by Brook Greene
I laugh. “No, as in home security.” I sit back, letting the waiters who have brought our plates set them in front of us. She looks at what I’ve ordered for her, then up at me with her nose crinkled. It’s fucking cute as hell.
“It’s Spaghetti alle Vongole,” I tell her as I pour her first glass of wine. Looking up to her, I find she has a quizzical look on her face. “Pasta and Manila clams with crushed red peppers.” She still doesn’t look sure about what I’ve ordered for her. “Take one bite. If you don’t like it, you can order off the American menu,” I reason. She hesitantly takes her silverware and rolls up the noodles on her fork for her first bite. She slowly puts the bite into her mouth and I literally watch her melt in her seat.
The moan she lets out travels right down to my dick. Is that the sound she makes when she comes? Or is it similar to the one she makes when she’s being fucked properly by the right man with a big dick, like me? Will I ever make her moan out my name?
She covers her still full mouth with her hand. “Oh my God, this is divine, Matthew.” I smile at her, knowing how damn good it is and loving the sound of her saying my full name, not the stupid juvenile nickname I’d been saddled with in the service.
“Now wash it down with a sip of the wine,” I direct her. She lifts the goblet to her full lips and takes a swallow, letting it mingle with the tastes of the pasta before swallowing.
“Shit, that’s even better.” She doesn’t say another word for the rest of the meal. She remembers her manners as a lady but eats with the speed of a starved teenaged boy.
When she’s finished, she drinks the last of her wine and lays her napkin down beside her plate. “I think that was the best meal I’ve ever eaten,” she exclaims louder than she probably should have, garnering the attention of the diners sitting at the tables surrounding us. She covers her mouth with her hand and tries to whisper. “Oops! Did I say that a little too loud?” She’s a little tipsy, and so damn cute at the same time.
I lean in, motioning for her to join me. “At least you didn’t burp that loud,” I whisper in her ear. She draws back with an embarrassed smile on her face. “Dessert?”
She lays her hand on her belly, shaking her head no. “I don’t think I can hold another thing, Matthew.” There she goes again, saying my full name. Damn, at this rate, I’ll have to excuse myself and jerk off in the bathroom. My dick has been hard ever since I saw her in that little black dress she’s wearing.
“Sure you can.” I motion for the waiter to bring us the plates of dessert I had ordered.
The waiter places the smaller plate in front of her and she leans over, taking in the tantalizing smell of espresso. She looks up at me as eager as a child on Christmas morning. “What’s this?” Her eyes are gleaming.
“Tiramisu.” She looks at me, confused. “Italian coffee cake? No? It’s made with espresso, mascarpone cheese, and Italian lady fingers,” I explain as I take my own fork and dig into one of my favorite desserts of all time.
And as before, once I get her started eating the creamy dessert, she doesn’t stop until her plate is clean and the wine bottle is empty. “Okay, now that is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” she gushes as she wipes her mouth once more.
I can’t take my eyes off this woman; I’m completely fascinated by her. In the beginning, this was only supposed to be a one-time thing, but I have to have more of this, and definitely more of her. I hope she feels the same way.
She stands and I stand with her. “I need the ladies room,” she mouths to me, and I point her in the right direction. While she’s gone, the table is cleaned and I pay the check.
I wait outside the restrooms for her with my hands in my pockets when I feel a light touch on my back.
“Matty?” I turn to the familiar sound of Ariel’s voice.
“Ariel,” I greet her, leaning in to place a light kiss on her cheek. Meeting her anywhere else except my bedroom at the clubhouse is a bit awkward, seeing as how we’ve only ever done it the first night we’d meet. I hold her hands out to her sides and give her a once over. “Beautiful, as always,” I compliment.
“Thank you.” She looks around and then back to me, her eyebrows raised in question.
I throw my thumb over my shoulder to the ladies room. “I’m waiting for my date.”
She looks a little startled. “Date?” In all the times she and I have been together, it had to be in private, due to her being married and all. But I still don’t miss the fact that me being on a date has irked her in some way.
