by Livia Grant
He retraced his steps, heading back to check the courtroom one last time before he would head out to her dressing trailer to see if she'd gone there for a break.
Trevor met up with him in the hall just before the set. If he wasn't so frantic to find Khloe, he'd take the time to beat the jerk to a pulp. As it was, the taller man's ashen face filled with concern was punishment enough for the moment.
In a moment of silence, only his exceptional hearing picked up the faint sound of Khloe's laughter in the distance. It has been so brief, it was hard to triangulate her location, but the sound calmed him enough to allow him to think again. To focus. He closed his eyes, listening intently. There were men's voices, muffled in the distance. His gut told him to follow the sound. Finally, another short laugh confirmed he was on the right track.
Suddenly the voices boomed louder as the door labeled Production Office swung open and a line of bigwigs in suits filed out with tiny Khloe Monroe sandwiched in the middle of the group.
The broad smile on her gorgeous face slipped the second she saw him. No doubt, her woman's intuition had picked up on the fact that she wouldn't need to worry about her stalker anymore.
He was going to kill her before anyone else could get to her.
Chapter 15
"Where the hell did you go?"
Ryder's grip on her arm above her elbow was so strong, she suspected he was bruising her. Khloe tried to yank away, but he only clamped down harder, pulling her to a stop and roughly swinging her to face his anger straight on. As his icy blue eyes bore into her, she could swear she saw sparks flying from his glare.
"Is there a problem, Khloe?" Edward Rivera asked her, concern in his voice as he stepped up behind her.
An involuntary tremor raced through her body, making her shaky in her high heels. She struggled to keep her voice steady as she tried to reassure the half-dozen men surrounding her. "No problem."
The heat of Ryder's eyes taunted her. Calling her a liar.
There is definitely a problem. I pushed him too far.
The director, Apollo, announced, "Good. Let's get back to work. I want to finish this scene before we take a break."
"Khloe will be there in fifteen minutes." Ryder contradicted, never taking his eyes off hers. She wanted to look away, but his gaze held her hostage, commanding her full attention.
"No, Khloe will be on set in three minutes. We left the crew waiting and have wasted enough time."
"Ryder..." Her plea was cut off.
"Fifteen minutes. Not one minute before."
The relief of his breaking eye contact was short-lived when he turned and started stalking towards the door at the end of the hallway. With his grip only tightening on her arm, she had no choice but to run in her high-heels to keep up with his long, angry strides. She heard the men behind her asking who the hell that guy was while one of the crew started yelling "Security!" as loudly as possible. The last thing she heard before they shot out into the mid-day California sun was Trevor trying to reassure them all that Ryder wasn't her stalker.
Khloe's heart was in her throat. As angry as she was at Ryder for embarrassing her, she knew she'd made a huge mistake by underestimating his resolve to keep her safe at all costs. Flashes of the scary man who'd chased her down at Black Light months before swarmed her, reminding her how dangerous he could be.
When she almost fell trying to keep pace with him, Ryder stopped long enough to stop, turn and crouch down. Without warning, his left shoulder jammed into her tummy. As he stood, her feet left the ground and her torso and head flopped over, slamming her face into his lower back. In her surprise, she thrashed, afraid she was falling. Only the three fast swats of Ryder's open right palm across her now upturned ass stopped her from flailing like a fish on the hook at the end of a line.
From her upside-down vantage point, she knew he was headed towards her trailer. While she was grateful he was moving their upcoming knockdown, drag-out argument to a private location, she was equally petrified of being alone with this angry version of her newest bodyguard.
As her panic grew, she started pounding her fists ineffectually against his ass. Within seconds, his palm was back on her butt with much greater effect.
"Keep it up, baby. I'm sure we're putting on a great show for anyone who's watching."
She stopped immediately. She felt her face turning red, unsure how much of it was from the blood rushing to her upside-down head versus the heated embarrassment of being spanked like an errant child in the open parking lot, surrounded by trailers busy with entertainment professionals who would be more than happy to stop what they were doing to watch an A-List actress getting her ass blistered by her bodyguard.
