I turn back to her, a smirk playing at my lips as I see that she’s blushing. She’s so cute when she blushes. Almost as cute as when she’s angry.
“Uhm… Damien? Do you think you could untie me?”
I run my eyes over her gorgeous body, her dark hair framing her pale face, her breasts crushed against the mattress, the torture I inflicted on her nipples searing them a bright red, her ass crimson. Beautiful. Goddamn beautiful. And all mine.
Well, mostly.
“And why should I do that, pet?” I ask, my voice dark with desire.
“Uh…” Her blush deepens. “I have to pee.”
I let out a loud laugh, half-hoping to make her angry. Because the truth is, it’s kind of addictive.
But instead, she just looks relieved. I guess my punishment, the real one, scared her.
But when her long lashes bat at me, I don’t see fear in her violet eyes. Just a pleading expression. Shereallywants me to untie her.
My smirk deepens. “How long do you think you can hold it in?”
“Ihavebeen holding it in,” she admits, blushing even harder. “Can you uncuff me? I promise I’ll let you tie me right back after.”
“Oh, you’llletme?” I chuckle. “I didn’t realize you werelettingme do anything.”
She buries her flaming face in the sheets.
I can’t resist teasing her a bit more. “Just wet the bed, pet. I can always buy a new mattress.”
“Damien!” she exclaims in a stifled voice.
“Fine, fine.” Making a mental snapshot of her body, stretched and helpless, I undo her restraints then prop her over my shoulder and carry her to the bathroom like that, ignoring her yelps of protest. I’m tempted to force her to pee in front of me, just so I can exert a bit more of the control that feels like it’s slipping through my fingers. But I take pity on her. “Don’t be long,” I warn, closing the door.
Then I head into the spacious closet next to the bedroom. Time to go visit our new home. Now that the house is finally ready, I’m impatient to see it. I grab a few garments from the rack and fold them into a suitcase. If we decide to stay for good, I’ll have the rest sent over.
Early this morning, I had texted Vincent a list of requests, and I check my phone to make sure everything’s finalized. I asked him to find me a private, secluded bridal boutique and an even quieter wedding planner. If my pet behaves, I’ll allow her to choose the cake flavor and the dress. Vincent also organized a church wedding, because I may be a Devil, but that doesn’t mean I’m not planning to get married in a church.
And whatever Seraphina’s secret thoughts are, she’ll do as I say.
She’s getting married to me, whether she wants to or not.
I still control a few things. Her future, namely. And during the eight months that I believed her dead, I was haunted by visionsof what could have been. My girl in a white wedding dress, at the altar, promising to love and obey me for the rest of her life. Now that I have her again, I will, at the very least, force her to speak those last words.
Obey me.
I made sure Vincent would find places far away from here. I have no doubt he’ll spill the beans to the others, but at least I won’t have to deal with Logan’s smirks or Everest’s over-the-top enthusiasm. Nor do I want Igor’s cruel eyes glinting at me, reminding me of what I am deep down… a criminal, a sadist. Not a man fit for a sweet girl like Seraphina.
After the wedding, we’ll head up to our new home.
I’m impatient for Seraphina to see it, and to see it myself. I wonder if the smell of dirt will prevent her from liking it. I’m notthatmuch of a monster. If she truly can’t stand it, we won’t stay.
I find myself desperately hoping that shewilllike it. That home represents the fulfillment of a childhood dream. I’ll always remember the vacation I once took in Vermont, where my mother’s more affluent sister lived. To me, she seemed incredibly wealthy, though I doubt she was more than middle class. Still, it felt like a breath of fresh air to spend two weeks in that white-shingled house with the dark green shutters and door, and the white picket fence that enclosed a small yard. I even had my own room there, a bed with a mattress and a dresser for my clothes.
I remember how different it was from my own hectic upbringing, my alcoholic mother and my abusive father. The tumble-down shack on the riverfront. The bedroom the three of us shared. I slept on the floor. There was no running water, and I’d wash myself every morning before school with the freezing cold garden hose, doing my best not to wake anyone. Mom stayed in bed all day, nursing her hangovers, and Dad, well… I never really knew what he did with his days. All I did knowwas that he would beat the shit out of me if I caused him to remember my existence.
I owned nothing. Not the clothes on my back, not the food in my stomach. Anything I got, Dad reminded me he could take away just as easily. He made me feel like a charity case, and I was his fucking son. I was very young when I made up my mind that one day, I’d owneverything.
The one pinprick of happiness in my childhood was that vacation in Vermont.
Aunt Janet was a sharp-nosed stay-at-home mother and Uncle Gerald wore suits. My cousin Will was a pudgy, somewhat whiny boy. But I only have vague memories of them. When I think back to that time, I mostly fixate on the house. Abstract dreams of ownership were sharpened as I decided that what I would own one day was wealth. The kind of wealth that would allow me to buy a house just like the one Aunt Janet and Uncle Gerald lived in.
