by Kayt Miller
“Ian, but my friends call me Tig.” They continue to hold hands and stare at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. “You’re beautiful,” Tig adds shyly.
“And you’re smoking hot. Are you Jamie Fraser?”
“Aye, Sassenach,” he says in a perfect brogue.
“Oh, holy hell. You can speak Scottish?”
“Aye. Me seanair, my grandfather, is pure Scot,” he says in his fake accent.
“Wow, that’s so cool.” Peach coos. “Is that a wig or your natural hair? Because it looks like his on the show, you know long auburn waves.”
I watch as the idiot pushes his hair back behind his shoulder. It’s not that long. He has let it grow quiet a bit. He told me he’s working toward the man bun look the ladies are into these days. “It’s all natural, Sassenach.”
“Wow, I love it.” Pumpkin or is it Peach says running her fingers through is hair. “Do you play hockey too?”
“I do. I’m a forward.”
She steps closer to him. “Well, now I think I need to bone up on my hockey.”
That comment makes Tig choke on his drink. “You do. You definitely do.”
I know I’m being an ass but I feel like shit right now, “Where’s Captain America?” There, that’ll make her feel stupid.
“Last I saw he had his tongue down the throat of an Ewok.”
Damn. That was a fail. “Bummer.”
She shrugs. “No biggy.” As she turns back to Tig she smiles at him, ignoring me. No matter.
Feeling like I may throw up from the love fest, I decided to look for my girl. I don’t bother telling the two of them I’m leaving. They won’t notice. They haven’t even stopped shaking hands yet. I weave through a group playing beer pong and another one playing quarters until I reach the doorway. It takes me several minutes. When I finally make it to the bar there’s no Virginia.
I scan the room again. Thankfully, my height gives me an advantage. I can see over almost everyone. When I spot her, I want to punch something. She’s in a corner talking to a douche dressed up like fucking John Snow. “She said she liked Khal Drogo,” I growl.
“Who doesn’t?” says a cute redhead. “Mm, you look good enough to eat.”
Seriously, what is the deal with women these days? Don’t get me wrong; I love a woman who takes what she needs or wants. In the past, I’ve been happy to oblige, but not now. No, now I need to find out who the fuck Virginia’s talking to in the damn corner. As I press through the crowd, I keep my eyes on the prize. The douche has her in the corner. I know him. It’s Copeland Montgomery, a privileged little dickhead whose father is some sort of politician. I’m watching him move closer to Virginia, and all she does is smile up at him and giggle.
I move behind a partition that’s directly to her left. Once I’m closer, I hear her voice, barely. “Oh, Cope, you’re so funny,” she says in a strange voice. It’s more high-pitched than her actual voice. It’s sugary sweet and annoying as fuck.
“Well, Ginnifer…”
Ginnifer? WTF?
“…I’d love to get to know you better. Why don’t I get you another drink, and we’ll go downstairs to the family room. It’ll be quieter there.”
“Okay, Cope,” she coos.
No. Fucking. Way. He’s going to get her downstairs and do unspeakable things to her. My first instinct is to grab her and pull her away from him, but I’ll wait. I’ll just stay close––keep an eye on her. I don’t want to force her to be with me instead of him. But, if what I’ve heard about Cope is true, she’ll be over this guy in no time.
I wait five minutes then make my way to the basement. He was right; it is quieter. There are only a handful of people in the room. Most of them are couples using the space to play tonsil hockey. But, none of those couples are Virginia and ‘Cope’ the Dickwad.
“Where the hell did they go?” On the left, I see a hallway with several doors. I walk down the hall hoping to either see her or hear her. Creeping slowly, I place my ear on each door as I go. The house is vibrating from the music upstairs, so it’s difficult to hear anything. “I know she’s down here,” I mutter to myself. “But where?”
Chapter 27
Virginia
“Wow, is this your bedroom?” I ask nervously. I’m not sure how we ended up in an actual bedroom, but here we are.
“No, mine is upstairs, but this place is much quieter, don’t you think? Now we can talk.”
