Chapter 34
chapter thirty-four
Natalia
That slick bastard.
Mateo had not only snuck himself into the high tower of the DJ booth to request a song and cross another item off the scavenger list, he’d picked one that I used frequently in our live cam sessions, almost so often that the response was Pavlovian as soon as the deep bass ruptured the room. My body replied in a stomach flipping, nipple perking, cunt fluttering way. It was like he’d done it on purpose. Which, clearly, he had, based on the surly way he rejoined our crew, watching me arrogantly, like he could see right through my skin to the blood in my veins rushing around trying to find a place to settle with nowhere to go but down.
My ache to get him alone was just as needling, but I was more demure about it. I could keep a poker face in a crowded room. Mateo on the other hand was unapologetically horny, but our group was too tipsy and blithe at that point to realize there was something else going on between my husband and me.
My husband.
My cheeks actually hurt from smiling.
Mateo sat across from me, a smirk on his lips. “I picked your favorite song.”
The chorus bellowed and I could picture the way I usually moved my body along with it, rolling my hips like a wave, running my hands through my hair, arching my back. It became obvious Matty was imagining the same choreography we’d practiced before, except he’d seen it half naked and on his back.
An idea poked at me. Not poked, it stabbed me urgently. If Angelo could kiss my sister for a point on the boards, I sure as hell could give my husband a lap dance to accomplish the same. I tapped Phee eagerly, grasping for her scavenger list and the little pen she slid into the spandex shorts under her dress. She didn’t even blink an eye. The queen of fashionable and functional struck again. I circled the lap dance item and slid out of the booth beside her. My hot thighs peeled off the leather in the least sexy way possible, and I let out a shaky breath.
Find yourself, Natasha.
This might have been the most mortifyingly embarrassing thing I ever did. Not because I couldn’t pull it off—that was easy—but because for the rest of my life I’d need to make peace with dry humping Mateo in front of his brother, his best friends, and my sisters. It was best that I just rip the bandage off and treat it like any other day at work. I was used to doing this completely naked with a hard dick between my thighs for paying subscribers, for fuck’s sake.
Matty was gawking at me, taking his time tracing my body up and down with heat simmering in his stare and a wrinkle between his big russet eyes as I stood in front of him. I kicked his thighs apart with the toe of my heel and stepped between his legs, draping my wrists over his shoulders and clasping my hands together behind his neck. I tugged the long tendrils of hair at his nape, forcing him to look up.
God, I’d seen that expression a million times. The far-gone glazed eyes, his defined brow bone flattening, jaw flexing. I felt so powerful. Mateo’s hands slid up the back of my thighs, warm and calloused. My heart thumped, and the nerves between my thighs begged for some attention.
“You’re going to be a bad girl in front of all these people, Tal?” he whispered. The song continued and I closed my eyes, using the familiar feeling of Mateo’s body to put myself right back in our studio at home. I climbed over his lap, rolling my hips sensually, eliciting a tortured sound from the depths of his throat. Matty’s chest rose and fell faster against mine.
My dress climbed up my thighs, and Mateo’s hands splayed over the bottom of my ass, keeping my modesty hidden as much as physically possible, and that little quirk of possession pinched me somewhere deep and lust-filled.
I swirled my hips again, catching against the seam of his pants just enough to make my eyes roll back. Fucking dammit, I knew this would rile him up, but I sincerely underestimated the way my professionalism would go flying out the door once I felt even a tidbit of an erection. My shoulders dipped backwards, and I held on around his neck for dear life as I let my long hair and head roll, pushing my tits forward and dragging Matty’s face down into my cleavage.
There was a chorus of good-natured giggles from our booth, and a clear-as-day “You go, girl!” from Tyler Swan. I couldn’t look behind me for fear of losing all my newfound vodka-aided conviction. Mateo pulled me closer to him, leaving a trail of kisses from my chest to my neck, until his mouth was hot against my ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he whispered. “So deep, Tally. You’re going to feel me on your body for days if you keep this up.”
My clit thrummed. There was a distinct clench and release going on internally that made it clear if I didn’t have this man inside me soon my petulant little Kegel workout was going to be for nothing.
I pushed him back onto the booth, leaving my hand against his chest like I was warding off a predator. At that point, I was. Another hot sentence out of his mouth and I wouldn’t care who was watching anymore. Mateo’s gaze was burning, so serious and savage I couldn’t bring myself to match it. Mateo lifted his hips ever so slightly and I choked on a groan. He was reading me like a motherfucking book. Reading me to filth. He reached between us and adjusted himself, brushing his knuckles so fucking close to the apex of my core it was like someone blowing out birthday candles. Except the candle was my fucking clit and the breath was too weak to blow out the flame.
The song started the bridge and I unwound my legs from him, turning and placing my back to his chest and my palms on his outstretched thighs, rolling my ass over his lap. That earned me another animalistic grunt from the depths of his stomach.
I made the mistake of looking up and immediately regretted it when I found our entire wedding party watching intently. Not just them—we’d earned the attention of quite a few people in the club who might have thought we were part of the club’s entertainment. All but Frankie, who had clearly learned his lesson from Christmastime and was hiding his eyes behind his hand and staring at the table. My sisters were somewhere between pride for how seriously I was taking this scavenger hunt item, and the sheer inability to look away. I knew I had that effect on people, based on hundreds of thousands of dollars of experience.
“We’re going,” I heard uttered gruffly. Mateo’s hands slipped around my body, one pinning my waist down so I couldn’t move it anymore, the other over my thigh like a seatbelt. His fingers drummed on the inside of my leg impatiently.
“Going?” I squeaked. “Where?”
“Oh, baby girl.” He said it so sarcastically, condescendingly. “How does it usually end when you put on this little show?”
With my feet tickling my ears? A stack of pillows under my hips? My head hanging off the edge of the bed and my mouth wide open? We were at a borderline rave where none of those choices seemed like an option, but I wasn’t underestimating Mateo’s creativity. Not with his possessive hands on my body and that determined dark stare—the one that only came out for a very specific reason and didn’t go away unless that reason was satiated.
He wouldn’t , I dared to think. It would be so goddamn obvious why we were leaving and what we were about to do.
The music mixed into a different song and Mateo’s grip tightened just before he hefted us both off the leather booth, keeping me pressed to his body, no doubt hiding the boner I could still feel pegging me in the back. I was deranged enough to smile about it even though he could swipe a finger between my legs and put me on blast just as easily.
“I don’t know whether I should clap or not.” Tyler held his two palms about a foot apart from each other. “It was almost like you’ve rehearsed that before.” I sent a silent thank you into the universe for giving Mateo friends who were outwardly unabashed because it made the pregnant awkwardness of the lap dance coming to an end that much more bearable.
That was short-lived, of course, as my darling husband pushed me forward by the small of my back, steering me like a grocery cart with a wonky wheel away from everyone. Ophelia was amused; my sisters were baffled; Angelo avoided eye contact like an animatronic with a loose screw, unsure of which direction to turn or what to do with his hands; and Sam was buried in his drink, unfazed.
We were one hell of a dysfunctional group.
“We’re going to sort something out,” Mateo announced. My cheeks flushed, and my lower half buzzed in anticipation as I tripped over myself adjusting to the quickness in which he turned us toward the dark hallway leading straight to the bathrooms.
Two steps later, we were screeched to a halt by a strange man and a deep voice that chilled me straight to my bones.
“I thought I recognized you two.”