KNOCKED UP BY THE BAD BOY

by Nicole Fox

  The feedings and bathroom breaks continued throughout the next day. That night, he decided she'd had enough and finally released her.

  He cut her loose and gently removed the headphones and the blindfold. She blinked as she looked around, the light clearly hurting her eyes.

  “Do you have an apology for me?” he asked, as he helped her up from the chair.

  She didn't respond as he led her out the closet.

  “I asked,” he began again, as he turned back to her, his voice becoming sterner and more emphatic, “for an apology.”

  She still remained quiet, her lips pressed into a hard, unyielding line.

  Clearly, she hadn't learned her lesson about the rules. “Fine,” he said, pulling off his belt as he dragged her to the bed and threw her on it. He loomed over her, the belt looped in his hand, as she recoiled across the bed.

  “Fuck you, Dane,” she said, her eyes on the belt in his hand. “Fuck you.”

  Blood boiled in his veins as he reached out and grabbed hold of her, pulling her back across the bed. “This is the second time you've broken the rules I laid down. Now it's time for the punishment I promised. Maybe then, you'll understand how serious I am.”

  # # #

  Emily

  Emily struggled against Dane’s grip, trying to get away from the leather belt, but he was too strong. His hands were like vices, and it was impossible for her to break free. She tried to pull away, crying out, but he just yanked her harder across his lap, belt still in hand.

  Alarm bells flashed in her mind, even louder than before. He was about to whip her with the belt! She struggled to get off his knees, but he held her in place with one strong arm across her lower back, pinning her down. She kicked her legs, but couldn't be effective from her position.

  “This is going to hurt me worse than it hurts you,” Dane chided, as he pinned her down with his elbow. “You're making me do this, Emily.”

  Emily thrashed, trying to get away, but he had her securely in place. She lifted her head up, arching her back, and trying to get out from under his control.

  Dane looped the belt around her exposed neck, pulling her further backwards.

  She cried out as the leather tightened across her neck, arching her even further and making her muscles scream in protest. Then she cried out as felt the first of many slaps.

  He slapped her bare ass with the flat of his hand, quickly striking her firm bottom.

  Each strike did little to hurt her, physically. Instead, it was her pride that suffered as she was forced to submit to this demeaning act. He was treating her like a child, and she knew it. That's what all his rules had been about.

  The spanking continued to rain down on her, though, in a torrential downpour she couldn't avoid. But, that wasn't the worst part of it all.

  She was, she realized, as her moans of protests became moans of pleasure, beginning to enjoy her punishment. There was something just so dark and kinky about it all, even after the time in the closet. She was held in place by this strong, domineering man, the smell of him on the leather belt across her throat, his callused hand swatting her ass and thighs as she struggled in his grasp. “Fuck you, Dane,” she moaned, her words more about the way he was making her crave what was happening than about any pain he was causing.

  “Fuck me?” he growled, as he leaned over, pulling her along with him with the belt. The bed shifted beneath them both. “We need to work on that foul language of yours, Emily. It won't do at all.” His hand returned to her backside.

  “Fuck you,” she gasped again, as she felt her excitement leaking down the inside of her thighs. She hoped she was ruining his slacks by being across his lap. Then she heard the unmistakable buzzing from her vibrator. She tried to wiggle away from it, but didn't say anything as she struggled against the belt at her throat. “Fuck you,” she groaned again.

  He roughly forced her legs apart, spreading her quickly slickening thighs. “Seems someone's appreciating the need for their punishment,” he growled again, as he rubbed the vibrating silicon tip against her clit.

  Fireworks exploded inside her, and she squeezed her eyes to try and shut out the pleasure. But, behind her eyelids, it was just like the Fourth of July. She moaned, a low, throaty, and slutty sound as her little friend buzzed away at her. “Please, Dane, please, oh, God,” she groaned, the wonderful pleasure invading her body and pushing all thoughts of propriety out of her mind.

  He tightened the belt around her neck and slipped the vibrator deep between her lips.

  She spread her legs wider, panting in unexpected ecstasy as her eyes flew open. She pushed back onto the vibrating toy, sliding it further inside her as she felt her orgasm, the one he'd denied her so many times, building quickly inside her. She gasped for breath, her vision going dark as she arched back across his lap. She didn't even struggle anymore, her body just letting it all happen and urging her to accept it. She moaned again, wanted to beg him to let her finish, but her breath wouldn't come. The belt was pulled too tightly for her to breathe.

  He fucked her with the toy, easily finding her g-spot. The vibrations of the toy reverberated through her whole body.

  There it was! That was it! That was what her whole body had been screaming for her whole life!