I nod and smile, “It is much quieter.” I peek shyly at Cope. He’s sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard. I watched him kick off his boots and remove the thick jacket he wore with his costume. Now, he’s wearing a white button up shirt that looks like something John Snow would wear. “Your costume looks authentic.”
“Thanks, our housekeeper made it for me.”
“You have a housekeeper? Here?”
“Nah, at home.” Patting the bed, he adds, “Come over here and sit by me, Jenny. Let’s get to know each other.”
“Ginny.” It’s unnatural, but I giggle. I can’t help it. I’m nervous. Don’t misunderstand; I have no intention of giving up the ‘V’ card tonight. I’m just nervous because I’ve dubbed Cope ‘the one’. I walk toward him and sit on the edge of the bed.
Cope scoots over and pats the seat next to him, “Hop up here.” Careful not to flash him, I scoot up onto the bed and sit with my back against the headboard just like him. Next, he slides down until he’s on his back. “Come down here. It’s more comfortable.”
Holding my skirt in place, I wiggle until I’m on my back, head on a pillow, staring up at the ceiling. In the corner of my eye, I watch him roll to his side, facing me. I feel his hand on my thigh, and I’m pretty sure that’s the moment I realize I’m in over my head. “Uh, Cope?”
“Yeah, baby.”
Baby? “I, um, thought we were going to talk.” I turn my head to look at him. He’s good looking with his dark hair and square jaw. This close up, though, I notice his thin lips. He’s also got a pimple on his nose. The good news, he’s got a scruff of a beard going just like John Snow.
“We are. I just want to hold you. You look so fucking sexy. I can’t help myself,” he says shyly.
“Okay,” I whisper. When he wraps his arms around me, it feels awkward and uncomfortable. I’m not sure why. His face is now pressed into my neck, and I feel his tongue. He’s licking my neck.
“Mm, you taste so sweet, Jennifer.”
“I-I do?”
“You do. Your skin is so soft.” His palm has moved from the front of my thigh to the back making it’s way up to my ass. “You’ve got an amazing ass too. So, big and plump.”
I blush when he says it. Big and plump? I’m sure that’s a compliment, but for me, it just reminds me that I’m fat. His palm squeezes my bottom just a little too hard, which makes me squeak. “Oh, you like that? You like it rough, Jennifer?”
“It’s Ginnifer. And, no, not really. It hurts.”
“Whatever. Pain can be very erotic.” He squeezes my ass again as he rolls on top of me. Pressing his torso up and away from me, he looks down at my shirt and says, “Show me those big titties.”
Blinking frantically, I am struck dumb. “My what?”
“Your tits, woman. Show me those fucking tits.”
“Uh, you want me t-to take off my top?”
“Well, yeah. Why else are we here?”
“T-to talk.” Yeah, I believed him. Why wouldn’t I? When I interviewed him, he said he was practically a virgin––that he wanted to wait for marriage. He was looking for ‘the one’. Was he lying? “But, I…”
“You what?” Without giving me a chance to answer, he reaches out and pulls one cup down and stares. “Better than I imagined, Jen. Big and perky. I’m one lucky bastard.” He moves fast latching onto my nipple with his mouth. I’d like to say it felt good but it didn’t. It hurt. A lot.
He sucks so hard that when he bites down, I scream. I attempt to pull away, but he’s strong. “What are you doin
g? I thought you were a nice guy.”
“Oh, I’m nice. I’m about to be very nice to you.” He slides his palm up my thigh making its way toward the front of my panties. He kisses me, and it’s wet and slobbery; his tongue is sliding inside my mouth like an angry eel.
Wiggling to get away, I mutter, “I don’t understand. You were the one.”
He stops. Lifting his head, he looks into my eyes, “The one what?”
“I, uh, thought you were looking for a serious relationship,” I whisper. At least that’s what he said he wanted. Lies.
“Are you talking marriage or something? We just met. I’m not looking to get married. Fuck that. I just want to fuck. I’m a young man. I’ve got my whole life ahead of me.” he sits up pulling himself off the bed. “You’re a fucking crazy, bitch.”
