“Oh, Drake,” she whispered, her heart aching. “How lonely must it have been to live in a world where no one cared about you? How awful must it be for your worth to be measured by money and social status? Has anyone ever seen the real Drake Donovan? Has no one ever loved the real Drake Donovan?”
If it was the last thing she did, she was going to prove to him that his money didn’t mean a damn to her. For that matter, she wished he had none at all because then he would never harbor any doubt as to her reasons for being with him. She would want to be with him, want desperately to submit to him and please him even if he didn’t have one cent to his name.
But would he ever truly believe that? Or would some small part of him, deep down, buried under years of cynicism, always be there whispering insidiously in the back of his mind telling him she was no different from all the others?
She idly looked over at the clock on the counter by the sink and realized a full thirty minutes had passed while she contemplated the puzzle that was Drake Donovan. He’d told her to take her time, but he hadn’t been specific. She had been specific in that this night belonged to him, and the last thing she wanted was to keep him waiting and she still had to dry her hair and position herself accordingly on the bed.
Pushing away all the senseless questions and speculation that had occupied her time in the tub, she rose, water rushing down her body. She stepped out and first wrapped a towel around her head and then took another to dry her body.
After swabbing as much moisture from her hair as she could with the towel, she sat on the vanity stool and began combing out the long tresses. She sectioned off pieces of her hair and pulled a brush down the length, following it with a blow-dryer.
She wanted to look beautiful, and her hair, when freshly washed, blow-dried and brushed out, was one of her best features. She brushed until it shone and was extremely soft, giving her a windblown look that framed her face and tumbled down her back in layers.
After giving herself one last pat-down with the towel to ensure her entire body was no longer damp, she walked back into the bedroom, relieved that Drake hadn’t made his appearance yet.
She crawled on top of the mattress and with a sigh settled in the middle, her head nestled into the mound of pillows. Then she remembered his other directives.
She parted her thighs so that just a hint of the lips of her vagina were visible and then she reached upward to grasp the slats of the headboard.
Even though she was in no way bound, the feeling of being subdued, captive, a prisoner awaiting what would happen next sent delicious waves of pleasure coursing through her body. Her nipples puckered into tight, hard knots and she could feel the dampness between her legs as her clit pulsed and ached, begging for attention.
I intend only to watch.
Again his words floated through her memory, sending a fresh wave of curiosity and confusion through her veins. If he hadn’t instructed her to put her hands above her head and hold on to the headboard, she would have assumed he wanted to watch as she masturbated.
And while the first time he’d instructed her to touch herself when they were going to have anal sex had made her self-conscious, she was beyond that now and was only eager to do his bidding if it pleased him to watch her pleasure herself.
She languidly turned her head when the bedroom door opened and smiled when Drake appeared in the doorway. But her smile froze when she saw he wasn’t alone. Behind him walked in an extremely handsome, well-dressed man she judged to be around Drake’s age.
Panic scuttled up her spine and some of what she felt must have shown on her face because Drake motioned for the man to stay back as Drake approached the bed. It was then she saw the rope Drake carried.
He sat on the edge of the bed and slid one hand leisurely down her body, his smile warm and reassuring, but his eyes glittered with need.
“Trust me,” he whispered.
And at those two words and the tenderness in his expression, her trepidation dissolved in an instant.
“Oh, I trust you,” she whispered, injecting all the warmth and emotion she felt into her smile.
He took one of her hands and looped the rope around her wrist, securely binding it to the slat she’d held moments earlier. Then he did the same with the other until both hands were tied, rendering her helpless to shield her nudity from the stranger standing a short distance away.