Chapter 20
Ivy
I don’t know how I didn’t notice that we were in Father’s old room when he brought me here. I was too wrapped up in my feelings to even register the familiar surroundings. Damien had taken to the main house after we came out of the cottage. Entering the foyer brought on a nostalgia I didn’t expect. I never liked this place all that much, but it was my father’s favorite getaway and so it meant every party and every family gathering was held here. Those were sources of memories I would rather forget, and yet I felt a sense of warmth from the cold surroundings.
It’s clear Damien isn’t living here. The place is redecorated in that typical real estate interior design look. There is nothing you can point at that gives off any personality except the master bedroom. The room he brought me to. To defile me. To prove a point.
He changed nothing here. Just like the cottage, it was frozen in time. This is the depth of his hatred. Had he planned this all this time? Did he buy this house just so he could exact his revenge years later? How fucked up is that?
I can’t stop myself from slapping his face when he reveals his fucked up revenge scheme. I try to get away from him, but he blocks me. His face is harsh when he says, “The night isn’t over yet.”
I want to spit the deal in his face. Tell him he can jump a cliff, but then I think of Lake. Nolan. My family.
“You’ve fucked me plenty already. What more do you want?”
“A shower.”
I frown as he takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom. Are there any more tricks he has in store? Does he have a mockup of my dad standing in the shower stall or something? At this rate, I doubt anything would surprise me.
Thankfully there’s no lifesize mockup of my father. Damien simply opens the shower door and runs the water. He enters and pulls me inside. We shower in silence as though I didn’t slap him moments after he gave me one of the best orgasms of my life. Instead, we behave like an old couple. Slathering soap on each other’s bodies and then washing it off under the hot water.
His behavior is unreadable. One moment he is revealing the extent of his hatred of me, and the next we are taking showers together. A humiliation ritual in one moment, an earth-shattering orgasm the next. Maybe that’s how he gets his revenge. Play with my emotions such that I am not prepared for the punch that comes from his next revelation.
I can’t even complain about being tied up on a bedpost. I was unsure at first, and I wasn’t sure what he had planned for me. After the initial surprise of him slapping my butt went away, an odd feeling replaced it. Need. I wanted him to do it again. It was… arousing. Interestingly enough, he wasn’t too rough with me, as though he was restraining himself. I am shamed to even want to be treated the way he treated me.
After we are done we get out of the shower. Damien grabs two towels and he uses one to dry me. Another gesture of care that makes no sense in this revenge fantasy of his. He dries my back, then he runs the towel on my chest, caressing my breasts as he does so. The fibers of the material rub against my nipples, making me moan without meaning to. It drives me crazy and when I look into his eyes; it looks like he’s doing it deliberately. He spends too much time on my breasts before squatting and moving down to my center and flipping the towel on its edge, so that the ridge runs down my clit and into my slit. My knees buckle.
“Stop.” I meant it to come out firm and forceful, but my voice is weak and needy. He does as I say, though, and straightens. Instinctively, I take the other towel off of his hands and rub him down. It’s a clinical act at first. Starting from his shoulders, I run the towel down to his arms, wiping away the water. I reach his waist, kneel, and continue down to his cock and carefully rub it down. I apply a little pressure to his balls, and he hisses. It shouldn’t make me happy, with all that’s happened and is happening between us, but I like his response. His cock hardens even more as I play with it, rubbing the towel at the tip and then up and down his length. I look to see his eyes closed and his entire body rigid. As though he’s holding to his last shred of self-control.
I move on to his legs and dry them, ignoring the huge member in my face. Satisfied, I get back up and say, “Done.What else do you have in store for me? How else do you want to debase me?”
He grabs my chin and tilts it upward. “I’ll let you know soon enough. Right now--”
We are interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing in the other room. My phone. I step forward, but he blocks me. “Ignore it.” His gaze darkens as it caresses my naked body. He has seen me naked so many times now and still I feel like he’s looking at me under a microscope.
“I need to get it. It could be Lake.”
“Maybe it was someone else. I’m sure he’s fine. “
The phone goes quiet.
But he could be in danger, or maybe something’s happened to him. Some sixth sense is telling me that things are not fine. I would rather overreact and be wrong than downplay a situation that could be an emergency. And besides, Lake likes to call me whenever I am not home.
The phone rings again. This time I run to it and Damien doesn’t block me. My ears ring when I see the number on the screen. It’s Greta. Taking a deep breath, I answer the call.
“Everything fine?”
“I’m with Lake on our way to the hospital. He collapsed.”