9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I know, Fred is opening my door and gently lifting me from my cozy seat. I try to force my lids to open, but I'm so tired.

"Shh, bed bug. Just rest. Freddikins has you," he murmurs.

I settle into his hold and wrap my arms around his neck, snuggling in deeper. He's so soft. So comfy. I inhale deeply, taking a hit of his intoxicating scent straight from the source. Sweat, laundry detergent, and something sweet. Delicious.

Fred chuckles as he shifts me, and the sound of locks engaging catches my ears. "I'm glad you think I'm delicious."

I groan into his neck. "I said that out loud?" I murmur.

The front door clicks shut, and he tightens his arms around me. "Sure did. It was adorable, though."

A loud ding catches me by surprise, followed by the telltale feeling of ascending in an elevator. I pull my face from his neck and blink drearily. The walls are gold, the ceiling opulently designed.

"Do you live in an apartment?"

In our golden reflection, I catch his slight wince. "Something like that."

The doors open before he can respond, and a sudden feeling of motion sickness makes my belly flip. I bury my face in his neck again, taking strong hits of his scent like a druggie. For some reason, it calms my senses and settles my stomach.

"We're almost there," he murmurs. "I promise you'll feel better soon."

Under me, I can feel his arms shaking from my weight. I expect him to complain or put me down, but Fred only holds me closer to his chest and kisses my hair. Inside, I die a thousand sugary deaths. I'm practically on a high from his sweetness.

It feels like we travel for hours, and something flickers in the back of my mind. How big is his place? Where are we? The steady thumping of Fred's heartbeat against mine lulls me into peacefulness, and suddenly, my worries melt away.

"Alrighty, bed bug," he says softly as a dim light clicks on. "I'm going to put you down and get you something to change into. Then I'm going to check you over." My muscles lock up from my fingers to my asshole, and I wince in pain. He cuddles me close. "I know you're nervous, but I'll make it all better, okay?"

Swallowing hard, I force myself to nod. When he gently lowers me to my feet, I'm unprepared for the sudden blast of neediness to my deprived system. My hands ache with the craving to climb him like a tree, but I resist. Barely. Instead, I cling to the sheet still loosely wrapped around my lower half.

Fred quickly disappears from the room, murmuring something about grabbing me clothes and some medical supplies. I nod, but am far too distracted by the bedroom he left me in.

Holy fucking shirt balls! Is Fred rich?

I blink rapidly, my weary eyes struggling to take it all in.

Does he live in an apartment? I had no idea they made them this nice. Compared to my little one bedroom, this place is like Buckingham Palace. I slowly spin around, taking in the vaulted ceilings adorned with an elegant golden chandelier that casts a warm, golden glow over the room.

The floor is a dark, polished wood that gleams under the soft light. The massive sleigh bed, with its luxurious blankets and plush pillows, looks like it belongs in a royal chamber, and my body thrums with the desire to dive into its yumminess!

Instead, I awkwardly shuffle around the room, one hand holding my sheet, the other gliding across the walls. They're covered in dark green wallpaper with an intricate pattern I've only ever seen in my fantasies. I feel I've stepped into the castle from Beauty and the Beast . You know, after they remodeled.

I move towards the window and push back the heavy purple curtains, revealing a stunning view of the city. The twinkling lights outside contrast with the old-world charm inside. I feel a bit out of place, but still captivated by the beauty.

"Damn, Story," I breathe, shaking my head. "You might be out of your depths here, girlfriend." Sighing, I turn around and slowly make my way back to the bed. Where the heck is he? He's been gone for a while.

My heart clenches. Maybe he left me here. Maybe I've been kidnapped! I didn't even check to see if I was locked in here!

Stupid, stupid girl!

My gaze snaps to the door, and my shoulders drop. Open. It's open. I can run.

Not with metal lodged up your sphincter, you can't.

"Shut up, worms," I chide, slashing a tired hand through the air. "I'm done with your shit today."

With a deep breath, I lower myself onto the bed, shifting to my hip at the last second. Surprisingly, I'm not all that sore and I wonder if the pain from before was mostly fear-induced. As I wait, I glance around the room again. My gaze lands on an intricately carved bookshelf in the corner, filled with classic literature. My heart skips a beat and I wipe a tear from my eye.

Fred and I really were made for each other.

"What's wrong?" a rumbly voice asks, catching me off guard. I jump with a squeak and Fred rushes to my side. "Oh crap! Are you okay?"

It's then that I notice he's changed clothes. Instead of his undershirt and work pants, he's now covered from shoulder to ankle in a matching gray velour sweatsuit. It's fitted, clinging to his broad body and accentuating his thick middle and thighs. My mouth waters at the sight of him. It takes everything in me not to glance down and see if the soft material hugs his god rod the way it does everything else.

