Translation, she had to give hand jobs to all the men here. That wouldn't be pleasant, and she assumed they’d also come all over her because they enjoyed seeing her marked and dirty, but it wasn't the worst thing in the world. At least she wouldn't have to sit with her center throbbing, not allowed to touch it.
Only as soon as she had the thought, she saw Mateo reach into his back pocket again and pull out the tube.
The arousal gel.
Without a word, he knelt between her still bent and spread legs, already the perfect obedient slave, she hadn't moved because he hadn't told her that she could. Holding the tube above her bundle of nerves—which still tingled with the last vestiges of need—he squeezed out a generous amount.
Ally whimpered, that was more than last time. Did that mean the need the gel caused was going to be stronger?
There was no conscious decision on her part, her hips just rocked forward when his hands began to massage the gel in. She certainly didn't want him touching her, not anymore, but the gel had driven her crazy with need, and now it was going to start all over again, she wanted some relief from it.
But Mateo didn't touch her firmly enough or long enough to let her come. Once he’d made sure the gel was slathered across her center, he pushed a finger inside her, ensuring the gel was inside as well.
Then he straightened, recapped the tube, and shoved it back into his pocket. He didn't have to tell her that each time she had to give one of the men a hand job, they’d reapply the gel, giving her zero relief from the arousal already surging once again.
“I think I’ll take this,” he said, reaching in and slipping the diamond and pearl torque off her wrist. It had been a gift from him on the six-month anniversary of them dating. It seemed only fitting he take it back now. “Stand,” he ordered, already turning to head for the door.
Like the obedient little mouse she was, Ally obeyed. Standing on shaky legs, she followed after him. She wanted to wipe away the semen on her skin as badly as she wanted to touch herself and make herself come. But she did neither, just dropped her gaze to the floor to avoid the leering stares of the other men as she headed back to her cell.
Without another word, Mateo opened the door, waited until she walked inside it, then locked it and turned his back on her, striding away like he didn't have a care in the world. Because she knew there were cameras watching her every move, she couldn’t do anything about the arousal throbbing through her once again. Instead, she dropped to the floor, curled into a ball, and wept.
The pain in her heart from Mateo’s betrayal was every bit as strong as the arousal, and she cried like her heart had broken. Because it had.
August 16th
11:13 P.M.
His poor girl.
The last ten hours for her would have been awful, torn between desperation to come and the knowledge that if she touched herself to get off, she was going to be punished for it. The guys would be having a great time toying with her, and hewas positive they would make a lot of trips to the basement just to taunt her, aside from taking their turn with her.
Mateo hated setting up a punishment that allowed the others to get anywhere near her, but he was painfully aware that his every move was being watched and assessed. Griffin was no doubt looking for anyone he could punish in the wake of Nathan slipping through their fingers. He wouldn't be the only one being watched, but right now it was his neck on the line because everyone knew he’d had a thing with his neighbor.
At least for now, they also seemed to believe that she didn't mean anything to him. He’d pushed her harder than he wanted to in that room, hated making her jerk him off while she was so vulnerable when all their other intimate interactions had been about him trying to empower her, but he needed to make this look believable.
It was both his and Ally’s heads on the line if he didn't.
But knowing that Deacon, Adrian, William, Hank, Henry, Marvin, and Josh, possibly Van as well, although the man was unpredictable, were all going to her, touching her most private parts, painting her with the evidence of the orgasm she gave them, made him feel physically ill.
In fact, he felt so on edge that he’d had no choice but to leave the warehouse for a while. It was either that, or he was going to start killing everyone. It would feel so good, slamming his fists into the men’s faces repeatedly until they were unrecognizable. The sight of their bloody features would soothe the pounding rage. Since he couldn’t really start killing the members of Azure, he’d come here.
An underground fighting ring. A place that had been part of his life since he was fourteen years old. Back then, he’d gotten accidentally caught up in the place because he used to sneak out of his bedroom at night, wander the streets, with no real purpose other than he hated being in that house.
Hated being around his family after what they’d done to him.
One night, he’d been found by a retired Navy SEAL. Sullen and untrusting, young Mateo hadn't given an explanation as to why he was out on the streets after midnight, but the gruff older man had sensed something in him. Something worth investing in.
Because Mateo was such an angry kid, the SEAL took him to a boxing ring and started training him. Immediately, Mateo felt his anger begin to subside. Boxing had become not just an outlet for his emotions, but a way to train his body and mind. The more he hit the bag, the less he felt the need to hit others. The less that need to hit others occupied his every waking moment, the more he was able to focus on other things. Like what his future was going to look like.
A future he had already known wasn't going to include his family.
From the moment they made the decision to walk away from him when he was injured, leaving him alone on the side of the mountain in the middle of a horrendous storm, as they hiked themselves out to safety, he’d known he was done with them. Their excuses that they would send back help, that other kids needed to be gotten to safety, that staying was a death sentence for all of them, had shown him he could never trust them again.
Never trust anyone again.
Because he hadn't died that night. He’d been badly injured, the others—including his own parents and brothers—had all thought he was going to die, it was why they’d left him. They thought staying would end with all of them dying instead of just him.
But he didn't die. He managed to drag his body, mangled from a fall, across almost eleven miles of rough terrain in the middle of a thunderstorm, complete with torrential rain and hail. He should have died, shouldn’t have been able to move, letalone traverse that distance. By the time he’d been found in the morning by some passing hikers who had waited out the storm in an abandoned hunter’s cabin, he was as close to death as it was possible to be while still having a beating heart.