Single Dad's Hostage: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  “I should do it again,” she says. Her cheeks are flushing red, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was more from arousal than embarrassment.

  “Go ahead, then.”

  She moves to slap me again, but this time I press forward, catching her wrists and pinning her to the wall. Our faces are inches apart, and my hard cock presses into her belly. Knowing there’s nothing but the towel keeping me from her body has me on the edge. It’s been too long. Too fucking long.

  I kiss her, not stopping to think about why any of this is a terrible idea or any of the dozen reasons I shouldn’t touch her. I only think of the need that burns in my chest, the devastating hunger I’ve felt since the moment I saw her, and most of all, I think of how badly I want to have her in my arms where I know she’ll be safe.

  She’s stiff at first, but she starts to kiss me back, tentatively at first and then with a hunger that matches my own. Her hands pull at my shirt, tugging it from my pants and fumbling with my buttons even as her towel slides off and falls at her feet.

  I take greedy handfuls of her, filling my palms with her tits and running my thumb across her erect nipples, drawing sighs of pleasure from her mouth.

  She tastes so good as her tongue swirls with mine. I pull back, breathing heavy, thinking of the way she slapped me and how the spark of anger quickly melted into lust. “You like it rough, don’t you, sweetheart?” I ask.

  Her body goes rigid against me, as if I flipped a switch. She tilts her head down and away from me, kneeling and grabbing for her towel, suddenly self-conscious. “I can’t do this. I can’t. It’s not right,” she says. “Sean will know. He’ll sense it.”

  I watch her back away from me. I see the fear in her eyes. She really believes it. “I need to put some clothes on,” she says quickly, rushing into the bathroom and leaving me standing there like the idiot I am.

  You like it rough? Fuck. How stupid can I be. I just kidnapped her because her boyfriend was threatening to beat her, and I’m dumb enough to ask her if she likes it rough. I shake my head, deciding I’ve earned my spot on the couch for the foreseeable future. I don’t even take off my shoes before I plop down and thread my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling.

  She comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later looking so mouth-wateringly sexy in one of my dress shirts and a pair of basketball shorts it makes my cock hurt. I smirk, but the look on her face quickly wipes the humor from my mind.

  “Let’s not talk about it,” she says.

  “Fair enough,” I concede.

  “That can’t happen again. It just can’t,” she says.

  I nod my head, but I know there’s no way I can stop now. I’ve had a taste of her. I’ve felt her touch, and I want more of it. I need more of it. I don’t trust myself to speak, so I just settle in for a restless night of sleep.

  4

  Camille

  By morning, I’ve thought of escaping at least a dozen times. I also probably got a combined total of thirty minutes of rest. Every time I started to drift away, dreams of the way Dean’s hands felt on me startled me awake. I can’t believe I kissed him. I mean, I can believe it on some level. After all, he did rescue me in a way, even if I didn’t ask to be rescued. There’s still a charm to him that I find alluring. A man so confident that he would literally stop at nothing to do what he thinks to be right is admirable, not to mention sexy, but the thought of Sean finding out is absolutely terrifying. I’m only realizing after being away from him that his hold over me is deeper than I ever imagined.

  It’s not the kind of connection that exists between happy couples. The grip he has on me is a dark, shameful thing, and it’s buried so far down inside me that I don’t even know how to begin doing anything about it. Behind every thought, action, and word is the paralyzing certainty that he will find out. He’ll learn everything I say or do to defy him and he’ll take it all out on me blow by blow.

  But behind the fear is something I haven’t felt in a long time, something so unfamiliar and strange it frightens me. I think it’s hope. Dean is offering me hope. No, he’s promising me hope, and what scares me more than anything is the possibility that I might start to believe I can take the freedom he’s dangling in front of me.

  How strange is that? He’s offering me freedom by taking mine away. But there it is. Freedom from Sean and all the poison he brings to my life.

