7. Montana

7

Montana

I ’m nearly thirty, and I’ve never seen a man naked before. Not before today at least. And the image of Blackheart’s naked body will stay burned in my memory for the rest of my days.

My body shivers under the warm bath. It’s a lot nicer than the freezing cold one he prepared for me earlier today. I could almost trick myself into thinking he’s a nice guy if he didn’t yell and curse at me so much. And if he didn’t handcuff me to the bed. I was sleeping well until, until I had a nightmare. The nightmare I’ve had every single day since my father captured me. It’s the most vivid nightmare I’ve ever had, and I’m scared the terror may kill me one of these days.

I barely remember waking up. I think Blackheart screamed at me, but I’m not sure. I didn’t think twice about getting naked in front of him since I’ve spent most of my time naked in front of him so far, and I forgot I was wearing a pad until I heard him rip it from my panties and toss it in the trash.

I started to relax as the warm water began to soothe my building cramps, but my anxiety spiked when he started to get naked in front of me. At first, I panicked and thought he was going to get in here with me. But he’s not. Still, he’s going to bathe in the same room at the same time as me. And I have a lot of mixed feelings about that.

The glass door closes behind him while the water pours from the shower head, and I get a view of his side profile. His face is forward, giving me the confidence to take a look at him.

His legs are thick and strong. He could probably crush a watermelon with those thighs. And he’s got hair. Dark brown hair on his legs and on his scrotum.

And he’s got hair on his pubic area framing his dick.

I’ve seen penises in school textbooks and felt one or two in the dark during a drinking game, but I’ve never wrapped my hand around anything that size. I’m sure of it. Is it all penis? Maybe it just looks so big because I’m across the room and it would look a little more normal in my face. Not that I want it anywhere near my face or any of me for that matter.

And it’s hard. He’s hard. It’s dark red and veiny. It’s like a monster. Threatening me. I see one of his strong, calloused hands wrap around it, and when I move my eyes up his chiseled chest, his thick neck, and land on his face, I see he’s staring right at me.

His entire body is soaked with water, and I can see his eyes better with his wet hair pushed back. They’re gorgeous eyes. Not like my father’s at all. My father’s eyes are cold. Frigid and consuming. Blackheart’s eyes are crystal clear and warm. Unlike his soul. He makes shallow grunting noises, and his right arm moves aggressively up and down. I follow the movement and see that he’s beating off. When I look at his eyes again, they’re focused on my nipples.

My brain tells me to cover myself, but I can’t bring my arms to do so. Instead I scowl at him, keeping my eyes on his face. “Are you seriously doing this shit in front of me?”

He groans louder and nods his head.

Fucking animal. I do try to cover myself this time, but my tits outweigh my palms, and all I do is cover my nipples and shove them together which makes him stroke himself faster. I let them go and sink into the water where only my head is showing. “You’re gross. Just vile. I don’t want you jerking off to me, Blackheart.”

He smirks and slows his strokes while he adds some soap to his shaft. “Trust me, little girl, you want this more than you want the alternative. And, you don’t have to watch. Pervert.”

I gasp which only makes him laugh, showing me his blinding smile. I can’t believe he’s calling me a pervert. The man who kidnapped me and is beating off to my bruised body is calling me a pervert. Go figure.

I watch him a little longer unconsciously while the strongest ache I’ve ever had blooms between my legs. He turns his body from the side, facing me head-on, and that’s when I look away and close my eyes, trying to enjoy the remainder of my hot bath before it gets cold and Blackheart turns into an angry psycho again.

But his loud grunts echo in my head, and then his grunts turn into moans. I slip a finger between my legs in the water, stroking myself just a little to try and feel better. My desire has nothing to do with him and everything to do with biology. I’m a woman, and it’s my time of the month. I want sex. Doesn’t mean that I want him.

I pull my hand away before I get too lost in the moment, and that’s when I hear him moan my name. He does it so quietly that I don’t think he meant for me to hear it. I know he didn’t. Because when I look back at him, he’s facing forward again with his eyes closed while his cum squirts all over the wall in long ribbons in front of him .

He starts to rinse off, and before he gets out, I look away, pretending I didn’t see any of it.

This can’t possibly be real life. The man who pointed his shotgun at my head basically threatened to rape me if I got on his nerves too much, forced me to make him a sandwich, and rubbed one out with my name on his tongue. I must have done something really fucking awful in a past life to deserve this kind of treatment.

