by Chloe Finch
She stood up, unsure what to do, suddenly feeling awkward. After Shark Tank and Indian food, they’d practically bonded. Maybe he’d let her sit in the passenger seat like a normal person.
“Sorry, I gotta tie you up again,” he said. He had zip ties in his hands. “It’s a formality.”
She sighed and put her hands out in front of her.
* * *
Zach
Zach had been driving around the same three blocks for nearly ten minutes, and he was fucking furious. It was four past eleven, and he hadn’t seen any sign of Big L. He checked the GPS for the hundredth time. It showed him going in a square around the destination. There was no way he was screwing this up again. Not with what was at stake. He called Big L’s number, and it went to voicemail.
Then, finally, mercifully, he spotted a van in a parking lot down the block. He gunned it over there and parked a couple of car lengths away. Big L climbed out of the driver’s seat. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but a fat white guy was not it. Zach picked up the shopping bag of money and steeled himself. Turned out the friend at JP Morgan knew a guy, and a few calls later he was in an empty bank in Manhattan taking stacks of cash directly out of the vault with the president of the bank standing behind him. It would have been baller as fuck if not for the fact that it was a ransom. And that Grace might be in danger the whole time.
He got out of the car and stepped into the light of the headlights.
“Where is she?” He said. “I’m not getting any closer until I see her.”
“Chill, man,” Big L said. “I’m getting there.” He opened the side door of the van and pulled Grace out. She stumbled and Big L helped her to her feet. It was sickening to see him touch her arm. It took a significant amount of restraint to not go over there and punch the guy’s lights out.
Grace was barefoot, and her ankles and wrists were bound with zip ties. Her skirt was turned sideways, her white shirt dirty. Seeing her stirred up a complicated mix of emotions. Relief that she was here and appeared unharmed. Trepidation about the switch, and that there might be unseen injuries. Rage that Big L had decided to take human collateral. Guilt that it was his fault it went that far in the first place.
“Zach,” she shouted.
“Don’t worry, we’ll have you home in no time,” Zach shouted back.
“Do you have the money?” Big L said. This was the part Zach had been dreading. The exchange. There was no escrow for these type of things, just trust that once he gave up the money, Big L would release Grace. No doubt he had a gun. Zach had considered getting his hands on one, but ultimately decided it would make things more dangerous, especially for Grace.
“Right here,” Zach said. He held up the plastic bag.
He took a few slow steps toward the van, not wanting to make any sudden movements. Big L stepped closer as well, dragging Grace by the elbow, who struggled to stay upright with her bound feet.
They stopped a few feet from each other. Grace’s eyes darted back and forth between the two men. She looked ragged and nervous.
Zach put the plastic bag down at his feet and pulled the money out, counting the rolls of hundreds. It looked pitiful in cash, only five ten-thousand-dollar rolls. He dropped the money back in the bag. Big L nodded, apparently satisfied with this verification. He made a come-here motion. Zach studied his face intently, looking for any sign that he was planning to fuck with him. Big L’s stony face gave nothing away, and Zach decided that had to be good enough. He lobbed the bag so it made a high arc in the air, and at the same time, Big L shoved Grace toward him.
She fell, and because her hands were tied, she couldn’t catch herself. Zach lunged toward her but didn’t get there in time. She hit the pavement face-first, and her head bounced. Zach scooped her up, and started towards his idling car.
“Are you okay?” He asked, assessing the damage. There was a huge scrape up one side of her face, but nothing looked broken.
“Yeah, I think so,” she said. “I’m so glad to see you.” His heart swelled. She had every right to tell him to go fuck himself and never speak to him again.
“You’re safe now,” he said. There was a thump behind them on the pavement. He wasn’t going to stop, but Grace’s voice in his ear said, “Wait, my work bag.” Big L had thrown her laptop bag out of the van and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“It’s fine,” Zach said. “Sterling will get you a new one.” There was no way in hell he was bringing her back toward the van.
“No, my stuff is in there,” she said. She started wiggling in his arms, like she was trying to get down.
“Okay, okay,” he said. “Let me put you in the car, and I’ll go back and get it.”
He gently set her in the passenger seat, closed the door, and jogged back for the bag. Big L was already gone. Zach hurled the bag in the back seat, then peeled out of the parking lot. He couldn’t get her away from there fast enough.
* * *
Grace
Grace had never been more relieved to see Zach in her life. And she’d never seen him so angry. He was driving like a maniac, gunning it between each light and careening around corners on the mostly deserted streets. He was grim-faced and gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. She wasn’t the happiest camper herself—she was still tied up here.
“Um, can you cut me out of this?” She said.
He pulled over, and the car screeched to a stop.
“Jesus, sorry,” he said, as if noticing for the first time that she was still bound. “I had to get out of there.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad you came for me.”
He reached into the center console and pulled out a pocket knife, and she leaned forward so he could reach the zip tie around her wrists. He sawed at it gingerly, and it broke with a snap. Her wrists hurt from the thin plastic of the zip tie. She rolled her wrists, relishing the stretch.
