Locked Down, Turned Up

Chapter 1: Room for Two

I’m Cathy, and let me tell you, I didn’t sign up for this shit. A business trip to some nowhere city with my boss, Marcus, was bad enough. But when we rolled up to the hotel—already late, already pissed—only to find out there’s been a mix-up with our reservations, I nearly lost it. One room. One bed. And then, the cherry on top: the whole damn country’s gone into lockdown. CDC says 10-12 weeks. Trapped in a hotel room with Marcus, a man who looks like he could bench press a fucking truck and talks like he’s straight outta Compton. I’m a married woman, 35, with a body that turns heads—huge tits, tiny waist, round ass that could stop traffic. Pale as a ghost, red hair, blue eyes, and a mouth that doesn’t quit. And now, I’m stuck with this hulking beast of a man who eye-fucks me every chance he gets.

We’re standing in the cramped hotel room, the single king-sized bed mocking us like some cruel joke. I drop my suitcase and cross my arms, pushing my chest out unintentionally. Marcus notices. Of course he does. His dark eyes rake over me, and a slow, predatory grin spreads across his face, that gap between his front teeth making him look even more brutish.

‘Yo, Cathy, looks like we gonna be real close, huh? Ain’t no thang, baby girl. I don’t bite… unless you want me to,’ he drawls, his voice low and rough, like gravel mixed with honey. He’s 6’7” of pure muscle, bald head gleaming under the cheap hotel lights, his skin smooth and hairless to show off every ripple of those insane biceps.

I roll my eyes, but I can’t ignore the heat creeping up my neck. ‘Keep dreaming, Marcus. I’m not some toy for you to play with. We’re stuck here, so let’s set some ground rules. You stay on your side of the bed, and I’ll stay on mine.’ My voice is sharp, but there’s a tremor in it I hope he doesn’t catch. My body’s betraying me already, a flutter low in my belly as I take in the sheer size of him.

He chuckles, deep and dirty, stepping closer. The room feels smaller with every inch he closes. ‘Rules, huh? You think you can control a man like me, lil’ mama? I see how you lookin’ at me. You curious ‘bout what I’m packin’, ain’t ya?’ He adjusts himself through his tight jeans, and my eyes flick down before I can stop them. Holy hell. The bulge is obscene, like he’s smuggling a damn baseball bat. I snap my gaze back up, but it’s too late. He’s smirking.

‘Curious? Please. I’m married, asshole. And I’m not impressed by your… ego,’ I snap, but my voice is breathy, and I hate myself for it. My skin’s prickling, my heart racing. I’m not some wilting flower, but fuck, the air in this room is thick with something dangerous.

Marcus steps even closer, towering over my 5’1” frame. I can feel the heat rolling off him, smell the faint musk of his cologne. ‘Ego, huh? Baby, this ain’t ego. This real. And I bet that tight lil’ body of yours is dyin’ to find out just how real.’ His voice drops lower, a growl that vibrates through me. ‘We got weeks, Cathy. Weeks to play. You gonna act like you don’t want it, but I see that fire in them pretty blue eyes.’

I should slap him. I should scream. But instead, I feel a rush of heat between my thighs, a traitor’s response to his filthy words. I step back, my ass hitting the edge of the bed, and I glare up at him, trying to keep control. ‘You’re disgusting, Marcus. Keep talking like that, and I’ll make sure you regret it.’

He laughs, a booming sound that fills the room. ‘Oh, I like that sass, girl. Keep fightin’. It’s gonna make it so much sweeter when you finally give in.’ He turns away, peeling off his shirt like it’s nothing, revealing a back so sculpted it looks carved from stone. My mouth goes dry. I’m sweating now, my palms clammy, my mind racing with thoughts I shouldn’t have.

I sit on the bed, trying to focus on unpacking, but my eyes keep darting to him. He’s humming some tune, casual as hell, like he didn’t just set my nerves on fire. I’m horny, damn it, and I hate him for it. My pussy’s already wet, a slow ache building, and I know he knows. The tension in this room is a live wire, and I’m not sure how long I can keep from touching it.

As the night looms, I know one thing for sure: this lockdown is about to get explosive. And I’m not sure I’m strong enough to resist the storm that’s coming.