Naughty Ransom Holiday Tales Chapter 3

Chapter 3

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

You ended up taking that bath, filling the tub with water as hot as you could tolerate it and rose-scented bath oils that did smell heavenly. You did your best to scrub Ransom off you, out of you.

You’d been on the pill since you were fifteen because your periods had been heavy enough to cause anemia and the cramps kept you out of school one or two days each month. You were okay for now. But you were on the last active week right now and next week, your period was due.

You sent up every prayer you knew that Marta and the police managed to save you from this hell by then.

When the water cooled, you let it out, drying yourself and using the nice skin cream products you found there. The scents were comforting, and they were products you’d never be able to afford so you took advantage.

Then it occurred to you that these were women’s products. Did Ransom bring other girls here?

Wait. Did he do this to other girls?

Somehow you didn’t think so but…

Your nerves got the better of you and by the time you’d wrapped yourself up in that pink robe again, sitting against the wall next to the window, you were a wreck.

You were at Ransom Drysdale’s mercy.

Actually, you weren’t sure he had any. He’d’ wanted you. He’d had you. The ache between your thighs was a deep, painful reminder even when you moved carefully of how he’d owned you. There’d been little you could do to stop him.

When the bathroom door unlocked, Ransom walked in, wearing black silk boxers and a robe that was a deep red color that he left open to show off the muscled wall of his chest, his abs, and thighs.

“You done?” he asked casually.

As if nothing extraordinary had happened, he approached you, holding out a hand to pull you out of the floor. You took it, knowing he had to realize yours was shaking. He didn’t release your hand, holding it firmly as he led you back to the bedroom where he’d taken your virginity.

When he closed the door behind you, you pulled free of him and ran to that door. The doorknob didn’t budge. The door was locked tight.

You heard a deep sigh behind you, but he didn’t try to stop you.

“The windows are just like the ones in the bathroom,” he sounded bored. “Just trying to save you some time.”

You glanced at the windows. It was dark outside now.

And you were trapped.

With Ransom.

Fuck my life.

Slowly, you turned to find him climbing on the bed, turning on the enormous wide-screen TV mounted to the opposite wall with a remote and idly scrolling through channels. Gone was the bedding you’d bled on. The bed wasn’t made well but it was clean now.

There was a giant bag of takeout next to him on the bed, some plates and silverware next to that.

“Get over here,” he ordered you without taking his gaze off the television.

Standing there forlornly in your robe, you wrapped your arms around yourself. Still shaking, still holding yourself together.

Ransom cut you an annoyed side glance.

“You going to stand there and stare at me all night,” he said, glancing back at the TV, “or are you going to come over here? You’re not going anywhere, pumpkin. You might as well make yourself comfortable.”

Blowing out a defeated exhale, you slowly approached the bed, praying Marta knew where you were. That she was on her way.

“Make yourself useful and serve us up.”

Was this how it was going to be? He was going to bark orders at you and use you as he wanted?

There was a ton of Chinese food in the tall takeout bag. Your stomach grumbled as you hefted up the bag and carried it to the nice cabinet that you guessed held a mini-bar and a mini-fridge. At least it had a marble top so you could place the bag on it. You went back for the plates, silverware, and utensils he’d obviously grabbed without a lot of thought.

You served up plates for the two of you, his held way more food than yours did.

You weren’t eating to enjoy it. You were eating only to survive.

You carried the plate you’d made to him, holding it out while standing as far away as possible. His gaze flicked to it and back to the TV. He’d found a football game.

“Am I on a diet?” came his smartass reply. “More please.”

Asshole.

Your legs weren’t completely steady from earlier, but you did as he asked, heaping different dishes as neatly as you could on the plate and carrying it back to him. This time he grinned, sitting up and taking the plate from you.

“That’s more like it,” he winked at you before reaching over to the bedside table, handing you an unopened Stella Artois.

You took it, making your way back for your plate.

“Mmm,” the sound made you cringe, reminded you of earlier. “Good sex always makes me hungry.”

You couldn’t look back. You didn’t want him to see he’d made you cry.

