Chapter 29 #4
The countdown begins, startling me out of my thoughts.
I quickly close the door to the bedroom and look around.
I once thought the apartment of my captivity was luxurious, but this is something else.
Damien’s got the whole tenth floor, and I’m standing in the middle of a long hallway that leads to a number of bedrooms and offices.
We only use one bedroom, though, and he prefers his office on the eleventh floor.
Just this hallway is positively decadent, lined with artwork.
I can thank my boredom during my captivity for making me read pretty much every magazine and book I found, because I recognize many of them.
Andy Warhol. Frida Kahlo. Georgia O’Keeffe.
Louise Bourgeois. There’s even an ugly little neon statue on a stand that looks like a blown-up balloon, which I know was made by Jeff Kloons.
I really hate modern art, but I have to say it looks good in this sleek, fancy apartment.
I open the large double doors that lead to the massive living room, its plush couches surrounding a stone fireplace in the middle of the room.
It’s got a wrap-around balcony that’s nearly the size of the apartment.
I blush as I recall our first game of hide-and-seek, when I hid out on the fourth-floor balcony.
I learned my lesson, then. No more hiding on balconies.
Seven… six… five…
I come to a standstill in the middle of the living room, hesitating.
One thick wooden door will lead me to a long dining room while the other will bring me to a library stocked with thick leather books, but also to a small nook dedicated to my Peter Pan obsession.
He never said a word about it, but by the time I was able to get up, the mural was finished, and the faint scent of fresh paint told me it was a recent addition.
It’s a gorgeous painting of a night sky with stars twinkling.
Second to the right, and straight on till morning.
Two children are flying in the sky, silhouettes that I can barely make out. I like to imagine the first one is Damien, and the one trailing just behind is me.
I know he’ll find me here in an instant. Good.
Four… three… two…
I run to the library, where I crouch behind one of the small bookshelves that forms the nook, breathing in the comforting scent of old books.
One.
“Found you, my pet,” says a fond voice. “You can’t hide from me.”
“I don’t want to,” I whisper.
He bends down, folding me in his arms, picking me up effortlessly.
In spite of his promised punishment, he’s very gentle with me.
My wounds are not entirely healed, and I miss the roughness, the pain he once inflicted on me, but this side of him is special, too.
I wish I could have both sides of him. Maybe one day I can.
I breathe him in, the pressure already building within me in anticipation. He carries me to a large table on one side of the room and sits me down upon it, his arousal pressing against me.
Then his cell phone rings.
“Motherfucker,” he grunts.
He shuts off the ringer and leans in to kiss me violently, biting at my lower lip, slipping his tongue in my mouth and exploring it hungrily.
He pins my arms behind me with one hand, and with the other, he unzips the back of my dress and lets it fall around my waist, then lifts me up slightly so it tumbles to the floor.
His eyes take in my scars, a look of sadness flitting through them, before it’s crowded aside by darkness. A darkness that makes me shiver, because even now I can’t really tell what it is. Lust? Anger? A mix of both?
In the next second I breathe easier as he once more crushes his lips to mine, and I know that if he does feel anger, at least it’s not directed at me.
The hand that isn’t pinning my arms back now slides to my chest, cupping each breast in turn.
He gazes at them for a moment before burying his face between them, breathing me in.
Then he closes his mouth around one nipple and I inhale, remembering how he once liked to torture them between his fingers.
It’s been a while since he’s done that, and I find myself whimpering, wishing he’d hurt me again. Just a little.
He smiles, seeming to read my thoughts. He flicks my nipple with his tongue, and it stiffens as I moan. He puts it back in his mouth, sucking gently on it, and just as I’ve relaxed in his arms, giving myself over to the pleasurable sensation, he closes his teeth on it. Hard.
I yelp in pain, but he doesn’t let up, and the more I wriggle, the more it hurts, my nipple tugging helplessly against his teeth. Meanwhile, he reaches up to my other nipple and twists it in his fingers, the delicious torture making me uncomfortably wet.
At last, he withdraws his teeth, and licks over the hurt, his tongue soothing the burn and causing that pressure in my stomach to build more.
He works his way down, nipping and sucking, his hand resting reverently on my stomach. Then he pushes me gently onto the table, one hand still imprisoning my wrists. He knows I won’t struggle, not anymore, but I can tell he likes being in control. I like it too.
