CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MATHIAS
It takes a long time for me to fall asleep.
Nothing could have prepared me for the scene I walked into: Allison standing frozen in the bathroom, her eyes unfocused, and my straight razor poised to cut across her vulnerable wrist.
If I hadn’t already been awake questioning the wisdom of placing her in a separate room rather than demanding she stay in mine, I may never have noticed when the bathroom light appeared beneath the closed door. Allison would have been alone with her thoughts, and who knows what would have happened?
My grip tightens, and I take comfort in the evidence of her life. Warm skin, steady heartbeat. Her chills stopped around the time I finally felt the tension leave her body an hour ago.
For the first time in my life, a sense of helplessness creeps into my psyche, because as much as I’d like to, I can’t control this.
I wanted to stop her pain. The shivering. The tears. The mental battle in her head. But all I could do was hold her while she suffered. Until exhaustion won out.
It’s unacceptable, considering my promise to care for her needs.
In the morning, I plan on hearing the full extent of her troubles, since my gut is telling me they extend beyond a bad roommate. I’m going to learn what medications she’s on, who her therapist is, and how often she sees them.
Then I’m going to make a plan.
***
When the sun rises, it brings with it the heady realization that Allie’s plump ass is cradling my morning wood, and this may be the best way I’ve ever woken up.
My dreams centered on her holding a knife, twirling it between her fingers, while my father laughed from the sidelines, a gun trained on me to prevent my interference as the flashing blade nicked her skin over and over again.
To say I could use the relief Allie’s curvy body snuggled against mine provides is an understatement.
My palm slips beneath her tee and slides higher to cup her breast, the generous swell overflowing the possessive grasp. My hand contracts causing her nipple to push between two fingers, and I wish we were positioned differently so I could suck the stiffening bud into my mouth.
Allie shifts but remains sleeping as I massage her breast while working my other hand into her sleep shorts to trace the hot seam of her pussy. My dick is rock hard as I slowly grind into her ass, a rumble of need vibrating in my chest.
Maybe it’s wrong to touch her after such a harrowing night, but I can’t help myself. She feels too good when I’ve been craving more since our agreement yesterday. After her lush curves molded to my lap while I fed her. After chaining her to my side while we slept.
And maybe Allie needs this, too.
Because she fidgets again, but this time a soft moan accompanies the movement.
Silky wetness eases the journey from her clit to the small opening of her cunt, and I carefully circle the ring of softened flesh and groan. She’s going to strangle my cock when I bury deep inside and stretch my innocent girl’s tight little pussy.
I lick behind her ear, savoring the salty sweet taste of her skin as she writhes into my hand and cock, rubbing every beautiful curve against me, searching for satisfaction.
Grunting, I readjust behind her so my body has more leverage, practically dry humping her into the mattress with each heavy rock of my hips.
Fuck these damn clothes.
My sweatpants and her cotton shorts offer an annoying barrier when all I want is to slide between the deep valley of her ass cheeks while finger fucking her pussy.
Allie whimpers, and the sound goes straight to my balls. They’re heavy and full and ready to shoot a steady stream of cum over my girl’s pretty little body.
“ C'est ca, mon petit ange. Come for me,” I rasp, my harsh breaths filling her ear. “ Ton cul parfait est sur le point de me faire jouir. Tu es si belle, ma douce fille .”
Our bodies shudder in near unison, first hers then mine, until I sink bonelessly into her, allowing my weight to anchor her to the bed.
“Wh… What just happened?”
Allison’s groggy voice holds a note of panic, so I quickly shift to my side and roll her over to face me. It spreads the sticky mess we made on the sheets, but I don’t care.
That's one of the perks of having a woman of my own—the convenience of wet pussy wrecking my cock and bed whenever I want it.
“You came for me like I commanded.” I suck the glossy evidence of her orgasm from my fingers.
Damn, she tastes good.
“But…”
A fist bangs on the door, and Allie startles like that nervous little bunny again.
“Hey, lazy bones. Our security access was finally cleared for Petit Enterprises. When you’re ready to grace us with your presence, we can start combing through their records to nail Louis,” Luca calls out, amusement coating his tone.
Jackass.
Unless he checked next door first, he couldn't know for sure if Allie was in my bed, but it’s not too much of a gamble to assume she is, which means he wanted to interrupt whatever we were doing.
Just like an annoying brother.
“That sounds important. I’m going to…” Allie tries to extricate herself from my embrace, but I stop her with a firm hand to her hip.
“Explain the details of your health,” I finish her sentence.
“We went over this last night. There’s not much more to tell.”
“I disagree.” Then I ask the questions raised from last night. Because there's no way in hell I'm letting her downplay anything.
At first, Allie hems and haws, trying to get away with vague answers, then she realizes I’m not letting her leave this bed until I get what I want.
She finally relents with an aggrieved sigh and draws the comforter up to her shoulders, staring at the ceiling as her story unfolds.
