by Sam Mariano
I don’t know how to explain what I feel for Mateo. It isn’t yearning, it isn’t want. I wouldn’t even call it lust, but he calls to me in some way. I don’t want him, but I’m ensnared all the same.
Feel isn’t even the right word. It’s not an emotional response, it’s a force of nature. Mateo Morelli is a black hole, and no matter how I feel, no matter what I want, I can’t escape from being sucked into him.
As I think that, his finger moves inside my panties.
“Stop.”
He doesn’t, sucking on my neck before saying, “No, don’t tell me to stop. We’ve already played that game. I want to play a different one.”
“It wasn’t a game to me,” I remind him, soberness piercing whatever fuckery he’s practicing on me right now. “It was real to me.”
His hand cups my neck again, and it feels so tender—too tender. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t hold a grudge.”
I about sputter at his minimizing it to a grudge, but then he’s kissing me and I don’t know what to do. I push against his chest, but he pushes between my legs and a moan slips out of me.
“Fuck,” I say, shoving him harder. “Stop it. Stop it! Stop playing games with me.”
“Just give in. Play with me, not against me.”
I shake my head, scooting closer to the door. “I’m going back out there. I will finish this stupid poker game bullshit, but this is the only game I’m playing with you tonight.”
He sighs, but doesn’t move to stop me as I reach the knob of the door. “Another night, then.”
I freeze.
I could move. I want to move. He won’t stop me, but his words keep me right where I stand.
Because I can’t play this game another night.
I don’t know where it will go, or what the new stakes will be, or who will get destroyed in this one, but I know someone will. And I consider it highly unlikely it will be him.
No, it will be me and Vince. Again. It will always be me and Vince. Anytime we go up against this man in any capacity, whether in earnest, in a battle of wits, of wills… he is always going to destroy us. Maybe not even on purpose. It’s just what he does. How he plays. He’s a lion trying to play with a kitten—the kitten will always get hurt.
I want Vince, I want to see what we can become, but there’s one thing I know for certain: we will not survive Mateo. We can fight as hard as we want, but he’ll win every time. Whatever Vince and I promise each other, regardless of what we want, Mateo will always wreck it.
Since I haven’t moved, he asks, “Change your mind already?”
“I can’t do another night.” I shake my head, looking down at the floor, baffled by how I could be in this situation right now. “What is wrong with me? I know the truth about you, so why do I still want to believe the lies?”
“Because you’re human,” he says, coming up behind me. His hands come to rest on my hips again. “And you’re sweet. And young. And so idealistic.”
“This isn’t fair to Vince. Why won’t you just stop? Just leave us alone? Let us see if we can build something together.”
“That’s what you want?”
“Yes.”
He mulls it over a minute before saying, “I might have a proposition for you.”
This already feels like a trap, so I sigh, hanging my head. “What now?”
“We both know you’ll end up back in my bed eventually—probably sooner than later, if we’re being realistic. And painfully, for Vince. He’ll have to watch it all unfold again. I’ve charmed you before; you know if I set my mind to it, I’ll do it again.”
“I don’t know that,” I mutter.
“Sure,” he says, unconvinced. “What if we skip all the foreplay? I get you tonight. Once. You give yourself to me one last time, and in doing so, save Vince plenty of torture. It’s a favor, really.”
“No,” I say. “I don’t trust you.”
“Smart.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’ll give you and Vince your own place.”
Turning to face him, I say, “What?”
“It’s proximity to me that wears you down. You live in my house, you’re under my rule. You go where I say, when I say, and do what I say when you get there. That wasn’t an act; that’s your life in my house. What if you didn’t live in my house? What if I gave you and Vince your own space, let you move out?”
Let us get away from him.
Vince’s words run through my mind: “I want something of my own, something to… get me out from under his thumb.”
Monday night comes back to me, how lovely it was just the two of us at Joey’s apartment, making dinner, snuggling as we watched movies, no pressure. Mateo didn’t even exist there.
