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Chapter 17
Dolly
This motherfucker!
This is the second time Wyatt has thrown me over his shoulder and forced me into a truck. After living with an abusively controlling man for eighteen years, I should be livid with Wyatt trying to exert his control over me—which I am…partially. But the other part of me, the bigger and louder part, is rejoicing at the fact that he doesn’t want me to leave because he wants to protect me, even if he’d be better off without me.
Maybe I’m just being naive again, but I’m starting to think he honestly does care about me and my safety. He promised not to leave me again after our fight, but I didn’t fully believe him.
I do now.
I have no idea where we’re going other than that we’re going “home”. But where his home is, I still don’t know. Fifteen minutes later, we pull up to a two-story apartment complex that looks like it houses about twelve units. There are two stairwells, one on each end, with a long concrete walkway facing the near-empty parking lot. Wyatt turns off the ignition and quickly comes around to my side.
“Welcome home, babygirl.”
I narrow my eyes, and a garbled version of “Fuck you” comes out.
Pretty sure he understood me, though, because he narrows his eyes right back at me. Wyatt swings my legs out so that I’m facing him, then spreads them to stand between my knees, running his hands up and down my thighs. I can’t help the spark of desire it elicits, his large, warm hands on my body, slowly stroking me over my leggings.
“If I take this gag off, you promise not to start screaming like a lunatic again?” I let out an annoyed sigh, though it’s not as effective with the stupid bandana muffling the sound, then roll my eyes and nod. At that, he smiles and unties the bandana. “Good girl.”
“Yeah, yeah. Now, how about you untie my hands?”
Wyatt grips my hips and slides me further across the seat until his pelvis is nestled right up against my core. I suck in a breath as he rocks his erection against me.
“I don’t know…I kinda like having you tied up and at my mercy like this.” Despite my best efforts, I feel my pussy respond, though I try not to let the pleasure I feel show in my expression. “But I will if you ask me nicely and promise not to run away.”
“Fine! Will you please untie my hands?”
“Nah, babygirl. You know what I want to hear.” He rolls his hips, spreading my legs a little wider to grind himself even harder against my slicked sex.
“Will you please untie my hands, Daddy?” I bat my eyelashes for added effect. “I promise I’ll be a good girl and won’t run away.”
That does it, and once again, he flips me over so I’m chest down on the bench seat, feet on the ground, and he thrusts his thick bulge against my ass. Another light slap across my ass cheeks, and he finally unties my hands.
Once he backs up, I stand and spin to face him, jamming my pointer finger into his chest. “What was that for? I told you what you wanted to hear!”
“That, babygirl, was just for me.” He darts forward to plant a kiss on my lips before backing away.
He grabs our bags with one hand, latches onto my hand with the other, and leads me up the stairs, stopping in front of the second door on the left. There’s no doormat like some of the other units, but he does have one of those fancy doorbells with a camera on it. Wyatt unlocks the door and swings it open, gently pushing me forward with a hand on my back.
“Home sweet home,” he says, dropping our bags inside the door and throwing the deadbolt to lock us in.
I catch something in his voice but ignore it as I sweep my gaze around his home. It’s a studio-style apartment, so it’s all one big room. The kitchen portion is to my right, with a small white card table and a single metal folding chair. There are two doors just past the kitchen that I assume lead to a bathroom and closet. He has a queen-sized bed tucked into the corner along the back wall, facing the only window in the unit on the front wall to my left.
And that’s it.
Other than the red plaid comforter and sheets on the bed, there’s no color here. The walls are off-white and completely bare. There are no pictures, trophies, or a shelf of books. He doesn’t even have a TV.
Wyatt is silent as I take everything in, and when I’m done, he says in a subdued tone, “I know it’s not much, but I don’t need much since I spend most of my time on the road. I sold most of the furniture when Crystal left, and she took everything else.” He looks almost embarrassed as his eyes rove over the apartment like mine just did. “But now that you’re here, we can get a few things you might need so it looks more like a home and less like a motel room.”
I nod but stop when I realize what he said. “Who’s Crystal?” And why does hearing him say another woman’s name raise my hackles?
Wyatt blows out a breath and moves to sit on the bed. “Crystal was my fiancée.”
“Fiancée? You were engaged? As in, you loved someone so much you asked her to be your wife?”
What the hell, Dolly? Calm your tits, and stop acting like a jealous girlfriend.
