Fated to My Homeless Billionaire Alpha novel · Chapter 2 of 24
Chapter 2: The Bridge
They say vows on the Smithfield Street Bridge and spend the night in her flat; at dawn a dozen men kneel on her sidewalk and call her husband Alpha.
We walked to the Smithfield Street Bridge because he asked me to.
"There's the paper, and there's the vow," Mathias said. "The paper can wait until morning."
"The vow has to be said tonight, out loud, under the sky."
I should have asked what that meant.
Instead I walked beside him through the empty downtown with my heels in my hand.
I had not had a drop to drink all night.
I knew exactly what I was doing, and I wanted to do it anyway.
The old steel bridge hung over the black river, and the lights of the Point glittered at the far end.
A thin sliver of moon sat over the water.
Mathias stopped in the middle of the span and turned to face me.
Up close he smelled like cold air and woodsmoke, and under that like something warm that made my knees feel loose.
"Give me your hand," he said.
I gave it.
He held it against his chest, and his heart was pounding as hard as mine.
"I'm Mathias Ardrey," he said. "I take you as mine, Bryn Halvorsen."
"I will never lie to you about who I am to you."
"I will stand between you and anything that comes."
His voice shook on the last line, and I realized he meant every word.
"Now you," he said.
I had arranged hundreds of weddings and never once said the words myself.
"I'm Bryn Halvorsen," I said. "I take you as mine, Mathias."
"I picked you tonight with my eyes open, and I'm not taking it back."
"You can have me, and I'll keep you."
The river wind stopped.
Mathias let out a long, ragged breath.
Then he kissed me.
It was not a polite kiss.
His beard scratched my chin, and his mouth was hot.
He kissed me like a man who had gone nineteen days without being touched.
I grabbed his coat with both fists and kissed him back.
When he lifted his head, his eyes were fully gold.
"Take me home," I said.
"Bryn," he said roughly. "I'm not what you think."
"I think you're a homeless man with a good voice who just promised to stand between me and anything," I said. "Take me home."
My flat was above the shop, up a flight of narrow stairs.
I got the door open on the third try because his mouth was on the back of my neck.
He kicked it shut behind us.
In the dark kitchen he pushed me against the refrigerator and held my wrists above my head with one hand.
"Tell me to stop," he said, low in my ear.
"Don't you dare," I said.
He made a sound in his chest that was almost a growl.
His free hand found the zipper at the back of my navy dress and dragged it all the way down.
The dress fell to the floor.
I stood in my slip and my bare feet and my grandmother's one remaining earring.
He looked at me for a long moment, and I watched him swallow.
"Mine," he said, like a man testing a word.
"Then take what's yours," I said.
He lifted me by the backs of my thighs and carried me to my bedroom.
I am a size twelve, and no man had ever carried me anywhere.
He put me down on the quilt and stripped off the army coat and the filthy flannel under it.
His chest was broad and hard and covered in dark hair, with an old scar across the ribs.
He did not look like he had been starving in the street.
He looked like a man who had been fighting something for nineteen days.
I pulled the slip over my head.
He knelt on the mattress and put his mouth on my breast, and I arched up with a cry.
His teeth grazed my nipple, and his hand slid down my belly and between my thighs.
"You're soaked," he said against my skin.
"I've wanted to be touched all night," I said. "By you. Since the bench."
He pushed two thick fingers inside me.
I grabbed the headboard.
He worked them in and out slowly and rubbed my clit with his thumb, and my hips began to roll against his hand.
"Mathias, please."
"Say it again."
"Please, fuck me."
He tore open his jeans.
His cock sprang free, thick and hard and flushed dark, and I stared at it and then at him.
"Come here," I said, and pulled him down by the shoulders.
He braced his arms on either side of my head, and the head of his cock pressed against my entrance.
He was shaking.
All of him was shaking.
"I'm going to be too rough," he said through his teeth.
"Good," I said, and wrapped my legs around his hips and pulled him into me.
He groaned, long and low, as he sank in to the hilt.
I gasped at the stretch of him.
It burned and it was perfect, and it filled every inch of me until I couldn't tell where I ended.
He stayed there, buried deep, with his forehead on mine and his whole body trembling.
"Move," I said.
He moved.
He pulled almost all the way out and drove back in, hard enough to push me up the quilt.
I cried out and dug my nails into his back.
"Again."
He gave it to me again, and again, setting a pace that made the headboard slam into the wall.
I felt every thick, hot inch each time he went in.
My breasts bounced with it, and he watched them, and then he caught one in his mouth and sucked hard.
"You feel like you were made for me," he said hoarsely.
"Harder," I said.
He rolled us over.
I was suddenly on top of him with my thighs spread across his hips and his cock still buried inside me.
His hands gripped my waist.
"Ride me," he said. "Show me what you want."
I put my palms on his chest and moved.
I took him deep and slow, then faster, grinding my clit against the base of him every time I dropped.
He watched my face.
"There," he said. "Right there. Don't stop."
The pleasure built hot and tight low in my belly, and every time I ground down it twisted higher.
He thrust up to meet me.
When I came, I screamed his name and clenched around him so hard that he swore.
He flipped me onto my back before the last shudder had finished.
He fucked me through it, rough and deep, holding my hips in the air, until his rhythm broke.
He buried his face in my neck, and his mouth opened against my shoulder, and I felt the points of his teeth.
He didn't bite.
He shuddered and came with a raw groan, hot and pulsing deep inside me, and held me so tight my ribs ached.
For a long time we lay there, breathing.
His mouth was still pressed to my left shoulder, and his whole body was still trembling.
"Thank you," he said into my skin.
I thought he meant for the night.
I fell asleep with his arm across my waist and my back against his chest.
I woke to gray light and an engine idling in the street.
His side of the bed was warm and empty.
I pulled on his flannel shirt and went to the window above the shop.
Three black SUVs sat along the curb on Penn Avenue.
A dozen men in dark coats stood on the pavement.
As I watched, they went down on one knee together, in the street, with their heads bowed toward my front door.
Mathias stood in the shop doorway below in a pair of my sweatpants, looking at them.
"Alpha," the nearest man said clearly.
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