Monster mash, p.15
Monster Mash, page 15
“Pacing and chattering, like I said. Let’s see, what else?” He framed his chin in his fingers, considering the ceiling. After a moment, he shrugged and simply said, “Sex is good for just about everything, so add that to the list.”
My tail swished behind me and I raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting I fuck the anxiety out of my human?”
“It’s not a tooth, Matteo. It doesn’t pop out if you hit it hard enough. And I suppose it’s different for everyone, but…maybe it’d help?” He turned his head, watching Adam and Ezra together. “God knows the poor little Irishman could use something to help him. He’s a nervous wreck. But when he’s with you, he seems…calmer.” He turned back around and pointed at me. “Whatever you do, do not break his heart before my wedding. Do whatever you want with him after, but if either of you ruins Adam’s dream wedding, I swear to all the chefs in Hell that I will ruin you.”
Heads turned and people looked at us, wide-eyed, as Inzo spat his threat. I just smiled and took it in stride. Threats were practically Inzo’s love language, so coming from him, it meant he liked me. We’d been good friends long enough for me to know when he was just being an overprotective mate and when he was serious.
“Of course, Inzo,” I said with a gracious nod. “Everything about your wedding is going to be perfect.”
Adam chewed on his fingernails. “It’s a disaster, right? I mean, I can’t wear that. It’s hideous. Why didn’t anyone tell me mauve was such a hideous color?”
I pressed my lips together, eying the pair of custom-made mauve tuxedos. They were indeed hideous, and I had tried to steer him toward a more neutral color, like ivory, four weeks ago. Being the professional that I was, I didn’t point either fact out.
“I’m sure it won’t look that bad once it’s on you,” I said. Because if you change colors now, it’s going to be one of the worst disasters of my career.
He shook his head, still gnawing on his fingernails. “I thought it’d be more purple. That’s pink. It’s pink, right?” When I didn’t answer immediately, he put his head in his hands and let out a miserable groan. “I’ve ruined everything!”
“Now, now.” I put a hand behind his shoulders and guided him to sit at a nearby table. “You haven’t ruined everything. We still have time.”
He lifted his face tentatively. “There’s not time for new tuxes, Ezra.”
“No, but if you don’t like the mauve, we can still go get fitted for ivory or champagne or any other color that might be in stock at one of the vendors.”
Adam groaned again. “But Inzo hates wearing white.”
“So Inzo can wear charcoal or pinstripes.” I took his hands, lowering them from his face. “What’s really going on, Adam?”
Adam knew full well that Inzo would marry him buck naked and not feel bad about it. He’d held it together wonderfully until that point, but every groom had their breaking point.
He sighed and looked down at the floor. “I just want everything to be perfect.”
“And it will be,” I promised. “Making it perfect is my job, so you let me worry about that. How about this? There’s a kraken tailor I know in West Hollywood who’d be delighted for the chance to do a rush order, whatever color you want. I’m sure he has samples. We’ll go out on Saturday to see them.”
“But we’re supposed to meet with producers Saturday afternoon.”
“Then we go on Saturday morning.” I squeezed his fingers reassuringly. “I’ll see if Inzo can deal with the producers on his own. Then you and I can make a day of it. You look like you could use a good spa day, and we still haven’t nailed down the details for your big bachelor party, so it’ll be a good chance for us to finalize plans.”
He considered my offer for a moment. “All right, but only if you promise to tell me everything about Mr. Tall, Sweet, and Beefy at the spa.”
“There might not be much to tell,” I said with a sigh, withdrawing my fingers from his.
“What? I thought you two were really hitting it off.” He made an exaggerated sad face.
“I suppose we are, but…” I chewed on the inside of my cheek.
How could I explain what was wrong? I liked Matteo. Hell, I’d been ready to jump his bones back at the house. But the minute we were out in public, it was like I’d slithered into a second skin, one that kept him at arm’s length. That second skin had served well to help me cope with the outside world, but I didn’t want to wear it for Matteo. I wanted to be me, Ezra the man, not Ezra, face of Enchanted Moments Inc. Being Ezra, the man on a date, meant being vulnerable. It meant risking rejection and pain.
