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Captured by Mr. Wild: Chapter 14

Daisy

    my argument with Blake crawl along at an agonizing pace. Grace is back at work in the salon after being sick, so Maria doesn’t need me to cover any shifts. I wish she needed me. I’ve drifted around the house and garden, not being able to concentrate on anything. I tried to make a lavender soap from a recipe in the book my aunt gave me, but it just went all sticky and never set. Plus, after giving Blake my apron, I got it all over my old favorite t-shirt with a daisy on the front, and despite washing it twice, there’s still a big oily stain right over the white petals. Maybe it’s for the best. Why would I want to wear a t-shirt with a daisy on it now, anyway?

I’ve swum in the lake as usual. I can’t give that sanctuary up. Even if it runs the risk of seeing Blake. I’ve managed to go when his truck isn’t there. Although I’m ashamed to admit I’ve swum closer to his house each day, trying to see inside. Some sick fascination that I need to knock on its head. I know how he feels. He was pretty clear about it. And I was too.

I place my mug of chamomile tea down on the porch step as I rub my temples with my fingertips. I was harsh. I should never have said those things to him. Made out like he just thinks with his dick with no regard for anyone else. Like he would take advantage of someone after they’d been drinking. Bile rises in my throat as I recall the hurt in his eyes when I said that. I know firsthand he would never do that. He didn’t do it that night when we were seventeen. And he didn’t do it two nights ago either.

I wanted it.

I wanted him.

And some twisted part of me still does. Even though I know I have nothing to offer him. I have nothing. And he has everything. The Blake Anderson I know has an enormous heart and can make you laugh on the days you feel you’re barely surviving.

I was so cruel to speak to him like that. All because of what? That when I think of him with Cindy, it makes me want to retch? Like I’d rather gouge my eyes out than risk bumping into them in town together one day? Kayla says it’s over between them. But who knows? He’d be better off with her, anyway. I doubt she’s as screwed up as I feel most days. And she’s not leaving one day, either.

I look around at my aunt’s garden, trying to sear the image into my memory so I can draw on it when I’m back in England. When being here will be just a distant memory. I’m not stupid. I know I must go home one day. But the thought of what’s waiting for me there just fills me with dread.


“Are you sure you’re happy closing up by yourself tonight?” Maria asks, grabbing her bag, her concerned eyes on my face.

“Yes, for the tenth time.” I smile.

“I’m sorry, it was a last-minute booking. We rarely have one this late.” She glances at her watch and I know she’s thinking about getting back in time for the dinner table she’s booked to take her visiting family out.

“It’s fine, honestly. I don’t have anywhere else to be.” I smile at her again, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes. Ever since my fight with Blake, I’ve been unable to shake off the low mood that’s crept over me. It’s all I can think of. I went around and knocked on his door this morning to apologize, but he wasn’t there. I almost think he’s avoiding me. It serves me right if I’ve lost him as a friend now, after what I said to him.

“If you’re sure?” She looks at me again. “I know we’ve run through the lone working protocol before, but you’ll be fine. If you need anyone to help with anything, Sam is on reception tonight.”

“I’ll be okay,” I reassure her with a wave as she leaves, mouthing, Thanks, to me again from the door.

I let out a deep sigh. It’s been a busy day in the spa, as usual, and I’m worn out. Especially knowing I still have to walk back once I finish my shift. But the other girls had plans tonight and I don’t see why they should miss out, just because someone booked a late slot for a full-body massage.

I glance down at the name on the computer booking screen.

Mr. Richard Head.

I suppress my chuckle. Back home in England, he would get ribbed for a name like that.

“Has Dick Head arrived yet?”

My eyes snap up at the sudden deep voice. The lights in the spa are low, with just lanterns providing a soft glow. But even from here, I can see the incredible green eyes looking back at me.

“You’re Mr. Dick Head?” My mouth goes dry as he walks over to the desk.

He rests his forearms on the marble counter and leans toward me, the muscles in his arms flexing underneath his black t-shirt. I’m hit with a woody, sea salt smell, which has me licking my lips as I stare back at him.

“Yeah,” Blake whispers, his eyes dropping to my lips and back up. “I am. A huge dick.”

Despite myself, I can’t help the corners of my mouth twitching in amusement.

He isn’t wrong.

My eyes scan over his face, searching for any remnants of the hurt and anger that were there the last time I saw him. They’ve completely vanished, and in their place are warm eyes studying me—eyes that I sometimes think see me better than anyone else does.

His gaze never leaves my face. “Have you finished hating on me?”

His brows knit together, and I drop my eyes, studying the veins running up his tanned forearms, my gaze drawn down to the long, strong fingers that were inside my body only days ago.

