Page 150 of The Pact

“I-I’m not sure. I’ve never tried anything like that.” I hate that I’m uncertain about this. My body is reacting to the sight of him holding these things. I’m clearly interested, but my mind is hesitating.

I rode Wesley with Damian watching. I’ve fucked Wes in a limo with all of their hands on me. I’ve been bitten, spanked, and I’ve gone down on Sutton while he talked to a customer. Why does a little rope play with Damian intimidate me?

“Do you trust me?” His voice breaks through my thoughts. I stare at him, mulling over the question. Maybe that’s my hesitation. I’d be giving him complete control over me, putting all of my trust in him. If I told him to stop, he wouldn’t have to if he didn’t want to. I’d be bound, forced to take whatever he gives me. Although he wouldn’t do that.

Damian might come off too controlling and devious even, but he’s already shown more restraint than any other man would’ve. He also asks for my consent. Not always in the gentlest of ways, yet if I say no, I trust he’ll back off.

It’s me, it’s my own hangups about losing my independence. I’ve built my whole life on it. With everything spinning out of control lately, I’m feeling the need to grasp at any shred I have left.

But what if I let go and give in, just for a little while? Would it be so bad to submit to his will and trust that he would make this feel good?

“I trust you, Damian,” I finally admit.

He smiles and releases a breath that eases his tense shoulders. “Good girl. Now, go slip into something more appropriate.”

51

THEA

One perk of being a boudoir photographer is that I’m sent different products to sponsor and feature on social media. The lacy lingerie I’m wearing now was gifted to me by a new company. The matching black heels were given by another.

I pull my hair loose, letting the waves fall down my back. Dabbing on some lip tint, I take one last look in the mirror before returning to Damian.

My fingers are trembling. I shouldn’t be this nervous. It’s not like this is my first time. But something about finally sleeping with Damian sends a rush of heat and anxiety through me.

I step back into my photo area and see him standing at the edge of the bed. Lined up in front of him are a variety of bondage tools.

Damian glances up, dragging his eyes over me, appreciating what I’ve chosen to wear. He takes his time rolling his sleeves up. Something that mundane shouldn’t turn me on, yet it does. “Come here, Thea.”

I saunter over to him, pushing the undercurrent of fear away with each step.

When I’m standing in front of him, he runs the back of his hand from my collarbone down between my cleavage. Tracing lower, Damian slips his finger beneath the strip of lace covering my torso. It sends a shiver down my spine.

“Get on the bed and show me that pose again.”

I crawl across the satin sheets and get into position, spreading my legs and arching back with my head tilted to the ceiling. The need to fight him on his request this time is long gone.

Click. Click.

My head snaps up to find Damian with my camera, taking pictures.

I scramble across the bed to get to him. “Hey, we didn’t agree to that!” He holds it out of reach as my hands grab at the air uselessly.

“What can I say? You inspired me. You spend all of your time making other women feel beautiful, building up their confidence, and capturing everything special about them. Now it’s your turn.” The corner of his mouth pulls upwards. “Pose for me.”

I hate that he’s right. I deserve to feel beautiful too, however, I’m not comfortable being in front of a camera. He won’t give in, though. I know him well enough. At least I can delete the pictures once he leaves—I’ll play along for now.

I walk to the brick wall and position my back against it. My hands stretch out above me as I place one foot against the stone. Deepening the arch in my back, I tip my chin upwards. But Damian has the angle all wrong.

“Take the picture from the side, over here,” I recommend. He does as I tell him.

“God damn, Thea…you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” His words do something to me. I feel the discomfort slowly slip away.

Click. Click. Click.

I move over to the mirror on the other side of the studio and get on my knees. Spreading them, I scoot close to the glass and cross my hands, placing my palms on the surface high above my head.

In the reflection, my tits are spilling out of my bra as I push them against the mirror, although it’s the view from the back that makes this pose special. I know from the many times I’ve been behind the camera exactly what Damian’s seeing.

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