“We wouldn’t have to see you at all?”
“Well, Sunday night dinner. But you come, you eat, you leave when you’re ready—not like living there. I won’t rock your boat. If you want to try with Vince…this is how.”
God, that’s tempting. “I… I can’t do that to Vince.”
Sighing like he can hardly handle how pedestrian I am, Mateo asks, “Do you know why people lie, Mia?”
“Because they’re cowards,” I reply.
He smiles at the insult. “Because it’s easier. Stop doing everything the hard way. Just lie to him. He’ll love you for it.”
“You’d just tell him,” I toss back.
“I wouldn’t. I won’t. You have my word.”
I snort, and he scowls.
Catching me at the small of my back, he yanks me against him. I gasp, caught off guard, and he says, “Now, now. I’ve never given you my word before. I do have some honor.”
“If you did, I don’t think you’d be holding your erection against me right now.”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have offered you an out at all and I could hold my cock against you whenever I feel like it.”
I can’t really argue that.
Just like I can’t argue against the way my body is reacting to him. When it has every reason to be repulsed by him, the damn thing is somehow turned on instead. I want to believe in myself, in Vince, but there’s too much evidence to the contrary. Vince’s reaction to how Mateo dressed me up tonight—the first time Mateo fucks with him again, and he reacts just the way Mateo intends. He can’t stop letting him under his skin.
And a tiny part of me points out, Vince believed as much as I did that Mateo would forcibly fuck me tonight.
Would this be so much worse?
“You promise you wouldn’t tell him, and you would give us our own place away from you?”
“I do.”
“Do you have a condom?”
He smiles like the devil, about to acquire a shiny new soul. “I do.”
Swallowing once, twice, three times, I meet his gaze, still afraid he’ll screw me over…but more afraid of the alternative.
“Okay,” I say, stomach falling even as the word spills out of mouth. “I’ll do it.”
Chapter Twenty Nine
Once the words are out, I feel almost light-headed, already wondering what I’ve just done.
I only get a brief glimpse of his victory—he extinguishes the sparkle in his eyes before he scares me off. His track record at this point does nothing to recommend him, and I could very well be digging my own grave right now instead of an escape tunnel.
Wisely, he doesn’t give me any more time to think about it. Once his hands slip beneath the scant fabric of the skirt, cupping my ass and pulling me against him, all ability to think drains right out of me. Knowing all I do about him should make him unattractive, unappealing, repulsive—but somehow it only makes knowing he wants me, even if only for a game, strangely thrilling.
Mateo dips his head to the overflowing cleavage spilling out of the corset. As his lips brush the exposed skin, pleasure moves through my veins, leaving on a breathless sigh. He’s still forceful, grabbing me to pull me closer. I shouldn’t like it. I really shouldn’t like it.
Backing me up
against the door, he lifts my arms above my head, a shadow of last time. My heart does a flip, but he doesn’t hold them there, instead letting his fingers skim down the undersides until he’s holding my hips again.
Fuck me, he makes things feel good.
When he’s not making things feel terrible, I remind myself.
He kisses me again, and my arms wind around his neck, tugging him closer. Excitement makes my stomach feel light, like I’m flying downhill on a rollercoaster. I guess I kind of am.
His hands roam all over me while we kiss. Caressing, digging, pulling. I’m panting when he finally pulls away, and only then to yank my panties off.
“Tell me what you want, Mia.”
I don’t know what he wants me to say, and I’m too reluctant to answer honestly. I don’t want to want any of this with him. Giving voice to it feels so wrong.
His hand moves between my legs, rubbing a finger across my opening. A shaky breath escapes me, but I won’t answer him.
“Come on,” he coaxes, slipping his finger inside of me, using my slickness to tease me. “Do you want my cock, Mia? Do you want me to bend you over and fuck you like a nasty little slut?”
Something like a squeak slips out of me, but I still won’t answer.