Surely I misheard him? He’s here asking me if I’m done being mad at him? It should be the other way around. I had no right to speak to him the way I did. My stupid pride hurt at finding out about Cindy, combined with the mess my life is in right now, almost ruined years of friendship.

And God knows I could use some friends right now.

“That depends,” I mumble, unable to meet his gaze.

“On what?” He lifts a hand and places the fingers I was studying underneath my chin and tilts it up, so my eyes meet his. They burn into mine with an intensity I remember only too well from that night.

Blake inside me as deep as he could get. One hand on the wall—THUD! Searing heat.

Me ruined forever.

My breath catches in my throat. “Whether you can forgive me for the hurtful things I said to you.”

He gives me a small smile, which has no joy in it. “You were right. I have been known to think with my dick. A lot,” he adds.

I wrinkle my nose up and he takes his hand back, my mind threatening to flood with images of Blake and other women, which I really don’t want to imagine.

I take a breath. “I meant the other thing… about the drinking.”

He must hear this. It’s been eating me up knowing that I said such a thing to him.

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “I forgive you.” He flashes his white teeth as if to prove it.

“No.” My voice is forceful. “It was a low blow, Blake. I know you would never do such a thing. I’ve known you for a long time. I know that’s not who you are.”

My eyes dart between the two of his, pleading with him to believe me.

He rolls his lips together as he nods, his eyes never leaving mine. “I said some pretty stupid shit too.”

I realize I’m chewing on my lip when Blake’s eyes drop to it and he frowns.

“I can overlook it if you can?” I say, tilting my head while I wait for him to say something.

His eyes roam over my face in a way that sends goosebumps scattering over my arms and up my spine.

Finally, he gives me one of his famous easy smiles.

“So? We friends again?”

My stomach drops at his choice of words, but I force myself to return his smile.

“Yeah. We’re friends again. Always friends.”

His eyes glitter as he grins at me. “Good. Because my back is fucking killing me. And word in town is that there’s a great new therapist at the spa who can unknot a pretzel using just her mind.”

I can’t help but giggle as all trace of seriousness leaves Blake’s face, and he’s back to his usual jokey self.

“Oh, word around town, huh?”

He winks at me. “You’d better believe it. And I think my appointment has begun.” He leans his head around to glance at the time on the bottom corner of the computer screen, tapping it with a finger. “I hope you aren’t going to finish me off early. I’ve paid for the full hour. I want the complete experience.”

I smirk at him and shake my head as I lead him down the lantern lit walkway to the treatment room and open the door for him so he can enter.

“Take everything off and then lie facedown on the bed, covering yourself with the towel.”

I close the door again, leaving Blake inside as I stand with my hands clasped and wait on the other side of the door.

He’s just another client.

I’m chanting this to myself as he calls out from inside the room.

I walk in, closing the door quietly behind me. The spa music is already playing a soothing melody, which helps to calm the racing in my chest. I’m being ridiculous. For the next hour, Blake is my client. I know what I’m doing and I’m good at it. There’s no reason I should feel nervous.

I look over at the massage table.

Fuck.

Blake is laid out, facedown, like I told him, a towel folded down at his waist, barely covering his ass. Every muscle in his body is on full display. Especially the ones on his back, which I realize I’ve never seen naked before. I’ve only had the pleasure of seeing Blake Anderson—full frontal.

But this… this is back porn.

I walk over to the table of aromatherapy oils lit by the warm glow of a salt lamp. I mix a couple into a carrier oil base in a glass bowl. Ones that I’ve been experimenting with—a mixture of ylang ylang and ginseng. The aromas disperse around the room, and I take a deep breath, feeling myself relax.

Walking back over to Blake on the massage table, I can’t help a grin from stretching over my face. If he didn’t look so sexy, it would be comical. He literally only just fits on the table. His feet are right at the end, and his broad shoulders are practically spilling over the sides.

“Are you comfortable?”

“It beats sleeping in damp undergrowth with rocks in your back.” He chuckles and then sucks in a breath as I place the palms of my oiled hands against the hot skin of his back. “Oh, fuck. You are good,” he groans as I run my hands across him, working my way around each muscle, teasing it, stretching it out, caressing it.

Once I start, I get lost in myself. I love doing this. Working the muscles into relaxation. Giving them a release. Feeling them uncoil beneath my fingers. Knowing that I am doing something worthwhile that benefits someone else.

Blake’s breathing has slowed, but his periodic groans tell me he’s still awake. Clients regularly fall asleep if I’m performing a gentler massage. I take it as an enormous compliment that they’re relaxed and trusting enough in my company to let themselves truly de-stress and let go.

