Chapter 6
ELLIE
What the hell?
“You’re engaged, then?” I asked, tugging my hand free. I’d spent the night in a man’s bed who was engaged to someone else! I wore his clothes, and only his clothes. Only a few minutes earlier he’d said I was his.
His.
That he’d spank me!
I popped to my feet, the kitchen chair skidding across the hardwood floor.
God, what was I going to do? I was trapped in the house with a man while his fiancée was elsewhere?
I was mortified for thinking what I had of him.
That I noticed how handsome he was. How strong his hands were.
How I wanted to feel his lips on mine… and other places.
That while I’d been stunned by the mention of being spanked, the idea of something so intimate and carnal had made me squirm.
That just looking into his eyes made me feel things I’d never felt for anyone else before.
The guy was gorgeous. Of course, he had a woman! He probably had a flock or a harem of them.
I was stupid. STUPID!
Lusting after a man who–
“No, sugar,” he said, interrupting my panicked thoughts. “I’m not engaged. I’m not in a relationship with any woman.”
I frowned, totally confused. “Then why–”
“Because I was waiting for you.” The words were said so simply, but they made no sense.
I set my hand on my chest. “What? Me? Are you crazy?”
He nodded, then slowly stood. Taller and taller he became, making our size difference more than apparent. I had to tip my chin way back to keep my gaze on his dark one.
I swallowed hard when he stepped closer. Then closer still.
“You.” The one word was like a stone that sent a ripple through my core. “Definitely not crazy.”
“You can’t make me stay.” He wanted to, what, keep me? The idea of belonging to someone as… perfect as Trig was appealing, but Mr. Trout was dangerous. Trig might not know it, but I was a threat to him.
“The snow outside says otherwise,” he countered.
“When it stops,” I clarified. “I’ve gotta go… um, I don’t belong here.” I couldn’t stay here with him and risk it.
“If you give it some time, you’ll find you do belong here,” he said, his voice calm, although everything about him screamed intense and… virile. “And you do belong to me.”
I shook my head, unnerved. Did I believe him? Was he honest in his interest in me or was he like some of the men Mom brought home? They’d see me and find more interest in me than her. I hadn’t done anything, wore anything special or said anything those times to lead them on.
I’d become Mr. Trout’s fiancée because Father had been in debt and used me to get them paid off. He’d never even met me. Now, Trig said I belonged to him.
Did I dare believe him? Did I dare give over to these newfound feelings? The butterflies. The ache between my legs? The pull and desire for Trig to touch me. To press me into his bed. To make me his.
“What happened to dating?” I asked. “First kiss? Bowling. Dinner and a movie. Why do men want me without knowing anything about me?”
“I’m trying. And what other men?” he said, eyes narrowing.
“There are no other men! I just… I don’t know anything about you either,” I countered, wanting to like him, but scared to do so.
He set his hand on his flannel-covered chest. “Trig Wilder. Thirty-four. Oldest sibling. Champion bull rider.”
My mouth dropped open.
“You fling yourself off a wild beast?” I asked, although secretly I thought it was really hot.
A grin spread across his face. “The goal is to stay on,” he corrected. “I never said I was smart like you.”
“You still do it?”
“Retired now. Look, sugar. I think we can agree, at least, that you’re not going anywhere until the snow lifts.”
He was right. We could argue but it wasn’t going to change the weather.
“Yes,” I conceded.
“You’re mine until then. We’ll take this time to get to know each other. Can’t take you bowling, but we can do movies on the couch. And definitely kiss.” His hand came up and stroked my hair back.
A phone rang, startling me. Trig swore under his breath and stepped away to grab it off the counter.
“Yeah?” he asked, not sounding all too thrilled to be interrupted.
“Yes, she’s fine. You did what?” He sighed and eyed me.
Grinned. “Fine. Good. Yes.” His gaze shifted to the window and the snowy scene outside.
“Later. Hold them all off until then. Thanks.”
He hung up, set the phone down. “That was my friend, Beau. He was with me last night when we found you. Wanted to see how you’re doing.”
He came over, took my hand and tugged me toward the table. This time, instead of sitting beside him, he sat down and tugged me onto his lap.
“Trig!” I said, trying to pop back up. His arm around my waist held me in place.
“This is us gettin’ to know each other,” he murmured.
I squirmed, but felt his hard length against my hip and then stilled. God, he was huge! That… fits in a woman? It was like an anaconda!
“My family’s heard all about you,” he said. “They want to meet you.”
I stilled. “Your… your family? Meet me?” It was hard not to squeak as panic filled me.
“I’ve got seven brothers and a sister. My parents live in the main house here on the family land, but we all have our own places on the ranch or in town. I mentioned you in a group text that you’re here and word spread.”
Oh my God. “ Eight siblings?”
He laughed. “It was love at first sight for my parents. You got any brothers and sisters?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Only child.”
He had ten family members who might know who I was, or worse, who my father was. Who Conrad Trout was. “Wait. You told them about me? Why would you do that?”
Trig huffed. “I did. Because you’re special and because you’re mine and I wanted them to know.”
There was that word again. Mine.
I was supposed to be Mr. Trout’s possession. His fuck toy as he’d called me. Broodmare also came up.
Except with Trig, I didn’t want to hurl at the thought of being with him. I actually liked the way he said it so possessively. I liked sitting in his lap. I liked feeling how attracted he was to me.
There was a little flame of desire that really, really wanted Trig to claim me. Make me his. Keep me. Protect me.
“Are they, um, coming over?” I asked. Was I really safe? What if the group text went further than the Wilder family? If word got back to Father, could he get here in the storm to get me? Not right away. Right? But he would come, no question. Drag me back.
