Chapter 7 #2
But the tears trailing down her cheeks told him he was doing nothing at all to protect her.
He was hurting her over and over again, and he didn't know how to make it stop. She thought he was a monster, and that was for the best. Once she was sold, he would do what he always did and get the buyer’s name to Falcon and Prey so they could go in after her.
Part of him wanted her to know then it was because of him she’d been rescued so she didn't hate him, but he wasn't sure that was in her best interest.
As badly as he wanted to try Nathan’s plan for Emma and find a way to fake Ally’s death to get her out, that felt like he’d be prioritizing the life of one over the lives of many, and that wasn't focusing on justice, it was being selfish.
All the women here wanted out as badly as Ally did, and if he did it for her but not for them, he’d be doing it for his own benefit not hers, and that would be wrong of him. He had to shut his emotions down, see her the same way as all the others.
Only as he watched her finger half-heartedly touch herself, those tears a constant stream down her flushed cheeks, he wanted to throw all his preconceived ideas of what was right out the window and do whatever it took to protect this woman.
She was his, the others weren't.
“You're not doing that the way you need to come, little mouse,” he said, needing to give her this one little thing, as though one orgasm could erase the hours she’d spent needing to come but not being allowed to.
Her fingers stilled for a moment, and she whimpered, but quickly cut off the sound because she probably wasn't sure whether she was allowed to speak. It was the opposite of what he’d spent months helping her learn, to stand up for herself, to speak up, to tell others what she was thinking, what she needed, what she wanted.
“Dip a finger inside you, little mouse,” he coached. Maybe Ally didn't care whether or not she came, but he needed to see her fall apart to ease the growing ball of guilt inside him.
Although she hesitated for a moment, she slipped a finger inside herself, and that guilt that was eating him alive took a step back.
Everything would be a little better for her once she came.
She needed it.
Deserved it.
And he needed to give it to her, although he absolutely deserved to be eaten alive by the guilt.
“Curl your finger,” he instructed. “Make it hit that spot inside you that you know you love.”
Another whimper fell from her lips, but this time, Mateo wasn't sure if it was because she was actually starting to make herself feel good, or if it was because she was so repulsed by him and what he was making her do that she felt like she was dying inside.
Praying it was the former but knowing it was likely the latter, he curled his fingers around the bracelet in his pocket and did his best to pretend they were in her bedroom, and she was spread out before him on her bed like the most delicious meal just waiting to be devoured.
Her room was pretty, an extension of herself.
She had a huge canopy bed, the old-fashioned kind made of mahogany, with soft, lacy curtains in a shade of baby blue he knew was her favorite.
There were echoes of that same shade throughout her bedroom and her house.
In the throw pillows and patchwork quilt on her bed, the curtains at her windows in her bedroom and the living room, in the towels in the bathroom, and the tea towels in the kitchen.
It was several shades lighter than the bright blue of her eyes, but it was how they looked in the soft moonlight when he made love to her for the first time.
Now the tears that shimmered in her eyes made them seem even brighter, the opposite of that shade of blue that had quickly become his favorite, and there was no use pretending they were anywhere but here.
He really was the monster she’d accused him of being, one he’d feared he might be many times over the last two decades as he got better at shutting off his emotions.
“That’s it, little mouse,” he encouraged.
“Use your thumb as well, work your bud, I want to see you come.” Actually, he did, and he didn't want to see her fall apart.
He did because he felt that would go a tiny way toward evening the score in his favor for all the horrors she was enduring because of his job, but he also didn't because he was all too aware this wasn't what she wanted.
When she came, it was going to be powerful, almost an entire day of being kept right on the edge would make it one of the strongest orgasms of her life, and he hated that he wasn't giving it to her. Edging her was one of his favorite games, and she loved it, too, but that was when she was consenting, when they were doing it for fun, for enjoyment, and he’d never edge her this hard or this long.
“Add another finger, little mouse,” he ordered, not able to call her by her number even though he knew they might be being watched on the camera because Ally needed a connection during this intimate moment, even if she had no idea it was real.
It had always been real between them.
Falling in love had never been on his radar.
He hadn't ever wanted to let another person in after he’d been betrayed by pretty much his entire family in one fell swoop, but he was utterly powerless to resist this gorgeous, sweet, shy woman.
He saw her inner strength and had always wanted to help her connect to it, so she could fly high like she was always supposed to.
A moan tumbled from her lips as she did as he said and used two fingers to thrust in and out of herself. Her thumb on her bundle of nerves began to work harder, and he knew that even though she might not want this orgasm, it was bearing down on her.
“Third finger, little mouse,” he rasped as his erection strained against his jeans, it was almost painfully hard, but he didn't intend to do anything about it. Ally had spent hours suffering through arousal that couldn’t be satisfied, he didn't deserve any relief.
Another moan, louder this time, fell from her, and she was almost frenetically trying to get herself off now. Whatever embarrassment and anger had been holding her back was gone as she chased the release that had been denied her for so long.
“Want to hear you scream when you come,” he warned. “I want the whole building to hear you, want them to know how beautiful you sound when pleasure is stealing your ability to do anything but feel.”
Her hazy blue eyes, clouded with need, met his, and she held his gaze as she pumped her fingers in and out, while her thumb pressed harder on her bud.
Even when she came, screaming her release like he’d told her to, she never once looked away from him.
And when she began to float back down to earth, panting and shaking, she didn't break eye contact.
So he held her gaze, hoping she found in him whatever it was she needed, as he stood and walked toward her.
When he was standing right in front of her, she had to tilt her head back to maintain that connection, and when he reached out and circled her wrist, bringing the hand covered in the evidence of what she’d just done toward his lips, she gasped, her eyes widening until they were almost impossibly big.
Opening his mouth, he took her fingers between his lips and sucked them off, swirling the tip of his tongue around the pad of each one before finally releasing her hand.
She tasted of everything he’d begun to allow himself to want, and now everything he’d never be able to have, but he’d needed one last taste to remember the sweet woman who had been so close to being his.