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Chapter 6
Freddie sighs, rubbing his hand across his cleanly shaven head. I’ve noticed it seems to be a nervous habit of his. Slowly, so fucking slowly, he turns me to face him. His eyes lock on mine, and everything else disappears. The air between us grows thick as seconds bleed to minutes, neither of us knowing what to say. His fair cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, the combination nearly matching my peach hair.
He really is handsome.
“Uh,” I start, licking my lips when the words in my brain cannot deliver. Instead, I shrug helplessly.
Fred says nothing. He doesn’t laugh or smile. He stares, and damn does he stare hard. It’s as if he’s trying to see what’s under my skin and devour it like a midnight snack.
Suddenly, the realization that I’m wearing only a sheet and standing with a stranger in Bud’s house, while the man himself is nowhere to be seen, hits me like a brick. Pair that with the knowledge that a butt plug is currently stuffed in my cave of chocolaty wonders, and the room spins. I stumble back with a whimper, tightening my toga.
“Oh, shit!” Fred shouts, diving forward and swooping me into his arms just as my knees give out. I suck in a sharp breath at the effortless way he bundles me against his broad chest. Why does he feel so freaking good? “You okay, little bed bug?”
A shiver wracks my body, and he shuffles me, tugging my meager outfit to cover my shoulders. His brows crash together in concern.
“You’re cold.” A statement, but I nod anyway. I’m not, not really. How can I be with this hot hunk of man meat wrapped around me, staring at me like I mean something? “Let me find you something warmer to wear.”
Before I can blink, we’re moving toward the lone dresser in Bud’s room. I’m not even sure it is his room. With its meager contents, I think it might be a spare. Something I didn’t really pay attention to until I was suddenly confined to the bed, alone and waiting for help. During those panicked moments, a barrage of frantic questions filled my mind.
Why wouldn’t he fuck me in his room?
Does Bud have a wife?
Why the hell did I even come to his house when I knew we didn’t have a connection?
Those questions grew more angry the longer I waited. Most of the anger was directed at myself.
How do I keep getting myself in shitty situations?
Why do I think I can fix every man I meet?
How could I have risked my safety doing something so reckless?
And why the hell didn’t Bud know how to properly use a butt plug?
Most of all….
Where the fuck did that little dick weasel run off to?
Anger fills me all over again, and not for the first time, I consider lighting Bud’s weird house on fire. But before my spiral can take root, Fred is gently shaking me. I blink rapidly, only to find his lips moving. A strange sort of static is filling my ears and my jaw is sore from how hard I’m grinding my teeth together.
I suck in a sharp breath, forcing my body to relax in Fred’s strong arms. “Wh-what?”
Why am I stuttering? I never stutter around people. Only in my head.
His thin, sparse brows crash together. “I said there’s nothing in these drawers. Do you have clothes somewhere else?”
I flick my gaze to the open dresser, and sure enough, the thing is empty, just like the room. More and more, the puzzle pieces are beginning to come together.
This is Bud’s fuck room.
Normally, a fuck room would have a stash of condoms and sex toys, but based on dear old Buddy’s performance tonight, the asshole doesn’t know a double-headed dildo from a nipple clamp. Shame.
At least he never got it in,my brain worms chuckle. His little rubber ducky was too small to fit the life jacket you brought.
Internally, I cackle at the memory. Bud just about fainted when I pulled out my own assortment of un-stabbed condoms. I always bring my own, but I’d been out of extra-smalls. Poor Bud.
No,my tummy worms cry. Poor me! I’m going to be backed up for weeks from this shit-show…literally.