The only way she knew they'd arrived at her trailer was Ryder's strides up the steps to the door. The gust of air-conditioned coolness confirmed their arrival as Ryder shouted at Randy and Cathy, her hair and makeup artists waiting to touch her up.
"Everyone out." They must not have started moving fast enough to suit Ryder because he added a stern, "Now!"
Khloe was relieved she was upside down so her employees couldn't see how mortified she was. Relief was short lived when Ryder followed them to the door. Khloe caught a glimpse of the murderous look on a running Trevor's face as he rushed towards the trailer just as the door crashed closed behind them. She heard the lock being engaged and then the deadbolt being slammed into place.
Trevor's "Open up, Helms!" was muffled. The pounding of his fists against the door as he tried to get in went unnoticed by her present captor as he turned and stomped into the dressing room of the opulent trailer.
He dumped her back on her feet as unexpectedly as he'd snatched her up only moments before. Things were moving so fast, she had no time to react. No time to fight back. No time to try to wiggle free and get to the door to let Trevor in.
Even as she thought of her original bodyguard, in her heart she knew there was nothing he could do to help her right now. The only consequence of Trevor getting inside the trailer would be him being beaten to a pulp by the furious man standing behind her. He'd swung her to face the huge makeup mirror, each of his hands now digging into both her arms above her elbows, holding her stationary as he slammed his rock-hard chest against her back, locking them like two puzzle pieces glued together.
Their eyes met in the mirror and all breath left her. As frightened as she was, Ryder was magnificent in his dominance. Unbelievably, in her breathless moment, Khloe realized she could read the emotions in his glare as easily as she could a book she'd read a thousand times before. The anger she'd expected, but there was so much more there. Concern. Worry. Panic.
She'd scared him with her childish disappearing act.
The realization helped her begin breathing again. She gasped for sips of air as she realized he was doing the same. They stood frozen, each taking calming breaths until Khloe could muster her voice to call out to the panicked man still pounding on the door.
"Trevor, it's okay. I'll be back inside soon. I'm fine."
The pounding stopped immediately, but she doubted he'd be stepping away from the door until his client emerged safe and sound.
Ryder's voice was oddly distant when he finally spoke. "That was optimistic of you." Her confused look urged him to expound. "I'm not so sure you're going to be fine after I get done with you."
"Ryder, I just..."
"Stop. There is no excuse you can give me that is going to get you out of the hot water you're in with me."
"Listen, I'm working. This is my job. You can't wrap me in bubble wrap until you find my stalker."
"The hell I can't. I agreed to keep you safe and you agreed to follow my every direction without hesitation. If I want to wrap you in bubble wrap and lock you in a padded room for safe keeping, then that's exactly what the fuck I'll do." He paused as if he was contemplating his words. "The threats are real, Khloe. I'm not an alarmist, and I'm telling you the threats are real."
She saw the truth in his eyes. It helped douse the last ri
ghteous anger she was clinging to at being treated like a piece of property. He was genuinely concerned about her welfare.
It's strange how reality can slap you in the face at the most inopportune times. That was the moment she realized that as fucked up as his methods were, and as furious as she was at him for deserting her in February and then showing up again to consume her life as if he had every right to, Ryder Helms cared about her. The real her. Not the A-List actress. Not the fashion model. Not the person who signed the paychecks for everyone else who professed to care about her.
He wasn't here to get famous or make a buck. Hell, he almost seemed to hate that she was rich and famous. As the possible reasons for his being so angry narrowed, the truth became so obvious to her.
Ryder Helms genuinely cared about her.
The realization didn't calm her completely, but it did allow a slight smile to play at the corner of her lipsticked lips.
"You find this funny?" he growled.
"No. Nothing about this is funny."
"On that we can agree."
"If you'll just let me, I can explain."
