Naughty Ransom Holiday Tales Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Warnings: Non-con, kidnapping, explicit sexual content, dubious consent, loss of virginity, chloroform…Does contain spoilers for Knives Out though we’re straying away from the story a little bit…Read the warnings! It’s going to be a rough ride for a few chapters.

Relationships: Ransom Drysdale/Reader

Marta Cabrera’s cracked phone screen lit up. An unknown number. Of course. A burner phone most likely.

Benoit Blanc had been expecting this call.

Marta’s dark eyes widened on him. “What do I do?”

“Answer it,” the detective told her.

With a shaking hand, the young woman at the center of the mystery he’d been investigating for the last week picked up the phone and answered it.

“Hello,” she whispered thinly.

Moving next to her on the cheap couch in her family’s apartment, Benoit could hear the deep voice of Ransom Drysdale, confirming his suspicions.

“How is everything going?” she asked, the pitch of her voice rising. “What do you think?”

Ransom Drysdale had disappeared from his grandfather’s house the day Marta had asked to meet with the family to tell them what she thought happened to Harlan Thrombey. Marta believed that she’d accidentally killed him with a fatal dose of morphine erroneously administered.

Thanks to a toxicology report Fran the housekeeper had obtained and had managed to let Marta know the location of while she was still alive, Marta had proof that she’d given Harlan the correct medications that night.

Since the older gentleman had left all his worldly possessions to his nurse and friend instead of his family, the Thrombeys were upset and demanding that she renounce the inheritance. If she didn’t, they were threatening to bring her up on charges of involuntary manslaughter. She may not have given him a fatal dose of morphine, but she’d led him to believe she had and that had been his motivation in taking his own life.

The family wouldn’t even need a criminal conviction to contest her inheritance using the Slayer Rule. If they could prove in civil court that her actions caused Harlan’s death, the family could be successful causing her to lose the inheritance and claiming it for themselves.

And someone had injected Fran with a lethal dose of morphine. From Marta’s bag which she’d regained possession of at that crime scene. A case logistically could be made that she tried to kill Fran working under the belief that she’d caused Harlan’s death and needed to get her hands on the only known copy of the toxicology report since someone had burnt the facility where the evidence was stored and where the report originated to the ground.

Marta claimed that Fran had said the words “Hugh did this” before she lost consciousness. But she had no way to prove that.

Marta Cabrera claimed she didn’t burn the facility, didn’t try to kill Fran, and Benoit believed her.

Given what the young woman had told him about her discussions with Ransom Drysdale, Benoit knew, he truly did, that Harlan’s own grandson was the true culprit here.

And his family had closed ranks, supporting Ransom and stating the belief that he couldn’t possibly be involved.

Ransom had fled before they could question him with the information they now had. It was essential that they bring him in.

For Marta’s sake.

Benoit understood that Ransom was trying to keep his playboy trust-fund lifestyle. The night of Harlan’s death, he’d told his grandson he was cutting him off.

But it seemed the money wasn’t all the Drysdale boy wanted.

And for all the trouble she was in, Marta only had one worry and it wasn’t for herself. It was the disappearance of her sister.

“Where is she?” Marta’s eyes were glassy with tears.

Benoit heard him ask who.

“Ransom, don’t do this,” Marta pleaded. “I know you took her. I don’t know what happened between you in the car on the 4th of July, but she was scared. Of you.”

Benoit thought he heard Ransom ask if she were alone. He nodded to her.

“Yes,” Marta said into the phone.

Grabbing the phone, Benoit covered the speaker while Marta threw up bile into the small wastebasket he’d found. He handed the phone back to her quickly.

Leaning closer, Benoit listened.

“Think of her as my insurance policy,” Ransom said. “As long as I get my part of the inheritance, she stays safe and happy.”

Benoit could feel Marta’s anxiety escalate. “Ransom, your family Is doing their damnedest to have me charged with manslaughter and to strip me of the inheritance under the Slayer Rule. If they succeed, I can’t give you anything.”

