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 andwhen 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. Iwould 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.”
Chapter 21
Ivy
“I’m not sure what’s happened to him. He was fine one moment, and the next he collapsed.” Greta’s voice is hurried and panicked as she speaks, but she occasionally checks herself as though she’s trying to be calm. I sink onto the chaise lounge, fear weakening my knees. The sirens in the background don’t help. They make me even more anxious and hard for me to hear her over. “We were about to go to sleep after a bath when he started having seizures. Is he allergic to anything?”
I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “No. He doesn’t have a peanut allergy or anything like that.” Damien walks in at that moment with a towel wrapped around his waist. “What’s going on?”
I get tongue-tied and return my attention to the call. “Is he awake? Can I talk to him?”
I hear some muffled and garbled sounds and then Lake’s weak voice. “Mommy?” He sounds hoarse, as though he has a sore throat.
My heart swells when I hear him. At least he can talk. At least he’s not unconscious. “I’m coming there Lake.”
“I don’t know what happened. I didn’t steal anything or eat what I shouldn’t.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. No one is accusing you of anything. I am coming over there. Give the phone to Greta.” Some moreshuffling and muffled sounds, and then Greta’s voice. She tells me the hospital she’s taking him to and I make a mental note of the name. It’s a popular hospital, the closest one to Damien’s place. I end the call and turn to him. He looks like he was frozen there the entire time. “Lake collapsed.”
“Collapsed?” He folds his arms across his chest.
“He’s being taken to a hospital. Greta thinks it could be an allergy or something. Lake’s never had any allergies before. He’s always been a healthy kid.” I look around for my dress. It’s under a chair. I grab it and put it on as quickly as I can, but my movements are too hurried and the zipper gets stuck as I try to push it up.
“Let me.” Damien materializes to my side and gently nudges my hand away. The zipper gives way to him and he zips me up. I turn to face him. “He has never had any issues before.”
“There’s a first time for everything. I’ll tell the pilot to bring the chopper. He’s five minutes away.”
Damien galvanizes into action and gets on his phone. He makes a few phone calls where he orders a few people around while getting dressed. Even he is nervous because he doesn’t bother with the tie and two of the middle buttons of his shirt are not buttoned.
A few minutes later, I hear the sounds of helicopter blades whirling outside and we leave the house. We make it to the hospital in record time, but it feels like ages to me. The walk down the sterile corridors is like a never-ending marathon and when I finally see Greta, I rush over to her.
“Where is he?”