“Bitch?” I hate that word. I’m not a bitch. At least I try not to be. I feel a tear start to fall. Why? Why had I placed all of my hopes into this guy? I only met him once. He just seemed so perfect.
“Yeah. You’re a Fucking. Crazy. Bitch. Now get out.”
Rather than let this jerk see me cry, I pull my white shirt over my exposed breast, grab my shoes, and yank the door open. Pulling the door shut behind me, I let the tears fall as I start to run down the hallway and right into Baker.
“Virginia?”
“Leave me alone Baker.”
“What’s going on? What happened?”
“Uh, nothing. He tried, but…”
“He tried what?” he snarls. His face is turning red, and his fists are clenched. I blink up at him. “What. Did. He. Try?”
Afraid he’s going to do something violent, I place my hand on his chest, “Nothing. He didn’t do anything.”
Looking down at my tears then further to see my shirt is askew and half my boob is out of place, he reaches down and pulls my shirt closed, buttoning it all the way up. When we hear a man say, “Well, well, it sure didn’t take you long to find someone else to leave with blue balls. Slut,” Cope mutters.
I’m nudged aside, and in a flash, Baker’s fist is making contact with Cope’s smug face. He falls to the ground with a loud thump grabbing his face as he goes. “Fuck, you broke my nose, you motherfucker.”
“Good. You touch her again dickhead, and I’ll break a lot more than that. You get me?”
“I’ll sue!” he screeches.
“Go ahead. I’ll go the papers and tell them how Copeland Montgomery assaulted my girlfriend. Good luck getting elected then.”
“Fucking asshole,” he screams.
Girlfriend? Why out of everything that just happened right then is that the only thing I heard?
“Come on Virginia, let’s get out of here.” Pulling me by the hand, Baker leads me up the stairs and through the sea of people. Once we’re on the sidewalk, he pulls his phone out of a pouch and starts to text.
Chapter 28
Virginia
“I just sent a text to my buddy Tig. He’s with Peach. I told him I was taking you home.”
“Okay.” I’m still shell-shocked. Numb.
I wait as Baker sends another text. “Let’s walk up to Lincolnway. I’ve got an Uber coming.”
“Okay.”
Taking my hand in his, he leads me down the street. When we get to the corner, he wraps his arm around me and pulls me into his warm body. “You’re shivering,” he whispers.
“It’s been a rough night.”
“You’ll be okay. I’ve got you,” he says kissing the top of my head.
I stay quiet. I’m not sure what to say because I’m not sure what’s going on. When the Uber arrives, Baker opens the door for me, and I slide in first. He moves in next and gets close enough to wrap me up in his arms as we drive. I lay my head on his shoulder, and before I know it, I feel myself being lifted up. “Baker?”
“Shh, you fell asleep. I’ve got you.”
“I’m too heavy.”
“Shh.”
When I turn my head, I don’t see my apartment. I see a huge brick house. “Where are we?”
“My house.”
“Your house?” I look at it again. “This is your house?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s huge.”
“I know,” he grumbles.
Using a keypad to unlock the front door, Baker turns the knob and pushes the door open with his foot. “You should put me down.”
“I will in a minute.”
Walking into the large foyer past a formal dining room and through a humongous kitchen, Baker takes the stairs to the second floor. Through a set of double doors, I see a massive bedroom with a bed big enough for an army. Setting me down on the bed, he turns to a dresser sliding open the second drawer. “Here, take this,” he says handing me a white t-shirt. “There’s a bathroom there,” he says pointing to an open doorway to my right. “Take a shower, whatever you need. Put his on. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“B-but…”
“Virginia, it’s been a long night. Just do it. Just get ready for bed. Okay?”
“Okay.” I walk into the bathroom clutching the tee. When I step inside, a light turns on automatically to reveal a bathroom like the one you’d see on HGTV. It’s all done in a dark, sleek stone and marble. There’s a huge bathtub with jets next to a giant shower with glass walls. I peek inside and count four, not five, showerheads. I turn and shut the bathroom door and begin undressing.