I roll the towel up Blake’s thick thighs and add more oil to my hands before I work on his legs.

“God…” He lets out a deep sigh as I stroke up, my thumb running along the inside of his upper thigh. “I can see what all those rugby dudes back in England are missing. I bet they fucking wept when you left.” He chuckles as my hand freezes.

“I loved that job,” I whisper, finding the strength to get my brain to communicate with my hand again so I can continue with Blake’s massage.

“Why’d you leave?” he asks, groaning as my hand runs up his thigh again. If it weren’t for the topic of conversation, then I think I would be in real trouble of overheating from the sounds he’s making.

They’re so deep. So sexual. So… arousing.

“I ask myself the same thing,” I murmur, watching the way the oil glistens on his dark hair, slicking it down against his tanned skin.

“Did he touch you? Did he…” Blake’s voice sounds strained and the muscles in his back go rigid.

I’m about to ask how he knows about Mick, my ex. But then it dawns on me.

Kayla.

I shake my head to myself. I know she means well. She probably thinks she’s helping, asking for advice from her guy friends. But nothing anyone says can make any of it better. It’s too late for that.

“No. Mick never… forced me. Not like you’re thinking, Blake.”

I continue the course my hands are taking up and down his thighs as I realize just saying both of their names in the same sentence makes me feel physically sick. They couldn’t be any more different. Blake is all muscle, capable of tearing a man apart. I would bet on it. But he’s gentle. He doesn’t use his power as a weapon. He doesn’t bully or belittle others. He isn’t cruel.

Not like Mickey.

Blake relaxes for a tiny moment, but his body is still mostly tightly wound tense muscles as I move up to stand by his head and work on his neck and shoulders from that angle.

“What did he do?” His voice is careful, controlled.

“Blake… I—”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. I would hate to make you feel uncomfortable, Dee.”

My heart plummets into my stomach as he calls me Dee. It’s what I’ve been telling him I want. It’s what I screamed at him about only days ago. But hearing him say it has me blinking furiously as my eyes sting. I would give anything to hear him call me Daisy again. And to really feel it. To be the girl I was when I used to come here—the girl he thinks I still am.

Before Mick.

I hate talking about him, preferring to fool myself into thinking if I don’t say his name that it never really happened. He doesn’t exist, and I didn’t know the things I do now. I didn’t see the things I wish I hadn’t.

There really is bliss in ignorance sometimes.

Yet, here with Blake, in the low light, the scents of essential oils surrounding us, I feel safe. Safe enough to share some of what I left behind in England. Some of what I’m running from.

I run my hands over Blake’s broad shoulders as I part my lips and draw in a breath, wetting my lips with my tongue so I can get the words out of my dry throat.

“He was a bully. Not at the start, though. To start with, he was wonderful. He would bring me flowers. Take me out on dates all the time. Watch movies he hated, because he knew I loved them.”

Blake falls silent, listening. I pour more oil in my hands and run them down either side of his spine. He’s much taller than me and I have to rise onto my tiptoes, the fabric of my white uniform grazing over his hair so I can reach down toward his waist. Two dimples are on either side of his spine, just visible above the white towel. I could easily let my mind wander toward much nicer thoughts from looking at him, touching him. But it’s like a damn has burst, and the words keep spilling out of me of their own accord. Call it therapy or something. But as I talk to Blake, I feel the weight lift from my shoulders ever so subtly.

“Then he started to get weird. He made some new friends at the local pub we used to go to on the weekends. I suspected he was using drugs at one point. I’m still not sure that isn’t the case. He would come home late, reeking of perfume, and he’d…” I swallow. “He would throw things, smash them up. The first time, I tried to stop him and he grabbed me by my hair and spat in my face. I would pretend to be asleep after that. But sometimes that didn’t work… I learned to be good at hiding bruises.”

“Fuck,” Blake hisses as I continue.

“He was so jealous. He would comment on what I wore, how I had my hair. He thought the players at the rugby club where I worked would try to chat me up if they thought I was making an effort for them. I started tying my hair up all the time, and then one day we had such a big fight. He got right up in my face. It’s the first time I really feared for my life. His eyes, they were… it’s like he was possessed by something evil. I knew he was capable of hurting me, really hurting me. I told him I would cut it short and dye it if it meant that much to him.”

Blake tenses under my palms, and I hear him suck in a breath. I swear the heat in his body ratches up a notch. I can almost see the fiery blood pumping around his veins beneath his skin as my hands glide over it.