The persona I had to adopt to function outside was safe. Friendly. Professional. But Matteo was finding all the cracks, slowly melting away that hard shell.
What if I let Matteo see all my neuroses and it scared him away? I didn’t know if I could deal with that. I had already lost so much.
“I get it,” Adam said quietly. “Stepping out of your comfort zone is hard. It was for me, too. I’d built Inzo up to be a god in my mind. But you know what? He’s a god who leaves his dirty socks on the floor right next to the hamper.”
“A true monster,” I mused.
Adam laughed.
I cast a long glance back at the table where Inzo had seated himself. Matteo was giving him a rather serious look, as if he were pondering his very existence while Inzo talked at him. “How did you know it would work out?”
“I didn’t. I still don’t, and that scares the hell out of me,” Adam said and followed my gaze. “But it’s kind of nice not knowing. It means every day I get to wake up and fall in love with him all over again.”
I eyed him. “That’s so adorably disgustingly sweet. You know that, don’t you?”
He flashed me one of his trademark boyish smiles. “Yeah, I know.” He kicked my shin lightly. “Now go back and get some.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Only if you two call off your dog. I swear, if that maître d’ doesn’t stop hovering over our table, I’m going to complain to management.”
Adam chuckled as we stood. “Gaston means well. He’s just an overzealous wingman.”
Almost as soon as I got back to the table, Matteo surprised me by suggesting we take our food to go. It was just as well. The frittata I’d ordered had gotten cold. A shame, though I was sure it’d be just as good heated up.
Armed with foil-lined Styrofoam takeout boxes, we headed for the parking lot for what was sure to be the most awkward car ride home ever. All the chemistry that had been there earlier in the day had faded thanks to my stupid anxiety, and Matteo had been notably quiet since my return. It had me wondering what Inzo had said to him.
I sat in the front seat with the takeout boxes on my lap as we pulled out of the busy parking lot, waiting for him to say something. After a few minutes, when he didn’t, I leaned forward to look up at the sky and remarked, “Looks like it’s going to rain.”
What a stupid way to start a conversation. That’s how you talk to strangers, Ezra, not how you charm a minotaur into bed.
Matteo’s reply was an agreeable grunt. “We could use it. Been dry.”
God, we sounded like a couple of old sheep farmers.
I took in his muscular arms as he turned the wheel. His hands were so big he could easily pin both my wrists with just one, and he was definitely strong enough that I could wiggle a little if he held me down without worrying about getting free. That was all I wanted, what I needed. Someone to carry me up the stairs, hold me down, and fuck me until I couldn’t think straight, but…
Why couldn’t I just ask for what I wanted?
Because he might say no. Because he might see that I had to have even numbers of everything in the house, that I had filed all the imperfections out of knobs and handles. He might see the bottles and bottles of pills I had tried.
I hated how they made me feel. Yes, they helped with the anxiety, but they made everything else worse. I felt like a zombie, like I was living in someone else’s life. They made me feel fake. That was to say nothing of how they destroyed my sex drive.
Dr. Federi had given me some to take in emergencies and those were the only ones I used now because I just couldn’t stomach the others.
Matteo’s hand closed over mine, and every muscle in my body seemed to relax all at once. “Talk to me. Where are we?”
“I don’t know. I want this, but…” I closed my eyes and let out a small sigh. “I’m afraid.”
“Of me?”
“What?” I turned in my seat and wrinkled my nose. “Jesus fuck, no. You’re about as terrifying as a butterfly in a beehive.”
I was quiet for a minute. The rain had started up, and it tapped against the top of the car, the windshield like a thousand tiny fingers all knocking to get in.
I stared straight forward at the brake lights in front of us and said, “It’s me. I’m afraid I’m too much for you.”
“Too much for me?” There was a hint of amusement in his tone, as if he thought I was making a pass.
