"That last time was really good," I said around a mouth of chicken wing. "Like really really good. I think it was my favorite. I'm still super sore."

"They were all really good and you should be sore after that amount of times. If you aren't then I haven't done the job right." He takes a huge bite out of his burger. The man eats like a ravenous animal, especially after sex. "I will say my favorite was when you were backwards cowgirl and I had two fingers sunk into your a—"

I hold a hand up, cutting him off with a roll of the eyes, "you have such a major fascination with my ass, I swear. It's a bit unhealthy, sir."

"It's another part of you that no one else has touched." He licks ketchup off of his thumb. "Sue me for wanting to be the first person who ever fucks it. Scratch that. I want to be the only person who ever fucks it."

"I don't understand why you're so infatuated."

"I'm infatuated with every part of you, even with that face full of Thai Chili sauce you're rocking." I wipe my mouth with a napkin feeling slightly embarrassed. "Oh relax, you're sitting butt-naked and eating chicken wings. I'm surprised your tits aren't covered in that sauce. You are the messiest eater I have ever met."

"Can you shut up?"

"Never. Plus, now that I'm thinking about it, can you spill some on them so that I can lick it off?"

"First of all, it's hot and I don't want my tits to be on fire. Second of all, you're disgusting." He wriggles his brow before scarfing down the rest of his burger. "You legitimately ate that burger in three bites. That thing was massive. I don't know where you put it all."

"Oh, it's not a worry when I've been fucking you for several hours. I need the fuel." He tweaks one of my nipples, making me let out a yelp. "And I plan to continue throughout the night. Should probably order more food for later before the kitchen closes."

"I don't know, Boston. I should probably get back to the hotel soon." I don't want to go but I need to talk to Derek, especially after everything that's transpired between Boston and I.

"You're not going anywhere tonight." Boston is eyeing me like he knows exactly what I had been thinking. "Your professor can wait. I haven't been with you like this in so long. I don't give a fuck. He can wait." I snort out a laugh because he's so serious. I think he'd barricade the door if I actually tried to leave. "Is something amusing?"

"You." I boop him on the nose, leaving a bit of sauce there. "You are amusing."

He wipes his nose with the back of his hand with a grimace. "I'm amusing because I don't want my wife to hang out with a man who is desperately trying to seek entrance into her panties? Yeah, call me fucking amusing then, but you're not going anywhere. You're staying here. With. Your. Husband." He enunciates each word sternly. "You're mine again." He tackles me back on the bed. "I'm not letting you leave my sight until you are truly, thoroughly fucked. Anyone who looks at you will be able to see it."

"Okay, Mr. Caveman, I will stay here with you tonight." He kisses me hungrily for the millionth time this evening. Once I'm able to breath again I add, "you do realize that I'm going to have to have a conversation with him at some point though, right?"

"I get that but I want to be there for it."

"Uhm no." He frowns. "Oh come on, like you don't already know that would go over like a lead fucking brick, Boston." The arrogant look on his face lets me know he knows exactly how well that would go. "He deserves a conversation without you glowering at him the entire time or even worse you giving him that cocky smirk you like to rock."

"There's nothing wrong with that smirk." He displays it for me.

"No, there isn't, but we both know what that smirk means."

"Shouldn't be a problem if he knows I slept with my wife. He'll just be butthurt he was never able to." I blow out a long breath and shake my head. "What? It's bad enough the two of you touched each other."

I scoff at him for that. "Says the guy who had an entire ass fuck buddy. You all did a whole lot more than touching."

"Fair point." He rolls off of me. "But that's different. I didn't feel anything for her and you know that."

"She clearly felt something for you though or we wouldn't have gone through that shit show this afternoon. Seems like she fell pretty fucking hard, Boston."

"Can you blame her? It's me." He makes a show of gesturing to his body.

I glare at him. "You're so fucking arrogant.

"I am not."

"Are too."

I get off the bed and take the box of wings, the ones that miraculously didn't spill all over the bed when he tackled me, and toss them in the trash. I head into the bathroom and look over my body. I am one hot mess right now.

My hair is sticking up all over the place. I have wing sauce smeared on my face. There are scratches marring my neck, as well as several hickies, the later curtesy of Boston earlier. I need a shower and some sleep, not that Boston would let me get any this evening.

"Hey beautiful." Boston leans on the doorframe. "Want to take a shower? I called up for fresh sheets too. There's a rather large wet spot." He winks at me in the mirror and I feel myself flush. "I swear I thought you were going to squirt there for a second. Turn into my own personal water gun."

"Oh my God, shut up!"

"Just pew pew pew all over face." He did it with the gun hands and everything. I hate him so much.

I throw a rag at his face. "WILL YOU SHUT UP!" He's laughing hysterically now, a full body laugh. "STOP IT! IT'S NOT FUNNY!"

"Yeah, it is. It really is." He grabs me from behind and pulls me into him. "My little squirt gun."

"I don't squirt or whatever." I try to pry his arms from around my waist. "Let me go, you dick."

