Chapter Four –
Just as I expected, Mathias awaited my return. I groaned under my breath, bracing myself as I spotted his department-issued motorcycle, parked on the curb across my house. Mathias was leaning against his ride, sporting his full uniform, his spotless badge glinting under the muted glow of the streetlamp. He hung his helmet over his handlebar, his arms crossed and his face contorted in a seething sneer.
“So we've finally made it home, huh?”
I stifled the urge to roll my eyes, skirting past him as I headed for my front door. Mathias followed closely behind, his jagged breath beating down on the back of my neck. I bit down on my lip as I stuck my hand into my purse, searching for my keys. I jolted backwards, startled as Mathias reached into his pocket. He jammed a key into my door and booted it open.
My eyes bugged out in disbelief.
“Mathias?” I inquired, my blood running cold, “How'd you get a copy of my keys?”
He curled his bottom lip in disdain, snarling, “I took it upon myself to make a copy of my own, as you obviously have no intention of ever making me the one I asked for.”
I opened my mouth in protest, quickly deciding against fruitless arguing and instead, slithered through my doorway. Mathias lumbered in after me, slamming the door shut behind him. His tedious, unchanging harping fell incoherent to my ears as I kicked off my shoes, tailing me to my living room. I collapsed on my couch, shivering. I could still feel Kane's long, smooth fingertips scraping against my skin...
“Why you looking so doe-eyed for? Answer me, Cleo!”
I blinked. The velvety, bearded goatee on Mathias' chin was streaked with his angered spittle, his rounded, sepia eyes a product of his uncontrollable wrath.
Crestfallen, I sighed, “Aren't you going to ask me about my interview?”
He huffed, cracking his neck as he folded his arms across his brawny chest. He asked, his tone challenging, “So? How'd it go?”
“It was – er – interesting, but hey, I got the job, baby! You're looking at the new secretary of –”
“I knew it.”
My mouth hung open, his words settling in my ears. I rose from my sofa, wincing at the sudden aching of my stretching, tender cheeks. I hurled a spiteful look at my fiance, sizing him up from head to toe.
“Well, don't get yourself too excited,” I grumbled sarcastically, “Unbelievable, Mathias. This is a good thing. I'm moving up in the world. I'm growing – why can't you ever be happy for something that doesn't concern you?”
“Don't fucking talk to me like that –”
I'm not quite sure what it was – maybe it was the overwhelmingly cold, callous look in his beady eyes, the way his chest inflated with such passion and vigor. A bizarre, sensual prowess overcame me, spurring my tranced limbs into action. I swung my arms around his shoulders and pulled him towards me, fiercely pressing my lips against his, kissing him with more passion and vigor in all our seven years combined.
I groaned sultrily into his mouth, the thorns of his closely cropped hair piercing into my fingertips. Mathias fell back onto the sofa, his adam's apple bobbing as I climbed on top of him, straddling him. I cupped his chin in my hands, gently nibbling on his lip as I carefully urged his hands towards the swollen mounds of my aching breasts. I undid the top three buttons of my blouse, my ample, creamy cleavage taunting him just inches from his nose.
“I think we've waited long enough,” I purred into his ear, gingerly rubbing against the growing bulge on his crotch.
His glazed, widened eyes narrowed abruptly, glowering as he hefted me off him. I toppled backwards onto the floor, swearing under my breath as I scrambled to my feet. Mathias bared his grinding teeth, tucking his obvious erection into place.
“What the fuck do you think you're doing, Cleo?”
Wading in my dreadful pool of embarrassment, I stammered, “What – what do you mean, Mathias? I thought we could just –”
Mathias threw his hands up in the air in frustration, shaking his head, “Let me get this straight – so you won't marry me, but you'll try to get me to fuck you with the man upstairs watching us? What's gotten into you, Chloe? We've been engaged for three years now –”
“Maybe I just don't wanna be tied down with you,” I retorted, breathing heavily, “For fuck's sake, Mathias, why does everything have to be turned to a religious debate? There's –”
“Slut.”
My nostrils flared with rage at the hateful utterance of his words, my ears ringing. I locked my right foot securely on the ground, leering. It didn't matter that he stood a good three feet over me – at that very moment, the man I stood by for seven years was a mere two inches tall.
I took a deep breath, my frothing rage slowly subsiding.
“Get out, Mathias.”
His fists curled at his sides, shaking his head adamantly. I pounced towards the sofa and dug into my purse, grabbing hold of my phone. Mathias stopped in his tracks, an inkling of fear swimming in his dark, heavily-hooded eyes.
“If you don't get the fuck out of my house now, I'm calling the cops – the real cops – and Matthew.”
Mathias froze at the sound of his brother's name, his face wracked with defeat. He turned on his heel and stalked out the door, his shoulders grudgingly slouched. I cringed, the door slamming shut behind him. I raced towards the door and bolted it shut before slowly slinking back to my living room. I climbed onto my sofa, coiling myself into a ball. As the rumbling sound of Mathias' motorcycle sped away, my eyelids slowly fluttered shut.