Chapter Three

Lydia

Well, I didn’t see kidnapping going on my list of things that would happen today. I figured I’d go home, take a long hot shower, eat some frozen pizza, curl up on the couch, and fall asleep watching reruns of Paradise Island. I don’t know why I like that show so much, but I do. It’s not the hot bodies, though that does make things interesting. What I love the most is watching everyone fall in love. You can tell right away when a couple will work out, which reinforces the whole belief that love is chemistry, and natural chemistry is obvious. It’s obvious enough that I can pick up on it while I’m barely watching a reality TV show in between taking slices of a frozen pizza.

I drag in a deep breath and stare toward Ink. He’s in the kitchen doing something with his back to me. So far, he’s been a terrible kidnapper. No ropes, no chains, no nothing. To be honest, I could get up and leave whenever I want, and I’m not sure he’d have much say in the matter. Though, I bet he would simply pick me up again and return me to my spot.

I probably should view his whole display of power more terrifying, but instead I thought it was super fucking hot. In fact, I’ve been replaying the moment in my head since we left the hardware store. Who wouldn’t want a big, strong man muscling them up into their arms?

Me. The answer should probably be me.

I force myself to look away from the giant and instead study the cabin. It isn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. It’s an older place, and it clearly needs a little updating, but for the most part, it’s nice. The walls are freshly painted with dark green paint, the kitchen has been remodeled to reflect modern tastes, and from what I saw of the bathroom, it’s a work in progress. I won’t tell Ink any of this, though. He has to know that I’m currently ignoring him.

“Do you want coffee or tea?”

I roll my eyes. Who doesn’t know that a pregnant woman shouldn’t have caffeine? Maybe it’s decaf. I could really use a cup of something warm. I want to ask, but I’m angry.

“You’re calling in tomorrow. I want you here resting,” he grunts, handing me a cup of hot water with a decaf tea bag. “It’s Friday so you can give yourself a three-day weekend.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t work like that.” I hate that I’ve broken my vow of silence. “I have students who rely on me for, ya know, an education.”

“One day with a substitute isn’t going to hurt them, and you need to rest. You’re overwhelmed, over worked, and—”

“Maybe you missed the part about me being broke… because that’s a thing too.”

“They give you sick pay, and you’re using it.”

I know I shouldn’t like all this bossiness, but I do. My heart is warm, my panties are wet, and though I’m telling him to stop, I want him to keep going. I want him to work me until I’m fixed. I want to see myself through his eyes and believe that I’m worthy of love. Real love.

God, I’m delusional.

What’s wrong with me? I’m having a child. I should be able to figure all this out on my own without the help of anyone.

I sip the warm tea and stare toward the fireplace that’s surrounded in stone. I wonder if he’s redone that as well. It looks new. “Is this why you’re alone? You’re so controlling.”

He nods. “It’s for your own good.”

I feel like an ass after I’ve said it. I’ve had controlling. Dillon was controlling. He wanted things done his way because it made him happy. This is completely different. Ink wants things done a certain way because he’s looking out for me. He wants me to feel good. I’ve never had that before.

Hell, I don’t have that now. This isn’t permanent. This is a dude feeling sorry for me because I’m thirty-five years old, poor, pregnant, and falling the fuck apart.

I blow out a heavy breath and take a sip of tea, letting the warmth settle in my throat before swallowing it down. The soothing bergamot scent and warmth combined makes my eyes heavy. It’s been a long ass day.

“You’re tired,” Ink says, standing from the chair he’s only just settled into. “Let’s get you in bed.”

I know I should fight him. I should tell him again how wrong he is for forcing me out here. I should kick, scream, and beg him to take me home until he drives me back to my little one bedroom in the woods that I’ve grown to hate. Instead, I sink my hand into his and close my eyes as the rough edges brush against my skin.

I let him take over from here without an ounce of fight. I say nothing as he guides me down the hall. I don’t ask a question as he pulls back the covers to his bed. I stand perfectly still as he tugs off my dress and slides on his t-shirt. I relax as he guides me down against the mattress, and I let him turn out the light and close the door without comment.

What is happening? Everything all at once, that’s for sure. The better question is why am I letting it? Am I that exhausted? I think I am.

My eyes are heavy, and my body is aching everywhere. I know I’ll be asleep in five minutes, but right now, I stare up at the ceiling fan whirring above me as I drag in Ink’s scent. It’s surrounding me. Pine, spice, and warmth. I imagine he’s lying next to me with his big, heavy body and his rough hands.