"Ouch, baby, I'm mortally wounded." He over exaggerates a pout in the mirror. "Get your sexy ass in the shower. I'll remake the bed once the sheets get here and then I'll jump in with you. Next round can be in here."

"In the shower?"

"Well, duh, I don't know how sanitary it would be to bang on the toilet." I smack him again. "Don't act like you don't love me."

"You're lucky I do."

"Mmm, so lucky." He kisses the top of my head before releasing me and swatting my backside. "Maybe I'll even slip up there." He's referring to my butt.

"I don't think so. Not unless house keeping brings you up a serious bottle of lube."

"For the right price I bet they would." I give him a look of mortification. "I'm kidding. Kidding. Now go get your scrub on." He gives me one more kiss before exiting the bathroom.

Once inside the shower, I relish in the warmth of the water. My body ached from the fight and from everything that had transpired between Boston and I after. It had been months since the last time we'd been intimate like that, it left my sex aching and sore. Even still, I wanted more of him. He's like a drug that I just can't get enough of.

I hum to myself as I scrub my hair and condition it. I've almost finished my entire body when I hear a loud banging sound. "You having a hard time with those sheets?" I call out loudly with a laugh. "What is it with men and sheets? They can never figure out the fitted sheets. My father never can." When I don't get a response I call out his name again and am met with silence.

I hop out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself before heading out into the bedroom. What I'm met with next chills me to my very bones. There's two men wrestling to get ahold of Boston, one has his hand around his mouth but his lower half is thrashing viciously.

The scream that leaves my mouth is involuntary but has everyone in the room turning their attention toward me. Boston looks at me horrified, trying to speak through the large hand that's clamped over his mouth. He's not looking at me but over my shoulder now, hollering something.

That's when I feel someone come up behind me. Before I can whip around I feel a large hand slap over my mouth. My eyes hold Boston's, who's fighting like crazy. Before I can wrap my head around anything, I feel a pinch on the side of my neck.

Boston screaming my name is the only thing I hear before my world goes completely black.

✩✩✩

I blink back into consciousness, feeling an intense pounding in my head as I stare at the hotel carpet. My breathing is slow. My entire body feels heavy. Everything feels heavy.

What happened to me?

I try to search my brain for the last thing I remember. I was in the shower. There was a bang. Boston.

Oh my God Boston!

I go to get up and my body slumps back down automatically. I call out his name into the room weakly but I'm met with no response. My eyes search around for something, anything, but there's nothing. No one. It's just me in my towel on the bedroom floor.

After what feels like days I'm finally able to pick myself up. With shaky steps and shaky hands I asses the room. There's nothing too out of place but a knocked over lamp. I look for a note, something that would tell me who took him and why. There's nothing.

I find my phone. I don't dial the police because someone clearly kidnapped Boston. Who knows what they'd do if I called the police. I feel the panic building in me as I dial the number.

He picks up after one ring, "hey there, birthday girl, how's it going over in Tennessee?"

"Dad—" I let out a sob, barely able to contain myself.

"Monica?" His voice is taught now. "Monica, what happened? Are you alright?"

"No, no—" I hiccup another sob again. "Dad, someone attacked us."

"Someone attacked you and your professor?"

"No, no, I'm with Boston. Well, I was with Boston and—" I choke again, "someone took him. They drugged me and left me on the floor but someone took him. I don't know what to do. I don't know who to call. I don't know if I should call the police. I don't—"

"Don't call the police. I know who to call." I hear him cursing underneath his breath about something or other but I can't quite make it out. "Stay in your room. Put the safety lock on the door. Do not answer it until I call you and tell you it's safe to open the door. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you."

"You do not open that door for anyone. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good." I hear typing going off in the background and I can see my dad's furious face in my head. "Everything is going to be alright. Boston will be okay."

"Dad, he has a heart condition. What if...." I can't help the sobs that leave me. All the stress and whatever drugs they injected into him. What if it kills him?

"Boston will be okay, Monica. I have to go. I have to make some phone calls but I will let you know when they intend to be there."

They?

"Monica?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

"I love you."

"I love you, Dad."

I hang up the phone and lie back on the bed, letting the dread consume me.

✩✩✩

A few hours later, after many tears and brutal anxiety attacks, I finally get a text from my dad saying that someone should be here any minute. After his phone call confirms that I can indeed answer the knocks at the door I do. On the other side stands a beautiful middle-aged woman with long black hair and an intense look on her face. She looks somewhat familiar but I can't place where I know her from. She's flanked by two large men. One covered in ink, who kind of reminds me of my dad, the other fair-haired and in business attire.

"Monica McCaslin, I'm Malyssa, your father's cousin. These are my partners Denver and Luke. Can we come in?" I nod and open the door for the trio to come inside. "We're here to help you find your friend." She turns around to face me with a wicked grin. "Or should I say help you find your missing husband."

A/N:
BOOM!
WHO SAW THAT COMING?