No! Don't objectify the poor man, Story. He's just trying to take care of you.

I bite my cheek.

But the feelings, I retort, reminding my inner self of Fred and I's conversation earlier. Clearly, sharing feelings for each other entitles me to some kind of bodily perusal, right?

I shake my head, belatedly noticing he's holding a baking sheet full of random objects. My brows furrow. Is that a puppy pad? Weird.

"Hey, bed bug. You alright?" He chuckles awkwardly. "You're freaking me out."

I blink up at him, finding his pretty face etched in a strange expression. Is he blushing? Shit. Did I zone out while staring at him?

"Why do you call me that?" I blurt.

"Bed bug?" he mutters. I bob my head, swallowing thickly as I meet his gaze. The way he says the nickname sends delightful shivers across my body. He smiles sweetly. "I thought it would be obvious."

I blush hard.

Of course. Duh, Story. It's probably a derogatory term or something. The man met you while you were strapped to a bed. A bed in another man's house. A man you were about to get a hot beef injection from. And now, you're here with another random man, in a bed, and—

"Because you're the sweetest, cutest little thing I've ever seen in my life," he breathes, brushing hair from my forehead. "Especially with your tangled bed head."

"I do not have bed hair," I protest, wincing when his fingers get caught in a knot. Okay. Maybe I do. And, yeah, maybe his explanation is the cutest damn thing I've ever heard in my life. Instead of telling him that, I point to the things in his arms. "What's all that for?"

Fred takes a step back and I feel the distance like a ten-pound boulder of destruction straight to my soul. He settles everything on the end of the bed before handing me a long sleeved shirt. I bring it to my chest, barely resisting the urge to take a deep whiff.

"I know it's not much, but I thought you'd be more comfortable in it than what you're wearing." I look up just as he awkwardly palms the back of his head and gestures to a pair of pants that match his. "They'll be too big for you, but there's a drawstring. You can put them on after I check you over and uh—"

Remove the butt plug stuck up my ass .

Goosebumps break out over my skin and my puckered hole clenches without my permission. I can't tell if I'm afraid or turned on. Probably both, honestly.

Fred is still staring at me, most likely waiting for me to speak. What were we talking about again? Oh, right. He brought me clothes. I hold the shirt out, taking in its massive size. It'll definitely go down to my knees. I melt all over again.

"It's perfect."

You're perfect.

"I love it."

I love you.

No! Story, you're being bad again!

I jerk my chin at the supplies he's gathered, firmly ignoring the chaos happening inside me. "And what's all that?"

"Tools I might need."

My spit gets stuck in my throat and I almost choke. "Tongs?" I shoot him an incredulous look. "Fucking kitchen tongs!"

"They're silicone," he defends. "Should be soft and flexible enough to remove the uh—"

"The plug," I state bluntly. "The adorable butt plug that's been shoved so far up my ass, I'm pretty sure I can taste it."

He shivers as if he's cold, but that's impossible. The heater is up so high, I could parade around his home naked like a forest nymph.

Clearing his throat, he jerks a nod. "Right. I've also got a box of gloves and lube for manual extraction. The tongs are worst-case scenario."

I have to breathe through the panic swelling inside me. He's right, though. I've refused to go to a hospital, and it's only out of the kindness of Fred's heart that he's here offering to help me with my situation. I have to be brave. Besides, there's no way it'll hurt as badly coming out as it did going in.

"Okay," I say slowly. "What's the whisk for? Is that a timer?" My eyes widen and I jolt forward, snatching up actual pliers. "Seriously, Fred?"

He shrugs. "You can never be too prepared."

I drop them onto the bed with a huff and bring his shirt to my chest, hugging it for comfort. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, trying to calm my nerves.

And then Fred is there and I'm in his arms. He rocks me back and forth, rubbing his hand up and down my back as he murmurs into my hair. "You're going to be just fine, baby. I promise."

"You can't know," I protest weakly.

I feel him nod against me. "I can, though. I may not know you well, Story Bates, but I know this. You will be fine. Better than fine." He kisses my head. "You'll be back to perfect in no time."

"I'm not perfect," I mutter. "And Bates isn't my last name."

Fred mumbles something that sounds a hell of a lot like yet and steps back, leaving me gaping. I snap my jaw shut. Did he seriously just say that?

Picking up the tray, he spins, moving to a door off to the left. He swings it open with his hip and flicks on a bright white light. I lean forward, watching him set up in a massive, gorgeous bathroom.

With a clap that makes me jump, he gives me a wide grin. "Are you ready to get started?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Groaning, I climb to my feet. "Where do you want me, doc?"

Pointing down, he says, "On the puppy pad."

Oh, shit.

Literally.