He undressed me a moment ago, but he didn’t even look. He closed his eyes as the shirt dragged over my chest. Maybe he doesn’t think of me like I think of him. Maybe that’s why this isn’t weird for him. He’s helping a broken person.

Clearly… I’m broken.

My hand lands on my stomach and I circle the bump that’s only just begun to grow. I know I’m about to raise this baby alone, but for a second, I let myself think about raising her with Ink. I imagine he’d be attentive to both of us, he’d care, he’d take the time to see us in a way no one else could. And when the baby was down for the night, he’d come back to this bed, climb in beside me, and hold me in his arms until we both fell asleep. That or… until something else happened.

I try not to let my mind go to that place because I’m not sure of the consequences. I’m already so low. If I start having feelings for Ink too, that’ll only lead to more disappointment. Besides that, whatever attraction I’m feeling is probably hormonal. I read somewhere that pregnancy hormones are the worst. So much so that there’s a spike in affairs in the third trimester.

Who’d have thought it? A big pregnant lady waddling around with her panties dripping wet? Not me.

I roll over and try not to drag in the scent of Ink’s pillow, there’s already enough of him in this bed, but it’s impossible. The pillow smells like the spicy oil he puts in his beard.

I’m done for.

My clit throbs and my thighs ache. I think about rubbing one out, just to get these thoughts of him out of my head, but my phone buzzes in my jeans on the floor before I get a chance. It’s my friend Mabel. She works on her dad’s farm and spends most of her days milking cows or cleaning stalls. I know she’s bored with it. It’s all she’s talked about lately. Tonight, she was supposed to go out with some guy. I should at least check and see if she had fun.

Mabel: Hey! Where are you? Your car was still at the hardware store when I drove by. Please tell me I won’t see you on the news in the morning.

Me: LOL. I don’t think so. I went home with a friend.

I hesitate to tell her who exactly, mostly because I can’t take the judgment right now.

Mabel: So, you went home with a dude? Which dude?

Okay, that didn’t work.

Me: You know that big, inked up guy… the hot one in the MC I’ve mentioned?

Mabel: Shut up! No, you didn’t.

Me: I’m in his bed right now.

Mabel: Why are you talking to me then? Go fuck him.

Me: Well, I’m alone in his bed.

Mabel: What? Did I miss something?

Me: You missed a lot of somethings. I’ll fill you in later. How was your night?

Mabel: Ugh… terrible. Don’t ever let me go on a blind date ever again. The guy was an accountant and a total snooze fest. We had dinner at four thirty then we walked by the river while he told me about the drama in his office. I could’ve fallen asleep walking.

Mabel and I have been friends for the last two years, and despite the fact that she’s a lot younger than me, we clicked. She came into the hardware store looking for paint samples and she told a cheesy dad joke about a ghost’s favorite paint color, and we’ve been friends ever since.

Turns out, it’s boo-tiful blue. I’m a nerd, so that amused me.

Me: I could have told you that an accountant wouldn’t be enough to keep you entertained. You need some kind of bad boy.

I immediately regret sending the message. I don’t wish a bad boy on anyone.

Mabel: Not a bad boy. I could go for a guy who’s bad… but is a grown ass man.

Me: So, a bad man? LOL. Do you think I should date a bad man? LMAO.

Mabel: I think you need to go find this inked up beast and do dirty things to him. Does he need thanking for anything? You can offer him breakfast or something else… oral.

Me: So now I’m a prostitute? LOL.

Mabel: Yes. Admit your fate and take your lot in life with dignity.

Me: You have no idea how close I am to faking a cramp just so I can see him again.

Mabel: I’ve seen that guy around town. It’s hard to miss him. He’s hot.

I know Mabel doesn’t mean anything by it, but a rumble of jealousy staggers through me. Women notice Ink. All women do. How could they not?

Women love tall men. It’s just a fact. They see this big, tall, inked up guy with wide shoulders and strong biceps and I bet they all cream a little.

This thought sends a shock of fury through me that I can’t explain away, so I blame it on hormones. Clearly, I wouldn’t be this jealous if my body weren’t over-producing wacko drugs for fun. Undoubtedly, I’d be able to control myself and I wouldn’t need to get up from this bed, storm into the living room, and demand to know why he brought me here… all while hoping he says he’s madly in love with me and can’t wait to make me his.

I love dreaming… I guess.

Me: I gotta run. I’ll text you later.

Mabel: Is it weird to ask for pictures?