After a few more minutes, he gets out and wraps a towel around himself and grabs a razor and some shaving cream from under the sink. He’s so fucking bitter that I would’ve never guessed he could care about his appearance. I’m eager to see what he looks like clean-shaven. Hopefully he’ll be less scary.

I look under the water at my legs. I shaved the day my father took me, and after getting scraped up, my legs are nearly hairless again. And even if they weren’t, they’re in no condition to be shaved. Still, my pits could use a little attention, and I’d like to make my pubes look a little better.

Bringing my knees to my chest, I try to keep myself covered while I look over at him. “Do you have an extra by chance?”

He holds the brand new razor tightly in his hand while he stares in the mirror, and then he hands it to me along with the cream and gets a new one with a different can of cream from under the sink.

His beard is so big that he’ll have to go over it several times to get it clean. When I see he’s distracted, I lift my hips just enough to rub some foam over myself, and I get to work.

I clean around my bikini line, the tops of my inner thighs, and then work on the bush until it’s just a thin layer of hair. I pull the drain to the tub, and I stand up carefully while he stays focused on what he’s doing. I look to where my towel was this morning, and it’s been replaced with a new one, so I grab it and wrap it around myself.

He pulls his razor away from his face and glances at me through the mirror. “Go put something on for bed and I’ll replace your bandages in a little bit.”

“Alright.” I turn and head back to the bedroom to get dressed.

That’s when it dawns on me that the only clothing I have for bed is lingerie. In my apartment, I had sleep sets and cute night shirts. It’s crazy to think that all my stuff is still there. Abandoned. I need to go back and get it before I’m evicted. But more importantly, I need to figure out what I’m going to wear .

The old T-shirt I wore earlier is soiled and long gone. I could ask him for another shirt or look in his drawers, but I don’t want that sort of closeness with him.

I need to just man up and get over myself. Going up to my new garments on the dresser, I hold up a black silk gown with lace cups. It’s far sexier than I’d like, but it’s the least sexy thing in the pile. I slip my towel off, placing it on the wicker chair beside the dresser and slip on my new nighty with a fresh pair of panties and a pad.

Part of me wants to leave the room and look around the house. It’s so quiet and I’m so anxious that I feel like I need a book or some music to help me relax. But if I even try to go out to the hall, I know Blackheart will drop everything and drag me back in here by my heels. And if I ask him for entertainment, he’ll probably laugh in my face.

No. I’ll behave and submit. If he thinks I’m following directions, he may loosen up a bit. My socks are on the dresser and my rugged boots are downstairs. I’d rather not wear my boots without socks, but I may have to if I plan on escaping tonight. Maybe I can find a way to sneak a pair of socks down there without him knowing.

Taking a seat on the bed, I lean back on the pillows, feeling the day catch up with me. I’m hungry, but I’m tired more. After a few more minutes, Blackheart comes out the bathroom with his towel still on his hips and a new look on his face.

The mustache and beard are gone, and he looks ten years younger. More like thirty-five instead of the forty-five he looked like this morning. His lips are plump and pink, and his jaw is sharp and angular. He looks like a GQ model. A country GQ model. He still has hair on his chest though. And he probably still has hair around his—

“What are you wearing?” His eyes narrow and focus on my chemise while he looks at me disapprovingly.

“The nightgown you bought me. I thought I was supposed to wear it to bed.”

His jaw relaxes when he remembers that he was the one who insisted on me having this, and he digs in his nightstand for medical supplies. “I could’ve given you another shirt.”

Just when I think I might please him, I seem to piss him off more. I fiddle with one of the silk straps holding the gown up. “I didn’t know. I can change if you want.”

He ignores me and puts gloves on, and then he pulls away the bandage on my head harder than I like. “Looking better. You might get away with just a piece of gauze tomorrow. You can probably wash your hair the day after.”

I sit patiently while he cleans the area. He tends to me like I’m a wounded animal he wants to fix. Once he rubs something on it, he puts a clean bandage over it.

I get a whiff of his aftershave when he grabs bandages and ointment for my arms and legs. He smells woodsy. There’s a hint of booze too. Then there’s the base of lavender underneath that ties everything together.

He moves quickly, getting my arms secured, and he freezes when he gets to my legs. One of his large hands hovers over my right thigh and lifts my gown gently, exposing my hip and a peek at my lace underwear. I can feel his body heat through the gloves, and it’s comforting while he rubs the salve over my hip bone gently. I look up at his exposed cheeks. His jaw is hard, but his face which isn’t as tan as his body has a slight flush to it. I wonder why he’s not married. Maybe he wouldn’t be so aggressive if he had a woman’s touch in his life.