“And I take it you’re here with your husband?” I remind her of our situation.
“Oh, yes. Joseph brought me out for our anniversary,” she says, right as Tessa opens the door and steps out.
“Oh, Matthew,” Tessa squeaks, a little taken aback to find me waiting for her in the hall. I reach out just in time to keep the tipsy little thing on her feet. I snake my arm around her waist and pull her to my side, knowing I’ll probably have to help her out to the car, and it’s a damn good excuse to keep her body close to mine.
“Ariel, this is Tessa, my date.” I cut my eyes to Ariel in warning.
“Yes, it’s nice to meet you.” Ariel gives Tessa’s hand a sanitized shake before dropping it so quick, you would think the contact was burning her skin.
Tessa looks up at me, then back to the half-naked woman standing in front of us. “It was nice to meet you too, I think.” I fight a grin at the snarky little comment she added at the end.
“It was nice seeing you again, Ariel, but we have to get going,” I tell her, pulling Tessa with me as I step around the woman I could never see me being with again after the night I’ve had with the woman at my side. But it’s encounters, like with Ariel, that are going to jeopardize Tessa staying there.
Chapter Seven
Tessa
I’m as full as a tick and pissed off as a wet cat as Matthew leads me out of the restaurant and back to his car. I don’t know why I’m pissed off because I have no reason to be. Matthew isn’t mine, just like I’m not his. But coming out of the restroom to find him talking to that fucking blonde bimbo after the wonderful night we were having has me so fucking mad I could spit nails.
I haven’t been this upset over a man ever in my life, and just after a few hours with Matthew, I’m acting like a jealous fucking girlfriend. What the hell is he doing to me? Whatever it is, I don’t like how it’s making me feel out of control with my emotions. This is the dangerous territory I’d been warning myself about just this afternoon when he’d showed up at my door, looking like a God, holding a handful of wild flowers.
I hear him sigh heavily when he tucks his big body behind the wheel. “Listen—”
I hold up my hand, stopping him. “Just stop right there, it’s nothing to me,” I say, a little bit snippier than I’d intended.
“No, you stop, Tessa. I want to tell you because I like you and want to spend more time with you, but only if that’s something you would want to do.”
I do want to, more than I should. I turn to him and see the sincerity in his eyes and feel it in his words. He takes my hand I’d balled up in my lap in his. The warmth of him infuses me. The lust his touch ignites rushes over my whole body in an unexpected wave, taking my breath away.
I feel his other hand at my chin, turning my face to his. When our eyes meet, I’m lost. “Let’s go get a drink and talk some more. I want to get to know you, Tessa.” He leans over to me. Pulling my face to his, he lightly touches his soft wet lips to mine. But he doesn’t pull away, and I don’t want him to. I lift my free hand up, running it up his neck until I tangle my fingers in his hair, anchoring him to me.
His tongue sweeps over my bottom lip and I open for him. He tastes like whiskey and tiramisu—completely delicious, and something I could find so addicting. My insides begin to twist up with the feel of his wicked tongue as it dances around with mine in my mouth. I press my knees together and sigh. The tingling sensations at the apex of my thighs has my panties dripping wet for hi
m.
He shifts his body closer and the hand he had under my chin finds its way to my hair as well. Pulling it, he tilts my head back, and I feel his lips leave mine and drift down the sensitive skin of my neck. He nips at me and I groan with the sensations he’s eliciting from me with his lips. The heat of the passion between us has charged the air around us, and it seems it’s spurring us on, to continue down this road to both of our much-needed releases.
He stops, and his hot breath burns my skin as he whispers, “We need to stop now, or this is going to go further than I want it to because God, I want to fuck you, woman.” He leaves one more kiss on my swollen lips before he slumps back into his seat, both of us panting like we’ve ran a 5k marathon. He runs his fingers through his hair. “Shit, woman.” He adjusts himself through his pants. I can’t help but let my eyes cut over to see the big bulge pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans. “How about that drink now?” He asks, starting the car. I just nod my head yes, afraid to open my mouth because I might beg him to fuck me, fuck me hard, right here, right now.
