Descended (The Red Blindfold Book 2) (11 page)

The rest of the day I
wore my leather collar and served him like a maid, dressing and
undressing him, cooking lunch for him, washing the dishes in sheer
lace boy shorts and heels while he watched from the table.

“Now bend over and
put the cutting board in the cabinet,” he said. “That’s right.
All the way.”

Later I got into the
shower with him to wash his hair, soap his body, and finally, to suck
him as I knelt on the shower floor. He’d been aroused for hours and
it didn’t take long to satisfy him. Water streaming over his
shoulders, he came on my breasts with his hand under my chin, forcing
me to look him in the eye while he spurted across my cleavage.

“You’re mine,” he
said as he climaxed. “I own you now.”

I was intoxicated with
him. Totally, incurably in love.

On Monday morning, he
dreamt about entering me from behind and woke up aroused, wanting me
before he left for work. I knelt on the floor by the bed, receiving
his hard shaft with my wrists tied in front of me. He took his
pleasure quickly and left me unsatisfied, promising to reward my
patience when he got home that night.

I knew I’d long for
him all day, thinking of him as I wore the dress and lingerie he’d
set out for me. This morning, he’d chosen a pale purple lace thong,
a matching corset, and gray stockings with a sleek satin garter belt.
Hanging in the closet was a dark blue dress that plunged low in the
front, showing the faint trail of freckles between my breasts.

Marc made me breakfast
and, after a long kiss, went to work. I was insanely happy, lingering
at the table with coffee until it was time to get ready for my lunch
at a new brasserie. After putting on makeup I quickly straightened
the bedroom, hanging a crop back in the closet, making the bed, and
tossing clothes in the hamper.

Humming to myself, I
grabbed an umbrella from the stand by the front door and went down to
the lobby.

I was just stepping
onto the sidewalk when I saw him – Trevor, standing at the corner
in the drizzle with his hands shoved in the front pockets of his
jeans.

Shit. Was I supposed to
meet him this morning? Was that what I’d told Julia the last time
she texted me?

On instinct I turned to
duck back inside, but he’d already seen me. “Sophie!” he
shouted, jogging toward me in his Yankees cap and fleece jacket.

“Trevor. Hi.”

“Whoa,” he said,
looking me up and down. “Look at you, all dressed up. Going
somewhere fancy?”

“To a restaurant. On
assignment.”

“Oh, well, I’ve
been waiting out here,” he said. “I was about to call you. Did
you forget we were meeting at eleven?”

“I guess I did. I’m
sorry. I’ve been really busy.” Yeah. Busy having torrid sex with
Marc on every possible household surface.

“This’ll only take
a minute. Can we go inside? It’s starting to rain.”

“Um –” I glanced
back at the door. There had to be a way to put him off. “I thought
you were on your way to the airport.”

“Not until later,”
he said. “I have to go back to the hotel to check out.”

“Well, I’d rather
talk out here, if that’s okay.”

“In the rain?” he
asked, frowning. “Why, somebody up there?”

I let out an
exasperated sigh. “No, I just – it’s not my apartment.”

“Please, Sophie. I
don’t want to do this on the street, okay?”

The door opened and out
stepped a woman in her late fifties wearing a pink bouclé jacket.
She had on huge dark sunglasses in spite of the gray sky. I moved
aside to let her pass.

“Bonjour,” she
said, nodding at us.

Trevor reached out and
held the door before it could close. “Come on,” he said, stepping
inside. “What floor?”

I went in after him, my
heels echoing on the marble floor. “Trevor – what are you doing?
We can’t go upstairs.”

“Come on. I just
wanna talk for a second.” The elevator door sprang open with a loud
ring as soon as he pressed the button. “Look at that. All ready to
go.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Going up?”

He got in. I had no
choice but to get in next to him. “I don’t know why we have to do
this inside,” I said.

“You’ll see.”

I stared straight
ahead. If Trevor didn’t make this fast, I’d have to change my
restaurant reservation. The brasserie was so popular they probably
had no open tables for the rest of the day.

“I don’t have much
time,” I said, walking down the hall ahead of him. With an
impatient twist of the wrist, I opened the door with my key. The
alarm sounded and I silenced it with four quick jabs.