Keeping your back to him, you took your own plate and your beer and gingerly sat down in the chair at the desk in the room’s far corner. You didn’t want to eat on principle. But you were hungry, and you needed to take care of yourself as much as you could to make it until Marta could get to you.

Behind you, Ransom watched his football game and ate. You hoped that he forgot you were even there.

The beer certainly helped. You didn’t drink a lot and it went to your head, taking the edge off the anxiety you fought, the soreness of your body. When you finished with your meal, habit had you going back to put everything back together, closing containers and putting everything back in the bag.

Going back to the chair, you curled up in it, grateful for the padding on the hard wood. You leaned your head against the back, dozing off in your exhaustion.

“Hey,” Ransom’s voice woke you abruptly. He stood next to you, leaning down to get on your eye level. “Need to go to the bathroom?”

You nodded.

You rose from the chair weakly, awkwardly because you were sore. You followed him to the door and watched mutely as he unlocked it with a key.

You were about to walk through to the bathroom. Ransom turned to grip your shoulder, again getting on your eye level.

“Don’t try anything stupid,” he warned you.

You blinked up at him through tired eyes. “I don’t think I’m physically capable,” was all you said.

A flash of something – remorse? regret? – flashed in those baby blue eyes as he let go of you, allowing you to move past him into the bathroom right outside the bedroom door.

When you re-entered the bedroom, you noticed the takeout was gone and Ransom wasn’t there either.

But then he was back, locking the door and balancing bottles in the crook of his arm as he pulled the door closed. Two more beers. You watched him make his way back to the bed.

You slowly returned to the chair.

“What are you doing?” he sounded annoyed. “Get over here.”

Turning your back to him, you slowly sank into the chair.

“You’re really going to sleep in that chair?”

The question caught you off guard.

“Sleep?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’m going to watch the game and probably fall asleep,” Ransom replied. “Get over here.”

When you didn’t move, you thought he’d let it go. But then you heard his feet hit the floor and his heavy footfalls drawing closer. You flinched when you felt his hand on your shoulder.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

Glancing up, you saw he’d removed the robe, standing there in just the black boxers. You tried not to focus on how he looked. What did it matter how handsome he was when he was a beast on the inside?

He held out his hand to you and in it were two small round pills. You looked closer at the number printed on one. 75/325.

“Percocet?” you asked him.

His nod told you that you’d guessed correctly.

“Wash those down and get your ass in bed,” he said pressing them into your palm and handing you another beer.

You were shaking your head and he was already walking away.

“I can’t take these,’ you replied. “Pain meds knock me out.”

“Yeah?” You saw him climb back on the bed in your peripheral vision. “Something you wanted to stay awake and do?”

You didn’t miss the suggestion in his tone.

No, all you really wanted to do was go home. With your mother and Marta. To your job hunting. To your life.

Maybe it would be better to save your strength right now. You weren’t getting out according to him. You would double-check the windows if you could catch him gone.

Twisting off the cap of the beer, you took the pain pills and swallowed them down. You knew the alcohol would just make them work faster. Maybe that was a good thing.

Would you even escape this? Would you live?

Turning in the chair so you could see him, you took a deep breath.

“Ransom?”

He didn’t pull his gaze away from the television.

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked honestly with your heart racing wildly in your chest.

When that gaze turned on you, you knew a moment of panic. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked that question. After all, if he did mean to kill you, would he tell you? Would it make it happen faster?

That gaze on you was hard to read. He stared at you intently for a few seconds, pushing your anxiety higher.

“Not part of my current plan, pumpkin,” his tone was annoyed.

“Why did Harlan leave everything to my sister?” You wanted to know.

“That’s not a bad question.” At that, he went back to watching the TV. “Especially when you consider that she killed him.”

“What?” What had he just said to you?

Ransom smirked, giving you his full attention from where he stretched out on the bed.

“Harlan… committed suicide,” you said, trying to keep calm.

Oh, God, he’s not telling the truth, right?

