Beautiful Pain Page 9
What the fuck did that mean?
“You opened up something inside of me. I shouldn’t be saying this to your answering machine. Anyways, I am sorry and I hope to see you soon.” The message ended and I replayed it. Over and over, I listened to her words. I memorized them, keeping them in my mind.
I opened up something inside of her. Well she unleashed this…this animal inside of me. This savage beast wanted to mark her. That wanted to claim her until everyone knew she was mine.
And that scared the ever living shit out of me.
Mae
After leaving Matteo that message, embarrassment had settled in and I wished I could take back my words. But when I read his text over and over, I could almost hear his anger. Rage seeped from the words. I wanted to go back to him. I wanted to spend every chance with him. But something switched between us. A darkness brewed, shadowing through this connection we had.
“Doing the walk of shame are we?” Nika teased when I walked into our apartment.
I threw my bag on the ground but didn’t respond. There was no shame in what I had done.
“Are you okay?” Nika handed me a cup of coffee, her brows furrowing.
“No,” I mumbled, taking a sip of the steaming deliciousness.
“Talk to me.” She hooked her arm in mine, leading me to the couch.
“I spent the night with Matteo.” I took another sip.
“And?”
“Nika, it was amazing. I’ve never…I’ve never felt so alive.” I took a breath. “I know I haven’t been dating him for long but…”
“It’s intense, isn’t it?”
I met her gaze. “Yes. It is. This…this attraction I have for him is so strong, it’s almost like I can physically touch it. My chest aches.” I rubbed the spot between my breasts. “It doesn’t make sense—”
“Yes.” Nika placed a hand gently on my arm. “It does. It makes perfect sense.”
“But I left. Why did I leave? I didn’t wait for him to wake up. He knows and he’s pissed. Nika, what if he never wants to see me again? What if this is over before it even begins?”
“I…” Nika stared at me intently.
“What?”
“I’ve never seen this…this side of you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, frowning.
“I’ve never seen you show this much emotion. Especially over a man. He made you laugh and smile last night, Mae. Girl, he’s good for you. Give him time.” She smiled, squeezing my hand. “I saw the way he looks at you.” She winked at me.
I laughed.
“See? A laugh!” She squealed, clapping her hands together and threw her arms around my neck. “I need to thank him.”
“For what?” I asked, returning her embrace.
“For bringing me my best friend back.”
“I’m not back completely,” I whispered.
“No. Maybe not. But Marketa Dobry, the girl I grew up with…” Nika tapped the spot over my heart. “I know she’s in there. Somewhere. And Matteo Santos will be the one to help her appear.”
(Matteo)
Walking into Heavy, I had a purpose. The BDSM club tempted me into giving in. To find a submissive brat to curb my cravings. But I knew no one would satisfy me except for a little brunette.
It had been a week since I saw Mae. Seven fucking days since I spoke to her. One-hundred and sixty-eight hours since I felt her heat.
My blood stirred, my dick jumping in my pants.
“Hey, Santos.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the sound of the deep voice and saw Duncan Hastings approaching me. He had a tall blonde thing on his arm. “Hey,” I answered back and took a step towards the row of St. Andrew’s Crosses. The hairs on the back of my neck tingled. My body stiffened, a cold chill gripping my spine. Taking a deep breath, my gaze landed on a woman sitting in a large red leather chair in the corner of the room.
Her blood stained lips contrasted against her pale skin. Her long black fingernails tapped impatiently against the arm of the chair. She crooked a finger at me, indicating for me to go to her.
My feet moved of their own accord. One step. Two. Until I was only a foot away.
She pointed to the ground without so much as a word.
And before I could protest, before I could scream for her to leave me alone…
I submitted.
Matteo
“Has my little boy been behaving himself?” she asked, running her thumb along my bottom lip.
“Yes,” I answered automatically, my body swaying towards her.
She pinched my chin, moving my head back and forth. “You met someone. Who is she?” she asked, her dark eyes narrowing to slits.
My heart thumped hard, the blood pounding in my ears. “No one.”
Faster than I expected, her palm connected with my cheek. The sting of her nails scratching into my skin made my dick throb. I licked my lip, the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue. I would have laughed but that would only make things worse.
My head was in a fog as her lips moved. She spoke. I pretended to listen. But I didn’t hear anything she had to say. I went through the motions. Waiting. It was the same thing every time she showed up. She would break me. Force me to my knees. And I would give in. I would submit. To her. To them.
“Who is she?” she repeated in a firmer tone, pulling me from my thoughts.
“There is no one.”
“Do not fucking lie to me.” She leaned towards me, her mouth mere inches from mine. “I taught you everything you know, little boy. Does your slut know you crave pain? Does she know you need it to get off?” A slow grin spread on her face when I didn’t answer. “She doesn’t know, does she?”
No. Because it wasn’t fucking true. I didn’t need pain to be with Mae. Mae was the one that begged it of me. Not the other way around. But I didn’t need to tell her that. She didn’t need to know what I had with Marketa. She didn’t need to know anything about her at all. Marketa was mine. She belonged to me and it would be over my dead and broken body before I ever gave her up.
