Chapter Eight
Matty Boy
I knew better than to take her to Lloyd’s on a Saturday night, or any night for that matter. It’s a gauntlet of my sexual escapades, and full of women who, for the most part, can’t get enough of me, even though I’m done with them. At some point in time, I’m going to pay for my past with Tessa, but I don’t want that to be tonight.
I tuck her into my side, garnering the looks of several people in the bar. I try not to be rude to those who stop me to say hello as we leave. I make nice and want nothing more than to introduce her as more than just Tessa Kelly, but I have no illusion of what will come of tonight. I was bought for her by her mother for the love of God. Even though I’d thrown seeing her again out as a possibility, she’d never reciprocated that want.
And tomorrow, when she wakes up with one hell of a hangover, it will be from more than the bourbon. It will only take one solo trip to town after the gossip of our date has spread for her to realize what type of man I am, and I’ll never hear from her again. The thought makes my chest hurt with a long-forgotten ache, a feeling I’d sworn I would never feel again, but it’s there, and I’m going to have to deal with it.
I help a quiet Tessa into my car, then join her in the driver’s seat. She’s laid her head back on the rest, rolling her face towards me. “I’ve had such a great time tonight. Thank you for insisting I come.” I mirror her smile, and the ache warms in my chest with the possibility of that smile she’s wearing.
I grasp the steering wheel tight, resisting the urge to reach over and pull her onto my lap. “I have too. Thank you for agreeing to come out with me.” She falls silent, and the next time I look over I find she’s fallen asleep, the effects of the bourbon taking hold even before I’ve gotten her home. I pull into her drive, and for the first time, I notice the car I park behind. It’s an older model Nissan with rust holes and slick tires. “Is that what you fucking drive?” I whisper under my breath, looking over to a still fast asleep Tessa. “I’ll have to fix that,” I promise her as I get out of my car.
I gently lift her out of her seat and into my arms. “Shh, baby, I’ve got you,” I whisper against her ear, and she settles into my arms, laying her cheek against my chest. She weighs practically nothing as I carry her up the walk to her front door. When I reach it, I realize I have no keys to open the locked door. Looking around, I find an out of place rock. I kick it over and sure enough, there’s the key. I shake my head as I dip down to pick it up.
Once I’m inside, I gently push it closed with my foot, Tessa never stirring in my arms. I climb the steps, not wanting the night to end. Even if she is passed out cold in my arms, she’s still with me. I walk down the hall, checking in each room as I pass, trying to find hers. When I do, I lay her on the bed and remove the beautiful string of pearls around her neck, and then her shoes. I drape the afghan lying at the foot of the bed over her.
I stand over her like a creepy fucking stalker, taking in the sleep softened features of her beautiful face. Her small body curls into itself as she rolls to her side, mumbling something inaudible.
I turn for the door, but take one last look at the amazing creature before I exit her room. I take the steps two at a time, needing to get away, but fighting the urge to go back. I make it to her couch where I slump down, resting my elbows on my knees cradling my head in my hands.
What the fuck am I doing? How the hell has she brought back all these feelings I thought could no longer exist in me? How the hell could I need a woman I’ve only known for a few hours? It’s full-blown lust eating me from the inside out.
I fling my head back and stretch my legs out under the coffee table in front me. I close my eyes, my head humming.
~~~~~~
I feel a slight nudge on my right arm, and then another. Fighting through the haze of sleep, my eyes finally pop open. I jerk my head to the right to see a sleep mussed Tess sitting next to me, smiling. “Hey you,” she says softly.
“Hey yourself,” I greet back as I sit up, stretching my arms over my head as I try to work out the kinks from sleeping sitting up on a couch. “How’s your head feeling this morning?” I ask her.
She rolls her eyes at me, then blows out a long breath. “Like I drank a fifth of bourbon last night.” She stands slowly. “Want some coffee, because I know I do.” She asks over her shoulder as she makes her way to the kitchen at the back of the house. I stand and follow her through the small, tidy home. I stop at the door, leaning on the frame I watch as she makes the lifesaving liquid.
It’s Sunday, and I’m getting ready to take another leap into keeping Tessa around me for as long as possible. “Hey…” I start, taking one of the stools sitting at the island in the middle of the small kitchen.