Marta had been so anxious, so closed off since Harlan’s death. You knew she was very sad for his loss, the loss of her job. But it had been very out of character for Marta to have been so skittish, so nervous. You swore she hadn’t acted like that since you were kids.

When she’d known she’d done something and was trying not to get caught…

No, Ransom was lying. Marta wouldn’t do anything to Harlan.

“She didn’t tell you, did she?” Ransom sat up in bed, grabbing the other beer and opening it. “The night of my grandfather’s 85^th birthday, she was at the party, right? She took him up to his room and she accidentally gave him an overdose of morphine. She didn’t have the antidote in her bag so…”

You didn’t understand, taking another drink of the beer.

“Ransom, that doesn’t make any sense.” You were still shaking in your chair. “He killed himself. His throat was cut. She said the detectives told her he cut his… his own throat. Why would he…”

“Your mother’s an illegal immigrant here, right?” Ransom stared you down.

Fuck. Had Marta told him that?

“My grandfather was very fond of your sister,” Ransom went on. “He knew if it was discovered your sister’s negligence caused his death that people would take a closer look and your mother could be deported. My grandfather’s house was too far away for an ambulance to get to him on time without the antidote. I think he did it to save your sister, honestly.”

Oh, God.

Ransom was lying. You shook your head in denial. Marta wouldn’t have screwed up the medications. You didn’t believe it. She took her job so seriously.

And to think that sweet older gentleman would go that far to save your sister? To save your family?

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” Ransom was smirking at you. “Think your sister can’t make a mistake? At least she said it was a mistake.”

You had more of the beer, your mind spinning as you considered the implications of his words.

“Wait,” you explained. “If Harlan left everything to Marta… He couldn’t have changed his will that quickly. That means…”

“He’d already made her his heir,” Ransom finished for you.

You were confused. “Why would he leave his family nothing?”

Ransom shrugged, his gaze shifting now between you and the television.

“His family is a bunch of greedy, self-absorbed assholes,” Ransom said matter-of-factly.

“And you’re not?”

Ransom grinned at you. “Touché.”

“But if you all believe my sister is responsible for his death, can’t you… contest the will?”

“Oh, you can bet my family is,” Ransom told you. “Marta’s facing the music right now. If they can prove she caused his death, she won’t get a red dime.”

You felt fuzzy. You were struggling to keep up. “If she loses the inheritance, how does that benefit you? How does it justify… you taking me?”

“Marta is going to ensure I get my inheritance by the end of this week,” Ransom explained. “After that, I don’t really give a shit who gets the rest of it. And your sister?”

You really were feeling groggy now.

“Your sister not only accidentally killed Harlan, but she may have destroyed the forensics lab where the evidence was stored,” he went on. “And she may even have killed Fran the housekeeper to cover it all up.”

You knew you had to be staring at him like he spoke a foreign language now, but you couldn’t help it. Marta? Kill someone with intent? What did Fran have to do with any of it?

You shook your head.

“Come on,” Ransom’s gaze locked with yours. “For the house, the publishing company, for $60 million in cash?”

No, Marta wouldn’t do that. Not for money.

“No,” you told him. “I don’t believe that.”

“But you’re afraid there’s a possibility,” Ransom pointed out.

You pressed a hand to your forehead, feeling tired and a little dizzy. It was the Percocets and the beer.

You still had enough wherewithal to ask one more question.

“When she gets you the money, will you let me go?” you asked carefully.

Ransom’s expression sobered then. His gaze dropped.

“Ransom?” What did that reaction mean? Was he going to kill you?

What if he was behind everything that happened to Harlan?

“How do you know that Marta did everything you’re claiming she did?”

“She told me,” Ransom replied, meeting your gaze. “And you know she has a hard time lying.”

Yes, you did know that. Marta threw up when she lied.

“She told you she accidentally gave Harlan an overdose?” you wanted to make sure.

Ransom nodded.

“And killed Fran and blew up the forensics lab?”

Ransom just held your gaze.

Your heart filled with dread. You wanted to talk to Marta. You needed to know what Ransom was telling you wasn’t true.

“Can I have my phone back?” you asked, no longer feeling like your head was attached to your body.

