Page 62 of Pandora's Pleasure
A ping went off on his phone and he dragged it toward him, his expression becoming pained. “I have to go.”
“Where?”
“Downtown.” He pushed to his feet. “Let’s get you home. Don’t discuss what happened here last night, okay?”
“You mean with my parents?” I smirked. “I thought that’s what our sex tape was for.”
“Fuck off.” He grinned as he grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair.
“You fuck off,” I said just as playfully.
He rounded the table and dipped his head to kiss me, his hand cupping my cheek, his mouth firm against mine. “Take your time getting dressed. Make yourself at home.”
“You don’t mind?”
“I like having you here.” He grabbed his wallet, phone and car keys and headed for the door, stopping for a beat before reaching the hall. “Pandora.”
“Yes?”
“I’ll have a car pick you up in a couple of hours from your parents’ place. Be ready. I’ll meet you at my dad’s.”
“Is that wise?”
“You need to acclimate to the intensity of what we’re up against.” He looked down his nose at me. “A change of scenery from spending your days in the lap of luxury.”
“My gilded cage. Lucky me.” I pushed to my feet. “I want to go to Vanguard.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He looked thoughtful. “If you perform to a satisfactory level this evening, I will consider taking you with me to Vanguard. Now sit and finish your breakfast.”
I sat back down immediately, tingling with expectancy as his dominance vibrated through me, my nipples beading at the way he’d barked that order. Why did his voice have such a primal effect on me?
Damien watched my reaction. “When you get home, pack a suitcase full of clothes. Something for every occasion.”
“Am I staying here again?”
“We need you ready for anything.” He pivoted and headed out.
A riot of morning sunlight surrounded me where there would one day be walls. Right now the structure was merely a husk and I felt a gut-wrenching panic that work had stopped abruptly on the Fairfield project.
How quickly life goes tits-up.
I’d been on a high since I’d awoken this morning, knowing Pandora was in my bed. Watching her sleep had been sublime.
We’d taken an important step forward with an authentic evening getting to know each other on an entirely new level—an evening spent in a dungeon that clung to my psyche as only a taste of perfection can. Truly, those were the best hours we’d spent together.
Here, now, was as low as it could get—some fucker had shut down construction.
A voice boomed from across the vastness. “Thank you for coming.”
Blinking through the dust, I turned to see the construction supervisor Al Shaffer, who approached me wearing a hard hat.
He gave a friendly wave. “Mr. Godman, a minute.”
Walking carefully along what would one day be a foyer, I joined him out on the street.