“Guess you better make sure you get me my money before that happens,” he said tersely.

“What?” Marta was panicking. “I didn’t try to kill, Fran. I didn’t try to harm Harlan. You know this because you—”

“You can’t prove I was involved in any of it,” Ransom cut her off.

“Ransom, please,” Marta was in tears now.

Benoit placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. The poor thing had been through hell the last couple f weeks. And now her sister had been taken.

“Please, don’t hurt her,” Marta begged him. “Bring her back. Come back and confess to what you did.”

A dry humorless laugh. “Yeah, I’ll expect my portion of the inheritance, actually double that, sent to my personal account by the end of the week. You make that happen, yeah?”

“And once I do, you bring her back?” she pleaded.

Benoit shook his head. Poor Marta.

When he didn’t say anything to that, the young woman’s face crumbled.

“It’s kidnapping, Ransom,” Marta told him tearfully. “You won’t get away with it.”

“Is it though?”

“She’s not with you willingly,” Marta replied. “I know it.”

“The money, Marta,” Ransom said in a warning tone. “By close of business Friday.”

***

“There she is,” his voice reached you in the darkness of restless sleep.

You were warm and comfortable aside from a dull headache. Your throat hurt a little too. You could have been lying in your own bed at home.

Then you remembered that you never made it back to your apartment and your eyes flew open.

You were in a bed, under the covers, but it wasn’t yours. Bright sunlight filtered into the room across the bed and your heart began to race as his shadow appeared on the soft white bedding.

Ransom stood next to the bed grinning at you. His hands were in the pockets of his pressed gray trousers. The baby blue sweater he wore stretched across the muscled wall of his chest, made his eyes stand out.

And those eyes with that devilish glint were on you.

Your gaze darted around you quickly. It was a nice room, nice bed. A four-poster bed made of rich, dark wood. The walls were dark forest green and there were some furniture pieces in the same dark wood as the bed. Ornate, pewter lamps were placed strategically through the room and delicate, lace curtains decorated the tall windows around the room.

Everything in just this room probably cost more than your entire life so far.

You jerked when Ransom sat down on the edge of the bed, still grinning.

“Why am I here, Ransom?” you asked as calmly as you could manage. “Where are we?”

A large hand slid across the bed to cover your knee. You immediately shifted away from that touch.

Ransom smirked at you.

“I thought I told you to come back that night,” he reminded you.

Oh, you remembered. You shook your head.

“Why would I have gone back?” you asked carefully. “I was just there to pick up Marta.”

Ransom scooted closer to you. “Because I told you to come back.”

Your shoes weren’t on. You were still wearing the clothes you remembered wearing. Slowly you began to slide towards the other side of the bed.

“Where are we?” you repeated, moving again.

Ransom just watched you, his gaze moving over you in a way that had alarm bells going off in your head.

You needed to find a way out of there. Right now.

After a moment, he sighed.

“Well, it seems that my grandfather left his entire estate to your sister,” Ransom said as if he were bored.

So it was true. Harlan’s own family was so bad he disinherited them?

“You and y-your family… must be upset,” you said, still moving slowly toward the other side of the bed.

“I don’t give a shit if my family is upset,” Ransom said, his gaze on the comforter. “Fuck ‘em.”

Before you could say anything else, his attention was back on you.

“I’ll get my portion of it,” he told you. “Your sister is going to give it to me.”

You would have thought it was funny if you weren’t in the position you were in and scared as hell. Ransom was holding you for ransom?

“So you took me to… m-make Marta give you your part of the inheritance?” you asked, moving closer to the far edge of the bed.

“Well,” his gaze darkened on you, “that’s not the only reason.”

Your hand had just reached the edge of the bed.

Ransom’s hand slid to cover your ankle.

“I’ve got to lay low for a while until all this blows over,” he explained, his hand tightening on your ankle. “And you are going to be my entertainment.”

Your heart raced as you threw yourself off the bed, pulling against his grip with all you had.

