Chapter Nine
Lyla
“That fucking simple,” he finally replies. “I must say, this view is much better.”
I drag in a long inhale, letting it soothe my nerves. “Prove it,” I challenge. “Show me how much you like it?” The words come out shyly, as more of a question.
Judging by the way his eyes darken with mischief, I quickly question if I should be challenging him. He just cut my fucking thong off me. What else could he possibly have in store?
Answering my question without words, he saunters over to where I’m kneeling on the expansive, elaborate chair—which he apparently calls his throne—and leans in closer. His clean, woodsy scent fills my senses, leaving me craving more.
Unsure of his next move and what to expect, my breath hitches as his hands raise above my head, reaching for where mine are situated on the top of the chair. Stunned still, I don’t move an inch. Anticipation floods me, the heat rising to my cheeks and filling me with pleasure.
I stay locked in on his face, watching as the corner of his mouth curves up in evident satisfaction. A smile shouldn’t look so lethal and still somehow be utterly attractive at the same time, luring me in.
While I’m entranced by the quirk of his mouth and enveloped in his scent, I’m too distracted to notice his intentions, and by the time I do, it’s too late.
The clicking sound of the handcuffs locking my wrists in place, attached to the chair, fills the silence of the room and sends my head spinning.
My eyes grow wide with shock. “You just fucking handcuffed me. What the—”
Damien cuts off my weak attempt at a protest by saying, “Remember, all you have to do is say stop, and this ends.”
I inhale a deep breath, taking a moment to let his words sink in and comfort me. For some reason, I believe and trust him.
No matter what happens, I hold the power.
I’ve never felt in control in the bedroom. I always seem to feel more like an object to be used by men for their own enjoyment, rather than my own pleasure.
I have a feeling that with this man, that is all about to change.
“Do you understand?” Damien asks, hovering over me, his face so close to mine.
Nodding, I gulped.
His face grows serious, eyes flaring with pure carnal desire that sends a thrill down to my core. “Words, Lyla.” he commands, placing a firm smack to my bare ass, that sends me yelping and jolting forward.
It shouldn’t excite me. But, it does.
“Yes, Sir,” I respond on panting breaths. “I understand. I have power.”
“Fuck yes, you do. You hold all the damn power. Nothing will happen to you that you don’t want to happen. Now…” He pauses, leaning in so impossibly close that I can almost feel his lips brush against mine. “Call me Sir again.”
Refusing to back down, I tilt my head back on a moan. “Mmm. So, you like being called Sir?”
He doesn’t answer with words. No. His response is his mouth crashing into mine, his tongue instantly demanding entry that I give without hesitation.
One of his hands tangles in my hair, tilting my head back to give him better access, while the other takes its time, leisurely tracing patterns down my chest.
The kiss is nothing like the soft peck he gave me previously, and it’s far from gentle. Our tongues battle for dominance, but there’s no surprise that Damien takes the lead, and I follow along willingly.
His fingers, that are threaded tightly in my hair, grip tighter, giving it a firm tug this time, which manages to pull another moan from my mouth, all while his other hand finds its way to my breasts.
Wasting no time, he massages one at a time, making sure to give the same amount of attention to each.
The feel of his smooth hand kneading into my flesh as his tongue claims power over mine sends my pounding heart into a frenzy. And, in the next second, he withdraws, leaving me panting in place.
“Things are about to get very interesting for you, Lyla,” Damien says, placing even more distance between us until I can’t see him anymore.
Turning my head to look further behind me, I try to find him in the room, but initially come up short. That is, until I swing my head to the other side and spot him along the far wall. With the angle he has me pinned in place, I can’t get a good look at what he’s doing.
“Interesting how?” I ask, still trying to crane my neck to get a better look at him. Not being able to see exactly what he’s doing frustrates me slightly. I try pivoting on my knees, but the handcuffs against the wall don’t give much slack, leaving me unable to move.
“You’re about to find out,” his voice is a low whisper, his breath startling me as it coats my skin. His words, mixed with his sudden looming presence, cause my mouth to fall open in surprise and a shiver to run down my spine.
I took a steadying breath, meeting his intense stare. “I’m not scared, Damien.” My words are weak and hold no merit here.
“We’ll see about that,” he replies blandly, just as both of his hands reach out toward my face. “Don’t forget to breathe,” he warns, just as he wraps a blindfold around my head, and everything goes dark.
“What the fuck?” My protest comes out panicked, with the sudden realization that I’m already bound to the chair, and now I can’t see. “Damien!” I shout his name, but get no response.
After a silent pause passes between us, I shudder when a loud smack whips the air, reverberating off the walls and echoing through the stillness. “W-what was that?” I ask, the fear I previously mentioned not having, now evident in my tone.
“Shhh,” Damien coos. “Get out of your head, and let your heightened senses take control.”
“What does that even—”
Another smacking sound rings through the air, cutting me off. I’m not sure where the sound is coming from, obviously somewhere behind me, but it sounded like a leather belt hitting skin.
Moments of silence pass us again, where the only things I can hear are the sound of my racing heart and Damien shuffling around the room.
I can tell he’s trying to be quiet, when sensual music suddenly starts playing through the speakers that I assume are in the wall, that I never even noticed before.
Finally, he speaks up and says, “Tell me what you’re feeling now.”
“Curious,” I reply without hesitation.
“Mmm,” he groans. “I bet you are. I can imagine each time I smack this paddle against my hand, your pussy clenches for me, in anticipation to feel it against your skin.”
“That’s what that sound is?” I ask.
He wants to truly fucking spank me. He did it with his hand, and that excited me…but, a paddle? My throat tightens, as I process that information.
“Focus, Lyla,” Damien demands, his voice stern and commanding. The sultry sound of his tone manages to arouse me even more.
I can’t see, but somehow, I’m able to sense him standing directly behind me now. I get slightly self-conscious of the view he must have, and attempt to shift my knees closer together, but his large hands shoot out, grabbing my legs and stopping my efforts.
“Don’t you dare fucking move,” he growls. “You don’t get to try and hide from me. Not now. Not unless you back out completely by saying the word.”
“That isn’t going to happen. I’m not backing down.” My mouth feels dry as it falls open on a moan.
Why the fuck am I moaning? He hasn’t even truly touched me yet. Just the thought of his hands on me is sending my body into a frenzy.
“Have it your way,” he says, just as the sound of the paddle whipping through the air permeates the room, right before landing a firm blow on my ass. It sends me jolting forward, tugging at my cuffs above my head. My knees begin to shake slightly. “Now what are you feeling?”
I stubbornly ignore his question. The only response he gets from me is another moan and a challenging, “More, Damien. Give me more.”
“Greedy now, aren’t you?” he asks, a small sense of amusement in his raspy tone, but I can tell he’s intrigued to see how far he can take this.
“Haven’t we already established that?”
“Mhmmm,” he draws out. “But I’d like to see just how greedy I can get you for me. And I intend to make it very fucking worth it.”
Holy fuck.