KNOCKED UP BY THE BAD BOY

by Nicole Fox

  She was close, too. She felt him speed up, subtly picking up his pace as his breathing came faster and heavier. They kissed again, their teeth flashing, gasping as they moved as one form.

  “Please, sir. Please cum inside me. I need to feel you,” she groaned, as her body seemed to melt into his sculpted, rock-hard muscles. She clawed, bit, and ground herself against him as he continued to fuck her in long, hard strokes.

  He slapped her ass again as he frantically fucked her, his hips hammering into her with each stroke. She met each thrust, her body clenching and unclenching around him, massaging his length. Finally, his whole body stiffened and he pinned her to him, impaling her on his manhood as he moaned into her mouth.

  Emily's eyes closed as she shuddered, the climax slamming into her body as she felt him cum deep inside of her. Fireworks exploded between her eyes, lighting up the inside of her head like New Years Eve or the Fourth of July. She screamed as her body shook and quaked, a flood of her own excitement dripping over his cock. She gasped, trying to catch her breath as he pumped into her a few more times, every thrust seeming to be more than she could handle.

  Finally, though, the pleasure and intensity of the moment seemed to ebb. His cock began to soften inside of her as she they held each other close on the floor of her home office. They kissed again, more tentatively than before, as their roles of captor and captive seemed to spring back into view.

  She threw one leg off of him and collapsed at his side, resting herself against his giant arm. Still panting, she closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath. She gave one last groan as an aftershock infiltrated through her post-sex haze, closing her eyes and biting her lip. Damn, that was the most intense sex she'd ever had. She sighed again, her whole body relaxed and so deliciously used, both cheeks of her bottom red and burning, as if they were embarrassed.

  Leaning against Dane like that, his arm now around her shoulder and pulling her close into his naked chest, she allowed herself to drift off. Even if only for a moment.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emily

  Emily awoke to see Dane walking back into the study, glass of water in hand. He was still naked, his clothes left strewn around the office in haphazard piles. For her part, she still lay on the carpet, naked as the day she was born, her back pressed against the cool wall.

  “You're awake,” he mumbled, as he came over and offered her the glass of water.

  Emily smiled and sat up, her eyes taking in his form. Earlier had been the first time she'd seen him naked, but even she couldn't believe what great shape he was in. He could have been a model for Men's Health. No wonder he could take her so easily and virtually toss her around the room. She accepted the water with a mumbled, “Thanks.” She sat back against the wall, her body still beautifully sore in all the right ways, and took a sip to hydrate her dry throat.

  “I've been thinking,” she said, after taking another sip and setting the glass aside. “I can still get what you want and make the people who did this to Benton pay.”

  He made an unpleasant face as he grabbed his clothes from the floor and began pulling them back on. “Yeah?” he asked. “What would that entail?”

  “Just let me go back to BioSphere. With what I know, I can bring down Edward Barker, the man who pushed Hymalete this way. He's the one responsible, not the whole company.”

  His pants back on, he stopped and frowned at her before pulling his tight undershirt back over his head and smoothing it down his body. “Think you could do that?”

  She nodded. “I know I could,” she said emphatically. “I could get rid of all those people and ruin their careers.”

  Dane seemed to consider her words for a moment. Then, without saying anything one way or the other, he bent down and scooped up her discarded clothes, collecting them in one hand.

  “What . . . what are you doing with my clothes?” she asked, then glanced up at his glowering face. “Sir?” she corrected.

  “I don't think you'll be going back. Not like that,” he mumbled. “You deleted those files, Emily.” He sighed and shook his head as he dropped the handful of her clothes on the desk, then turned back to her. “I can't let that slide.”

  But, that wasn't fair. She was sorry. She scrambled to her knees, the carpet pressing into her skin. “But, Dane, I can still help you!”

  He shook his head and made a “get up” motion with his hand. “Come on,” he said.

  “Are you . . . what are you going to do to me?” she asked, a note of panic entering her voice as she climbed to her feet

  “Just what you deserve for betraying me,” he said, his voice flat.

  She hung her head and stretched out her hand to him. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer as he pulled the dog chain and collar from his pants pocket. She pulled her hair up and off her neck, just like she'd gotten used to doing, and he slipped it around and closed it.

  Her whole body began to shake with nervousness and expectation. So many times in the collar had been so awful, but so many had been wonderful as well. It was almost impossible for her body to know which was coming. She just knew that it would be some sort of sensory overload. She didn't know whether to be terrified or overjoyed in some sick way.

  He grabbed up the chain and left the room, leading her naked from her office. She hung her head, her eyes focused on his feet as he led her back down the long hallway to her bedroom. He stopped in front of the closet door.

  Oh God, not the chair again! Anything but the chair. She immediately whined deep in her throat, knowing she could handle it, but that it would still be awful and humiliating. “Please, sir,” she groaned. “You can do whatever you want to me, just not that.”

