Straightening her upper body, she flexed her thighs, trying to block out the sensations he stroked between them.
He seemed to be pondering dour thoughts because his caresses grew rougher and less controlled, making her cringe.
“When you escaped Van Quiso and called me…” He crouched before her, eyes on her cunt as he traced the seam with a warm, wet finger. “You were a virgin then.”
“Yeah.” A shiver trickled down her spine.
She was grateful to have left the attic with that one part of herself intact. At the same time, it became a burden she’d carried for months after. The label of innocence didn’t quite fit after what she’d been through with Van. It’d felt like she was holding on to her virginity because of the abuse she’d endured.
When Oscar propositioned her in a coffee shop six months after her captivity, she’d been more than ready to prove she wasn’t a fearful victim.
“You should’ve fucking told me how to find you.” Without warning, Matias shoved a finger inside her and used it like a hook to yank her closer.
She gasped. Trying to buck free, she smacked at his arm and kneed his chest, but couldn’t dislodge his finger. “I didn’t know you anymore.”
He’d been led from his home by armed men, and in the few phone conversations they’d had before her abduction, he’d acted so damn secretive and shady. He’d told her nothing, refused her questions, and hadn’t come back for her when she still lived in the grove.
“I didn’t trust you.” She twisted her hips away from his hand, going nowhere. “As it turns out, I have killer instincts.”
“You were wrong.” He launched to his full height and squeezed her neck as he added another finger inside her, thrusting them mercilessly and wrenching a whimper from her. “And you’re wrong now. I will never forgive you for hanging up on me. For making me wait a fucking year before you called again. Making me wait while you spread your legs for other men.”
There was so much pain in his voice, in the taut line of his shoulders, the glaze in his citrine eyes, the vicious drive of his fingers making her pussy ache.
“You’re hurting me.” She clawed at the hand around her neck.
“You hurt me!” He tightened his grip, holding her back against the wall. “You were mine, goddammit!”
“Yours?” Her temper inflamed, flushing her system with adrenaline. “When I called that day, were you mine? Were you a twenty-year-old virgin holding out for his childhood sweetheart?”
“I did wait for you!” Flexing his hand at her throat, his other withdrew from between her legs to stab through the wet strands of her hair. He yanked at the roots as he tipped back her head. “I waited until I could come back for you. Waited a fucking year. Then you disappeared, and I thought…” The anger drained from his voice, and his forehead dropped to her temple, his breath hot on her face. “I thought you were dead.”
Her throat closed up, her eyes burned, and she felt an overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around him.
He’s a slave trader, living in luxury that’s paid for in innocent lives.
“I was gutted.” He trailed fingers over her shoulder and around her breast, the hand on her throat loosening. “Consumed with rage. A nineteen-year-old kid with so much hatred eating me up. I fought and drank and killed.” He pinched her nipple, squeezing painfully. “Then I fucked a whore in an alley.”
Her chest caved in beneath a barrage of jealousy. And rage. So much fucking rage it seethed from her pores. He should’ve returned for her. Should’ve talked to her, confided in her, trusted her. Then he never would’ve had to stick his dick in a whore. Fuck him.
“The next day…” He brushed his lips across her cheek. “I got the shoulder tattoo.”
A branding of guilt. He deserved it.
Except she understood that odious feeling. She’d starved herself for weeks after she gave her first time to Oscar. She hadn’t belonged to Matias, but all of her firsts had been meant for him.
He released her throat, and when he lifted his head, his haunted eyes filled her horizon. Her brain couldn’t reconcile the look on his face with the cold-hearted man auctioning off women in the living room.
Going into this, she’d known rape was on the table. She had an IUD to prevent pregnancy, but STDs were one of the many known risks. One risk she hadn’t calculated was having sex with Matias. Whether it would be willing or forced, it was a threat to her heart, one that could destroy her.
He gripped her wrists and pinned them against the wall above her head. She anticipated what was coming and couldn’t stifle the feelings exploding inside her. Her legs shook, and the inner muscles contracted and heated. For years, she’d imagined him between her thighs, his body a pillar to hold on to, and his groans a comforting embrace.
The lean muscles of his chest flexed, and his full mouth parted as his wet body slid against hers. He pressed his hard length against her pussy, seeking entry, his gaze feral.
He shifted her wrists to one hand and grabbed the base of his cock. Stroking himself, pressing his body impossibly close to hers, he licked the seam of her lips then kissed her like he’d waited his entire life for this very moment. His hard, frantic nips and urgent flicks of his tongue left her gasping, biting, reciprocating.
Hunger coiled between her legs, and her clit throbbed beneath the massaging glide of his length. She wished her arousal was a trained response, but Jesus have mercy, she wanted him. Wanted him in her.
She rocked her hips, needing more friction as she chased his tongue and devoured his lips.
“I’ve waited so long for this,” he breathed between kisses, his eyes molten gold.
Without looking away, he speared his fingers inside her, spread her open, and slid his cock along her folds. Fucking her without penetration.
Just like old times.
She tried to disassociate what was happening now from her cherished memories, but the pieces of her that would always want him were breaking open and messing with her mind. As he nudged the broad head of his erection at her opening, her pleasure centers fired in excitement, and her heart pounded frantically, even as her brain screamed no.
He stilled, his breath cutting off as his smoldering gaze drilled into her.
Holy fuck, this was it. She couldn’t breathe.
The hand on her wrists clamped to the point of pain, and his head whipped around to look over his shoulder.
“I need you in the west wing.” Nico’s accent echoed through the bathroom.
Heat rushed to her cheeks as she peered around Matias’ stiff shoulders. What the hell was Nico doing here? In Matias’ bathroom? Without fucking knocking?
“Sorry about the timing, parce.” Nico stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, his scowl prominent amid his dark trimmed beard. “This can’t wait.” With a sharp glare in her direction, he strolled out of the room.
“Fuck!” Matias released her and shoved his hands through wet hair. “Fucking fuck!
She sagged against the wall, her body buzzing and head spinning. Just a sliver of another second and he would’ve been inside her. Their first time together. Connected in the way she’d always imagined. So fucking close.
She should’ve felt relieved. Should’ve been over-fucking-joyed by the interruption. Instead, her heart felt like it was shrinking.
Matias smacked the faucet, turning off the water. Then he stood there, swiping his palms down his face, his body a vibrating coil of tension.
How was he okay with Nico coming into his bathroom and ordering him around? It was either a really close relationship or an authoritarian one.
Maybe she should dry off, try to wipe away the last few minutes. As she moved to step out, he beat her there.
Wrapping a towel around his waist, he held one out for her. “Let’s go.”
Go? She assumed this was a business call. Would he take her with him? Hope bubbled up. She needed to get a lay of the land. And cool off her damn libido.
In the bedroom, he dragged on bla
ck suit pants, tucking his erection to the side as he zipped up. No underwear.
She bit her lip. What was she supposed to wear? She dried off and looked around.
A wall of windows led to another balcony. A king-sized bed sat in the corner of the room, draped in white fabrics. Couches and chairs formed a horseshoe in front of a fireplace. And a large column stood in the center of the room, rising up to the apex of the vaulted ceiling. Everything painted in white.