“Hey what?” she replies as she continues to move around the kitchen.
“Are you busy today?” The words come out a little more hopeful than I’d intended.
“Nope. Why?” The smell of coffee begins to drift through the air as it starts to fill the twelve cup pot.
“My brothers and I have a cookout every Sunday at the clubhouse,” I say in the form of a statement instead of a question so she can’t say no immediately.
She spins on me. “Clubhouse?” I had told her I was in an MC, but that was as far as the explanation had gotten.
“Where we all get together and—” I stop because I’m at a loss as to what it is we actually do there other than cook out or throw the occasional lockdown. “It used to be where we partied like hell but now it’s just a huge ass building we eat at on Sundays,” I say, satisfied with the decent explanation.
“Oh, and will it be a big party today?” she asks as she breaks a few eggs into a pan she has placed on the stove. The woman is cooking breakfast? For me?
“No, Sundays are reserved for family time.” I stand and round the island to come up behind her, taking her hips in my hands. She stills at my touch, and I fear I’ve gone too far. She lays the spatula she’s holding down and turns in my hands to look up at me.
“Family time?” There’s just a breath between us, and I’m fighting the urge to tug her body against mine so she can feel my rock-hard cock and what she does to me.
“All my brothers have women and two of them have kids. We all get together, share beers, burgers, and dogs as a family.” I look down and watch as she pulls her sexy bottom lip between her teeth, stifling a groan. Her tiny frame would fit perfectly against mine. All I would have to do to prove it is take half a step towards her.
She’d changed out of her dress from last night and into a T-shirt and yoga pants. She’d piled her blonde hair into a messy bun on top of her head with a few loose strands breaking free, hanging around her head and down her slender neck, revealing her flawless, creamy skin.
I lean in, placing my lips on the patch of skin just under her left ear that’s been calling for me to kiss and caress it. Her breath catches in her throat with the touch of my lips. I nip at the skin with my teeth and she finally molds her body to mine, wrapping her arms around my neck before going up on her tiptoes to give me a better angle.
“Say you’ll go with me.” My lips still against her sweet tasting skin.
She nods. “Yes, I’ll go.” Her answer is breathy. I bend and grab her under her fine ass. Picking her up, I walk her back until we reach the counter where I sit her down and step between her open legs.
I cup her face in my hands, looking into her sparkling green eyes. “What are you doing to me?” I search them for answers, but all I see is my own confusion reflected back at me.
She wraps her fingers around my wrists. “The same thing you’re doing to me.” We’re frozen in this moment, trying to come to terms with the overwhelming attraction we’re both feeling.
~~~~~~
Tessa
The feel of his hot breath across my skin has my core aching for him to fill it. I need him in me, on me, wrapped around me with nothing between us but the sweat we work up fucking each other until we’re exhausted and speechless. But I can’t do this now—it’s too soon—and that’s not who I am. I’m not the girl who jumps into bed with a hot man that smells amazing and knows all there is to know about Italian cuisine. A man who buys me expensive bourbon and astronomically priced bottles of wine. Or the one who shows up with a bouquet of handpicked wild flowers for a date he was purchased for.
And that’s the part I have to remember, my mother bought him for me.
I drop my hands from his wrists and turn my face out of his hands. Seeing my discomfort, he steps back from between my legs, helping me down off the counter where he’d placed me with ease.
“So this cookout…” I turn to the coffee pot and pour us both a cup, trying to get myself under control. “What do I need to bring?” I turn back to find him leaning his hip against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. I hand him a cup. “The creamer is in the fridge and the sugar is right there.” I point to a small container.
He waves both offerings off with a hand. “I drink it black.” He goes back to the stool he had left moments ago and sits again. “Nothing if you don’t want to.” He blows ripples across the black surface of the liquid in the cup.
“I don’t think so. I’m not showing up to a cookout with your family empty-handed,” I declare, finishing up the omelet I made for him. I turn and sit the plate on the table in front of him and laugh out loud at his surprise. “Ham and cheese omelet?”
He looks up at me with a wide smile on his face. “I’ll need a fork, baby.” I turn to get him one. “So what is it that you’re going to cook?” he asks when I hand him the fork.
