Chapter 5

Bad Mommy Captured

“No.”

At his curt response after I’d spent the past fifteen minutes in the café explaining to Bobby how Erin had chosen to stay with me, I gulped. An enormous boy, almost the size of Bull, he too was on the football team. But I couldn’t remember what position. And as dark as Bull was, Bobby was fair to the point of being pallid.

Oh, and without the pot and booze in me, I’d also realized how handsome he was. Asshole or not, God, he was—enticing. Although his square-jawed face was expressionless, those eyes held my soul pinned. They were beyond black, boring deep into me as he took a sip of water. At the ice cubes clinking in his glass, I started.

“W-What do you mean, um, no?”

My voice was shakier than I’d intended, and one of his eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t evade his stare. It was just as Erin had warned. The eyes of a shark. There was no question; I was sitting across from an apex predator. He possessed an unnatural raw magnetism. To prove the point, when he leaned his towering muscled form closer, my nipples, already achingly tight, lengthened towards him.

When his hand eased over the table, my entire body vibrated. As a fingertip hooked into my V-neckline, I gulped. And at the forceful tugging on the thin purple blouse and the bra beneath, air hissed from me.

“No, Mrs. Fisher.” Such a calm, almost but not quite icy tone. “I’m not letting her go. Not without a fee.”

“Uh, f-fee?” I again gulped when his long, rough finger curled, pulling me closer by the stretching top.

“Yes. You want her. Fine. But I want you. So, I’d say we should trade. Except, of course, we can’t. You’re married and I’m sure Bull and the others won’t give you up so easily, either.” Although he smiled, there was no warmth in it. “Remove your bra, Mrs. Fisher.”

“What?” It took everything I had, but I forced a rapid glance at the other patrons. “Um, h-here?”

“Yes.” He gave but the briefest of nods. “Here. Right now.”

Oh, I tried to out-stare him. But a tremor rippled through me as my hands disobeyed my brain’s screams and slid into the rear of my blouse. At the soft snick as the bra strap came apart, his brow lifted. But there was no other change in his visage. Only as I leaned to slide it from an arm hole did his smile widen.

With my brain shrieking, the world spiraled into a smear of pastel colors. But as soon as he held out his palm, I handed it to him.

“Now the panties.” While making no effort to hide my dangling cups, his hand remained motionless in the middle of the table. There was a bitter chuckle. “Assuming you’re wearing any.”

That time, I didn’t hesitate. Oh, I really should’ve and that screaming voice deep within me tried to stop my hands from gliding under my skirt. But as I shifted my hips and slid the taut cotton free, all I could do was dive deeper into those inky black pools. When I placed them in his palm, the semi-smile disappeared from his face as he sank them and my bra into a pocket.

“Tomorrow, Mrs. Fisher, my parents will be out. You’re to arrive at eight in the morning. I’ll keep you until eight a.m. the following day.” At my gasp, the grin returned, albeit tighter. “Not to worry. I have no intention of harming you. After all, Bull and Hank make for formidable foes and I’ve no desire to have them as enemies.”

“A-and, uh, what would—”

“—you have to do? Anything I want. For twenty-four straight hours you’re to replace Erin.” He laughed. Again, the gruff sound had a hard edge to it. “Well, I also plan to do many things she’d never allowed me to inflict on her. But again, I swear you’ll suffer no injury. Indeed, for a woman such as you, quite the opposite.”

Before I could reply, he drained his drink and stood. After tracing his strong fingers up my trembling arm, he gave my shoulder a firm squeeze.

“Do not be late, Mrs. Fisher. And, uh, whatever outfit you choose will suffice. You won’t be wearing it for very long.”

And then he was gone. It took another ten minutes for my heartbeat to drop, the world to stop spinning, and my core to cease spasming.

“Fuck. What have I done?” I murmured in that weird shaky voice before gulping and staring out the window at blurry passing pedestrians. “I never even agreed.”

But the next morning I found myself sliding sweaty palms along a flirty black skirt after stepping from my car in Bobby’s driveway. After a swift scan of the upscale neighborhood, still quiet that early, I sighed and tugged at a simple navy blouse.

“Simple?” I swallowed a chuckle while click-clacking towards the long front entry.

It’d taken me an hour to select clothing to match the story I’d given Tom; I was heading to my sister’s for an old school friend’s surprise birthday bash. But I’d also spent the night tossing and turning, trying to get Bobby’s black eyes from my mind. When I awoke, I wanted to impress him. Why? No idea. All I’d intended to do was fulfill my end of the bargain. Free Erin.

That was my only goal.

Bullshit.

More than that sent my pulse soaring as I tapped the doorbell and chimes echoed within an elegant, stone-faced, two-story home. There was such promise in Bobby’s deep black pools. Fuck all if that handsome, towering boy hadn’t tapped into the deepest nerve in my core. So secret, and powerful, I’d not acknowledged it in a very long time. And although Erin had shuddered, she hadn’t dissuaded me.

She understood.

A gentle breeze sent my high ponytail swishing across the blouse’s rear. When the door eased open to reveal Bobby’s stony face, I forced a grin. “Good morning, Bobby.”

When all he did was beckon me inside, I wasn’t surprised. Neither a leer, nor even a lingering inspection. Barely a glance. It matched him. Why waste words? And after pushing the door shut behind me, he gestured for me to follow him.