“Maybe that’ll
change,” Trevor said. He strode inside, looking around. “He owns
this place, too?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.” He sniffed
critically at the crowded bookshelves and framed photographs, the
huge abstracts on the walls, the caricature drawing of me propped on
the fireplace mantel.

“That you?” he
asked, peering at it.

“Yup.”

“Thought so. Kinda
weird, isn’t it?”

I crossed my arms. “Why
did you want to see me?”

“Sure, I’ll take a
cup of coffee, thanks.” He smiled in a way that was meant to be
charming but wasn’t.

I left him in the
living room and made a very strong cappuccino using the machine in
the kitchen. By the time I got back Trevor was sitting on the couch
with an ankle thrown over his knee, his jacket on the cushion beside
him.

“Thanks,” he said,
taking the cup and loudly slurping a sip.

“What have you been
doing for the last week?” I asked.

“My buddy works at
the Google office here. He’s been showing me around town.”

“Oh.” I snuck a
glance at my watch. I’d be late, but maybe the restaurant would
hold my table if I called. I hoped they would understand my horrible
French over the phone.

“Sit down, okay?”

It was easier to sit
than argue. I took the chair beside the couch and crossed my legs.

“You look good in
heels,” he said. “Better than those ballet things you used to
wear all the time.”

“I still wear them.”

“Uh oh,” he said,
and grinned.

I gave him a brief
false smile. Maybe that was why he was here – to insult my shoes.

He looked down at his
lap as if collecting his thoughts, then back at me. “Listen, we
were together a long time. I know I blew it, but it doesn’t mean
you weren’t important to me. You were. You still are.”

I felt nothing but
boredom. How long was he going to go on talking? When could I leave?

“I didn’t know how
much I loved you until you were gone,” he went on, his eyebrows
lifting in the middle. “I’m just really sorry about what I did. I
was drunk and we were fighting a lot. I know it’s not an excuse.”

“Thank you, I
appreciate that. I don’t mean to rush you, but I really am late.”

“This won’t take
long.” He put down his coffee and shifted, reaching into his front
pocket. His mouth flattened as he tried to suppress a smile.

I looked down at his
hand. In his palm was a small blue velvet box.

“It’s for you,”
he said, holding it out to me.

Not knowing what else
to do, I took it. The top made a little creak as it opened. Inside
was a diamond solitaire, probably two carats, cut into an emerald
shape.

I was so stunned I
could hardly make sense of it. Was this an engagement ring? Could he
possibly be serious?

“Trevor,” I said,
my voice filled with pity. It must have taken all of his savings and
then some to buy this.

His eyes were misty.
“Marry me, Sophie. I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life
making it up to you. I know you’re with this Marc guy to get back
at me, and I probably deserve it. But you’ve made your point and
now I want you to come home.”

I struggled for a
response that wouldn’t sound cruel. “This is a very sweet
gesture, Trevor.”

Doubt flashed across
his face as it occurred to him, evidently for the first time, that I
might turn him down. “I love you so much,” he said. “You know
that, right?”

“Yes,” I said,
though I didn’t, and never had. “And the ring is absolutely
beautiful.”

“But?”

“But I don’t think
marriage is a good idea.”

His Adam’s apple
bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Why not?”

“Because I think I’m
in love with someone else. Actually, I know I am.” The words hung
harshly in the air.

“No, you’re not,”
he said. “You can’t be. It’s only been a month and you’re on
the rebound.”

I shrugged. “Maybe
you’re right, but that’s how I feel right now.”

“At least take some
time to think about it.”

“I already have,” I
said, standing. I closed the ring box carefully and handed it back to
him. “It’s gorgeous, and I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted
things to turn out.”

He stared at me, his
features twisting into something ugly and strange. “So that’s
it?” he said, bumping the coffee table as he got up and splashing
cappuccino on the glass top. “You’re just going to throw me out?”

“I have to be
somewhere, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay. You’ve
gotta be somewhere.” A muscle twitched in his cheek. “What’s
with the sexy outfit, anyway? You go out in public like that?”