And you pulled free, hitting the floor hard with a thud. Scrambling, you pulled yourself up off the floor and took off.

You’d just reached the bedroom door when Ransom slammed it shut in your face and then pushed you up against it hard, your cheek against the wood.

“No,” you were chanting, struggling to breathe and scared.

Ransom crowded you against the door, one hand fisting in your hair and yanking your head back harshly. The other wrapped around your upper body, pinning your arms.

“I don’t think you’re understanding how this is going to work, pumpkin,” Ransom hissed in your ear as he pulled on your hair, pain blooming in your scalp. “You’re not going anywhere but under me. You understand?”

“Please don’t,” you begged him, in tears now. “Please…”

Ransom licked a stripe up your neck, and you shuddered in his clutches in fear.

“But you’re so pretty when you beg me, pumpkin.” His grip on your hair, on your body, tightened. His hips ground against your lower back, the hard, hot ridge of him nudging into you insistently.

You managed to get your hands up, planting them on the door and trying to push off, to pull away from him. You got a hand on the doorknob—

“No, you don’t.” Ransom released your hair, getting both arms around you and hauling you back toward the bed.

You kicked, you screamed, you thrashed in his hold. Ransom was a lot bigger than you were, but you weren’t going down without a fight. When he threw you down on the bed face first, you clawed at the bedding wildly, trying to get away from him.

Ransom tackled you, manhandling you onto your back and dragging you to the center of the bed. He managed to grab both of your wrists as he climbed over you. You managed to land a solid kick to his ribs. You knew from the way he flinched that it hurt.

He released one of your wrists only long enough to slap you across the face. The blow stung and it stunned you long enough for him to recover your wrist and to drop his weight on you, to slot himself between your legs.

You recovered to him trying to kiss you again and you turned your head from side to side to avoid him. It was easy enough for him to clasp both of your wrists in one strong hand so he could grab your chin with the other, holding your head in place for his demanding kiss.

When you weren’t kissing him back, making him fight to hold you down, his hot lips skimmed along your jaw to your neck. Ransom worked at the hollow beneath your ear, finding your weak point and zeroing in on it. Your core tightened despite the fact that you didn’t agree to this.

“Ransom, please,” you were begging him. “Let me go…”

Dropping kisses down your neck to your chest, he released you only long enough to grab the hem of your top. Roughly he hauled it up and off your body, plucking at your front-clasp bra next and sending to flying off the bed.

You fought with everything you had trying to get out from under him. He easily grabbed you, pinned you back into place beneath him as a hand skimmed over your exposed breasts.

“Please.” Tears seeped from your eyes and you were tiring. “Ransom, I’ve never… I’m…”

That had him lifting his head and smiling up at you.

“I knew you lied to me, pumpkin,” he told you. “I knew no one else has had you.”

When his lips closed around one of your nipples, you sobbed above him. He wasn’t going to stop. And somehow you didn’t think you’d be able to make him feel sorry for you. Not someone like him.

“Stop,” you pleaded when his lips chained kisses across to your other breast. “It’s not… too late.” His tongue lashed against the tight peak of your other breast and it took your breath away for a moment. “You don’t want to add… rape… on top of everything… do you?”

That stopped him. Ransom looked wrecked, his lips red and swollen, his cheeks flushed as he panted above you.

“On top of everything?” Ransom huffed a laugh. “Baby, I’m innocent until proven guilty. And no one is going to find me guilty of anything.”

Your heart lurched in fear at his words. Ransom was insane then?

“And,” his hand slid down your body, forcing its way into your jeans, your panties. His fingers dove into your private folds and your eyes squeezed closed at how easily his fingers slid against the wet petals of your sex.

He pulled that hand free, his fingers held up for you to see your own juices shining off them.

“You can’t rape the willing, pumpkin,” he told you with a wink.

You shook your head, unable to stop him when he wiped those fingers over your lower lip before sealing his mouth over yours, sharing the taste of you. Ransom moaned low into your mouth, enticing you with demanding kisses as his hand started plucking at your jeans.

