Page 17 of Pandora's Pleasure
I raised my hand to examine the emerald on my ring finger, coming to the painful realization that it would always remind me of our loveless marriage. I went to pull it off, but it was too snug. I’d need soap and water to extract me from Damien’s mark of the beast with its many facets of shiny hate.
I smoothed out the duvet, musing that it could have been here on this bed where we first slept together. My first time…
The thought of choosing my wedding dress brought no joy. Deciding on the flavor and look of the cake or even having a say where we went on our honeymoon would not be tasks I could enjoy. All those bridal magazines I’d collected over the years made me look naive.
“Shall we?” Damien stood in the doorway, holding up a condom packet.
I drew in a sharp breath.
He studied me with an intensity that caused a delicious frisson to feather my skin.
I gave a nod, letting him know I wanted this to happen.God, how I wanted to feel his body against mine…even if hate was our baseline.
I couldn’t wait to be free of this curse. My innocence had been used as leverage to get me here and getting rid of it made me feel a rush of power.
Damien strolled across the room toward a mirror and signaled I was to follow. He gave the mirror a tap and a secret door opened to a staircase.
“Where does that lead?”
Instead of answering, he headed up a spiraling marble staircase. Feeling unsure,I followed behind him anyway, our footfalls echoing around us.
I peered up at the high ceiling, proving the expanse of this place was awe inspiring. Continuing to put distance between me and the rest of the house chipped away at my bravery.
We reached a door at the top and I followed him into another bedroom. An antique four-poster bed was positioned at the opposite end of the room. French-style furniture added a sensual flair, along with the faded soft blue and pink rug in the center.
Strolling toward the window, I looked out at the dramatic ocean view. Up here in what felt like a loft, the vantage point was just as enthralling. My fingers caressed the hairs on my nape—I could feel him staring at me.
I turned to face him.
Then I saw them.
Red silk ties hung down from each of the carved bedposts, the sashes of scarlet suggesting that someone could be tied to that bed.
Someone like me. “You’re not…”
“If you remain in this room, yes.”
Licking my lips to wet them, I tried to rally my courage. “Will it hurt?”
His shoulders relaxed as he asked, “Do you want it to?”
“I want it to be special.”
“I can promise it will be memorable.” His eyes narrowed on me. “Would you like that?”
Damien took my hand and led me toward the bed, his gaze never leaving mine like a hawk watching its prey.
He’d already shown me what kind of man he was, dismissive and punishing. I sensed his brand of love making wouldn’t be much different. Everything rested on me surrendering to this moment. Surrendering to him. That’s what he wanted to see.
With a gesture he ordered, “Lie down.”
After slipping off my shoes, I lay on the bed feeling the firmness of the mattress beneath my body, tulle swimming around my waist. I rested my head on the soft pillow and stared at the ornate ceiling, trying to steady my breathing.
At least he hadn’t asked me to remove my dress.
Damien wrapped a silk ribbon around my left wrist and tugged the material to ensure it was inescapable. He moved over to my right wrist and did the same. Then set to work attaching the lower ribbons to my ankles, tying them to the lower two bedposts after easing my legs apart, leaving me sprawled out and vulnerable.
He stepped back. “How does that feel?”