I don’t answer. I lift the sheet, stand from the bed, and creep through the bedroom door quietly. I’m not sure why I decide on the slow arrival, but as he comes into view, I’m glad to be in stealth mode. I’m halfway down the hall with a view of the couch when I see Ink with his big hand wrapped around his cock. He’s looking at something on his phone. The screen is white and flashing on his face.

I should be repulsed, but instead my clit is throbbing, and my thighs are aching to be spread.

Ink jerks faster. His shoulders are tense, and in the shallow light of the phone, I watch his face contort.

Jealousy settles in again. He’s watching someone else. I’m sure she’s thin with big tits and a round ass. I bet her hair is long and thick, and I imagine her stomach isn’t popping from her waist like mine is.

Regardless of the jealousy raging through me, I’m in desperate need of an orgasm. So, I lean against the back wall to steady myself, and tuck my hand into my panties to circle my clit as I watch him jerk off.

There’s a low groan in his throat.

My clit is soaked. I rub around the nub and grip my nipples in the opposite hand.

Why is this so fucking hot? It’s like I’ve caught him doing something wrong.

I wonder what he’d do if I offered to finish him off. A tiny sigh escapes my lips at the thought.

I don’t expect it and it’s clearly louder than anticipated. The noise forces Ink up from the couch and he tugs his pants back in place. His gaze turns toward the hallway and into the darkness. “Bunny?”

I don’t have an excuse. I’m here. I’m clearly here. I’m standing in one tiny little shadow. If he flicks on the light, he’ll see me.

What do I say? There’s no explaining my way out of this.

I drag in a deep breath as he steps closer. “Hey. How are ya? I’m thirsty. You thirsty?” I divert away from him and open the fridge, grabbing an absurdly large bottle of water. I open it immediately, chugging down the liquid to buy time. Maybe in the time it takes me to drink this, he’ll forget he was masturbating, and I’ll forget I was watching.

“I don’t know what you just saw.”

“What?” I swallow down more water. Clearly, he knows I saw something. I can’t act dumb. Well, I could, but I’m not sure what good that would do anyone. “It’s… masturbation is normal. It’s okay. I took your bedroom. You had nowhere to do your thing. It’s no big deal.” My breath is in short supply as I speak.

He stares toward me then looks away quickly. His phone is the only light in the room. I glance toward it, curious about what he looks at to get off. Maybe I want to hurt my own feelings. I mean, it seems like that’s what I’m looking for. Part of me expects a guy like Ink to be looking at something really kinky like whips and chains or domination of some sort, but it’s not any of that. It looks like a picture.

Oh God! There’s another woman . He’s looking at another woman’s picture. Of course he’s looking at another woman. He probably has loads of women he looks at, or he has one special woman that he adores and misses terribly right now. She probably lives in another state and he’s jerking off to her pictures because it’s all he has. I’m such an idiot!

My stomach hurts. It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t care that he’s into another woman or that another woman is into him. That’s okay. He’s gotta be almost fifty years old. He’s too old for me, anyway. Besides that, I have a baby on the way that needs to be my focus.

I can tell myself all these things, making solid points, negotiating a reasonable stance with the reality of the night, but I lean in anyway, ready to compare myself to this blonde on his phone. It’s then that I realize… she’s me.

“Fucking hell.” He swipes my photo off the screen and tucks it into his pocket. “That’s embarrassing as fuck.”

My face heats and my stomach clenches while my heart does loop-de-loops. I’m still, like a statue, unsure of what to say or how to act.

He was looking at me.

Me.

The me that’s me standing right here.

That me.

Ink leans against the counter with his big hand over his face. “Well, I guess that kinda lets the cat out of the bag.”

“There was a cat in a bag?” Why do I insist on being an idiot?

He smiles and turns toward me. His heavy frame is square and straight, and his gaze is steady on mine.

The energy in the room has shifted. I can’t explain how, but I know why.

He walks toward me, lands his big hand on my throat, and leans in. “You were making noises in the hallway. Did watching me turn you on?”

My eyes lift to his and then down again. My palms are sweaty, and my knees are weak. Suddenly, I’m a sixteen-year-old girl and the biggest guy on the football team is asking me to prom. Worse than that, he’s asking if I was masturbating to him masturbating, which only makes me want to masturbate more.

No. It makes me want him to fuck me more.

My thighs ache. I squeeze them together hoping the yearning will stop, but it only makes it worse.

He lifts my chin until our eyes meet again. “You were, weren’t you? You were touching that pretty little pussy while you watched me.”

I drag in a staggered breath and nod shallowly. I don’t know why I’m so shy all the sudden. A second ago, I was in the shadows, rubbing my clit with reckless abandon while I watched him.