“Not right now. They know I want you to myself for a bit.”
Glancing out the window, I saw the falling snow. I sagged against him. I really was safe, for now. As long as he and his family didn’t know who I really was, I’d be okay.
As long as I left as soon as the weather lifted, they’d be safe.
Trig reached out, grabbed my plate and slid it in front of us. Handed me my fork. “Eat.”
I stared at him. This close, I saw chocolate flecks in his dark eyes. The way they dropped to my lips.
I really was hungry. I couldn’t leave. If Trig wanted to harm me, he’d have done it by now. Hell, he’d have left me for dead in a snowbank.
I gave one last wriggle to get off his lap, then gave up. With a huff, I took the fork and took a big bite.
“Good girl.”
Good girl.
I’d never once had anyone say that to me before. Not the few memories I had with Father when I was a kid. Definitely not my mom.
I stilled and felt the warmth of the praise seep into me. And make my cheeks heat.
“You like that? Being my good girl?” he murmured, noticing.
Did I? Yes, I sure as hell did. I pleased him, even with something so trivial.
Why should I want to do that? I tried for years and years to please Father and it had never worked. I’d used his plane ticket and come to Devil’s Ditch hoping for his praise and affection.
Now I wanted to please Trig? It made me needy and feel even more alone.
Then why did I feel happiness and something like… safety when he said those two words?
Suddenly, I was embarrassed with how I was responding to Trig, liking all this talk, sitting in his lap. Swallowing, I looked down at my lap. I felt small in his hold. My sock-covered feet didn’t even touch the floor.
Using his fingers, tipped up my chin. “What’s the matter, sugar?”
“This is… it’s all…” I shook my head, unsure of what to say. I was confused. Aroused, but I shouldn’t be. I felt safe, but definitely should be wary. Of him. Of who he knew. “It’s a lot. You’re a stranger and I’m sitting in your lap! I shouldn’t like–”
I cut off before admitting anything else, like the fact that my nipples were hard beneath his thick hoodie or that my pussy was wet. Wetter than it’d ever been and I wasn’t wearing panties!
“You can like anything we do together. But sugar, you have to feel this thing between us, too,” he replied, his voice as soft as his touch.
“Us?”
He nodded. “Yeah, you and me. Us. Did you like sleeping in my arms, sugar? Like wearing my clothes? Sitting in my lap? Like that I’m watching out for your safety even when you aren’t? Knowing you’ll have a red ass as a consequence if needed? That your nipples are a sign that your body craves mine?”
I gasped because he knew and whipped my head up to look at him. “I can’t help that!”
“Not with me you can’t.” His voice dipped to being extra growly. “You wet for me? You can’t help that either if we’re right for each other.”
“Trig,” I whispered in response to his rapid fire questions. The last question had my face turning hot. The rest of me, too.
“A good girl gets a wet pussy because of their man, sugar.”
I gasped at his boldness. At how right he was. Could he tell? “Wh—at?”
“A good girl also gets to come.”
“I’m not–”
“You’re not a good girl?”
I certainly wasn’t bad. I didn’t do anything to rock the boat.
Ever. I didn’t do anything to make anyone mad or upset with me.
It was safer that way. Except run off the night before.
It was the first time I’d been defiant. I moved out of Mom’s place as soon as I got the keys to my freshman dorm.
I’d earned the scholarship and that freedom.
Last night, I had no choice but to flee again. The stakes were much, much higher.
I’d been the one who’d gotten on the plane instead of telling Father to fuck off. Because I thought it meant something. That I wasn’t alone any longer. Finally!
Trig thought I was smart, but I was actually really stupid.
“Sugar,” Trig murmured, reminding me he was waiting for me to answer.
“I am,” I admitted. “Or at least I’ve tried to be.”
“I bet, but I’ll show you how to be my good girl.”
Oh God. Did I want that? To only do things to please Trig? Yes, yes I did.
I could forget about the world outside of this house.
Trig was doing a good job of that.
I was in his lap. His dark gaze held mine. I felt the heat in it. The intensity. The need. He wouldn’t have put me in this spot if he wasn’t interested. Sure, he’d have fed me out of common courtesy, but I’d be on one side of the table, him on the other. He wouldn’t call me “good girl.”
He wanted me.
Me.
He was big and brawny and warm and I felt safe with him. Crazy, perhaps, but I somehow knew he wouldn’t hurt me.
He’d saved me.
I really, really wanted him to show me how to be his good girl. I was curious. Starved for the attention. Maybe I could use this time, this snowstorm to fill the well of loneliness so when I did leave, I’d have memories. I’d have been craved. I’d have been seen.
I’d have felt.
I’d survived being abandoned and neglected by my own flesh and blood. I could survive when this thing with Trig was over. Until then… I could take what I wanted.
“Okay,” I whispered.
He took that quiet assent and shifted me so my back was to his front and I straddled his thighs.
Then he parted his knees. Wider, then wider still. That spread my legs with no way to close them.
Wait. Oh shit. “Trig!”
My hand went to the bottom hem of his sweatshirt. I could feel the air on my bare pussy, but I was still covered.
“Shh,” he whispered, his mouth right at my ear. “Easy.”
He gently gripped my wrist and tucked my hand into the front pouch of the hoodie. “Put your other hand in there, too.”
When I did, he gave me more of that praise. I took a breath, let it out. Then another.
“That’s my good girl. Now keep them in there.” His fingers went to the hem of his hoodie and slowly drew it up over my thighs, the touch of his fingertips leaving goosebumps on the way.
Within seconds, I was exposed.
“Fuck, sugar. Perfect.”