But the pain was muted now. That was good.

“Of course not,” Ransom said as he rose from the bed again. “Can’t have you giving away our location.”

“Where are we?” He hadn’t told you.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he moved closer to your chair, plucking the Stella Artois bottle from your hand. It was nearly empty.

When had you drunk all that?

“Are you having to lay low… because you had something to do with it all?” you wanted to know. “Is that why you took me?”

Ransom set the bottle on the marble top of the counter next to you before returning to your chair and scooping you up in his arms. You pushed weakly at his chest, but you couldn’t fight him. You were tired, sore, and buzzed.

Ransom dumped you on the bed before crawling up on it himself, crawling over you to get back to the side where he’d been sitting. Stretching out, he returned his attention to the football game.

“Answer me,” you pleaded.

Ransom didn’t look at you. “Maybe I did… Maybe it’s all Marta. Maybe it’s someone else… Either way, my grandfather is dead… I did love the old bastard.”

Was it your imagination? Or did he sound truly sad?

“Why did you take me?” You didn’t want to know the answer, but you needed to know.

“Because right now, Marta is his heir,” Ransom said slowly. “And she’s currently in the position to give me what I’m due. And she’ll give it to me if she wants you back.”

Okay, let’s try the question again. “When she gives you the money, you’ll send me back?”

Blowing out an exhale, Ransom continued to watch the game. He didn’t answer you.

You lay still, hoping he couldn’t hear the thumping of your heart as you waited, wondering what he was going to do.

Ransom did just what he’d said earlier. He watched the football game and somewhere before the fourth quarter, you heard the light sound of his snores.

Now would be the time to check the door again, to check the windows. You tried but felt so dizzy when you sat up. It wasn’t long until you lay back down and joined him in sleep.

***

Ransom stretched the next morning, pleasantly warm. It took him a moment to remember he was at the lake house. It took less time to remember why he was there and who was in bed with him.

Normally, this was the part where he was waking the girl he’d brought home, letting her know it was time to get up, get dressed, and fuck off. Ransom wasn’t looking for a relationship. Rarely did he like any of them enough to tolerate them the next morning when he was sober.

The girl in his bed now?

Well, she was special, wasn’t she?

She lay curled on her side next to him, sound asleep. He woke up curled around her, his thighs tight behind her, one arm draped over her warm little body. His nose brushed against the fine hairs at the back of her neck.

If Ransom put aside the cluster fuck with her sister, his grandfather, and the rest of his family, well, he found himself in an odd place.

Why did you take me?

Ransom smiled as he pressed his lips to the tender skin at the base of her neck.

Yeah, sure. He’d taken her to make sure Marta gave him his inheritance. What he told his grandfather’s nurse was the truth. She was his insurance. A failsafe.

But it wasn’t the only reason.

She’d caught his eye the first night Marta had brought her to Harlan’s house in her sexy little red dress and heels. He’d been a little disappointed that she didn’t have the attitude to go with that getup. But when she’d flashed those big innocent eyes at him later at her car?

Ransom’s mind had flooded with enough perverted scenarios to fill a bad porno.

It didn’t help that unlike most of the female population, she wanted nothing to do with him. Most women of all ages went for him for one reason or another. They either went for his looks or his money – or both. Some were drawn to him because they wanted someone to treat them like shit and he would certainly do that.

This one? She’d been leery of him from the start. Those big eyes had watched him like he was a predator every time she saw him. She’d tried to avoid him.

It was a new experience for him. Not unwelcome necessarily but different. Ransom would have been lying if he said it didn’t speak to something primal in him.

Hell, she’d had him daydreaming about her in a way he hadn’t done since he’d been a horny teenager. It had been fun for him to pretend she truly was innocent. Oh, he hadn’t really believed she was that innocent. Who was at that age these days?

But the fantasy of dragging her to his bed and taking that from her? How many times had he jerked off to that? He’d even pictured it once recently with another girl in his bed when he’d had too much to drink and his prick had tried to flag on him at the finish line.

It had worked like a charm.