“Can you taste how much you want me?” he whispered against your lips.

He straddled your waist now, grabbing the hem of that baby blue sweater and pulling it off.

You were momentarily distracted by the display of muscle and smooth skin. You didn’t even remember to fight him. Hair a shade darker than the light brown on his head sprinkled across his wide chest. You took it all in. Broad shoulders, powerful arms, and those abs.

Ransom’s dark chuckle confirmed that he caught you ogling him.

“That’s it, pumpkin,” Ransom whispered. “Take it all in.”

When you surged up, he wrapped a hand around your neck and pushed you back down while his other hand plucked at the button fly of his slacks.

Now you were scared. You hadn’t seen his sex yet but from the looks of the bulge at the front of those expensive slacks, he was big.

And you were untried.

“Ransom,” you whispered. “It’s not too late… take me home and I swear, Marta will give you the money…”

He released your neck long enough to work the front of your jeans.

“I’m going to get the money anyway,” he explained as his fingers hooked into both your jeans and panties and began to pull them down your body.

You fought with him but in the end his strength and determination to bare you to him won. He pulled off your socks and then hauled you back to the center of the bed when you tried to make a run for it.

“Ransom,” you pleaded. “Take me home. Please… I won’t say anything. I promise.”

Reaching over your head, Ransom grabbed the pashmina you saw him wearing on Valentine’s Day, the first night you’d met.

Your trembling was so bad that you couldn’t put up much of a fight as he used the huge wool scarf to tie your wrists together and somehow fasten them to the wooden headboard. Your heart raced as he finished, and you tried frantically to pull your arms free.

Panic began to take over as you realized just how helpless you were here. You didn’t know where you were, and no one had heard your screams so far. Ransom had you tied to the bed and could do anything he wanted with you.

Were you going to survive? Would you even see Marta again?

Sitting on his heels over you, Ransom took you in, smirking.

“It’s been a long time since I took someone’s cherry.” Leaning forward, he dipped his head to tease one of your nipples with his mouth. “I like the idea of taking yours.”

His mouth pressed to your ribs, your stomach as his body shifted lower on the bed.

“I like the idea that no one else has been in your before.” More kisses dropped on your tummy, your thighs.

Hooking your knees over his elbows, he pulled you flat and situated himself between your quivering thighs.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he admonished you as the tears returned. “I’m fucking good at this… You’re going to be begging me to fuck you when I’m done.”

You couldn’t look. You’d read about oral sex before, heard other women talk about it. You always thought it would be something you’d be willing to experience.

But not like this.

And just like that, his mouth was on you and you jerked at first at the unfamiliarity of it. One heavy hand held your hips down on the bed. The fingers of the other were spreading you apart. When his tongue slid up from your entrance to your clit, you sucked in a breath. When his tongue settled in to flick against that sensitive bundle of nerves and he held you still for it, you thought you’d lose your mind.

Your hands tried desperately free of their bonds while you tried to dig your heels into the bed, into his back. Anything to pull the most sensitive part of yourself away from him.

The wicked gleam in those blue eyes as he watched you told you he was enjoying your distress. The more you tried to free yourself from him, the more he went at you. His tongue was busy in your folds, teasing your clit and sliding down to tease your entrance at turns.

Slowly his mouth worked you up until your toes were curling and your thighs were trying to close around his ears. The sensation swelled feeling wonderful and threatening all at once. Your entire body tensed like a bowstring.

Ransom doubled his efforts, his tongue darting in and out of your channel in a wicked tease that left you feeling empty, left you wanting. Your breathy cries filled the room. When one strong finger slid into you, you gasped, the touch pushing you closer to your release. When the second finger joined it and they began sliding against your inner walls, your body was trying to clamp around them. His tongue went back up to tease your aching clit and you felt like you were about to blow apart.

When those busy fingers found one particular spot in you, you shattered. Cries and screams filled the room as he kept the tension on, dragging out your release until the pleasure almost blended with pain. You were panting above him, stunned and writhing on the bed he’d bound you to. You were vaguely aware that he’d released your wrists.