  My best friend, Selene, would be thrilled if I left Sean. God knows she’s been trying to talk me into it for long enough. It just never seems like the right time, or a good idea. If she knew exactly what it was like between us, she’d probably have killed Sean with her bare hands by now. All she knows is he’s verbally abusive. When she has spotted the bruises, I’ve always had stories to cover it up.

  I blow out a long breath, staring at the ceiling in Dean’s bedroom. It’s still dark out as the morning sun threatens to rise but hasn’t quite made its appearance. I wonder if Dean’s still asleep. I could call Selene now without him even knowing. I wonder how mad he would be if I invited her here for emotional support. Probably pretty mad… Then again, Selene will be just as mad if I don’t tell her. Especially if she finds out he took me hostage and is forcing me to pretend to be his fiancée. Selene is like one of those chihuahuas that looks small and cute, but can turn into a biting demon at the slightest provocation. Maybe the two of them would just kind of cancel eachother out.

  I lay there in Dean’s bed puzzling it out for nearly half an hour, marveling at how strange a situation I’ve found myself in. I even think of my parents for the first time in months. I spare a few thoughts for what they would think if they saw me now, how disappointed they would be. At least until I realize they wouldn’t be disappointed at all. They would probably laugh about it with each other, taking delight in how the world has turned against me. They would think it was the least I deserve.

  A hot tear slips from my eye as I lay on my side, using my nose like a little ramp and pattering soundlessly to the pillow. Of all the things in this world, nothing holds the same sting as my parents’ hatred. It’s a burden I hold inside like a hot coal. It’s agonizingly painful, but in some of my darkest moments, it’s the fire that pushed me onward. Sometimes it’s the only thing that drives me to persevere so that maybe one day I can prove them wrong.

  Fat chance of that, though.

  Once I’m done feeling sorry for myself, I decide Dean can’t really do anything worse to me than he already has. He’s not going to hurt me. I don’t even think he would really lock me in his basement like he threatened at first. But Dean isn’t without his dangers, chief of which is how it felt to be tangled up with him, hands roaming his hard, muscular body, and how safe I feel with him.

  The threat of Sean hung behind every second of it, and when he asked if I liked it rough, it brought the memories to the forefront, and all I could see was the expression I knew Sean would wear if he saw us together.

  I slip out of his room into the long, winding hallway outside and find an unoccupied room that’s set up like a movie theater with about a dozen cushy leather seats lined up in front of a huge projector screen.

  I’m a little surprised Dean didn’t take my cell phone, but I guess he thought the only person I was in danger of calling was Sean. I wonder if he even considered the possibility that I’d call the cops. Maybe he has enough money to bribe his way out of trouble and just doesn’t care. Either way, I never planned on it. Sean made sure I harbor a very healthy fear of involving the police. To be honest, the thought didn’t even cross my mind until now, and if I was tempted, all I have to do is think of how that would end up if his money couldn’t get him out of it.

  They’d arrest Dean. They’d leave that little girl without a father and with those two goofs in charge of her. Then I’d end up back with Sean, getting beaten until I can’t see straight for what happened. No. Not going to happen. I’ll bring Selene in on this and she’ll know what to do. Maybe. Or she might just show up like the angry little woman she is and s
tart screaming. Either way, I could use her here.

  I have second thoughts about how much my voice might carry and decide to sneak even farther away from Dean, running down the stairs and out the back patio by the pool. I’m a little breathless from my quick escape outside. I wince at the number of missed calls I have from Selene before punching in her number and waiting.

  “Okay,” says Selene through the receiver in an angry voice. “I’m going to give you three seconds to hang up if you’re a telemarketer. If you’re still on the phone after that, you give me the legal right to unload a verbal ass-kicking on you straight out of the Old Testament, so think fast and think wisely. Three… Two…”

  I know I shouldn’t test her, especially not at a time like this, but I just can’t resist. “I just wanted to tell you about our vacuums ma'am, they really suck!”

  There’s a slight pause before Selene breathlessly responds. “Cammy?”

