Rough, calloused fingers grip my cheeks, forcing my head back at an unnatural angle, and I find myself staring up into a pair of glittering onyx eyes.
“I did,” the man hovering over me says with a growl, and every inch of my body seems to come alive at the sound. “And if you don’t settle down right now, little girl, I will do it again.”
Holy fuck.
He’sgorgeous.
Not in the Hollywood kind of way. He’s far too rugged for that. A thick black beard covers most of his face, but it doesn’t detract from his hotness. If anything, it adds to it, making him seem rougher, harsher.
More… dangerous.
Above the beard, his nose is slightly crooked, and there’s a light scar just beneath one of his piercing eyes. Not only is he hot as fuck—which I am rather reluctant to admit with my butt still burning from where he spanked me like a child—he’shuge. I’ve never considered myself petite, but staring up at this giant of a man I feel positively tiny. And I’m hit with the realization that he could do whatever he wants with me and there’s absolutely nothing I could do to fight him off.
The knowledge sets my nerves on fire—and I’m not sure if it’s with arousal or terror.
“Please let me go.” The words come out as a terrified whisper, because some part of me recognizes that the only remote chance I have of escaping this brute of a man is appealing to whatever humanity he may have in him. “Please, I won’t tell anyone anything. I’ll forget I ever saw your face. Just let me go home and we can pretend this never even happened.”
“Afraid I can’t do that, little one.”
“Yes, you can. Just open the door and point me in the direction of the nearest town and I’ll be on my way. You’ll never see me or hear from me again, I swear.”
The sigh seems to come from somewhere deep inside him as the giant shakes his head. “Even if I wanted to let you go, which I do not, you wouldn’t get very far in this storm.”
“Storm? What storm?”
Still gripping my cheeks, he turns my head toward a window. And my stomach plummets to my knees as I stare out into the swirling whitenothingness.
Before I can fully process what I’m seeing, he turns me back to face him, his expression softening somewhat. “I know it’s scary, little one. But Daddy is going to take good care of you. Starting with making sure there’s no lingering damage from your time out in the cold.”
Daddy?
Somehow, I don’t think he’s talking about my father.
But I don’t have time to even form the question before his gaze shifts up, and he gives an almost imperceptible nod of his head. Another hand, just as large and rough but somehow completely different, takes hold of my ass, spreading my cheeks apart.
Again that clawing panic tears at my throat. “Get off me, you bastards!”
The hand on my face tightens, and the rest of my protests turn to ash on my tongue at the fury blazing in those dark eyes. “Once Uncle Ford has finished your exam, you are going over Daddy’s knee for a lesson in manners, little girl. And unless you want that lesson to include a whipping with Daddy’s belt, you will keep a civil tongue in your mouth from now on. Am I understood?”
I still have no idea what’s going on, where I am, or who these giant, terrifying men are. But I do know one thing—Iabsolutelydo not want to be whipped with a belt by him or anyone else.
Calling upon what little self-preservation I have, I nod as best I can with him still holding my face in his hand. “Y-yes. I understand.”
“Good girl. Now, Uncle Ford is going to take your temperature and you need to be very still. We don’t want the glass breaking off in your bottom.”
“Why is it going in my—” I hesitate at the word “ass”, thinking better of it at the last minute. “In my bottom?”
“Because that’s how Little girls get their temperature taken.”
There’s a tug as my panties are pulled down and off my legs, and then something cold and wet presses against my exposed hole. It takes every ounce of courage I have not to fight as it’s pushed deeper inside my ass, which I only manage to do because I am actually very concerned about the thermometer breakingoff inside me if I move too much. “I’m not a child,” I manage to whisper. “I’m a grown woman. I’m supposed to be getting married today.”
I don’t really know why I told him that, considering I ran away from my own wedding. But maybe he thinks I’m younger than I am, maybe he thinks the wedding dress is for some other occasion. Maybe if I can show him I’m notactuallya child, he’ll stop treating me like one.
Whatever hope that thought process might have inspired dies a quick death in my chest as the man who calls himself Daddy smiles. “I was wondering about the dress. You aren’t married, then.”
“No.” It isn’t until I actually say the word out loud that I realize my mistake. “I–I mean, I didn’t say the vows or anything but Iamgetting married. He’ll come looking for me soon. My family will come looking for me. The whole church will.”
But will they?The question slithers through my brain, leaving behind a slick, oily feeling that coats my insides. Will anyone actually care enough to come searching for me? Or will they simply write me off, forget I ever existed?
