I’m sure the guests loved this place the Smith family built just for them.
I snagged a glass of champagne and took a sip.
Mr. Drake squeezed my hand. “I have to make the rounds before dinner. Thank God I have you here, or I don’t think I could make it. Smiling at these people for three hours straight when all I want is to take you back to the room and do unspeakable things...”
I choked, trying not to spit my drink.
“Look alive, Miss Willcox,” Mr. Drake said, chuckling softly.
He steered me over to a balding man and his plump wife and smoothly made his introductions. I took another swig and smiled politely.
It was going to be a long night.
***
“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered to me, nuzzling my neck as we rode the elevator to the penthouse suite.
“Mmm?” I wrapped my hands in his hair as he nibbled my ear, my heartbeat pounding with each touch of his lips.
We’d wined and dined the night away, and now relief flooded through me knowing that at least this night had gone as planned. Everything had been organized to perfection, and the board members and investors seemed to be enjoying themselves.
The elevator shuddered to a halt, and I squealed as Mr. Drake scooped me up into his arms.
“I think you’re going to enjoy it, little slave,” he said. “Do you trust me?”
He set me down just long enough to unlock the door at the end of the hall, then threw me over his shoulder again. I giggled against his tuxedo jacket, the wine and the intoxicating smell of his cologne making me feel giddy.
He kicked the door shut and tossed me onto the bed so hard that I bounced. I glanced around, my breath catching at the view, visible from the huge marble balcony attached to the suite. Stars winked at me from the clear night sky, and I grinned. Even when he traveled, Mr. Drake had to be on top of the world.
“You didn’t answer me. Do you trust me, Isa?”
He towered over me at the foot of the bed, looking sexy as hell with his tuxedo shirt half unbuttoned, bow tie hanging askew where I’d tugged it open.
“Of course I do.”
He leaned down under the bed and reemerged holding a small travel bag. “Then put this on.”
I took it from him, and opened it, not sure what to expect. Part of me feared it would be another expensive dress, but I smiled at what I saw. A black, padded blindfold. It was perfect.
My body tingled all over as I slid it down over my eyes, securing it around the back of my head.
“Can you see anything?”
“No, Sir.”
I felt him near me, but my world was now as black as pitch. The blindfold molded itself to the contours of my face, sealing out all light. He snapped his fingers an inch away from my ear, and I jumped with a little shriek.
“Good girl. I think you’ll agree, it’s more fun if you’re honest with me...”
Hands caressed me through my dress, teasing as they ran down my ribcage, stopping just before squeezing my br**sts.
“Hold your arms out at your sides and lie back, little slave.”
I let him gently push me down until my head hit the pillow and both arms were stretched out like a cross. I heard a rustling near my head, but held still, waiting with bated breath to discover what my master had planned for me. Something silky wrapped around my wrist, then tightened, stretching my arm out. I heard soft footfalls on the carpet, and then my other wrist was being bound, tied in place with something strong but soft. One of his neckties, maybe? I gave an inquisitive yank, but I was held firm to the bedposts, helpless to escape.
“Now, you’re mine to do with as I please. The question is... what am I going to do first?”
His low chuckle sent shivers down my spine.
There was silence for a few endless moments, stretching out until I couldn’t stand it. I strained to hear him, to figure out where he was. I pictured him staring at me, bound beneath him, plotting how he could drive me crazy.
I heard a rasping noise from the edge of the bed, like metal sliding over metal, and my body tensed.
“Let’s get these clothes off you. I want to see that beautiful body of yours.”
Something cool and hard grazed the inside of my thigh, and I sucked in a breath, pulling at my bonds. Fear sliced through me, irrational but so real it was palpable. What was he doing?
“Shhh, little slave. Hold still.”
There was a sharp, metallic snip, and I felt the material of my dress give way, the satin sliding down my leg.
Oh, God. He’s going to cut my clothes off. Picturing large metal shears anywhere near my na**d body sent pins and needles running through me. But if I trusted anyone with my safety, it was my Mr. Drake. I held as still as I could, trying not to freak out.
I whimpered as he dragged the blade of the scissors upward, teasing me, before slicing through more of my dress. My nerves felt like they were on fire as the metal moved upward, the cold steel tickling as it moved toward my panties. Arousal warred with anxiety as the snip, snip, snip moved closer.
My breathing was ragged by the time I felt the scissors’ edge work beneath the thin lace. The metal moved slowly, oh-so-carefully, working its way beneath the crotch until I felt the dull edge caress my lower lips.
“Oh, God...” I said, my voice high and strained.
One slice, and the fabric fell away. I realized then I’d been holding my breath, and let it out slowly.
“You naughty thing,” Mr. Drake said, his voice a low rumble. “You’re soaking wet already.”
The scissors snapped down, and one side of my panties ripped apart beneath the blades, then the other. The top half fell away, and the scissors moved upward, caressing my stomach and making me gasp.
I felt my dress shredding open, the sound of the satin parting whispering in the darkness. I tried not to move, but my chest heaved with each breath. When the scissors reached the place between my br**sts, they stopped. I knew Mr. Drake must be enjoying this, watching me tremble beneath him. The thought made me wish I could take off the blindfold and end this game, but another enjoyed the sweet torture far too much to stop.
The scissor blades snapped together, and the rest of the dress fell apart, exposing my bare br**sts, for I hadn’t worn a bra tonight. I felt my ni**les draw tight under the stare I couldn’t see, but could feel with every piece of my being.
I was his.
There was another sound of movement, and I felt him draw back. The carpet rustled, and there was a tinkling noise, a clinking of something against glass. Then, I smelled his cologne, felt his heat, and knew he stood over me, even though he didn’t say a word.