As quickly as his hand is there, it’s gone, and he covers my exposed skin, securing the white fabric he uses with medical tape, and then he lowers the hem of my dress, standing up straight.

He’s still got his towel on, but that angry bulge is still underneath, clearly not satisfied from his session in the shower. He turns away from me, leaving all of the supplies on the table while he slides into a pair of blue plaid pants and a gray tee. He looks between me and his shotgun as if he’s wondering whether to bring it downstairs or not, but I clearly still have him on edge as he slings it over his shoulder and nods toward the door. “Downstairs.”

I stand up on my bare feet, feeling worlds better than I did this morning. I still have cramps and a headache, but I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore.

I walk down the steps slowly, letting my fingertips drag along the shiny oak banister. This house is beautiful. Perfect for a family. I can’t believe he lives here all alone. When I get to the bottom, I glance at the front door, thinking about how easy it would be to run out if I unlatch the two locks. But he’d have a bullet in me before I could cross the threshold. I suck in a breath, trying not to panic while my nightmare from this afternoon flashes in my mind again.

Feeding off my fear, Blackheart leans over my shoulder, his lips millimeters from my right ear. “Can you cook?”

I want to say no, but even if I do, he’ll make an effort to teach me or force me to watch a video on it. I need to make things easier on myself, and then he’ll hopefully be easier on me. “I can make anything.” It’s not a lie, and I hope it will impress him.

He stands up straight and pokes me forward with his gun, returning to his more menacing side. “Good. Steaks are in the fridge. Already marinated. Cook ‘em up, and bake vegetables too.”

Dick. Dick should be his name because he’s a fucking dick. I waltz forward slowly, trying to keep my mini dress from riding up. Blackheart takes a seat at the table watching me while I get started.

It doesn’t take long to wash and cut vegetables, and once I get them prepped and in the oven, I get out a pan for the steaks.

I glance over my shoulder at him while he scrolls on his phone. Not looking up, he calls out to me. “Drink some water.”

I open the fridge and grab another bottle. He uses a lot of plastic. I want to tell him how bad it is for the environment, but I’m not in the mood to get choked out.

I’m thirstier than I thought because I drink it quickly. Once I’m done with it, he calls out to me again. “Two beers, little fox.”

An animal giving me an animal nickname. The irony. I get him two cold ones and open them for him, placing them on the coasters. Looking pleased, he raises a brow and smirks at me while he sips one, and I turn away to finish dinner.

When I look over my shoulder this time, he is watching me. I’ve got to come up with a plan. I need to think. I have to find a way out of this house. I try to smile at him when I really want to gouge his eyes out. “What are your horses’ names?”

His eyebrows lift, and he chugs the remainder of his first beer. “Ordinary names.”

My lips tighten, giving away my irritation while he grins like a fucking Cheshire cat. I make an attempt to soften my face. “I love animals.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t give a shit.”

There has to be a way to break him. Everyone has a breaking point. But what I really want to find is his melting point. A way to turn him into putty. I lean forward, giving him a better view of what I know he’s obsessed with. “Can I see them?”

His eyes dart down to my cleavage while he licks his lips, and he widens his legs, clearly trying to get comfortable. He shows me his bright smile while he leans forward.

It’s working. My feminine ways are working. Such a typical man.

His clear blue eyes sear into mine, and he chuckles deeply. “If you think that I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Montana, you’re a goddamn idiot. You’re smarter than that. Keep playing with fire, and you will burn up in flames quickly. ”

A chill runs throughout my entire body when his smile drops, and I give him my back, finishing up the dinner.

My eyes water, and I push away my tears, not wanting him to see how upset and unhappy I am.

After I get the vegetables out the oven, I finish the steaks and plate everything. Blackheart waits patiently while I set the table, and when I do, he looks at both plates. He has the bigger piece of steak, and after comparing the two, he switches his plate with mine. “Eat every last bit. You won’t outrun your father if you’re malnourished.”

There’s that hint of humanity again. Just a hint of the real man in there capable of feeling. I feel physical pain looking at him. I’m almost terrified to know what horrible things he’s been through to make him ice-cold.

We eat together in silence, and once he cleans his plate, he huffs at me. “It was good.”

I nod in thanks and finish my plate, and when I’m done, he clears the table.