Fifteen minutes later we’re nestled in the back of Lloyd’s bar in a dark booth. When we went to sit, I’d tried to sit across from him, but he guided me into the booth beside him. Now we sit with our drinks floating in that awkward silence that follows an impromptu make-out session with a person you barely know.
The bar is packed, and the noise offers little room for conversation.
He swirls his bourbon in his glass, then looks at me. “It ain’t Pappy, but it’ll do.” He clinks his glass with mine, smiling at me. “Okay, I feel I owe you an explanation.”
“No, you don’t.” I turn in the bench to face him. “It’s nothing. I mean, it was nothing.” I feel flustered under his intense gaze.
“It might be nothing to you, but it’s something to me, and I would like to explain it to you.” He finishes off his glass, holding it up to the older lady serving the tables near us.
She crosses over to our booth with a huge smile on her face. “It’s good to see you in here with a nice girl, Matty,” she says as she reaches for his glass, but he covers her hand with his.
“Just bring the bottle if you would, please, Mary?” He smiles back at her, and I can see that the effect he has on me is the same with about every woman.
She smiles, winking at him and patting his arm. “I’ll be right back, love.”
He points after the older lady. “That’s Mary, Lloyd’s wife. And I suspect Lloyd will be out here in a minute.”
“I take it you don’t bring a lot of nice girls in here?” I tease as I finish my glass.
“Nope, but I take a lot of dirty ones out,” he admits with not so much as a smile on his face. My stomach turns because I know he’s not joking, but telling me a horrible truth. “And you were unfortunate to have met one of them tonight.” Just then, who I’m guessing is Lloyd, comes up to our table, interrupting us once again.
He claps his hand on Matthew’s shoulder with a wide grin on his face. “Mary told me you were here on a date.” He offers me his hand. “Lloyd.”
I take his roughed, callused hand in mine. “Tessa.”
“Tessa?” he asks.
“Kelly.” I give him my last name with a smile.
He nods to me. “It was nice to meet you, Tessa.” He backs away from us before saying, “Well I’ll let you two get back to it.” He points between us, shooting Matthew another wink before he walks off, disappearing behind the swinging doors that lead to the kitchen.
I take the tongs from the bucket of ice Mary had left us and begin meticulously placing ice cubes in each of our glasses, then pour more of the amber liquid in each.
I scoot to him and bump him with my shoulder, feeling the effects of the alcohol once again lowering my defenses and good judgment. “Just how old are you?”
He turns to me, acting offended. “Old. You think I’m old?”
“No, just wondering what your age is,” I laugh.
He smiles. “Old enough to know better, but too young to care.”
“No, the numbers. Give me the numbers,” I say through a fit of giggles.
“I’m thirty-seven,” he offers, sounding a little regretful.
“You’re a fucking hot thirty-seven year old.” The words escape my mouth before I can stop them. I turn to him, my eyes wide in horrified humiliation, and take in his satisfied smile. Oh fuck, he heard me. I said that shit out loud.
“That’s good to know because I think you’re pretty damn hot yourself, babe.” His eyes devour me like a predator assessing his prey before the kill. I try to slink back from him, but he takes me by the wrist, not letting me retreat. “Oh no, you’ve opened this door and we’re both walking through it.” He pulls me to him and lowers his lips to my ear. “And you’re gonna love every single screaming orgasm minute of it.” I hadn’t noticed I was holding my breath until he backed away from my ear, and I had to let out a long breath, trying to calm my hormones that have risen up in revolt through my body. “But not tonight. We’ll work up to that, baby.”
Well then, I guess that’s settled because I’m all up for screaming orgasms handed out by Matthew Keagan.
“Oh, I was wondering because I never bothered to ask. What is it you want me to call you? Matty or Matthew? Because it seems everybody that knows you calls you Matty.”