“Of course I came for you,” he said. “I’m the reason you got fucking kidnapped in the first place. I’m so sorry you got mixed up in this insanity.”
She wiggled back and put her feet up on the dash. He sawed the zip tie around her ankles, and it fell away.
“It’s partially my fault,” she said, sheepishly.
“No, it is not.” He took Grace’s hands in his and gently rubbed the red marks. “You couldn’t have known Derek wanted my address to send some deranged drug dealer after me. And just so you know, I’m changing the locks and my phone number again after this.”
“That’s good,” she said. She had had enough of Derek for a while.
His eyes gave away his anger. This whole situation had gotten out of control so fast.
“Does it hurt?” He asked, looking at the red marks on her wrists.
“Not really,” she said. She couldn’t help but think of how good it hurt when Zach spanked her. Nothing like the terrifying out-of-control feeling of being taken by a total stranger. She added, “Not the right way.”
“Well, we have two options,” he said. “And it’s up to you. Do you want me to take you home? Or do you want me to take you to my cabin upstate—that Derek doesn’t know about by the way—and fuck you so hard neither of us can remember any of this?”
Her stomach tied in a knot. He looked so good right then with his tie loosened around his neck and his hair all messed up like he’d been running his hands through it. He was studying her. The black eye had mostly faded already, just a yellow-brown shadow over his face. The split lip was healing. Only the faintest ghost of a bruise lingered on his neck.
“The second one, please.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, grinning triumphantly. He put the car back in gear and sped out of the city.
Grace flipped down the visor to examine her face by the dim light. Her left cheek was bright red. There was a giant scrape from her temple all the way to her chin like road rash. It was bleeding, but not much. It was already beginning to close. She took a tissue from her laptop bag and dabbed at it, wincing at the pain
. It wasn’t deep, but it burned.
Zach said, “I’ll get you fixed up at the cabin, don’t worry.”
She tried to conceal her smile. He was being so considerate. It was out of character.
She texted her mom, saying she was out with a friend in the city and staying over there tonight. Her mom responded with a smiley face emoji and yay!
It made Grace a little sad. She wasn’t lying exactly, but her mom had been saying she needed to stop working so much and have some fun for the past five years. In the GiveAnalytics days her dad used to side with Grace, saying, “Grace will take a vacation when she’s the first female self-made billionaire.”
Then, once the company folded, her dad joined her mom in hounding Grace to take a break. But she never did. She started at Sterling less than three months after closing up shop and hadn’t stopped to take a breath since.
She felt bad for deceiving her parents. If only her mom knew the reasons she wasn’t coming home tonight. Getting taken hostage by a drug dealer, and now leaving the city to go have sex with the asshole from work who’s been making her life miserable. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. She could at least make the argument that going to Zach’s cabin counted as a mini vacation, right?
Chapter Nine
Grace
It was late when they arrived. The cabin was on a bumpy dirt road, and it felt impossibly far from the city. Zach grabbed the key from under a wooden bear statue by the front door and unlocked it. Even though it was summer, there was a chill in the air up in the mountains.
It was smaller and more rustic than Grace expected. With his sleek suits and expensive car, she expected his “cabin” to be a giant house with professional decorating and a hot tub. This was a tiny little cottage with wood-paneled walls, and it was much more charming. The couch was a sagging green thing with knobby wooden arms. There was a mountain scene painted on a a circular saw blade and a framed snapshot of a bear on what might be the front lawn. A wooden duck sat on the end table. Zach was beaming like he built the place himself.
“It’s great,” she said, answering the unspoken question. She walked around the room slowly, taking in each detail.
“I decorated it myself,” he said. “Well, decorated is maybe too strong a word. I bought all this stuff and put it here.”
She laughed. “I love it.” She picked up the duck. On the bottom was a number pad. It was a phone.
“Are you hungry?” He began rifling through the cabinets.
“No, I’m good,” she said. “We had Indian food.”
“We?”
“Yeah, me and um, Carl?”
“Who’s Carl?”
“The guy who kidnapped me?”
Zach laughed. “Big L?”
It was Grace’s turn to laugh. “He told me his name was Carl. We ordered takeout.”
“You’re on a first-name basis with your kidnapper,” he said, shaking his head.
He fetched the first aid kit from the bathroom and had her sit on the kitchen counter while he cleaned the cut on her face. He was delicate and apologized for the peroxide in the cut. It was too big and shallow to put a bandage on.
Then he made a pot of coffee, and they drank it black because there was no milk. Grace was still sitting on the counter, and Zach was leaning against the refrigerator, staring at her. She was embarrassed by his scrutiny. His suit jacket and tie were off and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing a little triangle of tan skin. His sleeves were rolled up, and her gaze lingered on his forearms and the visible cord of muscle under the skin. All the emotions of the day—fear, anger, longing, and relief—piled together in a confusing mix that crystalized to straight-up lust.
“What are you thinking about?” He asked.