“Or do you want my mouth first? Do you want me to lick that pretty little pussy until you’re crying out my name?”
“Jesus, Mateo.”
He grins like the devil he is. “Mouth it is.”
I push out a breath, uncertain, but there’s nothing hesitant about this man. Planting his hands under me, he lifts me up and carries me over to a white couch along the wall. He lets me slide down his body once we get there, then he pushes down on my shoulders until I’m sitting.
Forget second thoughts, I’m on eighth and ninth thoughts, but then Mateo Morelli, all-fucking-powerful Mateo Morelli kneels on the ground between my knees, and I can’t think anymore. Shoving up the tiny skirt, he leans down and gives me the most intimate of kisses, starting slow, teasing me, enjoying every impatient breath, every shift of my hips. He picks up the pace, his tongue relentless against my clit, and in no time at all, just like he promised, I’m gasping his name as jolts of pleasure shoot through my body.
I sag against the couch, but he comes up and gives me a fiercely sexy look that states without words there will be no breaks here. I scoot as he comes down on the couch with me, hips between my legs, and kisses me.
Our tongues tangle for a minute, then he pulls back just enough to ask, “Do you taste your pussy on my lips, Mia?”
His hands move to his belt buckle, ripping it off and tossing it in the floor before unzipping his slacks.
I take the few seconds to catch my breath, and to my relief, he rips open a foil packet and slides on a condom.
“Touch me.”
I swallow, allowing my hands to roam his body as he comes down on top of me, not entering me yet, just kissing me, giving me time to explore him. I haven’t done this before, for obvious reasons, but I like it. My fingers caress muscles, skate down his flat abdomen. Feeling a little timid, I grasp his cock, enjoying the subtle sounds he makes as I guide him between my legs.
I arch as he pushes inside me, slowly, but stretching me. He doesn’t want to hurt me this time, so he keeps pace, waiting for my body to adjust to his size. I’m wet, but his girth takes some getting used to no matter how prepared you think you are.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
I nod, and he starts kissing my neck again, sending shivers everywhere. My body finally relaxes under his ministrations. He pulls out slowly and pushes back in with far more ease this time. I lock my legs around him, looking into his dark brown eyes, completely aware I’m out of my league by a huge margin.
His pace picks up and he’s fucking me good, murmuring things like, “You like my cock deep inside you, Mia?” and “Your pussy feels so good, sweetheart.”
For the most part, I’m just trying to hold on as he buries his huge cock inside me over and over again.
“Harder,” I finally challenge, burying my face in his shoulder.
Mateo chuckles, obeying me for once. Pounding me relentlessly until pleasure erupts and sweeps over with me with such intensity that I scream, digging my nails into his back. He hisses, still pumping into me, and then groans with his own release, thrusting his hips slowly, wringing every last second of pleasure he can from my body.
This time when he collapses on top of me, I wrap my arms around him and hold him close. My body is still weightless from the orgasm, but I know reality is just on the other side of the wall, and I’m not ready for that.
I knew I would be entertaining at a poker game tonight, but I didn’t know the bet with the highest stakes would be mine.
A few minutes pass, then he finally musters the energy to push up off the couch. I watch him as he heads over to the counter, grabbing a paper towel to clean up.
“Condoms are lame,” he informs me.
“Condoms are necessary,” I disagree. Then, since there’s probably not going to be a better time, I go ahead and ask, “What if I’m pregnant?”
He shrugs, dropping the soiled napkin into a garbage can and walking back over to me. “I still need a son.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking,” he informs me, but lightly.
I want to point out it could be another daughter, but this whole topic makes me sweat, so I drop it.
Mateo rights himself, straightening his clothes and raking a hand through his hair. “This was fun. We should do it again sometime.”
My face falls, a ball of dread dropping into my stomach.
He glances back at me over his shoulder. “Just kidding.”
“You’re a bastard,” I inform him, still a little uneasy.