  Her whole body went stiff as a board, all her muscles contracting so tightly that her toes and fingers curled into claws as she spasmed on his lap. She shook, her muscles going wild and pressing her throat into the leather of Dane's belt. Her bottom thrust back into the air, shoving the vibrator deeper inside her. She screamed out a shattering orgasm, her body alight with a thousand stars burning out in supernovas as she came under this man's heavy-handed dominance of her body and mind.

  Then, it was over, her body forgetting its will to fight. She slumped in Dane's arms, her head going slack and letting the belt hold her up. Where there had been a stern, fiery resistance, now there was a glowing light of pleasure mixed with pain.

  Dane dropped the belt from her neck and carefully picked her up.

  She gasped for breath as she hung in his arms, cradled against his chest like a wayward child. But, fuck, the feelings in her were nothing like a child could ever experience or comprehend. That was the most intense thing her tiny, fragile body had ever felt. She hadn't even realized anything that pleasurable could exist, outside stories on the internet. She lay her head against his broad chest, breathing deeply through her now deliciously sore throat, the ache a constant reminder of what Dane had done to her—done for her.

  He placed her on the bed and lay her head back on the pillow. He stroked her sweat-dampened hair away from her forehead. “Now,” he said, his thumb idly rubbing over her forehead, “say thank you, sir.”

  She knew she should say, “fuck you,” instead of, “thank you,” just then. But, as a little aftershock of her orgasm passed through her, reminding Emily of the pleasure she could have under Dane's hands, she just licked her lips.

  “Thank you, sir,” she whispered back.

  “Get some rest,” he said softly. “It's late, and you deserve it for finally being such a good girl.”

  She smiled up at him before she even realized what she was doing. Then he turned off the lights and went around to the other side of the bed. He took off his shirt and shoes and crawled into bed with her, wearing just his pants, socks, and undershirt.

  “One last thing,” he said, as she slowly began to drift. “I'm a very light sleeper.”

  Chapter Eight

  Emily

  Emily stared down into the pot of stew, wondering how she'd come to this point. Here she was, cooking for Dane.

  She'd woken late in the afternoon, around four, and recoiled immediately. Somehow, during the night, she'd curled herself up against Dane. Maybe it was because she'd been naked and cold, or maybe her body just needed the human contact. Whatever the reason, she'd had her head resting on his broad chest, her nostrils flaring as she took in his manly smell. But her middle-of-the-night cuddling didn't worry her that m
uch.

  What did worry her, though, was that she'd just laid her head back on his chest and listened to the steady thump of his heart and the insistent sound of his breath. She had just closed her eyes and remembered how his hands had felt on her the night before, how they'd manhandled her over the last two days, and how they'd so carefully tucked her into bed.

  She'd stayed like that, not wanting to wake him.

  “You awake?” Dane had asked a little while later, his hand stroking her hair. “Why don't you go take a bath? I'll be out here.”

  When she had gotten back from the bath, Dane had allowed her to put clothes on for the first time in what felt like ages. Once fully dressed, Emily realized how restricting her clothes normally felt, and how even the finest pieces of her wardrobe were itchier and scratchier than just the air she'd been clothed in for the last few days.

  Fast forward an hour or so, and here she was. Finishing a meal for her captor.

  “Sorry, sir,” she said, as she set his bowl down in front of him, “Stew is really the only thing I know how to cook.” She smiled sheepishly, a little embarrassed at how unformidable she was in that area of expertise.

  “But then why do you have so many cook books?” he asked with a smile. “I saw them when I was figuring out what groceries we'd need.”

  Something about him was just so different now that they were out of the bedroom. It was different now that he was there, sitting at the dining room table (missing one chair, mind you, that she hoped to never see again) like the perfect husband she thought she'd never have. He was strong, determined, intelligent, and ruthless. He was the kind of man she'd always hoped for, she supposed.

  She went back into the kitchen and ladled her own bowl full of meat, veggies, and rich gravy. She was surprised to find that he hadn't started eating by the time she came back to the dining room table with her own bowl. She settled in across from him, spoon in hand. He waited for her to take the first bite. Emily could tell he was doing it out of politeness, too. Not out of some worry that she had poisoned him. If he had been worried about that, or about her grabbing a knife, he could have stayed in the kitchen the whole time and watched her prepare the meal.

  She brought the spoon to her mouth and sipped the broth, closing her eyes as the first savory bit of food she'd had in three days passed her lips. Smoothies and granola bars were two more things she could do without, after her time in the timeout chair.

  Emily found herself watching him as he tasted the food for the first time. Even though he was her captor, she felt a little leap of joy in her chest as he tried his first spoonful and approved it with a smiling nod. “It's delicious,” he said, smiling like he'd been uncertain about how it would taste.

  She smiled back and looked back down at her bowl, her mind screaming at her to snap the fuck out of it. She ignored her brain, though, at least for the moment. “Thank you, sir,” she said and took another bite, smiling around her spoon about the fact that someone was actually enjoying her food.