“I would prefer you called me Matthew, Matty was a name given to me by Leo and the other boys when we were in the service.” He’s giving me another part of his past as opposed to the very little I’ve told him.
“Leo?”
“Leo Tucker.” He tilts his glass at me. “Another reason I know you’re not from this town.” He empties the last of the bourbon into our glasses. We have in the past hour emptied a bottle of wine and a whole bottle of 87-proof bourbon. If there’s anything I’ll take away from this night is a bourbon drinking buddy, and a damn fine one at that.
“How is me not knowing who Leo Tucker is another sign I’m not from this town?” I don’t know why I keep baiting him, knowing damn well I’m not from this town. My parents had moved to this town in the years since I had married and moved out of the house.
“Because everybody in this town knows who Leo Tucker and his boys are.”
“And you’re one of those boys?” I ask, taking another sip, almost to the point where I need to close one eye to focus.
“Yes, Tessa, I am.” He turns to me again, stretching out one of his arms and unbuttoning the sleeve. My eyes fly wide as he begins to roll up the sleeve of his left arm, revealing his tattoos. He does the same with his right arm. “We’re the Knights of Mayhem, MC.”
My fingers itch to trace the detail of colors and patterns gracing his smooth skin. “MC?” I question, feeling a little stupid.
“Motorcycle club,” he replies, very matter of fact, like he’s had to explain this is numerous times.
“Oh.” I turn on the bench, lowering my feet to the floor as I lean my forearms on the table, mimicking his posture.
“Oh? Is that all you’re gonna say?” He looks over at me.
“What else would I say? Or what do you expect me to do? Kick you out of the bench and run away screaming?” I lean my head over on his shoulder. “I would think you’d know by now that I’m down with the weird and strange.” I look up at him through my lashes. “Hell, my mother bought you at an auction for crying out loud.”
I’m sure had this been any other date with any other man, running away screaming is exactly what I would be doing, but not Matthew, not this date. There’s something about him that calls to me, makes me crave to hear what he says next. The way he listens and seems to hang on my every word has me staying for my next fix.
“I’m down with you being down with weird and strange. It’ll bode well for me.” He smiles then looks away as a girl’s howling laughter echoes through the loud bar. He looks back to me. “Wanna get out of here?” He throws his head in the direction of the door.
I survey the crowded dance floor and the
rowdy patrons that fill the bar. All the tables and chairs are full of happy, rambunctious people. Then I see all the scantily clad women and wonder if another one of his conquests are present. Maybe it’s more than one and he feels the need to separate me from that part of himself. To tell the truth, I would prefer he do that because right now, in this space and time, he’s mine.
I look over at him, studying his strong profile. I love the way his dirty blond hair is shaved on the sides and kinda long on top, making my fingers ache with want to run through his soft locks.
The more I sit here next to this man, the more I want to spend as much time with him as I can before my past comes slamming back into me. I feel it as the last string I had wrapped around my heart breaks loose, feeling the flood gates release and the emotions rush over me.
He looks around, catching me staring at him, and the right side of his lips curve up in a half-smile. “What’s up, beautiful?” He reaches out his index finger and slowly traces it down my jaw line, stopping at my chin, then tilts it up so he can get a good look at me. His brows furrow as he studies me with his blazing hazel eyes. “You’re beautiful.” I jerk my head away in embarrassment. I feel my face heat from all the lavish attention he’s practically bathed me in tonight.
I feel him lay his hand lightly on my forearm that I have resting on the table between us. “Let’s get away from all this noise,” he says.
“Are you okay to drive?” I eye the empty bottle of bourbon before looking back to him.
He points to it with a smile. “I only had two glasses, my dear. You’re the one who drank most of it.” My eyes go wide and I let them land on my empty tumbler.
“I did?” I ask in shock, not remembering draining the bottle mostly by myself. “It must’ve been really good then.” Recognizing the hazy feel of my head answering my question before he gets the chance to.
“Yeah, baby, you did, but that’s what I bought it for.” He grasps my hand and slides out of the booth, tugging me behind him.