The smug smirk on his face swam before your eyes as you recovered. His mouth claimed yours as he loomed over you, filling your mouth with your own taste as his tongue demanded entry and pushed inside to tangle with yours.

“See how good your little pussy tastes?” Ransom whispered against your lips. “Nobody’s eaten you before, have they?”

Ransom really seemed to be getting off on being your first. Why was that exciting to someone like him?

You didn’t respond but his gaze searched yours and you knew he drew his answer from that.

“I told you I was good at it,” he whispered. “I’ve been wanting to get my mouth on you for months.”

One hand had slid down and pulled his cock from his trousers. He worked himself with his hand and a quick glance down showed you that, yeah, he was big. If that even fit, it was going to hurt like hell.

“Now,” he shifted so that you felt the swollen head of him sliding through the wetness of your folds, “I need to get my cock in you… Get you opened up for me.”

You were shaking your head no, pleading with your eyes as you tried to catch your breath.

Ransom stole more kisses from your lips, moaning into it as he stroked himself.

“Shhh.” There was pressure as he pushed against your entrance. “You let me get this far… we’re fucking…”

“I didn’t… let you do anything,” you said pitifully.

More pressure, it burned as your body tried to stretch around him.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” Ransom ground out as he pushed in more. “Gonna— Fuck! You’re fucking tight… Gonna fuck you so good… you won’t want anyone else…”

When he pushed further, he reached your barrier and you sucked in a breath. His gaze met yours, his dark and heated with the desire to shove himself inside you until he couldn’t go further. Your heart slammed in your chest as you waited, your channel hurting and pulsing around the thick shaft of him pushing into your untried channel.

With a low growl, his cock tore into you, the sharp pain had you crying out and releasing the breath you didn’t know you’d held onto. Your hands worked to push him back, push him away. He caught them easily and held them down on the bed, moving over you and beginning to push deeper with careful, slow movements.

It still hurt to the point that you were blinking back tears, still desperately trying to get out from under him. To get away from him.

But soon enough he was buried deep inside you, and he held there.

Carefully he slid out, his gaze darting to where his body was shoved into yours and he winced. When his gaze lifted back to yours, his grip on your hands eased just a little. Ransom draped himself over you without putting his weight on you. It was warm, intimate. It would have been perfect if this were a man you loved and you were someone who mattered.

As it was, you just let the tears come as he pinned you to the bed. It hurt, your flesh burning and stinging as it stretched around his invasion.

“Hey,” Ransom whispered, drawing your attention to him. He released one wrist, reaching for your knee and pulling it up to his hip. On instinct, you did the same thing with your other leg, your thighs shaking around him.It did help a little.

“Easy,” he whispered, his hand gentle as it stayed on your hip. “Try to relax… Breathe.”

Slowly, he pushed back in and you winced. A muscle at his jaw twitched as he slid out, but not all the way. Gently, he slid back in. The careful back and forth motion hurt less and less as he moved. Hovering above you, he watched your face, gauging your reaction as he carefully worked himself inside you.

You were ashamed of yourself but couldn’t look away. You found Ransom just as beautiful as you had the first time you saw him, even if he did call you a hooker. His handsome face, those beautiful blue eyes. He was gorgeous…

But there was a beast inside him, and he was rutting into you like one, against your will.

When the pain eased, Ransom’s movements gained in speed, but his strokes remained careful. And you were grateful. He’d lowered himself over you, holding his weight on his forearms. You’d wrapped your arms around him and just hung on, waiting for him to finish.

But that wasn’t what he had in mind.

One hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and beginning to tease it with the pads of his fingers.

“Please don’t,” you begged breathlessly as he worked you, the subtle movement of his fingers never ceasing.