He shook his head at himself. He’d only seen her a handful of times leading up to this. As pathetic as it was, with as many women as he’d had, he couldn’t get this one girl out of his head.

When his grandfather turned up dead the day after his own birthday and his scumbag family spiraled out of control, he decided to kill two birds with one stone.

Ransom knew he was a suspect. All of them were. But Ransom knew if he took himself off the table for a little while, maybe the truth would be revealed, and he could come back. In the meantime, Marta had all his grandfather’s worldly possessions, just as Harlan had promised. And well? Who could blame him for trying to get his part of that?

And he’d meant it when he said he’d help Marta. Maybe only because it seemed the best way to get what he wanted, but hey… When he’d agreed to that, he didn’t know that someone torched the forensics lab. He didn’t know Fran had been left for dead or even what she had to do with fucking any of it.

Had Marta done that? Her sister didn’t believe that.

A member of his family? That seemed more fucking likely.

He had planned to help Marta until he felt that Southern fuck of a detective breathing down his neck. Had Ransom stayed another minute, no doubt the man he’d hired himself would have found some way to pin all of this on him.

As if he would kill his own grandfather. Hell, Harlan was the only member of his family that Ransom even remotely liked.

Ransom hadn’t lied to her. He had loved Harlan.

No, someone else was in the background and Ransom was really curious as to who it was. But he’d let Benoit Blanc figure it all out. That’s what he’d fucking paid him for. Well, first he’d paid him to hopefully find some way for Marta be implicated faster so the will wouldn’t stand but this worked too.

In the meantime, Marta had the money, he had her sister. And he’d hang onto her until he got his money. And until he got whatever this fascination with her was out of his system.

When she gives you the money, you’ll send me back?

Ransom grinned.

That she’d actually been a fucking virgin had been such a surprise. It only really made things worse for him. His dark fantasies had been actualized. He was the only person to touch her intimately. He was the only one who’d ever been in that tight little pussy of hers.

The memory of it made him hard as a fucking rock.

Sliding his hand over her stomach, his fingers found the ties to the silk robe she wore. His mother’s robe of all damn things. His hand slid over the supple skin of her stomach, up to her breasts. They fit in his hands so nicely, so soft. Her nipples tightened into little peaks beneath his palm, responding to him even while she was asleep.

Grinding himself against her, he slid his hand back down to her stomach, down to the flesh between her thighs that only he had claimed. His fingers slid into her lips finding her, warm and juicy. He traced a finger around her clit, grinning when her hips nudged back against him. When he stroked the little bundle of nerves directly, her movements increased with the need he wanted to build in her.

Lifting his head, he gazed at her face. Still asleep. The Percocets really had knocked her out.

And God, he was aching.

Ransom slid down the bed, hiking up the back of the robe she wore as he went. He revealed the smooth globes of her ass, sliding his fingers into the intimate heat of her. He groaned, feeling the slick on his fingers.

Just a little more…

Ransom had never been with a virgin before, even when he’d been one. He was doing her a favor in sliding her top leg up towards her chest, baring her pussy to him. He got his mouth on her, working her up and getting her nice and wet for him.

Ransom knew his way around a pussy, knew how to use that little treat to get what he wanted. He couldn’t help but grin at the sounds starting to emerge from her in her sleep. The little moans and hums had him doubling his efforts, tracing her entrance with a finger.

Bracing a hand to hold that thigh above his head, he worked her clit with his tongue, worked one, then two fingers into her. The inner walls of her were fluttering against his fingers as her wetness grew, he felt the tension growing in her body.

One slim hand slid down over his, down into his hair, seeking. She murmured something above him, probably waking up. Ransom found her g-spot with the pad of his finger, holding onto her when her tight little body clamped around his intruding fingers. He kept working that spot, working her clit with his mouth.

He knew she was awake by the time he brought her off. Her sharp little cry conquered the harsh rasps of her breath to ring out around them in the room. Her fingers twisted in his hair and her body trembled and shook above him.

Oh, she was ready now.