  “Hey,” I say nervously.

  “Where the hell have you been?” she demands with the full force of an angry mother, even though she’s never had kids. “You were supposed to call me last night and I’ve called you half a million times already. You know I worry about you.”

  “Would you believe me if I said I kinda got kidnapped?”

  “I’d start by asking you how the hell you can get ‘kinda’ kidnapped. Is someone only sort of keeping you against your will? Do you kinda have the option to leave but you kinda don’t?” Her voice is angry and full of doubt, but I’m surprised at how close her description comes to truth.

  “Kinda,” I say, grinning.

  “Has he hurt you? Are you okay?” she asks.

  “I’m fine. He hasn’t hurt me, and I don’t think he will. It’s… complicated.”

  “Camille, I swear to Moses, you better explain how I can help fast, or I’m going to find you on my own and I’ll end you with my bare hands.”

  For a few moments, I lost myself in the conversation, in the familiar back-and-forth with my best friend, and I almost forgot where I was and why. But a quick look toward the mansion and the extravagant pool and patio brings me back to reality and sours my mood. “I can’t be that far from the motel Sean and I were staying at. He drove for like twenty maybe thirty minutes. He didn’t blindfold me or anything so I was able to read the address on my way in. You can probably just punch it into your phone.” I laugh a little, realizing how ridiculous what I’m saying is. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, it would be crazy for you to actually come. I don’t think he’s actually going to hurt me, but I don’t really know him that well. I could be totally wrong. It might not be safe here.”

  “Tough shit,” says Selene. “I was in my car thirty seconds ago.”

  For a second, I think she’s bluffing, but I hear the soft, persistent ding of her car telling her to put on her seatbelt.

  “Put on your seatbelt,” I say.

  “Okay, Mom. It’s on.”

  “Then why is the car still dinging at you?” I ask.

  She sighs dramatically and the dinging finally stops. “You can get kinda kidnapped and I can’t even drive out of the parking lot without a seatbelt? Why do you get to hog all the exciting danger?”

  “There’s nothing exciting about a parking lot car accident,” I say seriously. “You know most accidents happen in parking lots.”

  She makes a frustrated sound. “Maybe I should leave you there and let you keep getting kinda kidnapped.”

  “Yes,” I say. “You should. Seriously. I shouldn’t have even called you, I was just--ugh, I don’t even know.”

  “You were calling me because you need me, Cammy,” says Selene. “And as long as this guy doesn’t have guns or a rocket launcher or something, I’m going to kick through the door to the craphole where he’s keeping you and I’m going to kick his ass.”

  I laugh. “I think I’d pay to see that. But it’s not exactly a craphole. It’s... well, you’ll see.” She has always made similar threats about Sean, but deep down we both knew if she ever tried to step in on my behalf, it’d only make it worse. There was that, and my inexplicable desire for her to leave well enough alone. But it was never well enough, was it? Not even close.

  “Good. I’m behind on rent again,” she says. “Think you could pay like a hundred and twenty-five to see that? Make it a hundred and forty-five, I might grab some takeout on my way. Anyway, text me the address, I was out of town so It’ll be a little bit, but I gotta go, they are doing prank calls on the radio and I need to hear this next--”

  The phone clicks. Wow, she couldn’t even wait to finish her own sentence. I shake my head, grinning as I punch in the address and shoot off a text to her.

  I step inside to find Murph and Tanner taking turns trying to spin a vase that looks very expensive on the kitchen island. They aren’t wearing suits like the night before. Tanner wears a black t-shirt with pajama bottoms and Murph is wearing a hoodie with sweatpants. I’m guessing they both just woke up, and decided this was how they wanted to start their morning. Tanner has the decency to look embarrassed when I catch them, but Murph just keeps spinning the vase, getting it to spin for an impressively long time before it wobbles and nearly crashes to the floor..

  “Don’t tell me,” says Murph. “You’re actually a phone sex operator and you had a client who couldn’t wait for your phone to charge. We saw you making that sneaky call, Camille. Naughty, naughty.”

