Page 11 of For Cowgirls and Kings (The Trauma Bonded #2)

EIGHT

MATEO

Of all the crazy ideas I’ve ever had, this might be on top of the list. Cameras? Honestly Mateo?

I’m not obsessive, I’m not possessive, and I’m not dominating.

I’m respectable, a gentleman.

The image of that boy walking out of Dale’s room, his T-shirt only half over his head, ab’s out on full flex, play’s on a loop in my head.

Her hair was beyond ratty, like he had run his hands through it over and over, tangling the silken tresses.

And there had been a glow about her—a deep crimson covering that dewy skin of hers— a freshly fucked glow no doubt.

I’ve never seen it on Dale before, and even if I’ve imagined it at times over the years, nothing compared to the real thing.

My fist tightens around the steering wheel, the leather creaking under my grip, and I exhale again. I’ve never been this before—a fucking caveman—but seeing Dale, like that, with him? It took every shred of control I had to not pummel his goofy ass into the floor.

I’ve only recently made my way back into her orbit, but it’s like no time’s passed. She’s sucked me in, and I no longer know how to breathe, eat, or sleep without thoughts of her consuming me.

And even if it makes no rational sense, I don’t want anyone else touching her. Not anymore.

My teeth grind, jaw popping, and I lean back, pushing air out of my nose. I need to calm the fuck down. Showing up at her place, like this, will only end badly. Dale is extremely private, and even more defensive. I don’t want to show up, guns blazing, and expect her to welcome me with open arms.

Especially, as camera’s are secretly being installed surrounding her house.

It’s for her safety.

I repeat the mantra for the hundredth time today, only half convinced. And if I can barely convince myself, how will I convince her? If she ever finds out, that is.

Her house comes into view, the street lamps illuminating the car parked around the side, out of view of her windows, and the shadowed man walking across the lawn like he doesn’t have a fucking care in the world.

What if her neighbors see him?

My chest constricts. This was a really stupid idea. I could go to fucking jail for this. Not to mention, lose one of my best friends. I’ll have no hope of winning her over if she see’s him or me, or the fucking camera’s.

“Calm down,” I hiss, the hushed words dying out with the fading of the engine, as I park and hop out. My hired guy spots me, turning on his heel to stomp through her grass toward me. Annoyance lines each of his features, and even from here I feel the heat of his glare.

“They’re all installed and live,” he states, his tone all business. He steps closer, the black leather of his jacket bleeding into the night. His shaggy, dirty blonde hair’s the only thing that stands out in the dark, and he runs a frustrated hand through it.

My eyes snap back to his, and I fight a shiver at the chill his proximity brings. A reaper, the tendrils of his evil existence brushing against my own.

What I wouldn't do to be rid of him. Even if he’s good at his job, and not afraid of the less than savory tasks.

“Did she see you?” I bite out, lowering my voice in hopes that he’ll get the hint.

Instead he reaches into his pocket, withdrawing a cigarette, lighting it with a deep inhale before shrugging.

The lit end glows like a small beacon, and fear that we’ll be seen spears anew through me.

For someone who’s entire existence seems to be carved from shadow, he’s doing a shit job of blending in now.

“Did you want her to see you?” I growl, nodding toward the ember of light.

He drags in another deep inhale, his eyes shrouded in darkness, illuminated only with the small spark dancing in their reflections.

If I wasn’t the one who signed his checks, I’d be afraid of him. But as it is, I trust he’ll keep me around, for now.

“I stayed out of view,” he deadpans, his voice reminiscent of what I imagine chains dragging across the coals of hell sounding like.

“You can go.”

He remains frozen, pulling the poisonous air deep into his lungs for several moments. His eyes remain fixated on my face, searching.

I stay perfectly still, my back erect with the authority he so regularly dismisses, daring him to challenge me. Instead, without his eyes leaving mine, he withdraws the cigarette from between his tightly pressed lips, dropping it to the grass, smashing it with the toe of his boot.

“Why don’t you try talking to her instead of setting up surveillance?”

My eyebrows race to my hair line, completely caught off guard by his words. This is coming from the guy with the moral code of a shark—see weakness, kill. Only a shark would be more merciful, a word this guy can’t even begin to understand.

“How is that any of your business?” I bite out. I don’t keep him on the payroll for his thoughtful contributions. In fact, he’s never once offered me any advice, much less that regarding my own morality.

It fills my mouth with an acrid burn.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “Just looking out for you, Boss.”

“Well, don’t. I don’t need your advice.” I fill the word ‘your’ with as much hate as I can muster, but he doesn’t waver from his stoic stance. Like even if he feels the burn of the words, he rather likes the heat.

He breathes pain. It’s no surprise he revels in it too.

