Page 149 of The Pact

It’s not at all what I was expecting. Credit card hacking or identity theft comes to mind when picturing what a hacker does. That’s what he is, Damian’s a hacker. Although he’s like the Robinhood of hackers, stealing from the rich to give to the poor. It’s commendable, despite being illegal.

“How can you not look at the work you do as beautiful?”

Damian shakes his head. “For a long time, I guess I did. But years of seeing the evil in this world has burned me out. I just don’t have the drive for it much anymore.”

I walk over to him, my eyes searching his—the vulnerability isn’t what I expected from him. My gaze drops to his lips. I’m desperate to kiss him again and I wonder if he’ll let me or if he’ll get upset. I never know with him.

Biting my bottom lip, I think about how his mouth felt on mine in the limo. I’m staring too long, I realize. My eyes flick back up to his, the heat in them matches my own.

A wave of his dark auburn hair falls over his face. I instinctively brush it back into place.

Damian grabs my wrist. Shit, he’s mad. I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me. Instead, he brings my wrist to his lips. He trails his mouth over my palm to my forefinger, where he lays a kiss.

It sends a rush of heat between my legs. He breaks our gaze and glances around the room at the large blown up canvases hanging on the walls, women posing in various seductive ways.

“Interesting shots,” he comments. “Do you have to pose your clients?”

The transition back to work talk frustrates me. Damian’s always pulling away just when I think we’re making progress. How do I get past this wall with him? What does he need from me?

Taking a deep breathe, I answer reluctantly. “I usually have to pose them. Sometimes they will come in with specific poses in mind. I’ll adjust their position based on lighting and their body type to get the best picture. For the more difficult poses, I’ll demonstrate for them to make it easier.”

Damian’s brow raises. “A demonstration, huh?”

I point to my outfit. “Trust me, it’s not sexy at all in baggy shirts and yoga pants.” His eyes travel over my body.

“Show me.”

“This is stupid,” I argue while kneeling on the bed. Damian leans against the bathtub opposite me.

“I won’t repeat myself, princess.” His eyes harden as he waits for me to show him. “I want to see your favorite pose.”

My cheeks heat. I shouldn’t care that I’m on display because he’s seen all of me. But that doesn’t stop the nervousness from knotting my stomach. I preach to my clients all the time that this is a safe space and there’s no judgment here. So why can’t I take that same advice?

I want to get this over with, so I get into position. My legs are tucked beneath me, spread open. I keep eye contact with Damian. I won’t be the only one feeling uncomfortable during this little exercise. All he gives me is a flat expression.

Arching my back and pushing my tits out, I place one hand on the bed behind me while the other runs through my hair, gripping a fistful. I hold the pose for a few seconds before bringing myself back to my kneeling position with my legs closed.

“That’s it. It looks much better in lingerie, obviously.” Damian smirks at my comment and I roll my eyes.

“Obviously,” he agrees. “What’s in the trunk?”

I lean forward. He’s looking at the black trunk at the base of the bed and I groan internally. I wish I could say it’s empty. It most certainly isn’t. “Props.” I hope he’ll drop it.

Damian walks over and squats down to inspect it. His fingers lift the silver latch and he opens the lid. I dive forward, throwing myself over the edge of the bed with my hands landing on the top of it, slamming the lid back down. He laughs.

“Oh, now I really want to know what’s inside.” Despite half my weight holding the top down, he easily lifts it with both hands. I’m forced to wriggle back onto the bed and let it happen.

I hear him shuffling through the contents. His head pops up and looks at me. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, princess. These are the kinds of props I prefer.”

My cheeks heat instantly.

He pulls out a cherry red rope, still bundled and brand new. I bought everything in the trunk when the studio first opened, wanting to cater to both the lighter and darker sides of boudoir, although I haven’t had a client request to use any of it.

Damian then pulls out a black paddle with heart cut outs. I groan and cover my eyes. “These all have tags or stickers on them. Have you not used them yet?”

“No,” I answer a little too quickly.

“Do you want to?” I peek through my fingers and find Damian now standing, unraveling the red rope. My clit throbs at the thought of him tying me up. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little curious when I first bought it all.

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