  “You're right,” he said with a resigned sigh, as he opened the closet door and led her within, “I can do whatever I want with you. And, unfortunately, your punishment is the chair, Emily. Now, come on.”

  She sat of her own free will in the chair, still marveling at how this had become her life. He grabbed the duct tape and strapped her into the dining room chair, her back arched in an uncomfortable position.

  As Dane worked, he spoke to her. “I'm leaving you alone, so you can think about what you've done and about the hurt you've caused me. Think about how you're leaving a man to die because of a drug your company pushed. I have to think about what to do with you now that you're useless to me.”

  That didn't sound good. What did he mean? Was he going to leave her here? Would he kill her? “Sir,” she said, trying to convince him one last time, “I could still change things. You know I could.”

  He didn't reply. He just grabbed his tie and went behind her, making it into the makeshift blindfold again, blotting out the dim overhead light. “I wish I could believe you, Emily,” he said, as he cinched the knot tightly. “But, look at where believing you has gotten me so far.”

  She made a whining noise again as he left the closet and shut the door.

  At least he hadn't put the headphones, with that goddamned music, on her again. That was something to be thankful for.

  But, still, she had no idea what he'd meant when he'd said she was “useless.” That last part worried her. She had to either get away from him entirely and make a run for it, or get through to him. It sounded like he was losing patience with her, and she might not be able to pull it off before he did.

  The idea of that, somehow, seemed to pierce her heart even worse than all the physical pain, sleep deprivation, and humiliations he'd inflicted on her. Yeah, sure, he was fucking psycho. But, still, deep down, he was a good man who loved his brother and missed his extended family. He was just broken inside, the same as her. Anyone who had been through what he'd been through and seen what he'd seen would be a little off, too. Wouldn't they?

  She knew it wasn't love that was making her feel this way. It couldn't be. After all, how could she love a man who'd done all this to her?

  It had to be lust, then, she realized, as she felt him begin to leak out from inside of her. Lust, as her body tr
ied to push her into exploring this new type of forbidden pleasure he'd helped her discover, this dark, rough, painful love-making that lit her mind and body on fire.

  That and likely a heaping dose of Stockholm Syndrome, of course.

  But, still, no matter what her unknown reasons, she hoped he wouldn't leave, or worse. At least, not yet. Not till she could get just a little more time with him. Even if he was fucking psycho.

  # # #

  Dane

  He didn't know what to do. His whole life seemed to be a waste. All this time spent had been nothing but a wild goose chase. To have the information right there in front of him, then to have it just disappear right before his eyes was too much. It was too shocking and depressing.. What was the point of it all?

  He left Emily in the closet and went back into the living room. He grabbed the bottle of bourbon, twisted off the cap, and took a long, full drink. He swallowed it down, savoring the burning numbness it left behind. At least the bottle hadn't failed him. Not yet, at least. Of course, it wasn't like it had ever done much good for him, either.

  Dane tried to push Emily from his thoughts, but she wouldn't go. He could leave her in that closet till hell froze over, and he still knew, deep down in his bones, that she'd always be there, crowding out everything else. She was something else, that was for sure.

  Another mouthful of whiskey, then he slammed the bottle down on the coffee table and swallowed down the brown liquor. There was just something about this Ice Queen who'd begun to thaw under his r attentions. She was still defiant, still strong, but she'd begun to soften around the edges and melt in the center. He just knew it. But, still, she could take anything he threw at her—the days in the chair, with the music blaring, the spankings, the degradation of the dog collar. And she still touched him tenderly, crying out as she submitted to his will. Even after she'd seen him at his weakest.

  He took another drink and gave another shake of his head. He hissed in the cool air, biting back against the burn in his mouth. He needed to decide what do with her and how to proceed further on this fool's quest of his.

  He could just leave, he figured. He could untie her, then just walk out the door. She wouldn't go to the cops, not after what she knew. Any sort of investigation into his actions would just open Pandora's Box for BioSphere, and it would suck Emily West into the middle of a shit storm she could hardly conceive of. He shook his head again. No, there was no chance of her going to the authorities over him.

  But, still, he couldn't bring himself to leave her. Not just like that, and especially not after their moment on the office floor. Goddamn that had been amazing, too. The softness of her skin, the way her teeth felt, the way her fingernails had grated across his skin. There were so many things he still wanted to do with her and so many things he could do to her. Just the thought of her smell filling his nose, of the way she cried out for more when he spanked her ass, was thrilling.

  He readjusted himself in his trousers, pushing his erection down to a more comfortable position. All these memories and fantasies had started to get to him, especially now that the liquor was infiltrating his system.

