Mated To The Dragon Of Manhattan (A BBW Paranormal Romance Book 1) (8 page)

"Well, we...we enjoyed a night of...of passion last night, and...." I cleared my throat, my face getting even  warmer. "And it was...fairly intense, and...we both admitted that we've fallen in love with each other."

Brianna set her cup down, giving me a sly little grin. "Yeah, I could see this coming a mile away. Even when you were first brought before Truman in the throne room. Those looks he was giving you...like he was mentally undressing you with his eyes."

Not wanting to get too worked up around Brianna, I cleared my throat again, trying not to think about Truman undressing me with his eyes
or
his actual hands, like he'd likely be doing that evening. "Well, yes, so...anyway. Like I promised Truman, for the rest of the day, I'm going to try not to think about the decision I have to make. So, let's change the subject. Are you up for giving me a full tour of the tower today?"

She said she definitely was, and we soon left the apartment to do just that.

Truman's promise of a massage had pretty much guaranteed that I wouldn't stress about my decision that day. Because, despite my best efforts, the massage was virtually all I could think about. While Brianna showed me around to various hair salons, boutiques, and shops in the tower, my mind was on Truman's hands, and different ways I hoped he might use them on my naked body. While Brianna introduced me to the wives of some of Truman's
advisors
, my thoughts were turned to things that might happen
after
my massage. While I sat on a bench outside a bistro on the tenth floor, waiting for Brianna to finish chatting with one of her friends inside, I even felt my feminine folds becoming a little slick while I recalled how Truman's larger-than-average and harder-than-average manhood had felt sliding in and out of my depths the night before.

Early that evening, after Brianna and I had parted ways, I returned to my apartment, showered, and dressed in an above-the-knee, halter-neck swingy red dress and red heels for Truman's and my dinner date. I'd just finished applying a little makeup and winding my long, dark hair up into a twist at the back of my head when he knocked on the door at seven.

I answered it with a few butterflies dancing in my stomach. "Hi."

He gave me a sexy half-grin that increased my butterflies by about a thousand. "Hi yourself, gorgeous."

Dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and charcoal gray tie that matched the color of his eyes,
he
was the gorgeous one. Although, he would have looked absolutely gorgeous even in rags.

After giving me a quick kiss, he presented me with a dozen of the brightest, most flawless red roses I'd ever seen in my life. "For you."

I took the bouquet, smiling. "Thank you. They're beautiful."

After I'd arranged them in a vase and set them on the kitchen table, he pulled me into his arms and gave me another kiss.

"How's your head?"

I honestly hadn't even thought about it all day. And I'd only applied ice to it once, briefly, before Brianna and I left to go exploring. Even then, my tiny little bump had decreased in size so much as to barely be perceptible.

"It's completely fine. The tiny bump is pretty much gone, and I haven't even had a touch of a headache all day."

"Good. I'm very, very glad to hear that." He gave me another kiss, letting his full mouth linger on mine before pulling away. "You look absolutely stunning. And I've been looking forward to having dinner with you all day."

"I've been looking forward to it, too. And also to...well, that massage you said you'd give me after. And, in fact, just thinking about it all day has actually made me more than a little...well, I've just been really looking forward to it."

With his gray eyes twinkling, he moved his hands to the small of my back and pulled me even tighter against him. "However much you've been looking forward to your massage, I can guarantee it hasn't been even half as much as I've been looking forward to it."

"Oh, yeah? Well, then prove it. Give me a little sample of my massage right now, before we go to dinner."

His eyes glinted in warm light from the amber-colored Tiffany lamp above the table.

"All right. But just a little sample. Just enough to tide us both over until after dinner. Because there are a few folks I'd like to introduce you to, and I told them we'd be arriving around seven."

I wrapped my arms to his broad shoulders, inhaling his woodsy, masculine scent. "
Alright,
give me a little sample. And then we'll go to dinner. Promise."

With a low growl rumbling in his chest, Truman moved his hands to my rear, and I suddenly wondered if I'd made a promise that would be impossible to keep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

      
Truman lifted the skirt of my dress, slid his hands down the back of my black lace underwear, and began caressing and kneading my  rear. "This is just a sample of the massage I'm going to give you tonight...and you'd better believe I'll be repeating this part."

I sighed with pleasure, closing my eyes. "Don't stop doing that. Please."

He didn't, at least for a little while. But then, he withdrew his hands and pulled his body away from my own. And when he spoke, his voice was low and husky.

"We'd better not get ourselves overly excited before dinner. And by
ourselves
, I mean specifically me, as
my
excitement might become a tad...well, it might become a tad noticeable."

