Page 17 of Defending Mateo
1:02 P.M.
Mateo’s plan to degrade her so she felt utterly worthless had absolutely worked.
The man really was a monster.
She’d gone and fallen in love with a monster.
Maybe after being neglected and unwanted most of her life, and bullied by the other kids at school, she didn't even know how to spot true affection and care. Maybe, subconsciously, she sought out all that she believed, deep down, she deserved.
Although not even in her darkest moments, when she really did feel worthless, did she think she deserved to be lying on the unforgiving floor of a room, her legs spread wide, finger clawing at the concrete in a desperate attempt to stop herself from touching her body where it was crying out for stimulation.
Before she met Mateo, Ally believed she was lacking in a sex drive, she never really got aroused, never really thought about sex, never craved that intimate connection with someone. Butonce she met him, she realized it wasn't her body that had the problem, it was her mind.
What she lacked was the confidence to connect with someone on this level, thanks to her belief that she deserved to be alone, and fear that the only time she was safe was when she shut everyone else out. Mateo helped her work through those issues, to embrace her body and its sexuality. He pushed her to try new things, and she found that she was actually a whole lot more adventurous than she would have ever believed.
If this had been a game they were playing in his bedroom or hers, then it would have been erotic. She would have been lying here enduring this most exquisite torture because she knew the payout at the end was going to be astronomically amazing.
But here, there was no payout coming.
Nothing other than humiliation, suffering, and the loss of any remaining shreds of self-worth she had left. They didn't want her to see herself as a person because they didn't, and neither would the man who eventually bought her. That game in the showers was horrible. She still felt shame for how her body had responded to the other women’s touches, and that she’d done the same thing to them, but at least she hadn't been alone, there was some solace to suffering as a group, although she was sure that made her sound selfish.
Here, there was nothing and no one but her, her arousal—which felt like a living beast raging inside her, demanding satisfaction—and Mateo.
Standing there, watching her with his dark eyes, he didn't talk much and hadn't answered any of her questions, other than to agree with her that he was nothing but a monster. But his gaze never left her, it was obvious he enjoyed seeing her like this. Naked and spread out before him, nothing to stop him from doing whatever he chose to her. It was only that she was terrified of what he’d do to her if she disobeyed him that had stoppedher slipping her fingers between her legs and easing the ache throbbing there.
Since she was afraid, she just writhed on the floor, clawed at the concrete, no doubt tearing up her nails in the process, and tried to ride it out.
Surely, sooner or later, the tearing need would fade.
“Sit up,” Mateo ordered. “Back against the wall, knees bent and spread wide. Same rules apply, touch yourself and you’ll wish you didn't.”
They’d dated for a year, and Mateo knew she wasn't going to disobey any of his orders. She was too meek to do that, too weak and pathetic to ever stand up for herself. So she did as he asked, ignoring the pull between her legs, urging her to forget about anything else other than how amazing it would feel to bring herself to orgasm. Would that ease the arousal gel’s power? Or would one orgasm not be enough? Maybe she’d need to come over and over again to satisfy this all-consuming need.
Once she was situated the way he wanted, he stalked toward her. If there was somewhere to go to hide, she might have risked it and fled. Okay, she wouldn't really, but it was nice to think about. But there was nowhere to go, no place to hide, she was trapped and helpless.
Just the way he wanted her.
While she felt humiliated by what Mateo had done to her, she didn't feel embarrassed about being naked, her glistening center bared to him. The driving need flooding her system was too overpowering to feel much of anything else.
Arousal and fear, that was all her world had narrowed down to contain.
When he was standing right beside her, Mateo stopped. His eyes were impossible to read, he’d blanked them. The man she’d known seemed to have completely disappeared, and she was sure that was because he’d never really existed to begin with.The Mateo Adler she’d fallen in love with had been nothing more than a figment of her imagination, a conjuring of her dream man.
With slow, deliberate movements, his hands moved to the waistband of his jeans, and he unzipped them, reached inside the waistband, and shoved his boxers down enough that this thick, long erection sprang free.
If there was any doubt that he liked seeing her like this, it disappeared at the sight of that erection. This turned him on. Seeing her consumed with need she wasn't allowed to satisfy, helpless and at his mercy. The woman in the cell beside hers said the men weren't allowed to rape her, but she wasn't sure she believed it. Even if Mateo didn't rape her, he could sexually assault her.
“Hands on me, make me come,” he ordered, and a small cry fell from her lips before she could stop it.
Touching him had always been fun, pleasurable for both of them, but not now. Not here. Not like this.
“Now, one four zero,” he snapped, and Ally squeaked and reached out her trembling hands to grasp his length.
As she stroked it, she tried to block out the circumstances, tried to pretend they were just playing in her bedroom, that everything was okay, and she was safe. But she couldn’t. Because there was no sexy talk, no soft touches or encouraging words, no affectionate fingers tangling in her hair, caressing her scalp, there was nothing. He was like a statue. In fact, if his length didn't jerk at her touch, she’d think he’d been turned to stone.
When he did come, he let it squirt all over her, painting her chest, her breasts, and her neck with the evidence of his release. Was it her imagination, or had her own arousal begun to abate? The need was still there, but it wasn't clawing at her now, it was more like a hum than a scream.
“Time to go back to your cell, one four zero,” Mateo said as he shoved himself back into his boxers and zipped up again. “You're going to get a visitor every couple of hours, and you're going to give them the same attention.”
