Page 7

CHAPTER 7

Ophelia

With our eyes locked like this, something akin to trust passes between us. His hand is warm against my skin as he holds my face, guiding me achingly close to his expert mouth. His breath rustles my hair as he speaks with a rough, even tone.

Each word is clear and firm as he demands, “Didn’t I tell you to stay in the car?”

I’m getting wet when I should be getting angry. Speechless, I clear my throat, shift my weight, and pull away. “I’m not a child.”

“Yet somehow you’ve found yourself under the care of a daddy.” His hand drops.

Daddy.

Rational thoughts don’t come, and his statement leaves me wordless, wet, and squirming with shame. Shaking my head, finally, I stutter, “Th...that’s not… a thing.”

“Isn’t it?” He eyes me, studying every flicker of emotion on my face.

Hearing that taboo, weighted word fall from those sexy lips of his shifts something deep within me—something I can’t put words to, but I know what hearing that word makes me feel.

Blazing licks of fiery shame everywhere.

Daddy…

The word instantly dredges up my deep-seated desire for protection and care and childhood feelings of safety—which I assume came with the role of daddy’s girl. Deeper still, the ultimate desire to submit to a man in control, one you trust.

Warm, fuzzy feelings of attachment lead to something hotter...

Power and dominance.

The idea of submitting to him in every way.

Luckily, Nico’s voice comes over the speaker, cooling the volcano that’s erupted within me and breaking the heated moment between us.

“Bianca is returning to her place,” Nico says. “Ready to ride, sir?”

He pushes the button on the speaker to answer. “Yes. Thanks.”

I glance over as Haze leans forward, sliding a shiny black metal box from underneath the car's front passenger seat. He brings the box to his lap and sticks his hand in his pocket, but it comes up empty.

“Where is that damn key?” he asks himself, pushing his hand in his other pocket. What is he doing now?

My heart lurches to my throat. I back further away from him, pressing against the car door. Only a moment ago, he was holding my face in his hand, staring deep into my eyes. Now, I’m wondering what is in this box that he keeps easily accessible, yet under lock and key. How quickly the delicate feeling of trust between us dissipates.

Could he have a gun? Was he only keeping me calm up until now? Teasing me, toying with me, playing me?

Dangling me like a cat toying with a little mouse until he could get me onto Bachman property.

Does he mean for me to pay this debt… with my life?

He was waiting for me to misstep, giving him a reason to punish me for the final time. He told me to stay in the car—I didn’t. And now, he’s brought out this box.

My thoughts do a one-eighty. I’m being silly, ridiculous even. It’s not a gun. He won’t hurt me.

“I must have dropped the key on the floor.” He bends down, dragging his fingers over the mat and carpet before him.

What is in that case?

I take deep, steady breaths, trying to remain calm. He’s busy searching and not paying attention to me. My hand creeps toward the car door. I’m getting out of here. I will run.

Three, two, one!

Bracing myself for the lunge, I yank the door handle.

Nothing happens.

Did you think the door would open, Ophelia? Would this pristine sedan with bulletproof-looking glass not have child locks? He did call himself “daddy” after all.

Sitting up straight, he turns to face me, brow knit tightly. “What are you doing?”

“What’s in the box?” I counter.

“I found the key.” That sexy, cocky smile spreads over his handsome face. How is it that I’m terrified the man is going to kill me, yet I’m getting all wet and slippery down there? “I was just going to show you.”

His deft fingers move swiftly, inserting a small silver key into the lock. He turns it with a click, and I brace myself. The latch pops open.

Staring at the box, I wait for him to lift the lid.

He begins to open it and then pauses, looking at me. “Wait—what did you think it was?” he asks.

I tell the truth. “A gun.”

“I’d never hurt you,” he says. “I told you that.”

I clear my throat. “How quickly you forget what you did to me earlier.”

“You mean…” He leans over me, his lips so close to my ear that my skin tickles as he speaks. “When I put you over my lap and spanked you like the naughty girl you are?”

I gulp, pulling away.

He stares at me, making me wetter just by running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip as I watch. “I’ll punish you when you’re bad, but I’ll never hurt you. Not like that.”

