Page 11 of Third Crime’s A Charm (Princes Take New York #3)

Seven

A pparently, Matteo wasn’t immune to Saturday night fever. He was already contemplating something foolish when they returned from their day out. He planned to blame it on the wine, but it was in God’s hands after Donna put on the Bee Gees.

After a day of touching and teasing, Matteo had gotten used to the feel of Truman’s arms around him and the low rumble of his voice.

He still remembered how Truman had embarrassed him and crushed his romantic hopes for them.

But on the way back from the market, Matteo decided to call a truce and put the moves on Donna’s Truman.

He was going to fuck the bean.

How could Matteo resist when Truman was so pleasantly American and domestic, with his tongs and his apron as he tended to the grill?

He was unbearably sexy when he was being ruthless and imposing but Matteo found Truman’s softer side fascinating.

Especially when he twirled Donna and did the Hustle with her on the deck.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Truman was a good dancer, Matteo had seen firsthand how well he moved his hips.

Matteo’s plan to lure Donna into the hammock didn’t work out.

She agreed to sit in it sideways, keeping her feet on the ground, but popped up five minutes later to make a salad.

Donna was too much of a busybody and in more of a dancing mood, thanks to the wine.

That left Matteo with his notepad and his thoughts so he planned to use the time to sketch and brainstorm.

But it wasn’t long before Donna pulled him up onto the back deck disco and pushed him at Truman. They spun and laughed and the three of them danced until the steaks were done. After dinner, Matteo suggested more dancing but Donna said it was time for her to turn in and vanished with their plates.

They laughed when the music changed to romantic classics and Dean Martin crooned That’s Amore. The sun was setting and Matteo gave into the fantasy and the dreamy gleam in Truman’s eyes. He scooted his chair closer and held Truman’s hand as they kissed and finished off another bottle of wine.

“We should go to bed,” Matteo said, raising Truman’s hand and kissing his knuckles.

There was a hesitant groan as Truman leaned in and pecked at Matteo’s lips. “This is killing me,” he admitted softly. “I want you, just like this, but I know you’re going to change as soon as we’re inside and the door’s closed. I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

“We could keep going and do it out here,” Matteo suggested, then laughed at how red Truman’s face turned and how wide his eyes were.

“What if Donna or the Barnabys saw? I don’t think I?—”

“I’m kidding, Truman!” Matteo captured his cheek and kissed him firmly. “I won’t change. I want to keep playing.”

A frown creased Truman’s brow. “Playing?”

“I don’t want to stop pretending. Tomorrow, we can be terrible people again but I want to fuck this Truman tonight,” Matteo explained and patted Truman’s chest.

“This Truman…” His hand covered Matteo’s and his frown deepened. For a moment, Matteo thought he might say no. “Okay. Let’s go,” he said, rising and pulling Matteo with him. “Just don’t mention this to the other Truman, he’ll be jealous.”

He tiptoed to the door and tapped his lips before opening it, making Matteo burst into giggles. Truman scolded Matteo and warned that they’d get caught but tripped on the hall runner and almost knocked a picture off the wall, resulting in another fit of giggles.

“No wonder you need me for the job,” Matteo whispered, fanning his face between bouts of laughter.

“Come on!” Truman grabbed his wrist and tugged, causing Matteo to trip on his own feet and nearly crash into the wall. They made it to the bedroom and Matteo was giddy as he yanked his shirt over his head. “Oh, no…” Truman fell back against the door, his lip pushed out into a pout.

“What’s wrong?” Matteo was holding the shirt over his head, ready to toss it at Truman.

“We can’t do this.”

Matteo’s arm lowered before he went ahead and whipped it at Truman. “Why not?”

Truman caught it and hugged it against his chest, looking incredibly sad. “You’re too drunk, Matteo. I don’t want you to wake up and regret this and blame me,” he said, making Matteo roll his eyes.

“Why do you think I drank so much?” he asked as he kicked off his flip flops. “I know I’ll regret this tomorrow but at least I can blame it on the wine,” he said and Truman’s neck craned.

“So…you decided before you started drinking?” he verified slowly.

“Duh, as you Americans like to say.” Matteo held up his hands. “Does it make a difference?”

“Yes!”

That was followed by a startled cry as Matteo was lifted and rushed across the room. They fell onto the bed and Truman was shaking as he licked and kissed anything he could get his mouth on and tore at belts and zippers.

“I know it’s only been a few days but I can’t stop thinking about how good you tasted and how incredible it was.”

“Shhh!” Matteo found Truman’s mouth and pushed his fingers into it. He didn’t want Truman to say something they might regret. “You’re drunk too,” he reminded Truman.

He sucked and Matteo felt an empty ache in his ass and his cock throbbed. His shorts and briefs were whisked away and Matteo hated the way his body flickered and burned with need as Truman shifted lower. Matteo’s thighs were parted and his legs were draped over Truman’s shoulders so he could feast.

“Mein Gott!” Matteo held onto Truman’s hair and the bed as his hole was licked and sucked with greedy abandon.

“Fuck, you’re so good!” Truman growled and whimpered, lapping at Matteo’s puckered flesh and his sac. Two fingers pushed into Matteo’s ass as his shaft was wrapped in sucking heat, making his eyes cross as pleasure radiated from his core.

Matteo pushed at Truman’s head and shoulders, frantic with impatience.

