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 conference with my boss, Marcus, was bad enough. But when we rolled up to the hotel—some swanky joint with chandeliers and overpriced mini-bars—only to find out there’s been a mix-up with our reservations? Yeah, I nearly lost it. One room. One bed. And then, as if the universe decided to crank the dial to ‘fuck you,’ the entire damn country went into lockdown. CDC says 10-12 weeks. Trapped. With him.

Marcus, all 6’7” of hulking, brutish muscle, just grinned at me with that gap-toothed smirk, his bald head gleaming under the hotel lights. ‘Yo, lil’ mama, looks like we bunkin’ together. Don’t worry, I don’t bite… unless you ask real nice.’ His voice was all deep and rough, like gravel mixed with honey, and I hated how it sent a shiver down my spine. I’m 5’1”, pale as a ghost, with curves that could stop traffic—huge tits, tiny waist, and an ass that’s practically a shelf. But I’m no pushover. I’ve been married for ten years, and I don’t take crap from anyone, especially not some thug-talking, muscle-bound asshole who looks at me like I’m a goddamn buffet.

‘Keep dreaming, Marcus,’ I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest, which only made my cleavage pop more in the tight blouse I was wearing. ‘I’m taking the bed. You can sleep on the floor with the dust bunnies.’

He laughed, a low rumble that vibrated through the room as he dropped his bag by the door. ‘Shit, girl, you think I’m squeezin’ this fine-ass body on the floor? Nah, we sharin’ that bed, or I’m carryin’ yo’ lil’ self over my shoulder and droppin’ you there myself.’

I rolled my big blue eyes, my dark red hair swishing as I turned away to unpack. ‘Touch me, and I’ll sue your ass so fast you’ll be flexing those ridiculous muscles in a jail cell.’ But even as I said it, I felt a heat creeping up my neck. The room was small, too small, and the king-sized bed in the center looked way too inviting for all the wrong reasons. I could feel his eyes on me, burning into my skin, and I hated how it made my pulse race.

‘Yo, Cathy, you actin’ all tough, but I see that flush on yo’ pretty lil’ face,’ he teased, stepping closer. I could smell him—clean sweat and raw masculinity—and it was doing things to me I didn’t want to admit. ‘You married, but yo’ man ain’t here. And we stuck, baby girl. Might as well make the best of it.’

I spun around, my pert nose wrinkling as I glared up at him, my underbite making my pout even more pronounced. ‘Back off, Marcus. I’m not some toy for you to play with. You think just ‘cause you’re built like a damn tank, I’m gonna drop my panties? Think again.’

He licked his lips, his gaze dropping to my hips, then back up to my eyes. ‘Oh, I’m thinkin’, alright. Thinkin’ ‘bout how that thick ass of yours gonna look bouncin’ on me. Bet you wet already, ain’t you?’

My breath hitched, and I cursed myself for it. I wasn’t wet—not yet—but the way his words hit me, crude and unapologetic, was like a match to kindling. I stepped closer, poking a finger into his rock-hard chest. ‘You’re disgusting. And delusional. I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last man on earth.’

‘Keep talkin’, lil’ mama,’ he growled, leaning down so his face was inches from mine. ‘I like that fire. Gonna make it even hotter when I got you screamin’ my name.’

My heart was pounding now, my skin prickling with a mix of anger and something darker, hungrier. I could feel the tension building, thick and electric, as we stood there, locked in a battle of wills. The lockdown meant no escape, no distractions—just us, this room, and that damn bed. And as much as I hated to admit it, part of me was already imagining what it’d feel like to have his massive hands on me, to see if the rumors about what he was packing were true. Fifteen inches, they said. Thicker than a soda can. My thighs clenched involuntarily at the thought.

‘Get out of my face, Marcus,’ I hissed, but my voice wasn’t as steady as I wanted it to be. ‘Or I swear—’

‘Swear what?’ he interrupted, his hand brushing against my hip as he straightened up, the contact sending a jolt through me. ‘You gonna fight me, or you gonna give in? ‘Cause I’m bettin’ on the latter, and I’m never wrong.’

I stepped back, my chest heaving, my mind racing. I wasn’t submissive, never had been, but the heat pooling low in my belly was undeniable. This was dangerous territory, and we were only on day one of who-knows-how-many. The air between us crackled, and I knew it was only a matter of time before something—or someone—snapped.