Her finger pushed between my lips, digging into my tongue. It pressed down until tears welled in my eyes.
As much as I didn’t want it to, a moan escaped me, rumbling from the back of my throat.
“Oh my sweet boy. Mama’s back.” Her lips brushed over the shell of my ear. “And I’m going to show you how much I’ve missed you.”
(Mae)
Me: I haven’t heard from you in over a week. I wanted to see how you are doing.
Me: You’re clearly pissed at me. I am so sorry.
Me: Thank you. For everything.
Me: Take care of yourself, Matteo.
My heart hurt. My chest ached. Whatever I had with Matteo was over. I knew it. I could feel it deep in the pit of my soul.
For the first time since I was a young girl, tears stung my eyes. A lump formed in my throat, my stomach dropping to my feet. Falling to my knees, a sob escaped me, my shoulders wracking with cries. “Matt—”
The phone rang, startling me.
I jumped up, desperately grabbing for the phone. “Matteo?” I croaked out.
“No,” a female voice said.
“I’m sorry.” I sniffed, wiping under my eyes. “Who is this?”
“Cathy Jones. I’m Dr. Santos’ receptionist. I’m sor—”
“Is he okay?”
“I…I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”
“What do you mean?” My heart sped up.
“He hasn’t been at work for three days. He’s missed several important meetings and some appointments. I called you because I saw this number in his calendar. You are Marketa Dobry, are you not?”
“I am,” I whispered, my hand fluttering to my chest.
“Well, Miss Dobry, it’s nice to finally talk to the woman who put a smile on my boss’s face.”
“I…” I didn’t know what to say.
“If you talk to him, can you please have him call me?”
“No and that’s what concerns me. Matteo Santos hasn’t missed one meeting or appointment in the ten years I’ve worked for him. My old heart can’t take this worry.”
“I’ll find him.”
“Good girl. Call me back. Please.”
“I will,” I said quickly and hung up the phone. But I didn’t know where to begin looking for him. I called Matteo and when I got his voicemail, I left a message letting him know Cathy had called. And that I was also coming over.
I sent Nika a quick text, telling her I wouldn’t be home when she finished her shift at Cello’s. It was Saturday night and she usually stayed out anyways.
Taking a cab to Matteo’s, my breath caught in my throat when his old apartment building came into view. I paid the cab, left the car and ran into the building.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” a large security guard called out.
I slowed my steps. “I’m kind of in a rush.”
“This is a secured building. Who are you here to see?”
“Matteo Santos.”
He let out a sigh, his shoulders dropping. “Go right ahead, Miss Dobry.”
How he knew my name was beyond me but I didn’t have time to question him. I punched the button to the elevator, hopping from foot to foot. I let out an impatient sigh when the doors finally dinged open. Hitting the button to the top floor, I took several deep cleansing breaths.
I didn’t know what to expect when I reached Matteo’s apartment. But as I knocked on the door and no reply came, I figured maybe Cathy was worrying for nothing.
“Matteo?” I knocked again. “Please answer—”
The door swung open, forcing me to take a step back.
A seething Matteo stood before me. His clothes were disheveled. His jaw dark with scruff like he hadn’t shaved in days. But what I noticed most were his eyes. They were bloodshot and tired.
“What…what’s…” I stammered.
“What the fuck do you want?” he bit out.
My back stiffened. “I was checking up on you. Cathy—”
“Cathy was worried so she told you to come here.”
“No. She asked me to call you and I did but you never answered your phone.”
“I’m busy.” He went to close the door but I blocked it with my foot. His jaw clenched. “I suggest you move.”
His underlining threat sent a shiver over my body. “What’s going on?”
“I said, I’m busy.” He tried to close the door again but I stopped him.
“Matteo, what’s going on? Talk to me.”
Matteo pulled me roughly into the apartment, slamming me hard against the door.
My ears rang, my back teeth vibrating at the impact.
“You want to know what’s been going on?” he snarled, wrapping a hand around my throat. “You think you can handle knowing what I’ve been through these past couple of days? You think you can handle the demons inside of me? What would you say if I told you I’m a monster? I’m the darkness under your bed. The shadows lurking in the corners of your nightmares.” He licked up the side of my face. “Well I will tell you that there is something far worse than me. Something so fucking terrifying, it makes the Devil look like a fucking puppy.”
“Matteo,” I whimpered.
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Little girl, you can’t handle my darkness.”
“Yes. I can.”
His eyes were wild, darting back and forth. He turned my head, pushing my cheek against the wall. “You think you can handle this?” he growled. “Prove it. Show me you think you can handle me.”
“What happened to you?”
“Show me!” he yelled, slamming a fist against the wall beside my head.
Something inside of me snapped. All of the anger, frustration, pure hard rage that had built up over the years, bubbled forth. I grasped onto those feelings, embracing the fury and shoved him back.
“You think I can’t handle you?” I screamed, pushing him.
His eyes widened.