  “Maybe we could work on some meals together?” Dane asked. “I spent a lot of time in the military, so I never did a lot of cooking. And when I got out, I didn't have anyone to cook for, and I never bothered to learn. But I always wanted to. It just seemed too depressing to cook for one.”

  She kept her eyes on her food. She'd never been asked to do that kind of thing before. Growing up rich, like she had, Emily had never even seen her mother cook. She'd just bought all the cookbooks because she'd wanted to learn, but, like Dane had said, it was sad to cook a meal for just yourself.

  “How about the garden?” he asked.

  “What about it, sir?” Emily replied.

  “Well, it looks like it's in need of a little TLC. Maybe some fertilizer, and definitely some weeding.”

  She shook her head and brought her napkin up from her lap to wipe her mouth. “I just had such a huge back yard, and I didn't know what else to do with it . . . sir.”

  He laughed and took another bite of stew. “How about we go out back while there's still some sun?” he asked, offering a small smile. “You know, take a look at it? My parents had a garden when Benton and I were kids, at least for a while. We could take a look at it, too.”

  She hadn't been out in the sun or felt a cool breeze of fresh air on her face in days. She'd never exactly been a sun worshiper—her mother always made her wear SPF50 to protect her creamy complexion—but suddenly the idea of getting out of the house seemed amazing. She nodded. “Yes sir, that would be nice.”

  Dane grinned. “Good,” he said, digging back into his food.

  As he finished his stew with obvious relish, Emily watched him. In this setting, sitting around at the table just eating dinner, he almost seemed normal. She looked closely at him, noting his unshaven face and the dress shirt he still hadn’t changed. This wasn't some strange courting ritual, no matter what had happened last night and no matter how good or right it had felt while she was moaning under his touch. She couldn't ever have feelings for this man, despite what her body had felt, or the pleasure it had experienced. She reminded herself that this man was the opposition. He was her prison warden, not some new beau.

  He. Was. Fucking. Crazy.

  And she was, too, if she didn't keep in mind what he'd already done to her, and what he'd shown himself willing to do. He'd locked her in a goddamn closet for two days! He'd spanked her, choked her, and . . . made her writhe under his hands, begging for him not to stop as he pleasured her body more thoroughly than any man ever had.

  He looked up from his stew, smiling warmly, with no hint of craziness in his eyes or on his lips. “This is really good stew,” he said again.

  She returned Dane's smile and returned to her own bowl, thoughts still racing through her mind.

  She needed to remember that she didn't take shit from anyone, and definitely not any man, armed or not, sexy or not, gardener or not.

  # # #

  Dane

  “Do we have to, sir?” Emily asked, as he came back into the dining room with the dog collar again.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” he said, as he walked over and lifted the dog collar up.

  She groaned and put the bag of gardening tools on the table next to her.

  “Now, now,” Dane chided her. “No complaining. You agreed to the rules about following orders, and this is my order. Besides, you get to go outside. You should be happy about that.”

  She sighed again, but lifted her hair so he could attach the collar around her neck.

  Dane secured it in place and, together, they went to the back of the house.

  The backyard was expansive, with lush grass sweeping out from the back porch. A high privacy fence surrounded the property, ensuring no neighbors would be able to spy into the yard unless they were in one of the second-story windows.

  They both blinked as they stepped out into the bright evening sun, the whole world seeming to shine under its warm, yellow glow. Beside him, Emily took a deep breath of fresh air and seemed to immediately brighten a little.

  “Come on,” Dane said, as gave the leash a gentle tug and began to lead her over to the garden.

  Emily followed along beside him, not fighting him in any way. Dane couldn't help but wonder if it was working. Perhaps she was beginning to realize how much better it would be to help him with his brother.

  They looked over the garden, bag of tools in hand. “Yep,” he said. “First thing is to get some of these weeds out of here. My mom always says a weed is just a plant that doesn’t belong.”

  Emily smiled a little. “Sounds like she's a funny lady, sir.”

  “No,” Dane replied, as he hunkered down next to the garden and peered at it. “She's a real bitch.”

  She laughed as she got down next to him, close enough that her knee brushed against Dane's. “I can kind of relate, sir.”

  He felt a little electrical tingle go through his body, where her skin grazed his slacks, and he glanced down at her. She'd worn short shorts for the outside work, and
they left very little to the imagination. Her light cotton shirt was sheer, and he loved how he could see the faint outline of her bra through it. There was just a natural beauty about her, and a sort of femininity that made him want to grab her, hold her, and protect her from the outside world any way he could.

  The key, though, was getting her to let him.

  They spent the next couple of hours digging in the dirt, laughing together, as they told each other about their lives. Dane spoke about what it had been like growing up with a sibling, a twin brother, even. He told her, too, about their lives growing up with two parents who had been involved with their children, before they divorced.