hook, line, and sinker. So now, I think it's just a question of me continuing to work my 'acting' magic on him for a little while before he completely spills the beans."

Truman pulled me into his strong arms and began walking us backward into the living room, heaving a sigh. "Good. Very, very good. I know you did brilliantly. Like I just knew you would."

With the side of my face against his hard chest, I reveled in the feel of his arms around me for a little while before lifting my face once he'd come to a stop in the middle of the living room. "I'm so glad to see you, Truman. So, so glad. And now...if this doesn't sound too...demanding or anything, now I just need you to make love to me in such a way that all thoughts of Matthew and Mara are driven right out of my head."

He brushed a tender kiss against my lips. "That doesn't sound too demanding in the least. It sounds like a positively heavenly task." He kissed me again, letting his warm, firm mouth linger on mine for a bit. "Would you like to relax with a glass of wine before we make love? Or would you like me to give you a massage?"

Normally, I would have said yes, to both those things, but for some reason, I realized that the events of the day with Mara and Matthew had just made me desperate to make love to Truman right away. And to have him make love to
me
. To have him
claim
me. As his woman and his soon-to-be bride.

I shook my head, fighting just the tiniest bit of self-consciousness because of what I was about to say. "I think I definitely might take you up on that glass of wine and massage later, but right now I just feel like...like I just want you to rip all my clothes off and just...really take charge of me. Like practically throw me on the couch right here in the living room and just kind of...." I swallowed, struggling to maintain eye contact with him. "Really be
Lord
Truman to me. And maybe even...give my hair a fairly strong little pull while you're...." I swallowed again, a little heat rising to my face. "While you're moving inside of me as deep as you can possibly go. And while you're moving yourself into me as hard and as fast as you can possibly move. And if it gets to be...too much for me or anything, I'll say stop or slow down or ease up, and I know you will, but...right now, I'm really thinking that I want you to make love to me kind of roughly and...very commandingly. That is, if
you
want to, too."

Truman's jaw actually dropped a degree or two. And he made a quiet little noise that could only be described as a whimper.

"For God's sake, Brette. Do you really think you need to ask me twice?"

I just guessed that I probably didn't. Because without even waiting for my response, he took the front of my t-shirt in his hands and ripped it, literally
ripped
it, all the way down the front. Which, like every time he displayed his shifter strength, had the effect of making the sensitive little bud between my feminine folds tingle, and instantly. Next, increasing that tingling, he dropped to his knees and again literally ripped my jeans from my body. Probably not wanting to break my feet or ankles, he was a little gentler about the way he removed my shoes and socks, but then he was back to beast mode with my underwear, ripping them off with his teeth, growling. I was beginning to feel as if I were being savaged. And I loved it.

Once we were both completely naked, I expected him to pull me close and kiss me, like he usually did, except maybe with a little more intensity this time. But instead, completely surprising me, he propped a foot up on the coffee table and immediately bent me over his knee, pinning one of my wrists up at the small of my back. Right before delivering several sharp, stinging swats to each of my bare rear cheeks.

When he was finished, he moved his mouth to my ear, his breathing fast and ragged. "That was just for having a fanny so gorgeous it was practically begging to be spanked."

He knew that I often enjoyed a few good, stinging swats right before we made love. Though what I was currently experiencing was enjoyment from this activity on a level I'd never experienced before, even while my rear still smarted and stung. And part of that enjoyment was the feel of his granite-hard manhood pressing against my hip.

Feeling my feminine folds becoming so slick I was sure they were  actually dripping, I turned my head to look at him, panting. "Yes. This. More please, Lord Truman."

With a low growl rumbling in his chiseled chest, he was more than happy to oblige and delivered several more stinging swats to each of my rear cheeks, his large hand even a little harder than it had been before. I whimpered and squirmed between sighs of pleasure.

Once he'd deemed my bottom sufficiently pink, he picked me right up off the ground and tossed me onto the couch on my back. Though, probably not wanting to throw my spine out of alignment out or anything, it certainly wasn't a very lofty toss. But then, to my extreme delight, things got a bit intense again, to say the least, and quickly.

With his breathing fast and ragged and his dark gray eyes glassy, Truman spread my legs in one rough, fast movement before mounting me and positioning the head of his long, thick shaft at my feminine entrance. Without even a moment's pause, he then immediately thrust his rock-hard rod into my depths with one fast, powerful movement, grunting.

I gasped at the sensation of being so thoroughly, completely, and totally filled, stretched even, by his thicker-than-average girth, and so suddenly. Though, the sensation wasn't an unpleasant one at all. And in fact, it was so intensely pleasurable that my words came out in a moan.

"Yes. This."

Seeming intent to give me exactly what I wanted, he pulled out of me nearly completely before thrusting into me again so powerfully that the force of it actually lifted my hips an inch or two off the couch.

Once again, my words came out in a moan. "Yes. More."

After wrapping my long, dark hair around his fist and giving it a fairly strong little tug, he
did
give me more, thrusting every inch of his considerable length into me hard, fast, and deep. He paused in his rough thrusting only briefly a few times, the first to dip his head to my chest and graze his teeth across my stiffened nipples, growling, and the second time to bend one of my legs at the knee and bring it up to my chest, giving him even greater access to penetrate me deeply. The third time he paused, it was to release my hair and slide a finger several inches into my mouth, groaning. I sucked on it, moaning, feeling unbelievably and deliciously naughty, somehow eventually communicating that I wanted him to slide two fingers into my mouth, which he immediately did. And it was not long after this third pause that I felt my excitement beginning to peak.

Still sucking on his fingers, I moved a hand between my legs and began stroking my throbbing feminine bud with two of my own fingers while he resumed his rough thrusting. Not more than a few seconds later, I was crying out, seeing stars, my hips bucking, while Truman growled his own release, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Later on that evening, we each enjoyed two large glasses of wine, followed by a dinner of dark chocolate ripple chocolate ice cream, which we fed to each other. Right before making love yet again, though this time a tad more sedately.

After a steamy shower together and then a long soak in our master bathroom Jacuzzi tub, during which Truman massaged my shoulders and back until I felt like melted butter, we fell asleep in our four-poster bed, naked limbs entwined. I slept deeply, and all my dreams were hazy and pleasant.

But the next day, unfortunately, it was back to reality. Back to Truman working with Mara on a project in the charity foundation offices. Back to me having a late afternoon coffee date with Matthew. During which he still didn't give me any crystal clear confirmation of what his plans were, despite my best efforts to wheedle it out of him. He did, however, caress the back of my hand for an hour while talking about various stages of dress, and undress, he'd like to see me in, which made me feel thoroughly sick.