I did.

Once upstairs, I trailed him into his bedroom. And froze. Neatly laid out atop his bed were shiny black leather cuffs attached at its four corners by nylon ropes.

“Oh, no.” As the room blurred, I faced him. “I can’t—”

The expression he wore–I would. With a gulp, I left those black pools to inspect a shiny black blindfold, expensive headphones, and a large box. While remaining silent, he dragged a chair to the center of the room and sat.

“Strip, Mrs. Fisher.” When he leaned back, placing his hands behind his head, the chair creaked under his bulk. “Except the shoes. And the stockings. They are quite becoming on you.”

And what did I do? I obeyed. After lowering my purse to the bedside table, I gulped, but lifted the blouse free to reveal a dark brassiere. Flowery lace. The last of five I’d tried on earlier. Not that he reacted. Once I’d shimmied from the skirt to display matching panties, he appeared ready to yawn.

It was only after I’d added the bra and slipped from my panties that he moved at all. With a quiet sigh, he stood.

“You are quite beautiful, Mrs. Fisher.” When he pointed to the bed, I slid on my back until I lay in the center. “Remember, I intend you no harm.”

Although he said nothing more, I eased my arms and legs wide until they nudged the chilly leather restraints. At each snick of the supple leather cuffs onto my limbs, my heartbeat ratcheted upwards.

Soon, the cool, silken blindfold took away my sight. The headphones, playing a pleasant up-tempo jazz, blocked any noise but my thumping pulse and rapid breathing. As I squirmed in the darkness, my shoes dragged along the sheets.

When icy leather encircled my neck, I moaned. I’d not worn a collar in years. Still nothing from him. At the slow shift of the mattress, my body tensed. And when a fingertip settled on the center of my chest, my panting sped.

“Oh, um...” is all that left me before my breathing hitched when it swirled downward, eased over one swollen bare petal, and skimmed along my shaking leg.

It disappeared.

Pressure on a nipple. A gentle nudge.

“Fuck,” I whispered to the dark as fires lurched alight in my core.

Vanished.

Mashed the other achy stem, harder. Even as I moaned, it glided off my heaving boob to find my ribs. As I squirmed, giggling, then laughing, with tears soaking the silk over my eyes, he teased along my ribcage. But only the single finger.

How long he toyed with me like that, I’d no idea. But with my heels slipping and sliding over the covers and my arms twisting, the straining ropes were in constant motion. And as my whimpers became louder moans, still the jazz played. As did he.

When the bed shifted, it took me several seconds before his weight on my chest sent jolting ripples through my core. Heavy full balls settled on my tits. And even as meaty heated flesh pressed into my breastbone, then tapped my chin, I was opening my lips. By the time a silken taut bulb pushed my mouth wider, my waiting tongue was swirling. Though I couldn’t see his face, the trembling of his body above me ... It made me happy.

As I slurped and sucked, he eased in and out, but his motions soon became chaotic. He was as aroused as I was, which also made me happy. But, unlike me, when his first jet spurted into my already gulping throat, he was getting his relief.

With every forceful flood, my pelvis arched up as Bobby’s pulsating tube fed me his essence. Saltier than Bull’s. And thicker. As it filled my belly with warmth, I tried to gobble more of his cock, but couldn’t at that angle. And when it slid from my lips, I chased the heated rod with my open mouth until the bindings held me back.

At last, as I writhed, the bed moved once more.

While I was ready for the finger, at each snick of a metal clamp on my nipples and a firmer clasp of my throbbing clit, I growled. An actual primal growl at each fleeting touch of his deft fingers. When a light string settled on my skin between them, the growl became a whimper.

“Wha—”

Before I could finish, he shoved a hard leather rod into my parted lips. While ignoring my struggling, he cinched it tight. When he slid a compact oblong into my slick wetness, I arched from the bed. After one splayed hand pressed me back to the mattress, he pushed the slippery device through my gate to wedge it inside. Its stubbier cousin pierced my twitching butthole.

Then he vanished.

The initial jolt of electricity was so low, it took me a second to realize it wasn’t my frying nervous system. The next ones sizzled through my entrapped stems; all three of them. As I bucked, moans muffled by the gag, vibrations began in both orifices.

Not much later, the first massive wave of pleasure overloaded every nerve. As I screamed, saliva sprayed from the leather band in my clenching teeth. More followed. And as the machines joined in, abusing me, an endless series of body-wracking explosions kept me screaming and writhing. The cuffs rubbed at my limbs. My stilettos dug deep as my tense legs shook.

And time simply halted. It could have been an hour. Two? Five? Ten? But it had to be less than twenty-four because I knew he’d keep his word. Why? No idea. I just did.

But at some point, the electricity stopped. Beneath the blindfold soaked with tears, I writhed. Every hitching moan forced bubbling spit around the gag. My insides were a roiling mass of continuously firing muscles. When he eased the clamps from me, I couldn’t move. Nothing would respond. But when those fingers reappeared to remove the devices from both spasming orifices, my pelvis arched, seeking them.

It was weird. I wanted the torment to end. And yet craved more of it.

My wish was granted.

The finger returned. Swirling, nudging, easing along my sweat-slick skin. Whenever it traced my seam but never entered, I whimpered, laughed or cried, and cursed, blasting bubbly spit from the leather bit. Yeah, I was beyond fried.

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Bad Mommy

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