Page 2 of Third Crime’s A Charm (Princes Take New York #3)

The party faded, figuratively and literally, as they flirted and bonded over bourbon and their shared distrust of politicians and law enforcement.

“I’m telling you, some of the precincts around here operate like the mafia and you’d think some of the cops were dons with the cars they drive.

Why’s a sergeant driving a Lamborghini? Some of them have no shame,” Truman complained, shaking his head.

“Excuse me, sir,” a woman in a white shirt and a black skirt interrupted carefully. “Most of your guests have left. Is it alright if we close the bar?”

“Oh.” Truman glanced behind him, then winced as he checked his watch. “I hadn’t realized it was so late. Go ahead and tell everyone to start cleaning up.”

“Yes sir,” she said, offering an obedient nod before leaving them.

“Thank you, Caroline,” Truman called after her. He tipped his head toward the balcony doors. “Let’s take this someplace quieter,” he suggested and Matteo gestured for him to lead the way.

He had almost forgotten about the diamonds but Matteo would have plenty of time to sneak into Truman’s office later if he played his cards right.

The secret pocket behind his lapel and under his handkerchief received a quick pat to make sure it didn’t jingle and was smooth.

He moved the small plastic bag of fake diamonds from his trousers to his coat and would take it off as soon as possible.

“They’re about to start washing all the dishes and vacuuming but it should be quiet back here,” Truman said, waving Matteo into the sitting room of an elegant suite and closing the door behind them. “Make yourself at home while I freshen up our drinks.”

“This is nice,” Matteo said as he draped his coat over the back of an armchair, gesturing at the sitting room and another spectacular view of Central Park.

The furniture was sleek and low, upholstered in soft grays and blues and the decadently thick gray carpet gave the room a soothing, cloudy, airiness.

He went to the sofa and reclined against the arm so he could admire Truman as he worked.

The bar was obviously Art Deco and appeared to be salvaged but the rest of the room’s furnishings were glass and chrome, adding to the spacious lightness.

“This is my sanctuary,” Truman said, waving around him, then selected an orange from a crystal bowl on the counter.

He deftly peeled off two long curls and added one to each glass before joining Matteo on the sofa.

“My mother has very…formal and traditional taste,” he said with a sheepish grimace.

“I do my best to stay in her good graces so my place in Chicago isn’t as comfortable.

And before you ask, I’m not that kind of mama’s boy.

She’s never liked me because I’m too much like my father and I don’t think I’ve ever done anything right in her eyes. ”

“You’re one of the scariest and most successful attorneys in the country!” Matteo laughed incredulously and thanked Truman when he was handed his drink.

“She’s never met an attorney she didn’t despise, including my father,” Truman replied with a shrug. “But the old vulture’s the only biological family I have left and she’s worth a mint.”

Matteo snorted into his glass, then took a drink.

He groaned appreciatively at the citrus and bourbon fumes, marveling at the notes of spice, caramel, and oak.

“It’s even lovelier with the orange. I have to tell my brothers.

” He saluted Truman and they were quiet for a moment, thoughtfully sipping from their glasses.

“Fine, you’re not that kind of mama’s boy.

Tell me something shocking, that only a few people might know. ”

“Shocking?” Truman’s brows pinched and he shook his head slowly. “Aside from my shocking reputation—which is far more interesting than reality—I can’t think of anything…”

“Come on! I’ve shared most of my darkest secrets and told you all about my family. I want to know something no one else knows.”

“Alright…” Truman rested his arm on the back of the sofa, facing Matteo. “I’m very into feet. They’re my weakness.” He raised his brows, daring Matteo to judge him or be offended.

Matteo toed off one of his loafers, then the other.

“I can work with that.” He swung his feet up and crossed them on Truman’s thigh.

“Feet are not my thing but I understand why they turn other men on. And I’ve never minded having mine touched and played with.

I’m not ticklish, if that’s part of it,” he warned but Truman shook his head.

His eyes were wide and glued to Matteo’s feet as he licked his lips. “You understand?” he asked hoarsely, still staring at them as he reached and placed his drink on the table.

“It’s pretty simple.” Matteo wiggled his toes, taunting Truman and making him flinch.

“Most men hide their feet unless they are at the beach or the pool so it is an enticing, yet safe introduction to male nudity. It’s harder to get caught staring at a man’s feet, instead of his chest or his ass or his bulge, ja? ”

Truman nodded jerkily. “That’s exactly…” He swallowed loudly and licked his lips again.