He didn’t just want to get off, he wanted to fuck Truman.

“Not yet!” He hauled Truman up and rolled him onto his back.

“My turn!” he declared with a wicked purr, scratching his nails in the hair on Truman’s chest and stomach.

“You know, I’ve always liked older men but I never considered getting myself a Daddy.

” Matteo wrapped both hands around Truman’s erection, humming appreciatively.

“Really?” His voice had crumbled into a rasp and Truman licked his lips as his eyes followed Matteo’s hands. “You’re good at being a brat and you don’t have any money. Seems like an obvious move.”

“Easy…” Matteo cut his eyes at Truman playfully. He knew that Truman meant the sexy kind of brat and that Matteo could have money if he wanted to.

“You know, we don’t have to break up as soon as this job is done. I could get you close to just about anyone and help you in other ways,” he offered with a strained chuckle but Matteo gasped and gave Truman’s thigh a hard smack, causing him to jump and swear.

“I am going to pretend I didn’t hear that. I told you, I work alone and I don’t use people. Except for tonight,” he added saucily, then lowered so he could bite a nipple.

“What if I want to be used?” Truman’s hand swept through Matteo’s hair and cradled his cheek. “I know I shouldn’t, but what if I like watching you work?”

“No!” Matteo bit Truman’s hand. “I don’t need your help. My name and this face have gotten me far enough and I haven’t been caught yet.” He knew of a much better way to end the conversation and demolished Truman’s ability to form a coherent sentence.

“Sweet fucking—! Jesus, Matteo!”

That would teach Truman for discussing work during sex.

Matteo was just able to get his lips around Truman’s cock and swallowed as much of his length as he could.

He sucked hard as his head slowly bounced, pumping with one hand and kneading Truman’s sac with the other.

It wasn’t long before Matteo’s hand was slick with spit and pre-cum, making it easy to work a finger into Truman’s ass.

“Oh fuck, yes!” Truman arched off the bed, his heels digging into the mattress.

Matteo’s arm extended and his fingers flicked.

“Lube.” The bedside table’s drawer was thrown open and a bottle was pressed into Matteo’s hand.

“Danke,” he mumbled around a mouthful of Truman.

Matteo took his time, fingering himself and Truman before both of their cocks were generously coated with lube.

“Ready?” Matteo asked, straddling Truman and reaching behind him.

He didn’t wait for an answer as he guided the head of Truman’s shaft to his hole and held his breath.

Matteo sat back, enjoying the stretching and burning as he was slowly filled with slick, thick heat.

“Please, Matteo! Tell me what you want!” Truman’s head slammed against the pillows and he clawed at the duvet. “Let me be your Daddy,” he ground out.

“What did I say?” Matteo clamped a hand over Truman’s mouth and flashed him a threatening look. “I work alone and this is just for tonight. Unless you ruin my immersion and I remember that I don’t like you,” he warned and there was a muffled swear as Truman sat up and gathered Matteo in his arms.

“How do I make it up to you? I’m trying, Matteo!”

“Alright…” Matteo licked his lips, nodding. He knew how Truman could make amends and prove he was trustworthy. “Why do you want the star?”

“Matteo… I—” Their chests heaved as they stared each other down. “Fuck!” Truman fell back and scrubbed his face with his hands, then punched the mattress next to him.

“I thought so,” Matteo said with a wry snort. “You should stay like that. Keep your face hidden.”

With that, Matteo planted both hands on Truman’s chest and set a fast, slapping pace.

He kept his eyes on the window and the view of the pool and the back deck, picturing Truman with his apron and tongs.

He wasn’t expecting Truman to tell him but Matteo was still disappointed and felt like a fool again for thinking he could be worth more than a heist or a bag of diamonds.

“I’m so close! Fuck, you’re so good!” Truman reached for him but Matteo swiftly rose and dismounted.

He rearranged their legs so Truman’s were around his waist before Matteo entered him with a smooth, deep thrust. “Matteo!” he shouted and grabbed the headboard as Matteo dug in with his knees and pumped as hard as he could.

There were more shouts as Truman came but Matteo kept his head down and kept driving deeper, ignoring the rising pressure and the hot flickering of his nerves. He resented how right they felt when they touched and fucked and how happy they could be if they weren’t pretending.

Mostly, he resented Truman for pulling him into this game because Matteo knew he was destined to lose.

Handing over the star could cost Matteo a lot more than his pride, depending on what Truman’s true intentions were.

Or, Matteo could play the game and keep the star, making a true enemy out of Truman.

Matteo’s climax slammed into him, heat and pleasure rushing up his spine and down his limbs as he came deep in Truman’s ass. His scream was smothered with a kiss and Truman held onto Matteo as they caught their breath.

“Don’t go yet,” he whispered and pecked at Matteo’s lips. “Be mad in the morning but let me hold you tonight.”

“Fine.” Matteo said, turning and pulling Truman’s arm around him. He didn’t want to face Truman anymore, afraid he would see through him again. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” The words were whispered against Matteo’s shoulder and it was kissed as a hand spread across his chest. He felt cherished and protected, but didn’t know for how long.

Was this part of the game for Truman too?

How would Matteo ever know what was real if they couldn’t even trust each other?

Matteo resented that too as he drifted off to sleep, and was resolved to get out of the game as soon as the job was done.