“Your forearms,” she said truthfully.
“My forearms?” He examined them like he was looking for a spot of dirt or food.
She laughed. “You’ve got good forearms.”
He crossed the short distance between them. With her sitting on the counter, they were almost eye level. “You’ve got pretty great forearms yourself,” he said. He took her forearms in his hands, and her breath caught at his touch.
She could feel the heat radiating off him. She wanted his hands all over every inch of her.
The light in the kitchen cast a sepia glow over the room, giving it the impression of an old photo. Grace felt nostalgia for it already, even as it was happening. She had an intense longing to stay here, right before they kissed, forever.
He gently took her chin in his hand, and tipped her face up, to look at him. He spoke quietly. “I want to tear you apart.” His eyes searched hers. “Does that scare you?”
“Maybe I want to be torn apart.”
And then he was on her, crushing against her and kissing her like he needed her to breathe. She relaxed in his arms, the tension pouring out of her like a sponge. It was exactly what she wanted. What she needed.
He tore at her shirt, ripping it when it didn’t come easy, buttons popping off and skittering across the floor. She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, and he ripped that off too. She tugged at his undershirt, and then they were finally skin to skin. It was the first time she’d ever done this, and she was surprised at how good it felt. His torso was all hard muscle and so warm against her skin, and it all felt so right.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and didn’t care for once that her skirt was pulled way up, her underwear pressed against his stomach. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back so she was lying on the counter, and he put his mouth to her breast, sucking the nipple, tugging, biting. Urgent and hungry. It was pure ecstasy.
The Formica was cool against her back and gave her goose bumps, even though it was warm in the kitchen. Through the open window, cool night air poured in like a fresh glass of water and outside there was a symphony of crickets. She traced a hand up his torso, in slight disbelief at his body—the six-pack, those brawny shoulders. It was the first time she’d seen him with his shirt off. He caught her eye and smiled like he knew exactly what she was thinking. She grinned and looked away, embarrassed to be caught.
She sucked in air when he bit her nipple particularly hard, the sweet satisfaction of pain and pleasure mixed together.
He unbuttoned his pants and let them fall to the floor. He pushed his erection against her underwear. The bulge of it felt so good, she wished there wasn’t fabric between them.
“Can I fuck you?” He asked hoarsely.
She nodded. Words seemed too hard.
“Have you done it before?”
She shook her head.
“Are you sure you want to?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He put his hands under her back and picked her up, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. They were kissing again, hard and desperate. He kicked his pants away and carried her to the bedroom, then set her on the bed on her back. She kept her legs around his waist, and he tried to stand up, but she refused to let go, like a baby koala.
He laughed. “I have to get the condoms.”
She reluctantly released him. The bedroom was simple. A big bed with bouncy old springs and a scratchy quilt. More grandmotherly knickknacks on the dresser and windowsill. There was an old-school alarm clock with glow-in-the-dark arms on the bedside table, and in the quiet of the bedroom, she could hear its electric buzz. Next to it was a little statue of a fisherman. She turned it around so it wasn’t looking at them.
Zach returned moments later with a box.
“Do you take girls up here often?” She asked. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
“No. You’re the first person I’ve taken here.”
“At all?”
“This place is my secret. I don’t want anyone else messing it up,” he said. “Now take your underwear off.”
She unzipped her skirt and shimmied out of it, then pulled her underwear down. Standing next to the bed watching her, Zach made a noise that was somewhere between
a moan and a growl. He lifted her up like she weighed nothing at all and flipped her onto her stomach.
“Get up on your knees,” he ordered. His voice was rough.
She pushed herself up on all fours. He put his hand on the back of her neck and pushed her head down so her shoulders were touching the bed and her ass was in the air.
“That’s better,” he said. He slapped her ass once, hard, and she gasped in surprise more than pain. Her heart was beating fast, and she was so turned on she couldn’t think straight. She loved it when he was mean.
“Good girls get it missionary,” he said. “Bad girls get it from behind their first time.”
He put a finger inside her, and she pushed against it, willing him to put it in farther, a need so strong she felt possessed.
“Are you ready, Grace?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Good girl,” he said. Then there was the sound of crinkling foil as he put the condom on. Her heart pounded with nervous anticipation. His hand touched her entrance again, dipping two fingers in and out, replaced momentarily by the tip of his cock. The head slipped in, and she gasped, tensing up.
“Just relax,” he said, soothingly.
She nodded. Her eyes were shut, and she focused on taking deep breaths in and out. He pushed into her deeper, and there was a tension that broke. She gasped. She was surprised at how big he was. How much it stretched her. It hurt. She was afraid he would tear her apart. She cried out and he stopped.
“You okay?” He said.
“Mhmm,” she moaned. His cock was hot inside her, and it was the most incredible fullness. It hurt, but she wanted it all. She took a few deep breaths. “Don’t stop,” she gasped.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmured. He pushed more of his cock inside her. She pushed her hips against him, hungry for more, even though there was no room inside her.