I close my eyes, drinking in his touch as his other hand lets go of my nipple and drags gently down over the places that his mouth has bruised.
There’s a loud ripping noise and he tosses aside my panties.
Then, he nudges my thighs open and pushes my legs up, groping my bottom as his mouth finds my already-soaked pussy.
I gasp as a tingle of pleasure rises in my stomach, but just then, his phone rings again.
He growls a string of expletives, pulls his phone from his back pocket and answers, his mouth still against my folds.
“Yeah?” he grunts, his breath tickling my clit. “Not now. I’m busy.” He laps at me and I can’t suppress the loud moan that escapes me. He smirks as I hide my burning face behind my hands, while he continues to listen to the voice on the other end of the line.
“I told you not to bother me if it’s not important,” he growls, then flits a tongue up my pussy, searching for the little spot that makes me crazy. This time I’m ready, and manage to bite down on my moan, steadying my breath as sparks travel up to my stomach.
“Fine, it’s important,” he concedes, withdrawing his tongue from me and replacing it with a curled finger.
“But not more important than what I’m doing now.
” He pumps his finger in and out, making a loud, wet sound that makes me feel like I’m going to die of shame.
But as each of his thrusts meets that special spongy spot, my embarrassment is soon replaced by overwhelming need.
I start to twist around helplessly on the table, feeling an awful lot like a fish on a hook, while he continues to work my drenched pussy.
Then, just as the pressure builds to an intolerable high, and I can feel the wave of pleasure about to break over me, he withdraws his finger in a sick, suction sound, and I hear a bark of laughter on the other side of the line.
Of course, it’s Logan. Of course.
“Give me an hour,” says Damien, licking my arousal off his finger. “Not one minute less.”
Then he hangs up, and faces me. “Ready for your punishment, my pet?”
I shiver and he lifts me up so that I’m straddling him. He carries me like that to the bedroom. Then he sets me down on the bed, a lot more gently than I’d like, but I know he’s mindful of my stitches.
He crouches once more between my thighs and gives me a single lick that sends me right back to that place where I can feel the orgasm hovering, just out of reach. Just one more lick… please…
But he takes a step back, gazing at me with an evil glint in his eye as I writhe on the sheets in frustration.
“You’re a very lucky girl,” he murmurs. “I’m going to make you come. But you’ll have to be patient.”
He walks around the bed and stops at the headboard. I hear a zipping sound and my body clenches, recognizing it. Sure enough, moments later he’s imprisoned my wrists in the handcuffs that are usually hidden in the tufted upholstery.
He does the same with my feet, nudging my thighs apart and handcuffing each of my ankles.
Then he slips a few pillows under my bottom, his eyes drinking me in lustfully.
“You’d better not send Logan to free me,” I warn, a curious sense of déjà-vu causing a nervous shiver to shoot down my spine.
He smacks my pussy hard and I gasp.
“Quiet, pet,” he orders, though he can’t mask the little smirk that belies his harsh words. “I haven’t given you permission to talk.”
He sits down in front of me, his eyes still glued to my nether regions, and I quiver in impatient anticipation.
“Tsk, tsk,” he says. “I miss the days when you were too scared of me to talk.” He drags his finger up my thighs slowly, stopping just inches from my core. “I wonder how I can make my girl scared of me again. Maybe my punishments haven’t been hard enough.”
I shiver again as his hot breath tickles me. “As soon as you’re fully mended, you’ll really get what’s coming to you,” he growls, before bending down to kiss me gently.
“Please,” I beg, my body quivering with need.
“Please what?” he asks, deepening his kiss, his hand gently threading its way through my hair.
“Please… hurt me. Now, not later.”
He tears his lips away from mine before sitting back, surveying me, his little smirk widening into a grin. I turn my flaming face away, trying to hide it in the sheets, but he grabs my chin with his hand, forcing me to look at him.
“And here I was prepared to go easy on you,” he breathes, stroking my cheek. “Maybe I should, just to teach you a lesson about begging.”
He clamps his mouth around my nipple and I tense, wondering if he’s going to bite it.
Instead, he flits his tongue over it, sucks on it gently, and the sparks it sends down to my core make me moan.
Then, as he continues to suck on it gently, I find myself relaxing, sighing, a peaceful sort of desire washing over me.