I knew exactly what he meant, of course. I'd felt his manhood already becoming granite hard while he'd been caressing my rear. And being that his manhood was well above average in terms of length and thickness, his "excitement" certainly would be noticeable if he walked into the restaurant in such a state. However, we still had a few minutes before we'd be expected at dinner. And a quick glance at the bulge straining against the fabric of his pants increased my
own
excitement and made me desperate for just another little preview of my massage.

"Please, Truman. Just another little touch. Just another little sample of what my massage is going to be like."

With his gray eyes glassy and his full mouth twitching with a smile, he ran his hands along my shoulders and the sides of my arms. "All right. Just one more little touch. And then, I'm going to unload the dishwasher for you, or find some similar task to do here in the kitchen, so that  my excitement can ebb just a bit. And then we'll go to dinner."

I gave him a little smile. "Okay. And maybe a little kiss to go along with the additional little touch, too?"

He gave me a sexy half-grin. "All right. Just a little kiss."

He dipped his head and kissed me, although it wasn't exactly a "little" one. Our tongues, danced, flicked, and explored, making me develop a frustrating ache low in my belly. Truman also seemed to be having a difficult time keeping his excitement from escalating. When he broke the kiss, his eyes were
more
glass
ed over
than they'd been before, and his voice was even lower and huskier.

"Alright
,
a
nd now for your additional little touch. And I want to see your gorgeous breasts while I do it."

I really, really liked the sound of that.

He untied the halter straps of my red dress and pulled down the top, revealing my black satin, demi-cup strapless bra. And then, with a low growl, he reached his hands down the front and lifted out my large breasts. I made a noise between a whimper and a sigh, realizing the feminine folds between my thighs had become extremely slick. My nipples had become stiffened as well, and they ached for Truman's touch. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long.

With his breathing heavy and his gaze locked on my chest, he cupped my breasts and slowly began circling my aching nipples with his thumbs. I moaned at the sensation, which was intensely frustrating and exquisite at the same time. And several seconds was about all I could take.

With my sensitive feminine bud tingling and throbbing, I moaned again and then whispered. "Now touch me lower. Please, Truman."

At first, I thought he was going to. With another growl rumbling in his chest, he moved a hand to my thigh, beneath my dress, and began trailing it up to the place I desperately wanted him to touch.

But then, to my horror, several inches away, he stopped. "To be continued. Because I think we're very nearly to the point where we're going to make ourselves late for dinner, and we don't want the folks I told we'd be arriving at seven to give us any funny looks if we arrive much, much later than that, do we?"

I stifled a frustrated huff of displeasure. "But we could just be really quick."

Releasing my other breast, he moved his mouth to my ear, and spoke in a husky whisper. "No. Because I don't think 'quick' is what you need. And when we get back from dinner, I still plan to give you a very lengthy, very thorough full-body massage before making love to you."

"But you're...you're half torturing me!"

Chuckling a bit, he planted a few slow kisses along the side of my throat before pulling me close, his hands around my waist. "Not half as much as you're torturing me."

I could feel just how much he was being tortured. His thick shaft felt like a steel bar through his pants. I would have given almost literally anything to feel it inside of me right then. But I was going to have to wait.

He gave me a brief, passionate kiss, parting my lips with his own and then thrusting his tongue against mine, before abruptly pulling away, releasing me, and heading over to the dishwasher.

I watched him go, my voice coming out in a whisper. "I didn't know you had such a mean side. An evil side, really."

If he heard me, he ignored me, and after a few moments spent huffing and puffing, I went to use the restroom and get my slick feminine parts cleaned up a little. Afterward, I redid my lipstick, which had been rubbed off while we'd been kissing, and I also smoothed a few strands of flyaway hair. After that, I went to wait by the apartment door, where, it turned out, I'd be waiting for several minutes. Apparently, it took Truman doing several kitchen tasks in order for his excitement to ebb enough for him to be presentable for going to the restaurant. Which I more than understood, because my own excitement had only ebbed just slightly. And had I been a man, I probably never would have been able to leave the apartment.

After a stop in the bathroom to wipe my lipstick from his mouth, he joined me out in the foyer and offered me his arm, grinning. "Ready?"

I smiled. "Yes."

I was definitely ready to get dinner out of the way so that he could continue on with my massage.

The restaurant, which was on the sixty-third floor of the tower, was, without a doubt, the most beautiful restaurant I'd ever been taken to in my life. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered stunning views of the night sky and the glittering city below. On each of a dozen or so tables on the main floor, white candles glowed in crystal holders next to flower arrangements of white roses and red orchids. No fewer than a half-dozen sparkling crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Waiters and waitresses in black pants and crisp white shirts bustled from table to table with shiny silver trays of food and drinks, and a man sat playing a glossy black grand piano in one corner of the restaurant, near the bar.

The beautiful sight temporarily distracted me from my frustrating desire for intimacy with Truman.

