Page 10 of Deviant Desires

8

BAMBI

Three days. That’s how long I stew on what happened at the Dean’s retirement party. Not just the fact that Mateo cornered me in my office and fucked me up against the door until I was screaming his name, but that he then went downstairs and proceeded to get into a fistfight with his brother. I had to hear about that secondhand. By the time I had composed myself enough to go back to the party, Sahara was in full-on freak-out mode trying to get everything under control.

But the rest of the party went smoothly. Dinner was served without a hitch and Dean Simon gave a wonderful toast to everyone that had shown up for him. It was truly a touching moment. It would have been the perfect night if it wasn’t for the Valentis.

God damn Valentis. I swear I’ve spent the last 72 hours thinking about them. Not even just Mateo who haunts my dreams like a ghost that refuses to pass on to the next world. But Raniero and the way he told me once that I should move away and make it easier for his brother to live in Manhattan. Or how Luca pulled out his checkbook and asked me what number it would take to make me disappear forever.

A few years ago, the Valenti brothers treated me like family. They said that I was going to be the best sister-in-law ever, partially because none of them had wives. But a lot happens in five years. I put their brother behind bars and Raniero got married. Suddenly I’m not the favorite anymore; suddenly I’m their worst nightmare.

I can’t get them out of my head. Mateo comes to me in my dreams and I wake up in the throes of orgasm. I don’t even know how it’s possible, but my body is dripping with sweat and my legs are clenched together as waves of pleasure rack my body. I don’t know if I’m touching myself while I’m sleeping or if Mateo has some supernatural ability to get me off without even being in the same location.

On Monday afternoon, I can’t take it anymore. I find myself scrolling through my date book looking at all my upcoming events, but I can’t read the words. All I’m thinking about was the way Mateo played with my body a few nights before. My vision feels blurry and I can’t think straight.

“God damn Valentis,” I swear under my breath as I shove my mouse across the desk and throw myself back in my chair. I haven’t done anything that Mateo told me to do. I can’t stop thinking about that either. He said to put my engagement ring back on and call him, but all I managed to do is waste away on the couch staring at the big diamond while contemplating his threat.

Would he really find me at Dillons? Is he bold enough to drag me across the store to the bathroom just so he can prove his point?

A shiver races down my spine as I think about it. When we first got together, I wouldn’t even let him touch my asshole. By the time I walked in on him strangling a man, I’d let him fuck me in the ass over the kitchen counter on more than one occasion. It felt like a filthy secret that I’d go to work in prim and proper dresses only to come home and let Mateo shove his thick cock in my backside. What kind of girl does that? And why don’t we talk about it more often?

Frustration gets the best of me and I force myself to grab my cell phone and start looking for Mateo’s number. It’s saved underdo not answer, a cute little moniker I decided on after his first week out of prison. I remember writing his number down on dozens of documents after we became serious. I made him my emergency contact. I think I’d remember his number even if wasn’t saved in my phone.

The ringing goes on for what feels like forever. Minutes and hours tick by at the speed of light as I wait for him to pick up. In reality, it’s probably no longer than five seconds.

“About time,” he answers gruffly, “you got your engagement ring on?”

It’s still on my coffee table at home staring up at the ceiling in that velvet black box. “You can’t do that again.” If I’ve learned anything in the three days we’ve been apart, it’s that I can’t ever let him do that to me again. Not in my office. Not at home. Not in the grocery store. If I let Mateo use me as his little fuck doll, I’ll fall right back into his arms as if nothing ever happened.

Mateo is silent on the other end of the line as if he’s waiting for me to say more, but I don’t have anything else to share. “So is that a no? You know what happens if you don’t do what I say, B.”

The same shiver from before creates goosebumps on my arms. Mateo is quick to remind me of the little games we played when we were together. The little challenges that he gave me. The little sex games we played when no one could tell that he’d shoved a vibrating egg into my pussy before sending me into the library to get a specific book on the second floor. There were punishments if I failed and there werealwaysrewards if I succeeded. “Mateo, I’m not joking. What you did to me the other day, it was-I felt-you made me,” I struggle to get the words out, but he doesn’t.

He speaks with the same clear, authoritative tone that he’s always had with me. “Tell me how many times you’ve thought of me since that night.”

I close my eyes and will myself to hang up. I shouldn’t have called him. I should have gone straight to the police station to take out a restraining order. I don’t need this. This is unnecessary drama. “Mat, please,” I beg.

“How many times have you imagined me fucking you while you touched yourself, Bambi?” His tone is more sensual now. There’s a hook at the end of his words that tells me he’s touching himself to this conversation. “Because I think about you every hour of every day. I’ve cum three times this morning; twice in the shower and once in front of the window while watching you.”

Suddenly the shiver going down my spine isn’t sensual eroticism, it’s fear. “You-you what?” He can’t watch me. I’d have seen him. I only open the curtains when I’m up and around. If he would have been jerking off outside my window, I would have noticed.

“You look real sexy in that pink little number today, you know that?” He chuckles into the other end of the line. “I’d love to ruffle that freshly pressed little skirt of yours. I want to see what it looks like when it’s halfway up your back and I’m pounding you from behind. What do you say? Invite me up for a meeting, kitten. We can close the blinds on your window and make your desk drawers rattle.”

I stare at the Elle Woods pink skirt suit I have on today. “You’re fucking sick, Mateo.”

“Maybe, but tell me the truth,” he pauses for a second and it builds tension in the room even though he isn’t here, “your pussy is wet, isn’t it?”

I end the call and throw my phone at the desk. It sails across the wood and flies off in front of me. I bring a hand to my mouth to try and stop myself from screaming.

I got rid of Mateo five years ago. I’ve been done with his shit for five years. How did I let this happen? How did he wiggle his way back into my life? And what does he mean that he jerked off to watching me earlier?

A whimper escapes my lips and is muted by the hand covering my mouth.Breathe,I tell myself.You have to breathe.But Mateo was right. My pussyiswet. I’m afraid and turned on and the combination of both leaves me dripping with a desire that I haven’t felt since the last time he and I were together all those years ago.

9

MATEO

The trick to being a stalker is to always know where your obsession is at. For instance, on Tuesday and Thursday nights, Bambi goes with her best friend to spin class. They spend an hour on the bike sweating before indulging in a post-workout treat. It used to be frozen yogurt before Orange Leaf was shut down, but now they enjoy Crumbl Cookies.

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