novelxo Keeping My Captive: Chapter 38
AS I WALK towards the dining room, I can feel Mateo’s release coating my thong and thighs, and I squirm uncomfortably. This is such a bad idea, but it’s too late to turn back now. I don’t know why I gave in to him. There was just something in his eyes and the way he begged that made me surrender. I’m sure Mateo has never begged for anything in his entire life. And once again, it gave me a sense of power over him.
Mateo catches up with me, guiding me into the room. And when we enter, I see his uncle and some of the staff milling about. Paranoia instantly hits me, and I suddenly worry that everyone knows. Knows what we just did. And maybe they can even smell his cum between my legs. Embarrassed…and a little aroused by that fact, I can feel the heat of a blush coating my chest and making its way up to my ears.
“It’s about damn time,” Domingo says, his words slurring. I see a myriad of empty glasses in front of him at the table. “I drank your most expensive whiskey. Hope you don’t mind, but I was getting bored.”
Mateo flashes him a grin, but I can see the shadows flickering in his eyes. “You could have started dinner without us,” Mateo suggests as he pulls out a chair for me.
“Bah, I wanted to wait,” Domingo says with a shrug.
I watch as Mateo rounds the table and sits opposite of me. His uncle is seated at the head of the table, and I don’t like the fact that he’s basically in between us. The man gives off a creepy vibe. I felt it the first time I met him.
Domingo turns to one of the staff members and says, “You may serve us now.”
The staff get to work, rushing back to the kitchen and bringing out our meals — juicy steaks with rice and grilled vegetables.
We’re just beginning to eat when Domingo asks, “So, is this the woman who was on the plane?”
My eyes dart to Mateo, and I can see him tense up in response to the question. He takes a sip of red wine before he answers with, “Yes.”
“Ah, so you’ve been with Mateo for a while now. Interesting,” Domingo says with a vigorous nod as he cuts into his steak. “Has Mateo told you about his family yet?”
This gets a bigger reaction from Mateo. I watch as his hands curl into fists on the table. His eyes shoot invisible daggers at his uncle before he turns his gaze to me. “Aria knows that they’re dead,” he says.
“She doesn’t know anything about your past other than that, though, does she?” Domingo says, looking towards me with amusement lacing his features.
“You’re drunk,” Mateo says, dismissing his uncle with a wave of his hand.
“Did you not tell her what happened, Mateo?” Domingo starts. Instead of letting Mateo answer, he just continues. “Mateo was just a boy. They left him alive,” he says, taking a swig of liquor. And then he adds, “Well, barely. They whipped and beat him within an inch of his life.” He looks in his nephew’s direction. “Do you still bear the scars from that night?”
Mateo’s eyes flicker to mine for a split second. I remember feeling the scars on his back that he’s tried to cover up with numerous tattoos.
Domingo continues. “Did you not tell your new, little whore about what they did to you? What they did to our family?” he asks, raising his voice.
Mateo slams his hands down on the table, causing me to jump. “That’s enough!” he shouts. I’ve never seen him this angry before, and it’s scaring me.
“No, I think she should know. She should know that your mother and sisters were beaten and raped in front of your eyes while they executed your father and cousins!”
The room grows still and quiet, the silence stretching on until it eventually sharpens to a sharp point. The tension is so intense and thick that I’m afraid to even breathe or move.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” Mateo finally says in a low growl.
Domingo chuckles sinisterly. “I’m the only family he has left. And see how he treats me?”
“I said get the fuck out!” Mateo roars. “You can come back when you’ve sobered up.”
I watch as Domingo stands and stumbles out of the room. And then the room grows quiet once more.
I stare across the table at Mateo, who is seething, his shoulders rising and falling with every ragged breath. Tears fill my eyes when I think about what he endured as a child. To witness his family being brutally murdered. To see his mother and sisters beaten and raped. A lot of what he told me when we first met makes sense now. He told me he would never rape a woman. That’s why he never took anything from me, and why he’s always making me say out loud what I want before he takes anything. He doesn’t want to be like those men. Although he’s not a good man, he’s not evil like them.
“Mateo,” I whisper, my voice wavering with soul-breaking disbelief.
Mateo raises a hand to stop me. And then he orders roughly, “Come here.”