“Some people find me…eccentric.”
Matteo snorted. “You’re way too young to be eccentric. That word’s reserved for distinguished older gentlemen with too many cogs and gears sitting around.”
“I’m serious, Matteo. There’s something wrong with me.”
He gave me a doubtful look as the car slid to a stop at another traffic light. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Yes, there is!” I insisted, half exploding. “I don’t like people, for one. What kind of wedding planner hates people? Crowds especially! My job is literally to plan events for large crowds! And the very idea of going out and talking to people makes me feel sick. It makes me sweat and I can’t talk. I throw up at every wedding like I’m the bloody bride. And those are just my job-related flaws.” I shifted in my seat, moving more sideways to face him. “When I go up and down stairs, I have to count them. Out loud.”
He bobbed his head once, horns scraping the hood slightly. “Yep, I noticed that.”
“I hold my breath when we go over bridges,” I continued. “And when I need a utensil, I have to wash it, even if I know it’s clean. I have to fold towels twice. Like fold, unfold, and fold.”
“Honestly, if you fold your towels, you’re way ahead of me,” he said lightly.
“I have anxiety, Matteo!” I blurted. My chest was tight again, and I was suddenly on the verge of tears, even though I wasn’t sad. I was angry. Why couldn’t he see how awful I was to be around?
But Matteo, true to form, just lifted a single eyebrow and glanced over at me. “I might’ve noticed.”
“I’m serious! I have anxiety and probably obsessive compulsive disorder, and I was agoraphobic for almost a year. The list of failed medications I’ve been on is longer than my arm, and God only knows what deep-seated issues my shrink writes about me every week.”
Matteo turned the car suddenly, pulling into the mostly abandoned parking lot of a chain drugstore. He parked the car so fast the momentum left me straining against the seatbelt.
“Matteo, what the hell?”
“So what?” he demanded.
I was almost afraid to look up at him, but I did anyway. He looked down at me, nostrils flaring, jaw set, but his eyes didn’t look angry. He looked…hurt.
“Pardon?” I asked, because I didn’t know what else to say.
“So what if you’ve got anxiety or OCD? I don’t have a problem with that.”
“It’ll be your problem if we date, Matteo,” I muttered, turning away. “It always is.”
“Dammit, Ezra. Don’t you get it? I don’t care what diagnosis you have. I like you. I get that the anxiety, the OCD, the personality tics, they’re a part of the package deal. I know that. I accept it because it’s a part of who you are. It’s not fair for you to tell me I’m not allowed to like you, you know.”
We sat in silence, listening to the rain hit the car.
I was torn. On the one hand, I knew he was right, and I did want to go forward with this, to see where it went. I wanted him.
But that stupid voice in the back of my head wouldn’t let me have it. It was like I had a parasite in my brain that refused to allow me to be happy.
Matteo sighed again. “I’m gonna go into the store and pick up a few things. And when I come back out, I want an answer. If you want this, then you better be all in. If not, I’ll take you home and that’ll be it. No hard feelings either way.”
He left the car running and the wipers going while he went inside. I watched him go, his tail waving behind him.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered, and twisted to deposit the takeout boxes in the back seat.
Dammit, Ezra. I just need to do it, I thought. Stop thinking and go for what I want. Get out of my own head. Stop being a damn sheep and be a wolf. I blew out a breath and watched my breath fog the window. Decision made. No matter what happens, I’m going for it when he comes back. All in.
It wasn’t long before Matteo came back out. The rain had picked up while he was inside and even the short jog he had between the doors and the car left him soaked, his shirt sticking to his body. I bit my lip as I watched him run for the car, more sure of my decision now than ever.
The minute Matteo was back in his seat, the door closed, I pounced, launching myself across the narrow center console to land in his lap, careful not to hit the steering wheel. He let out a small sound of surprise that I cut short with a rough kiss.
Matteo relaxed into it, but pushed me back gently a moment later. “What the hell is this?”