Looking down at me, he rubs his bare chin. “Get some socks and put your boots on. But don’t change.”

Of course, he’d want me to keep this slutty outfit on. “Where are we going?”

Rolling his eyes, he crosses his arms. “The stables. You’re gonna help me feed the horses.”

I walk beside Blackheart with my wavy hair blowing in the wind while we head to the stables behind the house. It shouldn’t excite me to be out here with him, but after the shitty week that I’ve had, I’m thrilled to get some fresh air and see his animals.

I used to have horses. Well, my father did, but I took care of them like they were mine. That was before he sold them to pay his debts.

I remember going to horse shows with my dad when I was a kid. I got to compete in some too, and the most proud of me he ever was was when I’d place first. But with no horse anymore, I couldn’t pursue it as a career path. And when I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps is when he decided I was no longer his daughter.

Blackheart stops a few feet away from the stables and looks down at me. His long, brown hair blows in the wind, and his eyes glow under the deep sunset. “You familiar with horses?”

I nod my head eagerly, not wanting to upset him and wanting to see the animals. “Yes. Very much so.”

I swear I almost see a hint of a smile before it’s pushed back under the surface. He leads me through the shelter and shows me where he keeps the food stored. “Give all the girls some hay to start, and then I want the girls eating a blend of barley and oats. I’ll give ‘em water.”

“What about the boys?”

He smirks. “There aren’t any.”

At first glance, I would’ve never guessed that Blackheart would have female horses. He just so masculine and aggressive. But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. A group of girls for him to dominate who love him is exactly the type of thing he would like. And, they may be the only reason he has any hint of humanity left in him.

We work together silently and quickly, and I start at stall number one. I don’t know what the horses are named, but this first one is a black beauty. She’s gentle and sweet, and she eats quickly. I can’t stop myself from rubbing her nose. I scratch her ears and plant a kiss on the top of her muzzle when she puts her head on my shoulder. “Good girl.”

Blackheart looks up at me angrily, but he doesn’t say a word while I pet his horse. I make my way down the line, getting to know the girls who all seem to like a little love. And when I get to stall ten is when I meet the most quiet girl.

She’s pure white and shy. Pretty brown eyes. I talk to her softly, trying to get her to come up to me, and she does .

This girl doesn’t look beaten, but she looks broken. She puts her nose up to mine, and I wrap my arms around her. It’s risky having my face this close to a horse I don’t know, but she’s gentle. I know she won’t hurt me.

“You’re so pretty,” I whisper to her, giving her the praise I sense she’s longing for. I keep my arms around her, stepping closer when she drops her head over my shoulder, and I don’t even realize we’re not alone until I feel someone watching me. I turn around and see Blackheart just standing there, staring with his shotgun. I pull away quickly and exit the stall, standing nearby it.

I’m just about to apologize for overstepping when he points at her with his finger. “This is Violet.”

I glance between him and the horse, and they stare each other down like two people who used to know each other but don’t anymore. When I look back at her, she steps a little closer to me, and I go back to her, giving her nose another rub. “How long have you had her?”

He sighs and stares at her like he can’t stand to look at her. “Too long.”

I open my mouth to press for more, but before I can, he leads me down the line, introducing me to the other girls. It’s when we get back to stall number one that I realize which one is his favorite. “This is Willow.” He doesn’t look at me, but he grins at her like she’s a cherub. She gives him the same love she gave me and then some. He’s so calm with her, and for a split second I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.

For a moment it feels like we’re friends. Or like we could be. He looks between me and her, telling me about how he got her. He tells me how his sweet little mare can fetch and jump, and that he’s won a barrel race or two with her. His smile never leaves his face the entire time he tells me about her, and he takes me to a private area where he keeps some fruit stored and gives me some strawberries to feed her. Apparently they’re her favorite.

Once I’m done feeding her, we pet her together, and he looks down at me while we do so. We’re so close. I can smell the beer on his tongue and can see the cerulean lines in his irises. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he wanted to kiss me.

I remove my hand from Willow and take a step back, and he looks off into the distance while his cheeks turn pink. “I think it’s time for bed.”

He says it so casually as if we’re two lovers going in for the night when in reality he’s my captor. We walk side by side in silence, and when we get back to the house, I look up at him. “When did you get Violet?”

His entire body turns to stone, and he glowers at me. “I got her on the worst day of my life. ”

Without another word, he opens the door to the house, and we take off our shoes to head upstairs.