“I’ll be off,” he states, turning around to walk across the yard, his form fading into the muggy darkness of the late night Texas air.

I hear the gravel crunching beneath his tires as he rolls away, waiting until he’s well down the street to turn on the headlights. I watch the tail lights fade into nothingness, before I exhale, releasing my rigid stance.

He’s just trying to get into my fucking head. Probably V’s doing—questioning my authority at every turn. But knowing that he thinks I’m being reckless, or invasive, or whatever the fuck he thinks, doesn’t sit right.

If he thinks this is bad, it has to be really bad.

But as I look around me, the eerie silence of the night filling Dale’s deadened neighborhood, I can’t muster enough care to take them down.

I know it’s horrible that I’m watching her. I know it’s an invasion of privacy, an evil, stalkerish thing to do.

And yet, all I really want is to keep her safe.

Right?

Before I can talk myself off the ledge, I move forward to her little black door, the curtains drawn. It’s almost nine, but I don’t picture Dale as the kind of person who goes to bed early. I just need to see her, remind myself what’s at stake if I don’t protect her.

Looming in the entryway of her house, I raise my hand to knock only to halt as sounds drift toward me, stopping me dead in my tracks.

Moaning.

Is there someone else here? I peer over my shoulder, left and right for any out of place vehicles. Finding none, I lean forward, pressing my ear to the door. As I do, I’m able to catch a sliver of a glimpse between her drawn curtains.

Fuck me. My knees quiver beneath me, and I have to reach out, steading myself against the door to keep from falling. All while my eyes remain glued to the glimpse of a scene I watch unfolding behind the glass.

Dale’s on the floor of her living room, the lights off, save for the soft glow of a lamp in the corner, casting golden ribbons to dance with the shadows falling across her skin.

She’s wearing an old T-shirt, the neck lopsided and falling off one shoulder, while her hair shimmers in a dark pool around her.

Perfectly sculpted legs lay spread open, her knees angled, as her hand pumps some object in and out.

My eyes flutter as I suck in a ragged breath, the zipper of my jeans groaning against the strain of my already hard cock.

She’s fucking masterbating.

Moaning drifts out, a muffled sound, and I look up once more, realizing her head’s tipped back, eyes pinched shut as her arm works harder, faster, pushing said toy inside of her at a punishing pace.

She’s devastating like this—completely unbound and desperate. What I wouldn’t do to make her look like this. To have her trust enough, her desire, that she completely let's go with me.

Not me, the boss, but me, the man.

“Fuuucckkk,” she groans, the sound almost guttural, and my hand drifts down to press against my aching dick. I will not rub myself out watching her, that’s too fucking creepy even for me. But a bomb would have to go off to stop me from watching her finish at this point.

I want to know what shape her mouth makes. Do her eyes roll back or pinch shut? Do her legs quiver? Does she blush?

Her head tips back up, focusing once more as she continues to fuck the toy, her pace damn near impossible. I strain for any other sounds— how wet is she?

Everything’s muffled, and the drum of my heart makes it hard for me to even hear the wind rustling through the trees around me. I bite my lip, focusing even as my vision goes slightly cross eyed as I continue to stare through the smallest gap into her private moment.

“Damn it,” she hisses, abruptly sitting up, pulling the toy out from inside of her, and tossing it aside. I watch the crimson dildo roll across her floor, stopping only when it hits the leg of her couch.

Dale draws her knees to her chest, hanging her head in a way that looks anything but satisfied. If anything, she looks sad, hurt, and broken, and I can’t fathom why.

Out of the corner, a bolt of orange races across the floor toward the dildo, and I watch Queen Tut hover over it, sniffing the silicone.

“Get away from that, Tut. Don’t be gross.” She stands, walking toward the cat and the dildo, bending down to pick both up. The T-shirt’s long enough that it covers her waist, fitting over her skin like water around a rock, and my fingers twitch to rip the thin fabric to see what’s beneath it.

“Besides,” she hoists Tut onto her hip, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “It didn’t work anyways.”

Her words are muffled through the door, but her meaning is loud and clear. She couldn’t get off. I’m not familiar with the feeling, but seeing her like this and not being able to touch her, has to be a similar sensation.

Devastatingly unfulfilling.

“Let’s go to bed,” she says, turning off the lamp as she passes by, heading down the hall toward her room.

Tut mewls, his eyes finding mine through the curtain.

His tail swishes, and he meows again, this time farther away, as if saying he saw me.

I stand back to my full height, pressing my clammy forehead to the door, searching for some semblance of strength.

What started out as a bad idea has evolved into a nightmare.

A nightmare where I just saw my best friend masterbating, and wishing against all hope, that it had been my cock instead.