“I didn’t mean it. I wanted him to leave me alone, so I just said it, you know? The way you say things without thinking when you’re arguing.” I lift the last word as I try to make light of mine and Blake’s recent argument.

He doesn’t laugh, though. He doesn’t even move.

A frown comes back to my face and I force myself to concentrate on my hands tracing low, powerful strokes over Blake’s back, instead of the words leaving my lips.

“The next day, Mick drove me to a salon. He told me he’d booked me in as a treat and it was all paid for. I swear I’ve never seen him look as happy as the way he did sitting in that chair and watching every strand fall to the floor.”

“Fucking asshole,” Blake hisses as his back ripples with tension underneath my hands again.

I keep massaging up and down, holding back the tears that are threatening to fall. My cheeks are hot. Burning with shame at what I did to please Mick.

I lost a part of myself to him. And he still has it.

Blake seems to sense my sudden silence isn’t a good thing, and he reaches his hands up from his sides, wrapping them around my waist. He keeps his head in the hole the table has cut out so you can lie comfortably on your front.

“You deserve so much better than him.” His fingers squeeze my waist gently as he speaks. “If I ever meet him, I’ll fucking kill him.”

“Blake…” I don’t know what I want to say. I just know that his name is the last one I want on my lips.

He rises from the bed and before I know what’s happening, he’s sitting up and I’m being pulled into his arms. He steadies me on my feet as I sink into the space between his parted thighs and let him hold me. His huge, warm arms wrap around my back and he presses his nose into my hair, taking a deep breath as though to calm himself.

“You are so much better than how he treated you. Don’t ever forget it,” he whispers, his fingertips tracing up and down my back gently.

It feels so good to be in his arms. My shoulders relax, and I let out a small, involuntary sigh of pleasure.

I could stay here forever.

Pretend that nothing else exists outside of this room. Stay here and feel safe and warm.

Blake’s hands stop moving, and he draws back to look at my face. His eyes study mine as if he’s seeing me again for the first time.

Understanding me.

“You are beautiful.” His lips part as his gaze goes to my hair, and he tenderly tucks a dark strand behind my ear. Since coming back, it’s faded from all the swimming and the sun. But it’s still unrecognizable from the natural baby blonde it once was.

He keeps his hand on my cheek, cupping it as his other arm pulls me against him. My breath hitches in my throat and I get the faintest glimmer like something is about to happen before he leans forward and presses his soft lips to mine.

I freeze for the tiniest fragment of a second before I allow myself to fall into him, parting my lips and reaching my palms up to rest on his chest.

He brings his other hand to my face, cradling my head as he tilts it, angling it so he can give me a kiss so powerful, it makes me worry my legs might buckle underneath me.

“Blake,” I pant. “We shouldn’t.”

“Just say the word and I’ll stop. You know I will.” His lips move to my jaw as he tilts my face to the side, kissing all the way along it, to the sensitive skin below my ear.

I let out a small moan as heat spreads through me.

Just say the word.

“Blake…”

He pauses mid-kiss to draw back and face me.

“Look at the fight we had after the last time.”

My reasoning is weak, and I know it.

“Are you telling me to stop?” His lips hover millimetres above mine. I can feel the warmth of them radiating against my own.

“No,” I whisper.

“Are you going to try telling me you’re just a rebound fuck again?” His voice is gentle, but there’s an underlying edge of something there.

A flicker…

Hurt?

“No,” I moan, and his hands drop to my ass, pulling me closer.

He emits a deep growl from his throat. “Good. Because you were never that. Feel what you do to me.”

The towel he had draped over him is long gone. He takes my hand and guides it to where his cock is standing—proud, hard as a rock between his legs. I wrap my fingers around him as he lets out another low groan.

“Don’t ever think this isn’t all because of you. And only you.” His eyes penetrate deep into me, unleashing something. The need to be held by him. The need to feel him again.

The need for everything ‘Blake Anderson’.

Before I can even consider that I’m at work and someone from reception could easily walk into the spa to check everything’s okay, I’m unzipping my dress and peeling it off.

Blake’s eyes light up as I push my white lace thong down my legs and climb on top of him, one leg on either side of his thick thighs, straddling him.

“Please don’t tell me to stop either,” I whisper, rising over him and holding the base of his cock so his broad, slick tip is against my entrance.

“No fucking way,” he murmurs as he grins at me. “Now put me inside.”

His hands bury themselves in my hair and he kisses me with a heat that melts my insides. I sink myself down onto him, moaning into his mouth as I feel the delicious stretch through my core.

“God, Blake. I’m so sorry I said those things to you.” My apologies spill from my lips as I widen my legs so I can take him in deeper. A delicious bolt of electricity runs through me as I draw him in as deep as possible, each curve of him filling me perfectly.