  Tanner smirks. “That explains how Dean met her. He’s probably been making those phone girls earn their money all these years. Camille was just unlucky enough to catch his interest.”

  “What’s that?” asks Dean, who strides into the kitchen with a dark look on his face. Despite the early hour, he’s already dressed impeccably in a casual, navy blue sport coat and a crisp white dress shirt. His tanned skin looks delectable against the colors, and I spend a little longer than is seemly roaming his body and face with my eyes. I let my gaze linger especially long on his lips, remembering how they felt against mine.

  Kissing him was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Being with Sean was always clinical. Sean hardly kisses me anymore to begin with, and even when we first started dating, there was something off in the way he kissed. I don’t know if it registered at the time, or if it did, I thought I didn’t deserve any better so I just let it be. It always felt like he was just going through the motions, as if being with me served some purpose beyond the act itself, and it was only the goal that concerned him. He took to any intimacy with the same mechanical efficiency that a farmer might plow a field he has worked for years.

  Dean, on the other hand… Just the memory flushes my cheeks. I’ve read books and seen movies where they talk about a spark between two people. I could never relate until now, even though what I felt with Dean was less like a spark and more like a thunderbolt. There was something primal pulling me to him, an animal need and lust like nothing I’ve ever felt, a desire so strong it overcame reason and logic when our lips were pressed together. In those moments it was as if his strength flowed through me, and I could imagine leaving Sean. I could imagine being the kind of woman who takes her life by the horns and makes it her own.

  When he asked if I like it rough, I suddenly felt like Sean was there, standing between us. The threat of violence brought back storehouses of unwelcome memories, shattering the fragile illusion of happiness.

  It was for the best though. Had I let Dean finish what he started, I would’ve never been able to hide it from Sean. This… Maybe this I can hide. I hope.

  Dean still stands in the doorway, arms folded as he glares at his brothers.

  Tanner and Murph both look like schoolboys who have been caught in the act by their mother. I start to see the shape of the family dynamic forming in front of me. Their reaction to Dean makes him seem more like a father to them than a brother.

  “Nothing,” says Murph.

  Dean slaps Murph casually on the shoulder. “Good. Because nothing won’t make me kick your ass. On the oth
er hand, if there was something… If you were giving Camille a hard time, for example, that might be a different story.”

  “We could take you,” says Murph.

  Tanner takes a half step away from Murph and gives Dean the slightest shake of his head.

  “Yeah?” asks Dean.

  The atmosphere in the room suddenly feels thick and tense with impending violence. A jolt of real fear runs through me, and for a moment I feel the same dark energy in the air that I feel when Sean is in one of his moods. “Guys, it’s okay,” I say, heart pounding.

  But neither man hears me. Are they really about to fight because of this? My certainty that Dean is no danger to me starts to fade as I watch him stare his brother down, powerful body tensed and ready to act.

  Murph takes a step toward Dean, looking totally outmatched, despite the few inches he has on him. “You think you can take us? We’d like to see you try,” he says, lunging forward in an attempt to tackle Dean.

  Tanner winks at me, grinning as he steps even farther back and plops down at the kitchen island to watch them fight. Tanner’s demeanor helps me to relax a little--like he’s seen this before. It might even be normal between these brothers. I guess the only violence I’ve ever been around was intended to be malicious..

  “I got him wrapped up!” shouts Murph, who is already being flipped and thrown to the ground by Dean. “Kick his nuts!” shouts Murph. “Kick them!”

  “You got this,” says Tanner in an amused monotone.

  “Traitor!” says Murph, who has just now seen that Tanner didn’t join in the fight.

  Dean, apparently knowing his brothers well enough, lets Murph out from his hold and watches as Murph charges Tanner. Tanner pops up and meets the charge as both men collide in a tangle of lanky limbs and legs. The two thin giants struggle against each other until Tanner apparently bites Murph on the arm.