“Sorry.” His voice was low, almost apologetic. “I usually turn up the heat before a scene. This was… short notice.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered, my voice shaking—not with cold, but with anticipation.
He stepped closer, lowering himself without breaking eye contact, until he was kneeling beside me—his face aligned with mine. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said. His voice dropped into that low, controlled timbre that made my entire body respond.
“I’m going to blindfold you.” His fingers brushed my cheek. “Then I’ll touch you—just my hands—warming your skin, getting blood flowing.”
My heart tripped, blood warming.
“Next, I’ll start with very light taps,” he continued. “Barely anything. Not pain. Just sensation. I want your body to ease into it.”
I nodded shakily.
“As you relax, they’ll get a little sharper. You may feel a sting. Heat.” His tone softened. “That’s normal. As intensity increases, I want you to lean into it. Don’t fight it. Let your mind drift. Your endorphins will catch up. The pain will dull. The world will blur.” He cupped my jaw gently. “And then you’ll fly.”
A tremor rolled through me.
“If at any point you want to stop—or even just pause—you say the word stop, or you stand. That’s all. No explanations. No guilt.”
I nodded again, letting the warmth of the blanket seep into my skin and settle deep into my bones.
“Now, Emma…”
Damien leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “Do I have your permission?”
I drew air in—myyescame out on the exhale.
His face transformed. Radiant. Like I’d given him something he hadn’t dared ask for.“Thank you.” He kissed me again, fingertips brushing my eyelids closed with impossible gentleness. “I’ll be right back.”
He moved away for only a moment. Then silk brushed my cheek. His fingers swept my hair aside. The blindfold slid over my eyes, sealing the world away as he tied it behind my head. Darkness swallowed me whole.
Panic flared, sharp and instinctive. But I fought it—pulled air in, pushed it out—forcing peace into the places panic wanted to take. Second by second, my heartbeat steadied. The adrenaline thinned, leveling into something warm, expectant.
Then—
His hand.
Skimming down my back beneath the blanket.
Long, soothing strokes at first. His thumbs working into the knots under my shoulder blades.
I exhaled, tension bleeding out of me in slow waves.
He kept going, inch by inch, until the blanket shifted—sliding down my sides, slipping away entirely.
Cool air kissed every newly exposed inch of my skin.
And still his hands followed.
Lowering me into the dark he’d created.
He trailed a single finger down my spine, measured enough that the sensation burned a line straight through the darkness. Footsteps shifted behind me, signaling his new position.
I tensed.
My nerves sparked alive again, bright and jittery.
Then—a tap.