Those big eyes watched warily as he rose above her and he painted her lips with her wetness from his. He moaned as he deepened the kiss, wanted her to taste her own excitement. Her hands trembled against his chest like she couldn’t decide if she wanted him closer or she wanted to push him away.

Ransom resumed his place behind her, jerking down his boxers with one hand while the other pushed its way under her. That hand slid up her chest, making her gasp before sliding up to hold her throat. He felt her nervous swallow beneath his palm. Her heart was flying as he stroked himself behind her.

Lifting her leg, he pulled it back before he began to slip into her from behind. He tightened his hand on her throat just a little, just enough to make her a little breathless. To let her know who was in control. It stayed her because she held so still as he worked himself into her tight little body, groaning in appreciation of how those tight silky walls clung to his cock.

When he was balls deep in her, he started to move. He watched her hands flutter like flightless birds, not sure what to do with them. Grabbing one, he wrapped it around his neck, pushing her fingers into his hair. Taking the hint, her fingers clutched there. The other gripped the sheets until her knuckles were white, her breath coming fast as he railed into her from behind.

“Damn, baby,” he trailed his lips over her neck and shoulder as he fucked her. “You feel so good.”

Her walls fluttered around him at the praise and he grinned as he sucked a tender spot at the base of her neck. He made a mental note of that.

She was stiff in his hold even though her little center was so wet he could hear it when he fucked into her. She kept trying to shift her hips as he moved behind her.

“Sore,” she managed to say, her fingers tightening in his hair.

“Yeah?” Ransom slid his hand from her hip down into the apex of her thighs, his fingers teasing her bundle of nerves as he worked his cock into her. “I can fix that.”

He kept his touch light, teasing. He knew the minute he found a rhythm she liked because her body clenched around him so tight, weeping for him. He chained kisses up her neck to her ear as he sped up his thrusts, starting to go at her just a little harder.

“Your little pussy belongs to me,” he whispered hotly in her ear, loving the way she shivered. “You know that? It’s all mine… I love the way you’re squeezing my cock, pumpkin.”

Again, she tightened around him, so hot and wet.

Someone has a praise kink.

His fingers teased her clit as his own pleasure rose, tightening his balls and making him fight to hang on. He wanted to bring her off again. The slapping sound of his flesh meeting hers was a dirty sound as he fucked her with urgency, wanting her to come before he did.

When she came, she cried out and her little pussy tightened like a vice on him. That was all it took. Ransom shouted as he held onto her, his hips driving into her hard and fast as he unloaded. Pleasure flooded him like the best rush, shaking him as he clung to her, easing himself down.

Ransom rolled onto his back, his breathing a harsh, ragged sound that drowned out the sound of hers. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision, pleasure making him feel melted in the best way on the bed.

Something about her… Damn…

After a few moments, he felt her moving carefully next to him, pulling the covers back up to cover her.

“Ransom, I need to go to the bathroom,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, okay,” he muttered, forcing himself to sit up when he would have liked to sleep another hour or so.

“Can I have my purse?” Those big eyes were on him.

He didn’t like the pinch of guilt that gaze inspired in him.

“Your phone won’t be in it,” he warned her, climbing off the bed and fishing his own robe out of the floor, pulling it on.

Her nod told him she wasn’t surprised. “And my clothes?”

Ransom snorted as he came around the bed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, steering towards the door.

“That one I need to think about,” he told her, unlocking the door and showing her into the bathroom. “I like you better like this.”

Again, with the sad look. Shaking his head, Ransom nudged her into the bathroom, giving her swat on the ass as he closed the door behind her and locked it.

He needed coffee and to figure out something for them to eat.

He’d just reached the kitchen when the someone started pounding away on the door.

Fuck.

Ransom had hidden the beamer well enough. He hoped. Maybe if he kept quiet, they’d think the place was empty. He had the only key he knew of to the place.

“Ransom!” they yelled, beating on one of the windows now. Bright eyes spotted him, filled with anger.

Well, shit.

He could elect to ignore them, but he knew better than that. Might as well get this over with…

Resigned, he went to the door in the kitchen and unlocked it. Slowly, he opened it to reveal one very pissed off Linda Drysdale.