He ignored her comment. "What were my instructions before I left the set?" His voice reminded her of the calm before a brewing storm.
"I wasn't to leave the set until you got back, but––"
"If you needed to pee?" he prodded.
Embarrassment flooded her neck, rising up to her cheeks before she whispered, "I could piss in the empty bucket in the corner."
She saw the flash of satisfaction with her answer in his eyes. "Where the hell is the bracelet I gave you?"
That question was unexpected. "What?"
"The bracelet. Why isn't it on?" He demanded, lifting her arm and pointing at her empty wrist.
"The continuity director made me take it off. I wasn't wearing it in earlier takes and we can't change anything about my appearance until after this scene wraps."
He looked frustrated with her answer, adding a cryptic. "I'll have to get something different that they can't take off... or out... of you."
Before she could ask him to clarify what the hell he was talking about, his questions continued. "So what do you think is going to happen next?"
Her heart rate spiked. The implication in his voice was obvious. He'd told her what he'd do if she didn't follow directions. At the time, it had sounded like a good idea to attend the production meeting without telling him where she'd gone, but now that his stony glare was devouring her in the mirror, she realized she'd made a tactical error.
"Khloe?" he growled.
"I'm sorry. It won't happen again," she promised.
"Oh, I'm quite certain it won't. Not after I get through with you."
She wasn't sure what he meant, but the skin on her ass physically prickled as if it knew it would be paying the price for her foolishness.
Ryder released her abruptly, shoving her upper body forward, pressing his hand against her back until she was bent over the back of the makeup chair in front of her. She thrust her hands out in time to catch herself on the armrests of the stationary chair. While she struggled to stop her forward trajectory, she felt his knee inserted between her legs as he then used his shoe to kick her high-heeled feet wider and wider until she felt obscenely open. Instead of stabilizing her, the awkward position forced her body weight to rest against the padded back of the chair she'd spent hours in having her makeup and hair attended to in the recent weeks.
Once he had her positioned the way he wanted her, he gave his next order. "Don't move a fucking inch."
Too afraid to disobey, she stood frozen as she felt him lift the hem of her dress up and across her back, exposing her thong panties and milky white ass cheeks to his hungry gaze. Not that they gave her even an ounce of protection for what she suspected was coming, it still shocked her when he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her underwear and yanked them down to her knees. With her legs splayed open, the fabric stretched, digging into the flesh of her legs.
She waited anxiously for his palm to connect with her now-bare ass. As much as she dreaded the pain that was certain to come, she couldn't deny the equal measure of excitement coursing through her, injected into her veins by his raw dominance.
When he reached around her to pick up the wooden paddle brush Randy had left on the counter, she tried to stand, but he anticipated her move. His palm laid on her lower back, holding her in place easily.
"Khloe..." Her name was a warning to obey.
"Please..." It was a futile attempt at changing his mind. Manipulating men had become rather easy for the talented actress. She could usually get her way one way or another with most men, but in Ryder Helms, she knew she'd met her match. She'd witnessed him in his dominant glory at Black Light on Valentine's Day and she knew he wouldn't be swayed by begging or tears. In a sick way, she respected him because of it. He didn't let anyone manipulate him or his decisions, once made. And right now that meant she was about to have her ass lit up.
He didn't pull any punches. There was no warm up. The first crash of the flat wooden paddle-brush on her right butt cheek made an alarmingly loud splat that filled the trailer. The pain of the swat caught up to her brain just as the next strike connected with her left ass cheek. It had only been two smacks, yet already her bottom felt like she'd sat on a nest of wasps. The skin of her butt prickled and stung from the heavy thud of continuing lashes against her behind. While Ryder kept his attention on her bottom, Khloe watched his profile in the mirror, trying to focus on the masculine scruff on his chin or the salt-and-pepper grey streaks through his dark hair, both reminding her he was all man. Dominant. Aggressive. Sexy, man.