“In every sense of the word.” Finally he walks to the door, pulling it open. “When you’re presentable, come back out. We’ll wrap this up soon and I’ll get you home.”
It’s a little surreal and I’m still afraid to trust it, but at this point, what choice do I have?
---
The excitement of the night has worn off, and by the time I’m slogging back to Vince’s bedroom with my heels dangling from my fingers, smelling strongly of sex and cigars, nervousness has moved into the space containing all my hope when I struck a deal with the devil.
I don’t know if I did the right thing. I don’t know what will happen tonight. I don’t know what I’m coming home to.
It’s close to three am, so I shouldn’t be surprised to see him on the couch, asleep, failing in his mission to wait up for me.
I’m so relieved. Stripping the clothes off and shoving them in the dirty laundry basket, I tiptoe to the bathroom and take the opportunity to scrub Mateo off my skin. I stay in the shower, scrubbing until my skin’s red and agitated, letting the hot water beat on me until there’s none left. My mind swims with guilt and fear, but I don’t want to psych myself up. I told Vince I’d wake him up when I got home, so I still have to face him tonight, and I don’t know how.
I put on one of his T-shirts to sleep in, part of me a little afraid it will be my last chance to. Balancing the world’s weight on my narrow shoulders, I approach the couch and get down on my knees beside it. I just want to look at him. His face so peaceful in sleep, reminding me of the time that felt so long ago when he snuck into my house, just to hold me in his arms. I ache for the two kids who snuggled in bed, so blissfully unaware. I ache for the girl who thought he just didn’t want to be tied down, and that was why he refused to give her a label. That girl could never be where I am right now. That girl wouldn’t have just spent 40 minutes trying to scrub another man off her, she wouldn’t have let him fuck her while she wore the $800 heels he bought her.
That girl was free to have a $5 spaghetti dinner with Vince, able to meet his eyes without the strain of guilt, never knowing how much that was worth.
I’m not that girl anymore.
I’m this girl.
&nbs
p; And I hope that’s good enough, because it’s all I’ve got.
Reaching out a hand to tenderly brush a lock of dark hair off Vince’s forehead, I give myself one more moment before I give his arm a little shake.
His eyes open, squinting at the light first, but then he sees me. Brushing the sleep away, he pushes himself up in the seat and looks around for his phone. “What time is it?”
“Late. Or, early, I guess,” I tell him with a tentative smile.
His gaze moves over me, taking in whatever he can. “Are you okay?”
“Mmhmm,” I say, nodding. “I’m good.”
“Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head, meeting his gaze, but feeling my heart plummet as I do. I try to be convincing, knowing I have to sell it—he can never know what actually happened, and now that I know we don’t have to worry about it again, I’d prefer he just think nothing did.
He frowns, as if unconvinced.
I’ve already anticipated this, so still kneeling on the floor, I touch a hand to his thigh. “Something good happened tonight.”
“Something good?” he asks skeptically.
Nodding, I say, “I didn’t tell you on Monday because we were having such a nice time and I just wanted us to enjoy ourselves, but on my way to school, I got stopped by these two guys. Cops.”
Concern jumps in his eyes then, and I’m not sure for whom—his family, himself, me? “Cops?”
I nod. “They asked me a bunch of questions, wanting me to turn on you guys. Promising me safety if I did.”
“Jesus, Mia,” he says, pushing up even more, his alarm growing.
I hurry up the conclusion, not wanting to cause him any further stress. “They were on Mateo’s payroll. He sent them. Obviously I didn’t know that, but…”
He sinks against the couch, dread growing instead of dissipating. “He was testing you.”
I nod again. “But I passed.”
His eyes are still trained on me, full of alarm and confusion. “So…what does that mean?”
“It means I pleased Mateo. Surprised him,” I amend, grimacing at my clumsy wording. “He said he believes he can trust me now. If I would’ve talked, it would’ve been then, when things were so… terrible.”