I turned to him, smiling. "It's so beautiful."

He smiled back, dashing in his black suit, which showed off his broad shoulders to their best possible advantage, and we stepped out of the little entrance alcove and into the restaurant itself. And to my surprise, all the diners more or less immediately stood, and all wait staff stopped what they were doing and turned to face us. The piano player stopped mid-song.

Upon spotting us, a man I assumed was the maître d' stopped dead in his tracks and cleared his throat. "All hail Lord Truman Stone!"

All the diners and wait staff echoed the maître d' and some of them clapped. With a slight smile curving the edges of his full mouth, Truman acknowledged the salutations with a dip of his head. I stood blushing, I was sure. I'd never been on the arm of a man who was actually being
hailed
.

The maître’d scurried over. "A quiet banquette with some privacy, Lord Truman?"

Truman nodded. "Yes. Please."

He then gave a nod to the piano player, who resumed playing, and the maitre d' began leading us through the restaurant. Everyone remained standing, and the men bowed to Truman as we passed. The women curtsied, their glances at him clearly admiring. My face got  a bit warmer. I just wasn't used to an experience like this. However, I thought, it could definitely grow on me.

The maitre’d seated us at a U-shaped booth, or, as he called it, a banquette, in a dimly-lit corner of the restaurant. And actually, the corner was more like an alcove, with a several foot-high, mahogany wood planter of jewel-green ferns serving as a sort of partition for privacy. Which I appreciated, because I wasn't sure I'd have been able to enjoy a meal with so many gazes on Truman and me, as  I was sure there  would be, were we dining more out in the open. Having dinner with a lord was something I was going to have to get used to.

Once we were seated, the maitre'd glanced over the tall, mahogany planter. "Lord Truman, it appears that Lieutenant Marsden and Mrs. Marsden have just arrived. Will you be desiring to enjoy aperitifs with them?"

Truman answered in the affirmative, and the maitre d' nodded.

"Very good, Lord Truman. I'll escort them over." 

Once he'd left, Truman turned to me. "Do you mind meeting a few of my friends for a drink before dinner? Everyone is very eager to get to know you better."

I said I'd love it, and soon the maitre d' ushered over a man and a woman I recognized as the couple who had been sitting on Truman's left when I'd been brought before him in the throne room. Both seeming to be in their forties, the man, who was tall and powerfully-built, had grayish, blondish hair, and the woman, who was of average height and was slender, had long, curly hair the color of caramel. Without rising from his seat, Truman introduced them as Matthew, his third-in-command, and Annabelle, the director of his charity group, The Stone Foundation. I hadn't even known Truman had a charity group. But it made me fall even a bit deeper in love with him than I already was.

After we'd been introduced, Matthew and Annabelle slid in across from us at the U-shaped, black leather-upholstered banquette, and right after, a waiter came and took our drink orders. Annabelle and I ordered Merlot; Truman ordered a scotch, neat; and Matthew ordered a scotch on the rocks. We all exchanged pleasantries while waiting for our drinks to arrive, which didn't take long at all, since of course, our table was receiving service fit for a Lord.

Truman raised his glass in a toast. "To a wonderful evening, and to Brette, and the very lucky twist of fate that brought her to our parallel. And to me."

Blushing yet again, I clinked my glass with his and then with Matthew's and Annabelle's in turn.

After Annabelle and I had had a little discussion about the deliciousness of the Merlot, and the deliciousness of Merlot in general, I asked her to tell me about being director of The Stone Foundation. "What kind of charity work does the foundation focus on?"

She smiled, setting her wineglass on the table. "Most of the funds we raise go toward cancer research, making it the perfect job for me, since cancer research and finding a cure is my passion. You see, even with all the scientific advancements of this parallel, we still haven't found an absolute cure for cancer. And since I've lost many friends and family members to the disease, I'm determined to see a cure in my lifetime. I'm determined to help to make that happen. And we can always use more volunteers to help plan the foundation's various fundraisers, so if you're at all interested in helping any time, please let me know."

I said I'd love to help. "I just lost my best friend to cancer a year ago, and I'd be so glad to do some work to honor her and try to help others."

Annabelle's light brown brows angled upward in an expression of sympathy. "I'm so sorry for your loss. And we'd love to have your help in planning the next fundraiser, which will be in a few months, around the holidays." She paused, her gaze inexplicably going to Truman before darting back to me again. "I'll let you know more details as the time gets closer."

I nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

Truman took a long drink of his scotch, his expression somehow troubled. And it was only then that I realized that nobody at the table, including myself, knew if I was even going to be around in a few months, when my help with the fundraiser would be taking place. I'd completely forgotten about the choice I had to make. The choice that made me feel sick right then.