“You think your darkness is worse than mine? That bad shit only happened to you?” I could no longer control the words leaving my lips. I took a step forward, forcing him back. “My mom died saving me. Men my family trusted. Men I grew up knowing, attacked me. They brought me to this BDSM club and forced me to do things you’ve only seen in your nightmares. But you don’t see me shutting myself out from everyone. Do you?”
“You’ve had no emotion since I first met you weeks ago,” he yelled. “You are shutting yourself out, Marketa, whether you want to admit it or not.”
“That is not my fault!” I yelled, shoving a finger in his chest. “I try to show emotion. Do you know how many doctors have told me that I am a sociopath? Do you know how that makes me feel?”
“Are we going to compare shitty childhoods now?”
“You’re a selfish bastard,” I bit out through clenched teeth.
“What the fuck do you want from me? You want me to spill every single fucking detail about my life? You want me to tell you how fucked up I am after spending one night with you?” His cheeks were mottled pink, the words of our confessions flying around us but neither of us let up. “What do you want?” he repeated, his voice rough.
“I want you! I want you to tell me what’s going on. I want you. That’s it. Nothing else.”
“You should leave.”
“No.” I crossed my arms under my chest, leaning against the wall.
“No?” He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want me, Marketa.”
“Don’t you dare tell me what I want and don’t want. You do not get that right.”
“Mae—”
“No!” I screamed. “That right was stolen from me years ago. You want to know what I’ve been through? Think you can handle my darkness, Matteo? This tattoo on my back, the one you stared at while fucking me like a whore. This tattoo was put on me while I was bound and gagged. It’s to remind me every damn day I lost my mom because I was too trusting. How dare I think that men who I respected wouldn’t hurt me. How dare I think they wouldn’t take turns raping me. BDSM is all I know. The lifestyle is supposed to be about trust but I was never allowed it. I was never allowed to lose my virginity to who I wanted. I was never given that right. So don’t you dare stand there and tell me I don’t want you.” I laughed. “Oh and here’s something else for your I-Am-An-Island-Attitude. This tattoo? It made me come.” I purred. “It made me so wet when the needles were piercing my skin that I came. Hard.”
Matteo’s brows narrowed.
“You want to know how? Those men used a vibrator on my clit while the tattoo was being etched into my skin. Thanks to them, I crave pain and I don’t know how to stop it. Thank you, Dr. Santos, for making me feel like a freak. So don’t try and scare me with orgasm torture. It won’t work.”
“I…”
“Don’t know what to say, Matteo?” I seethed. “Aren’t you going to tell me that you’re going to fuck me like the dirty slut that I am? Oh wait. You already did.” I pointed at him.
“You’re not a slut,” he mumbled.
“Maybe not but you sure as hell made me feel like one.”
“How the fuck did I do that?”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Matteo. You’re not stupid.”
“Watch it, little girl.”
“Oh, Matteo. Please threaten me with your words.” I glared. “It makes me so hot.”
A growl left his lips and the next thing I knew, he had me up against the wall. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” he demanded, raising his voice. His hand pushed the side of my face against the wall. He leaned in, his hot breath searing my skin.
“Make me,” I challenged, my body shaking.
“Fuck, Marketa,” he snarled, but he still didn’t do anything.
“Make me,” I yelled. “Make me shut up. Make me do what you need me to do. Make. Me!”
“You have no idea what kind of game you are playing right now.�
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(Matteo)
My voice was eerily calm and it made even me nervous.
Mae was trembling although her words were strong. She had barged into my apartment, demanding answers and as much as I wanted to tell her everything, I couldn’t. I needed to feel her warmth one last time before I saw the look of hatred in her eyes.
I wasn’t lying when I told her I was a monster. The things I had done to get some sort of satisfaction should make me feel guilty but I needed a soul for that.
Her demanding for me to make her shut up sent a jolt of electricity straight to the head of my dick. I would own her. In ways her nightmares were made of.
My arm pushed against the back of her neck, igniting a small whimper to leave her mouth. It was music to my ears. The soft sounds were enough to make me come in my pants. So submissive. So fucking beautiful. So perfect.
Pulling a switchblade out of my back pocket, I flicked my wrist, the sharp metal shining in the dim lighting of the hallway.
Her eyes watched the movement, a notable shiver traveling through her body.
Sticking the tip of the knife against my finger, I spun it until a slight sting burned. A drop of blood oozed out of the small cut.
Mae’s breath caught.
A slow grin spread on my face and I stuck my finger in my mouth, sucking the metallic liquid onto my tongue.
Sliding the knife beneath her t-shirt, I pushed it up to her chest and tugged. The fabric split in half, falling to the floor in pieces.
Her full breasts rose and fell, her perfect tits covered by a red lace bra.
I grazed the blade up her torso, slicing the bra with a snap.
Her eyes glazed over, her mouth parting with ragged breath. Her sweet perky nipples, firm and hard, made my mouth water.
“You done trying to challenge me?” I asked, licking along her jaw line. “You done trying to make me feel sorry for you?” She wasn’t stupid. She knew it angered me what had been done to her. But we had bigger problems to talk about before we delved into our shitty histories.