I slowly get up and walk over to his side of the table. When he finally meets my eyes and sees the tears in them, his face morphs into anger. Before I can even blink, he stands, grabs me and bends me over the table. “I will not have you pitying me like some pathetic creature,” he growls into my ear as he lifts the back of my dress. I hear his belt whooshing through the loops as he pulls it free. And even though I’m trying to mentally prepare for what happens next, I simply can’t…until the first blow hits me.
I scream as sudden, intense pain blooms over my backside. I fight to get away, but Mateo pins me down to the table with his free hand. He strikes me over and over again with his belt while I squirm, trying to escape. Each hit is like fire licking at my skin.
After a while, I begin to realize that the more I fight, the harder he hits me. So, I decide to do the opposite. I force myself to relax and just take it. I rest my cheek against the table and silently cry, my tears soaking into the linen tablecloth as the fight inside of me slowly dies. I know he needs this right now, as fucked up as that is. I also know deep down his anger doesn’t reside with me; however, he’s taking it out on me. It’s not fair. But nothing has been fair ever since I arrived here.
Mateo is panting by the time he’s done, and I hear his belt clatter to the floor beside my feet. I’m a blubbering mess when he leans down and whispers raggedly into my ear, “I need you, Aria.”
I feel him gripping the material of my thong before he rips it with his hands, the shreds falling down my legs. The air hits my wetness, and I hide my face against the table in mortification. How am I turned on by all of this? I must be sick. Sicker than he is.
Mateo runs his finger along my seam and groans in approval. “I think you like the pain as much as the pleasure,” he says in awe. And then I feel his cock notched at my wet entrance. He enters me roughly, filling me to the hilt without hesitation. I cry out in anguish when he presses against my sore ass and then moan in pleasure when he begins to move inside of me.
I curse my body when I feel my inner walls clenching around his thick cock. He knows what I need more than I do myself, and it infuriates me. I’ve never known this type of pleasure before, and I hate to admit it, but it’s addicting. When we’re in these moments together, I forget about everything else in the world and just focus on the copious amounts of pleasure he ultimately gives me. I now know what an addict must feel when they get the perfect high. I’m taken to a place where all the bad things are suddenly forgotten, and all I can focus on are the good things about to happen.
Mateo pistons his hips, fucking me so hard against the table that it moves half an inch every time he pounds into me.
One of the staff suddenly walks into the room, and we both look up to see him at the same time. The young man’s brown eyes widen as he takes in the sight before him. “Perdóname,” the server says quickly.
Mateo holds up a hand when he tries to leave. And then, he leans down to my ear and whispers, “Should I have him stay and watch as I fuck your tight, little pussy?” before he punctuates the question with a flex of his hips.
A violent shudder runs through me at the idea of someone watching us, but I ultimately shake my head. “Please, Mateo,” I beg.
He shouts something in Spanish to the man, and the server takes off running from the room. Mateo pulls his cock almost the whole way out of me before ramming himself in to the hilt again, causing me to cry out. “I felt your pussy clench around my cock when I asked the question, corazón. I think you were turned on by the idea.” He fucks me nice and slow then. “I…don’t…share,” he says, enunciating each word with a pump of his hips. “I will never share you with another man, but I would love to see the jealousy in his eyes while he watches me fuck you.”
My hands fist the tablecloth, and I squeeze my eyes shut, telling myself to not give in to him. But my body betrays me once again. I begin to tremble uncontrollably as a wave of emotion hits me all at once. My orgasm crashes over me like a tsunami, and I sob through it.
Mateo rolls his hips, grinding his pelvis against my clit and prolonging my pleasure. Desperate hands dig into my soft flesh as he fucks me, chasing his own release.
Suddenly, he pulls out of me, and I feel ropes of his come landing on my bruised ass and thighs. The room is quiet then except for our ragged breaths as we come down from our highs and the realization of what just happened dawns on both of us.
I expect Mateo to apologize or take me into his arms and comfort me. But instead, he leans down and whispers against my ear, “Don’t cry, Aria. You fucking loved every second of it. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the pleasure….and the pain.”
And then he walks out of the room, leaving me there, bent over the table with his release coating my sore, bruised ass and a myriad of emotions flooding my veins.