“I’d say you’re making it up to me,” he hisses as his eyes drop to where our bodies meet.

I glance down. I’m stretched obscenely around him, my body sucking him in greedily like he’s the last meal I’ll ever taste.

“Blake, that looks…”

“Fucking incredible?!” His eyes flash as he gives me a panty-melting smile at the same time as removing my bra and throwing it across the room.

“I think you should stop wearing these.” His smile turns devilish as he swoops down onto my breasts, his tongue finding my hard nipples and flicking over them.

I drop my head back with an appreciative moan and rest my hands on his shoulders as I slide up and back down onto him. He feels incredible. Another moan leaves my body, all the while his torture continues, turning me inside out with pleasure.

“You’re sweet as fucking honey,” he murmurs, his hot breath sending shivers over my breasts as he brings his hands to my waist, clutching tightly and quickening our pace.

He lifts me up and down in his strong arms as if I weigh nothing.

Blake’s attention returns to my lips, kissing me again and nipping my bottom lip between his teeth. It takes all my strength not to come on the spot. But I want it to last. I’m not ready to let him go again—not yet. My body holds its release at bay, but clenches around him in defiance instead. A wave of wetness rushes to him, covering his thick length.

“Fuck, Dai…” He stops short and grits his teeth instead.

I look into his eyes, and his pupils dilate as he fixes his heated gaze back on me. His eyes are dark, glittering with desire, his lids slightly hooded.

I know what he almost called me, but right now, I don’t care. He could call me the fucking Easter Bunny, and I would still be clamping down on his rock-hard cock as my orgasm races toward the surface once again.

When Blake Anderson looks at you like this, you don’t have a choice—you’re going to come harder than you ever thought possible.

Every nerve in my body is tingling and all I can do is whimper and moan as his body claims mine and sweat runs between us, snaking a course down to where his body is deeply embedded in my own.

I know I’m losing the battle. My body wanted to surrender to him from the very beginning.

“You’re fucking incredible.” He juts his chin forward as he thrusts up and knocks another lungful of air from my lungs in a loud moan. If anyone were to walk past the door now, there would be no question about the animalistic fucking that’s going on inside this room. I’m not even embarrassed about the loud porn-worthy moans that are rolling off my lips, one after another.

“Blake, I’m going to come. I can’t stop it.” I rest my forehead against his as I stare into his eyes, my mouth hanging open as I pant.

“Why would you want to?” He smirks and then his face turns serious as he clasps a hand around the back of my neck and holds it tight, dropping his voice to a low growl. “Come all over my cock. And don’t take your eyes off mine. You know I love watching you, don’t you?”

I nod, my breath coming out in quick gasps as I look at him.

“Say it.”

“You love watching me,” I whisper as he squeezes the back of my neck gently.

Everything draws into my core, pulling tight until it’s more than I can stand, and I let out a cross between a cry and a groan as I shudder under his intense gaze. Then I’m bursting. My body exploding in pulsing waves of pleasure, ripping through me without mercy. My mind turning blissful as all thoughts vanish.

And my heart bursting with…. My heart bursting with…

Blake… God, Blake…” I pant as I shake in his arms.

“You feel so fucking good. And you look even better.” His voice is tight, and his eyes are piercing into mine as he emits a deep groan, more primal and rawer than anything I’ve ever heard before. The fingers around my neck flex, and the hand on my hip digs into my flesh as I feel his cock thicken and throb inside me.

“Blake.” I press my lips against his and pant with him as the jerk of his body, followed by a deep growl, tells me he’s coming. “Oh,” I whimper as liquid fire spreads inside me.

He pulls me closer, thrusting himself deep inside me over and over, his pace slowing as he rides each pulse down. Until finally, he stills, the corners of his lips curl and he pulls his bottom lip under his perfect white teeth as his eyes flash brightly at me.

I’m rendered unable to do anything other than smile back as I catch my breath, safely cocooned in his arms, my breasts rising and falling against his muscular chest.

“How can we go from not speaking to each other to doing that in less than an hour?” I pant.

“I obviously booked the massage with the happy ending option.” He grins at me as he moves his arms, encircling my waist, making no attempt to move away or depart my body.

I snort and wrap my arms around his neck as he tips my chin up and brings his lips to mine again, kissing me deeply.

“I still don’t enjoy fighting with you,” I murmur against his warm lips.

“Then don’t. Just enjoy what we have.” He slides his tongue into my mouth and kisses away the question, which was on the tip of my tongue.

What exactly do we have?


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