Now, I’m shy putty, desperate to be molded.

He grins and leans into my neck, breathing warm heat against my shoulder before biting and nibbling my sensitive skin. He does this all the way down my chest until he reaches my nipples. His shirt is still in place, but he doesn’t let it stop him from biting down hard.

I jump and pull back out of surprise, but I like it. I want his marks all over.

His cock twitches in response to me, pushing against my stomach.

He lifts off the shirt, rubbing his rough hands all over me before licking his way across the marks he’s just made.

I’m not scared. I know he’d never hurt me, not for real .

He inhales, dragging in the scent of my skin as though he can’t take anymore, then drops to his knees and devours my pussy like he’s been thinking about it for years. His tongue is buried deep, and he works his way over me, humming and moaning, flicking his tongue, hungry for me like a depraved animal that’s been caged too long.

His hands wrap around my waist, and he digs into me, eating, licking, sucking. My thighs shake and my core tightens as I weave my fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands.

He pulls away and stands before me. “Get up on the counter and touch yourself.” His tone is a low growl.

“What?” I’m breathless, panting, desperate.

He lifts me up as though I’m weightless, like he had earlier. “Touch yourself. I want to watch you.”

I’m all for trying new things, but masturbating seems like a private event. Something you do alone, not for an audience, and especially not with this big belly hanging over. I mean, what would he even see? I’m blocking his view.

“Lean back.” He nods toward a wall behind me. If I like being told what to do, I should listen, but I’m not used to it, and I’m not even sure I like it yet.

That’s a lie. I love it!

That said, I do as I’m told and lean back against the wall.

“Good girl. Now touch yourself. Rub that swollen clit like you were in the hallway when I was jerking off to pictures of you.”

I want to ask him where he got the photo, but now doesn’t seem like the time. Besides, I’m not sure it matters anymore. I’m masturbating on the man’s kitchen counter.

My finger glides over my swollen pussy and I rub slowly, holding my breast in one hand as I work.

Ink leans back in the chair opposite me and pulls out his cock. He’s huge. Like really, really huge. The angle I was watching from earlier didn’t allow me this pleasure.

He strokes over and over again as he watches me.

“You need to be fucked, little bunny?” His tone is low, and I just about die.

I squeak out a response that’s supposed to be a yes, but I’m not sure if it’s computing. I’m on the edge. I need to come.

“Fuck me,” I whine. “Fuck me hard. Please! I need it so bad!”

He growls deeply in his throat. “You want me to bend that pretty little ass over and fuck you hard, Bunny? Then what? You gonna lick your come off me?”

I twist faster circles around my clit, then pull off quickly. I’m so close to coming. I need it.

Ink jerks his hand faster and stares toward me, studying my movements like this is a private show, like I’m here for his amusement. I’m not sure why, but I love it. I’d do anything he asked right now. I love it so much that I want more. I need more!

“Get yourself to the edge, little bunny. Scream it loud. Whine for me.”

I don’t have to try. I’m already panting and whining, desperate for release.

“I’m so close, Ink. Fuck me! Please!”

He stares toward me. How is this huge, gorgeous man looking at me? How does this work? What does he see in me?

I rub faster, desperate for release when a heavy thud hits the window in the living room.

Ink stands and tucks himself back into his jeans. “Come on down, Bunny. Let’s get you back to bed.”

I tilt my head to the side. I heard the noise too, but I can’t figure why it’s stopping us. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You’re resting and I’m taking care of things.”

“Well, no.” I’m still soaking wet, and I see his cock is still hard. “I want to finish this.”

“We will. I have to take care of something first.” He turns toward me. “Wait in the bedroom and don’t come out until I say. Understand?”

The thud hits again. This time from the bedroom window.

“What is that?” I shake my head.

He grabs his gun off the table by the door. “Go to the bathroom. The window is small in there. Stay until I tell you to come out.”

I must be getting used to doing what I’m told because my feet are moving faster than my brain. That, or I’m watching out for the baby I’m carrying. I’m going to go with the latter, though I think I’d have done what he asked me to either way.

“Good girl.” He kisses my forehead and closes the bathroom door. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

A minute? We both know he doesn’t mean an actual minute. He’s talking a proverbial minute, which could mean anything from one minute to forever. I won’t know until he comes back.

My heart slams against my chest and my stomach stays tight.

Seconds go by, then minutes. Nothing happens. The world is quiet. No knocking, no yelling, no fighting.

Nothing at all happens… until a ruckus explodes into the otherwise quiet night.