“Better leave, okay?
You’ll miss your flight.”

I turned and started
toward the door. In a second he was behind me, his hands on my waist.

“Hey – what are you
doing?” I said, pushing against his arms. “Don’t touch me.”

“What’s wrong? You
like it this way, don’t you?”

“Come on, Trevor. I
mean it.”

“I bet you do.”

I stopped struggling
and sighed. “Are you finished being an asshole? Because I’d like
to go to lunch if you don’t mind.”

“Hold on,
I’m
the asshole? I just asked you to marry me, remember?”

He spun me around and
backed me against the wall, shocking the breath out of me. It wasn’t
his roughness that scared me as much as the vacant look in his eyes.

“Trevor, stop it.”

“Does he even know
I’m here?” He lifted my dress and grabbed my thighs where the
stockings met the satin garters.

“Of course he does.”

He leaned in until his
face was an inch from mine. “I don’t think you’re telling the
truth, Sophie. I don’t think he has any idea. I don’t think he’s
coming home for hours.”

“This is fucking
ridiculous,” I said. “Let me go.”

“Why didn’t you
ever dress like that for me?”

“Because you never
asked,” I said flatly.

He tousled my hair
roughly. “I guess they like this look over here,” he said. “They
have a different idea of what pretty is.”

I shook my hair out of
my eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s not like you
ever had men falling all over you. Maybe you should have appreciated
me while we were together.”

“Door’s that way,”
I said, pushing against his shoulders. “Have a nice trip.”

“Now, hang on, don’t
rush me out. I want to see what’s underneath that dress.”

With a quick tug, he
pulled the thin tie knotted at my hip. My dress fell open, revealing
the pale purple lingerie and garters. Trevor looked down and let out
a bitter laugh.

“Holy shit. What have
we here?”

I tried to cover myself
but he was too quick, grabbing my wrists and pinning them to the
wall. As he ground his pelvis against me, I realized that he was
hard. For a fleeting instant before panic seized my brain, I thought
how much larger Marc was than Trevor, and how humiliated Trevor would
be if he knew.

“All right, can I go
now?” I said. “I get it. You’re pissed off and you’re
stronger than I am. Congratulations.”

“That Marc dude does
this to you and you get off on it. You keep coming back for more.”

Twisting my arms behind
my back, he locked both of my wrists in one hand. With the other, he
yanked my panties to mid-thigh and pushed his hand between my legs.
For the first time in weeks, I was bone dry.

“You don’t want to
do this,” I said. “I’ll scream.”

Adrenaline racing
through me, I tried to drive my knee into his balls. He blocked it
with his hand and gave me a sickening smile.

“Go ahead and scream.
It’s nothing a gag won’t take care of. I bet you have one around
here somewhere, along with fuck knows what else.”

I heard the sickening
rip of lace and my panties dropped to the floor. Fingers gripping my
shoulders, Trevor shoved me ahead of him into the living room. I
grabbed the sofa back but he pulled my hand away.

“Where’s the bed?”
he hissed, pushing me down the hall. “That’s where you spend most
of your time, isn’t it? Getting your brains fucked out?”

Before I could yell,
Trevor wrapped his hand around my mouth. He peered into doorways,
finally coming to the master bedroom. My shoes slipped on the carpet
as he forced me inside and kicked the door shut.

Spinning me to face
him, he tore my dress and corset off, leaving me in nothing but
stockings, garters, and heels.

“Why are you doing
this?” I cried. Black spots flickered across my vision and for a
second I thought I might pass out.

He threw me onto the
bed and got on top of me, wedging his knee between my thighs.
Screaming now, I pounded my fists against his face and chest. He
snatched the red blindfold – our blindfold, Marc’s and mine –
from the nightstand, forcing it between my lips.

“Shut up,” he
hissed. “Shut up.”

I heard his zipper
opening and felt his erection against my stomach. My body went rigid.
I stared at the ceiling, the same phrase running through my mind
again and again.

I
don’t believe it. I don’t believe it.

I’d awakened this
morning thinking that I knew how every hour would pass. This wasn’t
my life. It couldn’t be happening.