“This is me all in,” I said, breathless, running my fingers through the fur along his jaw. “Whatever you do, don’t give me time to change my mind.”
I swooped in for another kiss, groaning as I pushed my tongue into his mouth. I didn’t know how exactly I’d found room to straddle him in the front seat. It was too tight a fit to do much of anything else, so I was thankful when Matteo hit the lever on the side of the seat, and it slid back. I nearly lost my balance before he firmly grabbed me by the ass. Strong fingers dug into my cheek and I couldn’t hold back the excited moan that left me.
Matteo relaxed his hold on me.
“Don’t be afraid to manhandle me, or to keep me in line if I get mouthy with you,” I said, forcing his hand back the way it was.
“I’m more of a positive reinforcement guy than a punishment guy,” he replied hesitantly.
“So reinforce me,” I demanded and kissed him again.
My fingers trailed down the front of his soaked shirt. As much as I wanted to take my time, we were in a public place, and the rainstorm wasn’t going to last forever. Neither was my courage. Slow, sensual lovemaking could wait for the second date. Besides, there was just something sinfully erotic about doing this in public, where we could be caught by anyone. Color me surprised. Who would’ve thought I’d be into risky public sex? But there we were.
Matteo struggled out of his jacket, flinging it into the backseat without a care before touching my cheek to bring my lips back to his. He really enjoyed kissing, which I didn’t mind. Some men were terrible at it, but Matteo wasn’t one of them. I didn’t know if it was because his mouth was shaped differently than mine, which meant he had to be more aware of how he was kissing me, or because his tongue was longer and more flexible than mine. The horns definitely helped, too. There was a lot of Matteo to explore and touch, far more than I could get to inside the cramped confines of his car.
I reached for his belt and started fighting with it, but the way he was sitting, it was impossible. Matteo stepped in, reaching to undo it himself. The sound his belt made as it whispered free of his belt loops was a language all its own. He tossed it into the back seat to sit with his jacket.
“Please tell me you got lube,” I said, undoing my belt.
“Lube and condoms,” he confirmed, lifting his hips enough to shimmy his pants down around his knees while I did the same.
“Holy Jesus.” My eyes widened at the sight of his bare cock.
I supposed to call it big would be both true and unfair at the same time. While it was huge by human standards, it was perfectly proportional to him. Of course, Matteo was a big, delicious hunk of Minotaur so…
I felt my face burning as I met his eyes. The proud bastard was grinning like he’d won the lotto, one arm folded behind his head like he was expecting a whole string of bloody compliments. Compliments that, in all fairness, he probably did deserve. But what did one even say to a minotaur with a big cock? Congratulations? Doesn’t seem like something you ought to get a cake for.
“That’s gonna take a lot more prep than we can do in here,” I said quietly.
He winked at me. “Then we improvise.”
“Improvise?”
He held out his hand. “Spit.”
I didn’t see what the purpose of that was, especially when we had lube right there in a bag next to us.
“Trust me,” he said, flexing his fingers.
I locked eyes with him and leaned forward to spit into his palm.
He frowned. “Come on now, Sugar. You can do better than that.”
He held out his hand for more, so I gave him more, as much as I could gather in my mouth in the course of a few seconds. It should’ve grossed me out, especially considering my aversion to uncleanliness in most cases.
But when it came to Matteo, there was very little I wasn’t willing to do.
Matteo smirked and spat, adding his spit to mine before pulling me back against him for another kiss. A big, wet fist closed over my cock and he gave it a firm stroke, drawing a pleasured moan from deep in my throat. There was definitely an added layer of hotness in knowing that there was nothing but me and him in his palm. Strong arms pulled me tighter against him and his hand closed around both of us at once, but he didn’t move his fist.
“Go on, Sugar,” he said, kissing a line down my jaw. “Show me how you can work that sexy ass.”
I bit my lip and fought a whole-body shudder, face heating as I realized he wanted me to do all the work. Not that I was objecting in the least. I was one hundred percent on board to work it.