“Growing up, I dealt with what I’d now categorize as OCD, anxiety, and depression. I worried about making friends or saying the wrong thing in class. At home, my parents fought a lot, and I was their unofficial mediator. I made it my responsibility to save their marriage, to protect my little brother from their fights. All of it, school and my family, created an anxious perfectionist who was slowly dying inside,” she admits.
“What you saw last night started in high school. I can’t pinpoint the exact event that triggered it, but one day, I stared at a bottle of ibuprofen for too long, imagining what would happen if I swallowed every pill.” Her voice takes on a far-off quality like she’s drifted back to that time to relive the moment.
“It made me feel a little better.” She shrugs as best she can while laying down. “And I figured it was harmless since I didn’t plan on actually following through with the thought.”
A vulnerable teen Allison causes an unfamiliar pinch in my heart. I didn’t have a great childhood either. Hugo’s dad raised us as manipulative and dangerous mercenaries. I knew how to infiltrate a building and kill a man with his own tie before learning how to drive.
But at least I had my brothers.
It sounds like my girl didn’t have a strong support system. Even with a sibling, she was too entrenched as a protective figure, making it impossible to lean on her brother when she needed help, too.
“When did the medication and therapy start?” I ask, drumming out a random pattern on her hip with my fingers.
Her nose scrunches up as she mentally calculates the time. “About four years ago? I tried therapy first, and while I liked my therapist, I didn’t feel much improvement. Then my doctor suggested a combination solution, so I switched therapists, got on the meds, and that’s where I am today. There was a lot of trial and error between different medications and doses until we landed on something that worked.”
“But it’s not one hundred percent foolproof.”
A sigh of resignation warms my chest as she ducks her head. “No, though I’m not sure that’s possible.”
“Have you talked with your doctors about changing things since you’re still experiencing…” I mull over the best way to define yesterday’s episode, but Allison saves me from completing the thought.
“The problem doesn’t lie with the meds or therapy. It’s the situations I put myself in that exacerbate things. When I’m not in toxic environments, like living with Bailey or my family, I’ve never felt better. My issue is unknowingly falling back into those patterns. It’s not like I would have agreed to room with Bailey if I knew I’d find myself in a similar mental space as I did with my parents.”
“That won’t happen again. I won’t let it.”
She laughs. “You can’t guarantee that. Frankly, my past bad decisions are part of the reason I should go home. I never should have agreed to this arrangement. My only excuse for yesterday is that you caught me at a vulnerable time, but it was momentary. I’m better now.”
“You literally had a blade to your wrist mere hours ago. You’re not better now,” I scoff in disbelief. The puzzle of Allison is slowly coming together, but she's still full of contradictions. Surprises.
“I mean this has been a wake-up call. You pushed me out of the apartment with Bailey, which I appreciate, but I can handle the rest from here. I’ll go back to North Carolina and use the money you gave me for a hotel until I find a new place to live.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no ?” Allison wiggles to a sitting position and stares down at me, a frown wrinkling her face.
Matching her position, I rise up enough that our eyes are even. “There’s not a chance in hell you’re leaving. Not the state. Not Boston. Not this damn room if you insist on being difficult.”
She sputters with indignation. A spark of fire I’ve been missing. That her family and friends attempted to snuff out.
“Excuse me? Being difficult? I’m letting you off the hook. Yesterday was a weird day. An anomaly. We’re strangers who let emotions control our actions, but today will be different. You can return to focusing on the trouble with your dad, and I can rebuild the progress I made before everything went down with Bailey.”
Allie can fight this all she wants, but she’s not going anywhere. Not without my approval. I've got a contingent of Blackthorn men—ex-military, mostly—who will ensure she stays exactly where I want her.
Spying the time on the nightstand clock, I pat her hip again then get out of bed. Luca may be aggravating, but he’s got a point about our need to go through Petit’s records. It’s already two hours past the time I’d normally start work, which is jarring.
I never sleep in.
I’m never late.
“Here’s your first lesson about me: I don’t let emotions control anything I do.” Have they come close when Allie’s in the picture? Perhaps. But I’ve reined them in and decided my next steps based on pure, hard logic.
Allison unwittingly offered the perfect antidote to cure the feral hunger I keep chained tightly within. I rule decisively and purposefully in everything I do, which requires a cool head. A calm demeanor.
Neither of those things comes easily when there’s a part of me that yearns to break free and control situations.
Employees who make mistakes? I wish I could shake sense into them.
Peers who ignore my advice? I’d like to force them to listen and heed my words.
But that’s not acceptable behavior in a businessman. In anyone really.
No one likes to be told what to do. Least of all me.
So, I tamp down the instinct that wants me to shout “I know what’s best for you,” breathe a sigh of relief when people’s decisions work out, and bite my tongue when they don’t.
Until Allison.
She gave me free rein over her life yesterday.
She agreed to let me take care of her and do what’s in her best interest.
She did it gratefully. Willingly. Beautifully.
And I won’t let her take it back.
That's the cold, hard, logical truth.