Page 214 of Ride With Me
“No, Sir,” I repeat out loud, since I know better than to not answer him.
His grin gets bigger and that’s the last thing I see before he closes the lid of the trunk on me.
The darkness is total. My heart pounds in my ears and for a while the only thing I can hear is my own breathing, shaky inhales and exhales that do little to calm the flashes of panic fluttering around the edges of my brain. I grind the edges of my hands against my dick and its hardness reminds me that I chose this.
Well, sort of. I elected to get into this car, although I didn’t expect to be forced into the trunk of it. But even before sticking my thumb out on the road, I started this.
I asked for it.
Logan and I have been together for six months now, and since the beginning—since the night I showed up at his house planning to revenge-fuck my cheating ex-boyfriend’s dad—we’ve been exploring all the kinky desires and fantasies I’ve ever jerked off to.
He’s my Daddy in bed and out of it. He takes care of me, praises me when I’m a good boy, and disciplines me when he thinks I need it. He makes me feel safe, even when he ties me down, spanks me, or fucks me until I scream.
He makes me feel cared for.
And loved.
So, when I confessed my dirtiest fantasy, the one that’s been living rent-free in my head for longer than I’m willing to admit, Logan said he’d make it happen.
I guess I just didn’t expect it to feel soreal.
The car starts with a low rumble that fills the trunk. It drowns out my unsteady breathing and the car’s vibrations make me a little queasy as it pulls onto the road and picks up speed.
CHAPTER 4
There’s a rhythmic,repetitive scraping sound itching at the edges of my consciousness. I blink my eyes open. The trunk lid is open, and Sir is leaning on the edge of the car.
I must have fallen asleep, despite my fear and the twisted arousal that fear does to me.
The scraping sound is his knife dragging along a dull gray wand he holds in his other hand. He’s…sharpening it. The knife, I mean. Right in front of me. Like a hunter about to gut a deer or something.
And the fear and arousal rush back through me, tingling my fingers and toes, prickling my skin, hardening my dick.
“Morning, sunshine,” he says cheerfully when he notices that I’m awake. “Or, evening, I should say.”
I turn over onto my back. There are lots of stars winking overhead and a sliver of moon just visible under the trunk lid yawning open above me. “This isn’t Westport.”
The stars are way too bright for us to be in the Connecticut town where Logan and I spend part of our time living. And it surely can’t be anywhere in New York City, since I’ve never seen more than a handful of the brightest stars in our upperWest Side neighborhood. Or any other Manhattan or Brooklyn neighborhoods I’ve been in.
“Nope,” he says. “Not Westport. Not that you need to know where we are. All you need to know is that the nearest neighbor is about a mile and a half that way.” He jerks his chin off to his right and all I can see are trees surrounding us. “So, you can run if you want, but you’re likely to get lost. And even if you manage to find the neighbor’s house, exactly what are you going to tell them to explain your predicament?”
Um, that’s an excellent question. “I was kidnapped on the side of the road, forced into the trunk of this guy’s car, and managed to run away before he did bad things to me?”
He chuckles and it’s a low, dark sound that makes me shiver in the cooling night air. “You were hitchhiking, you got into my car willingly, and you’re wearing shorts that barely cover your ass and a T-shirt that says ‘I do what the good girls don’t.’ You think they’re going to believe you?”
“It’s a song,” I protest.
“Sure it is,” he says. “Get out of the trunk.”
I turn over and push myself onto my knees, despite the awkwardness of my wrists still being bound. Then I balance my ass on the edge of the trunk and hang onto the trunk lid while I swing my legs over and out.
I stamp my feet a few times to get the blood flowing to my legs again. He slams the trunk lid closed and the sound echoes in the darkness around us. Then he grabs my arm and hustles me across the gravel driveway, over a patch of well-tended lawn, and up the few steps to the door of a small cabin nestled between two sprawling maple trees.
He shifts the knife behind his fingertips of the hand that’s still holding my arm and I hold as still as I can while he digs into his pants pocket for a set of keys. His hand grinds the knife’shandle into my upper arm and I’m looking down at the point of the blade staring up at me.
Is the knife just for show? To scare me into compliance?
Or is he planning to use it on me? My heart starts tripping in my chest and I’m legit scared now. Once I cross the threshold into this cabin, I lose all control over what he’s going to do to me.