“Um…” I turn to the fridge, opening the door to inventory the ingredients. “I have everything I’ll need to make baked beans.”
“I like baked beans,” he mumbles around a mouthful of eggs.
I begin to throw the ingredients together as he finishes eating. “What time do you want me to be there?” I ask, so busy that when I turn, he has to step back to keep from being cut with the knife I’m holding.
“Whoa.” He holds his hands up in the air. “I wasn’t going to do anything.”
I laugh. “I didn’t know you were so close.” I lean into the sink to rinse my hands.
He bends, sniffing the contents of my frying pan. “Hamburger meat?” He turns his curious eyes to me.
“Yes,” I say as I dry my hands.
“In baked beans?” he questions, crinkling his nose up at me.
I push him out of the way so that I can finish. “Along with brown sugar, bacon, mustard, and ketchup. And a little green pepper and red onion. When the hamburger and bacon are done frying, you put it all together in the crockpot and cook for two hours.” I turn, propping my hands on my hips. “What time do you want me?” I immediately want to take back the question as soon as I ask it.
He raises his eyebrows as he backs me into the counter, resting his hands on either side of my hips. He ducks his head, knocking my nose with his. “Right now, if you’re offering.”
Wanting to steal a kiss, I lick my lips and he traces the action with his intense eyes. He makes the decision for me by leaning in and placing his lips ever so gently on mine, then pulls back. “I know what you meant. I think you were wondering what time I need you naked and in your bed, right?” He smiles at me, and I can’t help but return one. His eyes dance with sinful intentions, and their focus is nowhere else but on me.
I push against his rock-hard chest and he doesn’t budge. “Matthew.” I chastise him for setting my body on fire and pulling at the want for him from deep inside me.
He laughs, kissing me one more quick time before stepping away. He points at the pan of meat. “That sounds real good.” He doesn’t sound convinced.
“Just wait till you taste them, you’ll be begging me to make them for you all the time,” I claim, stepping around him to stir the meat before it burns.
I feel him lean in against my back. “More like I’ll have you begging for me all the time.” A shiver runs down my spine as his heated breath drifts across my neck.
I scoff, knowing he’s right on so many levels. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
He backs away and leans his big body against the counter, and once again, crosses his mouth watering arms over his chest. “I would do my signature move to show you how sure I am, but I’m afraid that might be a bit too straight forward for you.”
I jerk back dramatically, acting shocked. “You think I’m a prude?” I lay my hand on my chest for theatrical measure.
“No.” He leans his head forward into the space between us. “But I think it might scare you off before I have you good and hooked.”
I mimic his stance by crossing my arms under my boobs, pushing my ample cups up, making his eyes devour them. “Do you think I’m some twenty-year-old sniveling virgin, Matthew? ’Cause I can assure you that I’m not.”
I hear what sounds like a growl as he closes the distance between us. Taking my hand in his, he brings it to his crotch and turns it so that my palm is full of his raging erection, threatening to bust out of his zipper. “You feel that? Because I do, Tessa, and you’ve made me this hard for the past eighteen hours. That fine ass and your fuckable tits are all I’ve thought about since you opened that door yesterday. So yes, I’m confident of my skills and the things I could do to you that would have you begging me to let you come, then I’d push this,” he tightens my fingers around his impressive cock, “so far into you and fuck your tight pussy so hard you’ll walk funny for a week. And then you’d beg me to do it all over again.” The air in my chest freezes and my throat tightens. He isn’t anything but right, and the asshole knows it.
He drops his hand but I don’t move mine. I stroke him through his jeans, feeling the tingles in my pussy surging with each stroke of him. I can imagine him doing all those things to me and more, and I want it so bad I can taste it.
He lays his head on my shoulder. “Tessa, if you don’t stop, I won’t be able to either.” He takes my hand from him, bringing it up to kiss the palm. “Later, but not now.” His eyes have a pained look in them and I know I’ve given him more torture than pleasure, and the pleasure is the only thing I want to give him. “And to answer your question of when I want you there, you’re riding with me.” He kisses my cheek and practically tears himself away from me. “Shower?” he asks over his shoulder.
“Use mine. Towels are under the sink.” He leaves me wet and wanting in the kitchen. I have no illusions of who he is and what he does on a frequent basis, and that is fuck, not make love.