Oh, what the hell. I can’t pass up the chance to take a shower in that spa set up. I’ve never seen one like it, and I probably won’t see one again in my lifetime, so I’d better take advantage. Besides, I want to wash Copeland Montgomery off my body. There’s a control box on the outside of the shower that takes me a few minutes, but once I have it figured out, I step into a warm, exhilarating shower.
When I hear knocking at the door, I freeze in place. “Virginia?”
“Um, yeah?”
“You okay in there?”
“Yeah, yes. Why?”
“You’ve been in there an hour.”
Have I? “I have?”
I hear him chuckle, “Yes. Hurry up. I made us a frozen pizza. It’s getting cold.”
“Okay.”
Hitting the ‘end’ button makes me feel a little sad. Drying off with a huge, plush towel, I brush my hair with Baker’s brush and slip on Baker’s tee that falls to my knees. I grab my panties from earlier and cringe at the idea of putting them back on. Ugh, Cope. I take a risk and go commando. Baker won’t know. I’m sure he’ll sleep in another room.
Opening the door, I spy Baker in a pair of baggy sleep pants that hit him low on his hips. The fact that he’s shirtless isn’t lost on me. His body is out of this world. I follow his six-pack to the line of hair that slides down into his pants. He’s got that Adonis belt; you know, the ‘V’ guys get when they have zero body fat and nothing but time to work out. Ignoring the tingle that's coursing through my body, I say, “That was hands-down the best shower I’ve ever had.”
A warm chuckle erupts from Baker, “I’m glad you liked it. Now, come downstairs. I’ve got some food.”
My stomach growls as if on cue. “I could eat,” I say smiling.
“Good.” Taking my hand in his, he leads me into a huge room with vaulted ceilings. There’s a sectional so big, I think it’d take up our entire apartment. Don’t get me started on the television. “That’s got to be like seventy-five inches,” I say pointing at the TV.”
“Nah, eighty-eight.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
It makes me giggle. “Can we watch something?”
“Sure. What do you feel like?”
“Anything. I don’t care.”
“Hockey?”
“I don’t know anything about hockey. But, if you explain it to me, sure.”
“Will do, princess.” Handing me a plate with two slices of pizza, he asks, “What would you like to drink? I’ve got soda, Gatorade, beer, wine, milk, water, and juice.”
“May
I have a glass of milk?” I love pizza and milk. I know it’s weird. Deal with it.
“Sure. Be right back.”
I slide back onto the couch. It’s so deep my feet barely hang off the edge. Biting into the pizza, I take a minute to scan the room. He lives here alone? I’d love to ask him questions, but I don’t think tonight’s the night. So, that means never because I’m sure I won’t ever be back. He just wanted to take me somewhere safe, that’s all.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks.” I place the glass between my legs, and that’s when I remember I’m going commando. The shirt is so long he can’t tell, but I know. I feel the heat rise from my chest to my neck and onto my face.
“What’s wrong? You’re all red.”
“I think I bit into something spicy.”
“Oh, sorry. I added some of those dried pepper things. I should have asked.”
“No. I like it.” Wow, how did I get away with that fib?
Baker slides back into the seat his knees fitting in exactly the right spot on the couch. I bet he had to shop around until he got one big enough to fit his frame. “Now. Here’s your first lesson on the sport of hockey. One,” he says lifting his finger, “it’s the best sport in the world.”
I giggle.
“Two, it’s the most challenging and difficult sport to master in the world.”
I giggle again.
“Why are you laughing? Do you think basketball players could play if they were on ice skates?”
“No.”
“No. They could not. What about football players?”
I shrug, “No.”
“Rugby?”
“Nope.”
“Well, hockey is all of those things but with a smaller ball, called a puck, and on the ice, with skates.”
“Obviously. I see your point.”
“Lesson two. I’m the best goalie in the world.”
I throw my head back and laugh so hard I cry.
“You wound me, Virginia,” he says placing his palm over his chest.
Still laughing, I pat his thick thigh. “Sorry, babe. That was funny.”
I smile over at him and see his expression change right before my eyes. He looks down at my hand that’s still resting on his thigh then back up to me. “You called me ‘babe.'”