“When I was a kid, I’d hang out at my friend’s house because he had a pool and his dad would spend hours out back in his flip flops or his bare feet.

The first time I got off, I was thinking about touching Ryan’s dad’s feet. That’s how I knew , you know?”

“That sounds hot. No wonder it made a lasting impression,” Matteo said quietly and hummed encouragingly when Truman cradled his foot and gave the sole a tender knead.

“It’s not the only thing!” Truman offered quickly. “I’m into chests and asses and bulges too and I don’t even need…this to enjoy the act.”

“Enjoy the act?” Matteo snickered into his bourbon. “Stop talking like a lawyer. I won’t judge you if you want to fuck my feet, Truman.”

He laughed, shaking his head as his fingers glided up Matteo’s ankle and under the leg of his trousers.

“I’d rather fuck that pretty mouth or that tight ass,” he rumbled, his voice getting deeper and lower as he eased Matteo’s sock down and off.

“Very pretty.” Truman traced Matteo’s foot from the heel to the instep to the tip of his big toe.

“‘A soldier has one item that cannot be neglected. His feet,’” Matteo quoted. “I take very good care of my feet. One never knows they’re in a battle until the bullets start flying.”

Truman frowned as he slipped off the other sock. “I didn’t realize it was so dangerous, being an Austrian prince.”

“Not as dangerous as it used to be,” Matteo replied with a cocky grin, making Truman snort.

“Thank goodness for that.” He scooted to the edge of the sofa, then lowered onto his knees on the floor. “May I?” he asked softly, watching Matteo closely as he pressed a delicate kiss to the inside of his foot.

“Please do,” Matteo purred, lifting his foot and pressing it against Truman’s face.

He answered with a low, wavering groan, sniffing as he dragged his nose and lips up and down the arch.

It received a long, greedy lick before Truman sucked on Matteo’s big toe.

Each digit was nipped and licked and the bottom of Matteo’s foot was anointed with adoring kisses.

Truman worshipped the other foot, groaning and growling as he kneaded and nibbled.

His focus and his adoration were so intense, yet Matteo could practically see Truman’s control disintegrating.

Matteo wanted to see and to feel the effect his feet were having on Truman’s body and wanted to shred what was left of that control.

It was enthralling, teasing and taunting Truman, and Matteo hoped he’d be punished soundly for his impertinence.

As if his thoughts were heard and without warning, Truman rose and pulled Matteo up and onto his feet.

“Tell me, what are you into?” he demanded as he attacked Matteo’s tie and the buttons on his shirt.

Matteo swiftly untucked it and there was a ripping sound as he yanked his arms free.

“I’m into everything,” he said, chasing Truman’s lips and dancing with him into the bedroom.

Matteo yanked the halves of Truman’s shirt open, sending buttons pattering onto the carpet.

They were wild as they lapped at each other’s tongues and tore clothing off.

“But what do you like? Are you a top, bottom, vers…?” Truman mumbled against Matteo’s lips, making them curve wickedly.

“I am very vers and I like everything. Except Schei?e and I don’t like getting sticky,” he added with a casual shrug.

Truman nodded quickly. “Perfect. You’re perfect,” he murmured, distracted as he traced the groove between Matteo’s pecs and down over his abs to the waist of his boxer briefs. His gaze flicked to Matteo’s and Truman opened his mouth to say something but stopped, squinting as he considered.

“What is it?” Matteo captured Truman’s cheek and lifted a brow. “Is something wrong?”

“Are you still going to—?” he started, then shook his head. “I’ll find out soon enough,” he said with a wry snort and grabbed Matteo’s face, kissing him with renewed urgency. His lips and his touch were commanding—demanding—as he shoved Matteo’s briefs down, then spun him.

“Oh!” Matteo laughed as he was pushed onto the bed. There was a hungry, ragged groan as Truman used a knee to part Matteo’s thighs.

“I have to taste the rest of you.”

His hands were hard and his grip was tight as he held Matteo open, claiming whatever he touched and tasted.

Truman was rough but thorough as he lapped, sucked, and drilled with his tongue.

He was impatient when he flipped Matteo over and nuzzled his sac, moaning and swearing in delight as he licked and flicked.

“Fuck! Truman…” Matteo’s head lolled on the pillows, drunk on the heady pleasure and frantic with need. He bit the back of his hand when his cock was sucked hard and a finger slid into his ass. “Now! Bitte, Truman! Bitte!”