  And it wasn't just about the sex. It was the way she looked at him, too, and the way she made him laugh. The way she could cut to his core. Love and hate were sometimes the flip-side of the same coin, his mother had always said. “The ones who love you the most are the ones who hurt you the most.” Emily definitely had the second part down, that was for sure. He couldn't help but think that she had the first part, as well. It felt like she did.

  Why would she care about him? That was just crazy. He wiped a hand down his face and took another drink of liquor, grumbling at his own insanity. She was just faking it, using some old tricks she must have picked up from her mother. She was the enemy, and had just destroyed another cache of evidence he'd managed to discover.

  She didn't love him, and he didn't love her. How could he? She was his captive, not his fucking soulmate!

  This was just pure lust, a product from his long dry spell and that tight body of hers. What had happened in the office was either a fluke, or part of a carefully calculated plan on her part. Either way, it was nice, but it wasn't a sign of something bigger.

  Did he believe her about her wanting to take down the company? Yes, he thought he did. But, how? Letting her go back to work, to try and ferret out the corruption on her own, wasn't going to work. That wasn't an option.

  He took another pull off the whiskey bottle, then pushed it aside as he choked down the burning liquor. He'd figure out a way to use her to bring the company down. He knew there was a way. He just hadn't quite figured it out yet. And he couldn't quit until he figured out a way to manage it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dane

  He went back into the closet, scissors in hand. He breathed heavily as he watched her twist and turn in the dining room chair, her body trying to get comfortable. Outside the closet, the distant sound of the bath filling with water could be heard in the bathroom.

  “Dane?” she asked. “Sir?”

  “Yeah,” he answered, as he knelt down beside her and began cutting her free.

  “Are you,” she began, before trailing off. “Are you letting me go, sir?”

  He shook his head, then remembered she had a blindfold on. “No,” he said. “Just moving you. I don't think you deserve the chair.”

  She nodded, but didn't reply. She just watched him slice free her bonds and remove the blindfold. He took up the chain, which was still attached to the dog collar around her neck, and led her back to the bathroom. The tub was half full already.

  Chain still firmly gripped, he sat down on the edge of the tub and dipped his hand into it to check the temperature. It was hot, but not scalding. Perfect. He grabbed one of the bottles of bubble bath and poured a capful beneath the diminutive waterfall coming from the faucet and took a deep breath of the soothing lavender.

  “A bubble bath, sir?” Emily asked, uncertainty mixed with trepidation heavy in her voice.

  “Heat's good for the soul,” Dane said after a while, his voice almost meditative. He turned back to her and shrugged. “So are bubbles, I guess.”

  She smiled. “Yes, sir, I suppose,” she agreed.

  He got up from the edge of the tub and walked over to her still naked form. He desperately wanted to strip and join her in the bath, but he didn't want this to be about him. It needed to be about her. It was all about Emily. He reached up and began to work at the dog collar, removing it and tossing it aside.

  She absently rubbed her neck where the metal had worried away at her skin. “What now?” she asked, as he went back over and turned the water off.

  He held his hand out to her in offering. “Now, we bathe you,” he replied.

  She smiled and glanced away, seeming almost embarrassed by the attention. She took his hand, though, and Dane pulled her over to the tub. He held her hand as she gingerly stepped in, then sank down below the foamy, billowy piles of suds. Emily sighed as she submerged into the steaming water, a smile growing on her face as she relaxed back into the heat.

  “Now, let's try this again,” Dane said, his voice soothing and honest. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he'd tried to bathe her, in his first failed overture. Now, after all they'd been through, particularly their bout of rough love on the office floor, he hoped this second attempt would be more fruitful.

  She murmured appreciatively as he soaped the loofah again and began to soap first her arms, then her shoulders and back. “That feels wonderful,” she practically purred, lying back in the tub, her lips slightly parted, as he gently soaped and rinsed her arms again.

  Dane smiled to himself. Not because he thought his plan was working, but because he was genuinely making her feel good and relaxed. Something about watching her face change from slight apprehension to one of true pleasure lit a small candle in his soul. It made him remember he wasn't a completely monstrous psychopath. Maybe it was doing the same for her.

  He continued ba
thing her in silence, then, as the water began to cool, he helped her step out of the bathtub. Her body glistened with water as he started the shower to help her rinse off. He couldn't keep his eyes off her tiny frame as she stepped into the stall.

  As she passed by, she gave him a quick glance with one eyebrow cocked, as if to ask why he wasn't joining her.

  He just looked away and crossed his arms.

  God, he wanted to, though. But this wasn't about him, or his wants and needs. This was about her, and making the pleasure so great it sank down into her bones. With that in mind, he put a few items on the nightstand.

  Soon, she was finished in the shower, and he was waiting for her with a fluffy, black bath towel. He swept her up in its folds and carefully dried her body, leaving her back a little damp for what he planned next. With her enfolded in its warm, cotton embrace, he led her out to the bedroom.