I’m struggling to see the difference, but now isn’t the time to ask for clarity.

Instead, I stare, breath trapped in my lungs. I exhale, breathing out, “What is in the box?”

“Let me show you.” He lifts the lid so freaking slowly until—finally—the box is open.

I drift a little closer and stare at its contents.

Nestled in a silver velvet casing is a series of pink…things. Each replicating the previous one, but growing in size. Their shape reminds me of an upside-down IUD—like the one my mom dragged me to the clinic to have inserted when she found out about Carter. Or the shape of an anchor, with a curved handle at the bottom, coming up into a carrot-shaped point. They’re hot pink and made of what looks like silicone.

The only thing my little virgin brain can imagine is, “Are they vibrators?”

“No," he smiles. “But they do vibrate.” I stare at the case he holds before me, and he says, “Touch one.”

“No, thank you.” I shrink away, tucking my hands beneath my thighs and pressing my back to the door again.

He chuckles softly to himself.

There’s a square button on his car door, and it’s one I hadn’t noticed before. He presses it now. I watch in amazement as the dark windows are further tinted with dark frost and dim lights come on from overhead, filling the car's cab with warm light.

It'd almost be a romantic space if I weren’t trapped inside with a kidnapper and his toy box.

“I want your full attention.” His voice is thick. “Now you can’t even see out.”

“And I can’t get out either,” I mutter back.

His plan failed because now, my full attention is not on him but on the pink elephants marching across the black, velvet-lined box.

What’s he planning on doing with those?

A shiver tears through me, and my whole body tenses, knowing he wants to put those things inside me… and I remember my earlier promise not to fight him tonight.

I will break that promise if he brings any of those pink things anywhere near one of my orifices.

Finally, he speaks. “You haven’t been keeping your promise to me.”

“What gives you that idea?” I lie, keeping away from him. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You are. But if the doors worked any other way, you’d have flown out of here. Also, after promising me you wouldn't, you got out of the car earlier. You need a reminder of who is in control here.”

His words—giving off a sense of protection, assertiveness, and someone looking out for me— bring back that warm, wet feeling.

I deny it, push it away, sniffing my dislike. “Oh, I know who's been in charge since the caveman days,” I breathe out. “The p-a-t-r-i-a-r-c-h-y. A society led by men.”

“Are you having a spelling quiz by yourself? If you like games, you’ll love playing mine.” He points to the smallest toy in the case, angling it close for my inspection. “This goes in your ass, and you’ll wear it all night to remind you to obey me.”

My asshole tightens, and my butt cheeks clamp together. I stare at him blankly. I want to push his hand away, but I don’t. I scratch the words out of my bone-dry mouth...

“You’re not doing that to me! You must be joking,” I croak out.

“Do I seem like one to joke about power and control?” he asks.

“No,” I say.

“You put yourself in danger.” His eyes lock on mine, cupping my face with his free hand as he does. “And I’ll never let you off easily when you do that.”

Power and control. Someone to look out for my safety. It’s what I’ve been craving, right? So, why am I now so terrified? He’s a man obsessed with sex and power; he knows what he’s doing.

He’s prepared to dominate, bringing along his box of toys. Even the smallest one seems immense. Swallowing hard, I eye them. “Why so many of them? And why do they get bigger?”

That sexy, wicked grin of his comes over his face. Is that a dimple on his cheek? Combined with his now wild curls that frame his face, I almost forget how dangerous he is.

His grin doubles. “They increase in size to train your ass to take my cock.”

Eyeing the largest one, my stomach churns.

“As your husband, I insist on burying my cock in every warm place I can.” He lifts the first object, the smallest one, from the box, holding it up.

“You think you’ll put that… thing… in there? I’ve never even had…” My words trail off, and I stare, imagining where the toy is meant to go, my virgin body shaking. I gather the nerve to finish the thought. “I’ve never even had... sex.”

“Don’t worry. We will. Lots .” He nods at my waist. “First—take off those jeans.”

“Take off my jeans?” Perform yet another submissive display to please him and humiliate me. “Here, in the car?”

He glances at the top of the back seat. “Then kneel on the seat facing the back.”

Meeting my eyes, he says, “And grab the headrest. You may need the anchor.”