“You don’t want me to make you come again?” Ransom’s tongue teased the shell of your ear. That combined with his fingers to make you clamp around him tightly. “Oh, I think you do… Fuck, that’s it… squeeze me… I want you to come on my cock, baby… I want you to crave it… crave me…”

As he’d done earlier, he’d found a rhythm and worked you relentlessly, groaning when your channel clenched around him because of the onslaught of pleasure that you weren’t used to. It didn’t help that his mouth found every place that drove you wild around your ears, neck, shoulders…

Finally, your body surrendered to his will, pleasure exploding in your core and spreading out through your veins like fire. You hung onto him with frantic hands, your legs clamped around his slip hips. Your pussy pulsed around him, squeezing him as the release shook you to your core.

Ransom’s thrusts quickened as he moved harder, faster. His mouth dropped open, his own release about to swamp him as his movements sped up. With the last bit of strength you had, you clenched around him hard and it worked. Ransom shouted as he found his release within you, his grip on your tightening until it almost hurt as he pumped his release into you.

Ransom rolled off you, dropping heavily next to you on the bed. His breath came as fast as yours.

You were shaking, sitting up to find the covers to pull over yourself anyway. You’d just reached them when you saw the blood, staining your thighs, staining the pristine white sheets beneath you. A quick glance over at his cock showed it smeared with your blood and his own release.

The tears came on then at the stark red proof of what he’d taken from you. You shook your head. Selfish asshole. You were just another possession to him, something to take and use as he did with everything sand everyone else.

One blue eye slit open and then he was gazing up at you.

You braced yourself, ready for his scorn, mockery. Now that he’d gotten what he wanted from you…

Sitting up next to you, he surprised you by wrapping his arms around you. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, his hands sliding up and down your back. “It’s not a big deal. Everybody goes through this… You’re what? Early twenties? It was time.”

You shook your head, your tears smearing against his chest. “It should have been my choice,” you whispered.

“And who would you have chosen? Some loser from school?” a hint of his usual sarcasm bled into his words. “You couldn’t do better than a Thrombey.”

Why was he like this? Being a Thrombey made him better than you?

“Someone I loved would have… been better than a Thrombey,” you told him bitterly.

“Love, huh?” He still held you, his hands gentle as they smoothed over you. “Yeah… You keep believing in that.”

That pissed you off. The man holding you had kidnapped you, dragged you off to God-knows-where, raped you, and now his arrogant ass had the nerve to lecture you about love of all things?

“What would you know about that?” you shot at him, pushing at him until he released you.

Ransom looked at you like you’d slapped him across the face as you climbed out of the bed.

What was that look? Someone like him couldn’t possibly understand caring about anyone but himself.

With shaking hands, you began to fish your clothes out of the floor, desperate to cover yourself.

He hopped off the bed and made his way around to you, naked as the day he was born and comfortable in his own skin.

He approached you like you were a frightened animal, preventing you from scooping up your clothes. With a hand at your back, he guided you out of the room and into a good-sized bathroom next door.

“Why don’t you soak in the tub?” he suggested almost awkwardly now, grabbing a white robe from the back of the bathroom door and pulling it on. “Should have everything you need here. I’ll change the bed out.”

You just stared as he made his way back out the door of the bathroom and he closed it behind him.

Wait. He’d just left you in the bathroom? Alone?

Now was your chance to escape.

There was a pink silk robe on the back of the door. It would have to do. You pulled it on and went for the doorknob, ready to run like hell to freedom from wherever you were.

The doorknob wouldn’t budge.

What the…?

Bathrooms locked from the inside, not the outside. You turned the lock, thinking you’d just failed to unlock the door, and tried again.

It wouldn’t budge.

Fuck.

Glancing around, you spied a window next to the tub. Yanking on the cord to open the clean, white vertical blinds covering it, you saw a beautiful frosted window.

With thick black bars on the other side.

What the hell?

You tried the door again, you checked the window for any way you could possibly get out.

When the realization that you weren’t going anywhere right now hit you, you leaned back against the bathroom door, slid down to the floor, and had yourself a good cry.

“Marta,” you whimpered to the empty bathroom. “Please come find me…”