Tears pricked at her eyes as she struggled not to call out, not wanting Trevor to be alarmed that she was being hurt, yet her paddling continued on with pounding regularity until she couldn't hold still any longer. The burn was too intense. She tried to stand, but he easily subdued her in her prone position. She wriggled her ass wildly, trying to move away from her punishment, but he only used his left arm to hug her around her waist, pulling her flush against his body as his right hand rained down even harder and faster. Back and forth until she started begging him to stop.
"Please, stop! It's enough! I've learned my lesson." When her begging failed, she changed tactics. "I can't cry like this. It's ruining my makeup and we don't have time to redo hair and makeup! Apollo is gonna kill me if I fuck up the shoot!"
It was the truth.
He finished her off with a half-dozen wallops a bit lower that hurt so bad she lost the battle and cried out, "Please, stop!"
Her cries triggered Trevor's pounding on the door again. "Goddammit, Helms, open the fucking door."
Through her tears she watched him in the mirror as he inspected his handy work as if he were admiring artwork on a canvas. Satisfied he'd properly roasted her bottom, he looked up and caught her glare. She could see his panic had receded, but that was the only emotion that had diminished. His eyes shone with raw authority that had an odd way of making her feel safe. He rested his right hand on her bottom as if he enjoyed feeling the heat of her skin, but she didn't complain. His light caresses helped take away a bit of the sting.
"What do you have to say, Khloe?"
His question confused her. She stumbled on her words a bit until she forced out, "I already apologized."
"I'm glad you're sorry, but that's not what I'm waiting for."
Genuinely at a loss, she waited until he instructed her. "You'll thank me after a punishment."
The man was a lunatic. The look on her face must have portrayed her sentiment because his hand lifted and swats started raining down again.
"Stop! Enough!" Those words had no impact on her situation until she added, "Thank you!"
The thrashing stopped as soon as she said the two small words, and she finally let go of the tension of her body when he stepped away from her, letting her collapse with relief, dropping herself across the back of the padded chair where she struggled to catch her breath.
>
She was too lost in her own thoughts to wonder where Ryder had gone until he returned, resuming his position on her left. The light stroking of his left hand on her hair and back calmed her farther so when she felt the cold, wet finger pressing against her exposed pucker Khloe tried to shoot out of the chair like a cannon. He was ready for her reaction, pressing her body back into her prone position as she felt one of his fingers slip inside her anus.
Damned if what he was doing to her most private body part didn't feel confusingly glorious. The insertion and removal of what felt like his middle finger gained speed until he was slowly finger fucking her ass. As nice as it felt, it was her pussy that was desperate for his touch. Instead, he removed his finger altogether, much to her regret.
Only seconds later, the press of something much larger than Ryder's finger was pressing for entry in her backdoor. As the first inch of the toy disappeared inside her, the stretch began to hurt. The sharp pang of pain as he forced the hard object deeper had her tensing and renewing her struggle to wiggle away, but he was having none of it.
"You had problems remembering the rules and consequences. This is my reminder to keep you on track. If it bothers you, then I suggest you follow instructions in the future to avoid being plugged."
His words marked his sincerity because he gave the thick dildo a hard push and it shoved home, the widest part right before the end flange stretched her puckered hole obscenely wide until it slipped inside her lubed opening. Once the flange was the only part sticking out of her body, the pain stopped, leaving her feeling uncomfortably full.
Khloe collapsed over the chair again, suddenly feeling completely drained of energy. When she felt his continued touching in the area, she looked into the mirror in time to see him take the cheesy bracelet he'd asked her to wear out of his pocket. She couldn't see what he was up to, but he was focused on the hitchhiker protruding from her ass and realized too late that he was oddly wrapping the bracelet around the flange.
Unable at first to understand his motive, she allowed Ryder to lift her feet one at a time to move them to a more comfortable position before pulling her tiny panties back up her legs, settling the thin strip of fabric of her thong against the portion of the plug sticking out of her body.
