Blindfolded (4 page)

“Yes! Owww!”

“Answer correctly and politely, Regan. The way your submissives do in your books.”

“Oh, my God…Ow! Oooow! Yes, Sir! Please…”

He paused again, resting his hand on her scalding rump. “No more smart remarks?”

“No, Sir,” Regan sniffed.

“That's my good girl,” he praised, pulling her panties and sweats up to cover her bottom.

Regan found herself flushing with pleasure at his words.
What the bloody hell was wrong with her?
She reprimanded herself.
She was his prisoner!

“Y-you promised to describe the room,” Regan whispered, eager to change the subject as he lifted her up to sit cradled in his arms again.

He tucked her face under his chin, and she inhaled his scent. It was like his voice… warm, comfortable, and very seductive. He also had some stubble that scratched lightly against her face. She resisted the urge to nip him. Stockholm Syndrome? No, not this soon. It was the wine and her despondence that made her so vulnerable to him. She vowed never to drink alone again…

“Let's see…The sense of the entire house is largely Mediterranean. Light, airy, with touches of blues. This is the living room. I would say it is about sixteen-hundred square feet, and the two main entrances are framed with smooth marbled columns supporting arches. There is a cathedral ceiling with an original hand-painted Di Sotto in Su fresco. The decor is very eclectic, and the center point is my favorite painting. The Kiss, by Gustav.”

“That's my favorite, too,” Regan muttered, trying to picture the room. “I never wrote about that. How did you know…?”

He ignored her question, holding her against his warm chest as though he had known her for years. Regan struggled against the fact that it felt… good. She fit perfectly against him. He continued to talk quietly. “She's so content, isn't she? And that tiny smile on her lips says everything is right in the world.”

“It's because of how he is touching her. She's putty in his hands,” Regan added, her mind recalling the details in the portrait. “He's so gentle, yet she trusts him to hold her upright. Her legs are collapsing underneath her.”

“And they are in a field of flowers. She's intoxicated by his love. Theirs is a love everyone only dreams of.”

Regan was silent, surprised by the sensitivity and passion in his voice. “What else is in the room?” she asked quietly.

“There are large potted palms in wide mouth pots that look like giant, white urns, and a dark wood-grained grand piano stands alone in the corner, next to a vase of forsythias, pussy willows, and daffodils.”

“Real ones?” she asked, her childlike question was mingled with hope.

“Yes, darling. Real ones. You make me smile,” he said. “When was the last time you saw those?”

“When I was a little girl and lived in Long Island. There was a giant hedge… Tell me more about the room.”

“Tell me about the hedge, Regan.”

“It’s not important. Please, finish describing the room.”

“After you tell me about the hedge.” His words were a command, not a request. Regan shivered, pulling into herself.

“My grandfather used to pick me up after school, and we’d always take the long walk home so we could go by the flowers when they bloomed. There used to be so many different kinds,” Regan said softly, “irises and tulips, lilacs and daffy-ducks.”

“Pardon?”

Regan laughed sadly. “I always called the daffodils that. It made him laugh.”

“You loved him very much, didn’t you?”

“Yes, more than anyone. He died when I was ten, and my parents wouldn’t let me say goodbye. So every time I see a flower from back East, I think of him.”

“It’s important to hold onto things like that when we have our sad days, honey. They make us smile,” he said kindly, squeezing her. He continued to describe the room. “The floor is white marble, veined in shades of blue, and is covered by a large, round Persian carpet.”

“What color?” Regan asked, musing that this was her dream home as he described the cool hues of cream, along with golds, whites, and sharp blues. He went on to tell her about the furnishings, all large and shades of white and gold, low to the floor with touches of wood and iron, massive throws and floor pillows, a tiled fireplace housing a hand-carved hearth, and the whimsical figurines of tiny birds. Regan smiled with excitement; she adored realistic statues of tiny birds! These he brought to her to hold, and she marveled at the feel of their delicate little features.

How did he know these things? She didn’t recall writing about Long Island or the birds in her books. Was it coincidence? A yawn suddenly interrupted her questions about the little statues.

“I am so sorry. I was enjoying your company too much and forgot the time. Let's get you into bed.”

“I'm not—” she yawned again “—tired.” The wine and the sudden drop of adrenaline seemed to bring about Regan’s immediate exhaustion.

“I can tell,” he laughed. Without asking, he swooped her up into his arms, despite her protests of being too heavy. After shushing her and reassuring her that she weighed not more than a sack of groceries, he carried her down the long hallway and up a flight of stairs. Gently, he laid her down upon a soft bed.

“Will you please untie my hands?” Regan asked nervously.

“I will, but first, let's get you undressed.”

“No! Don't…”

“Hush now. Save your protests. You know they won't help you, you silly girl. Don’t worry; I am not going to force myself on you.”

Regan held her breath as he gently removed her slippers, sweat pants and panties. She pulled her legs to her chest, ashamed of her body and trying to hide herself from his gaze. Without a sound, he untied her wrists and pulled her sweatshirt over her head, leaving her completely naked before him.

“Do you need to use the bathroom?” he asked, stepping back to peer at her.

She shook her head, balling herself up as tight as possible as her body sweltered with acute embarrassment.

“Very well. Let me know when you need to go, and I will release you.”

“Release me? But…” she groaned as he pushed her back onto the bed and secured her wrists in fleece-lined cuffs over her head. To her relief, he left her ankles unbound, but she still felt helpless and completely exposed.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Let's see… What would any hot-blooded American male do in a situation when he has a gorgeous young woman bound helplessly before him at three o’clock in the morning? Sleep,” he laughed, covering her and planting a brief kiss on her lips.

“W-where are you going?”

“To bed. Why? Miss me already?”

Regan bit back the retort, listening to him exiting the room.

She gritted her teeth as the silence of the night took over her senses. The fact was, yes… she
did
miss him. Mentally, she kicked herself for feeling that way!
What the hell was wrong with her? Was she so desperate?
Regan groaned… it appeared she must be.

Chapter Three

Regan woke to the sound of clinking glassware and rattling metal. Unable to sit up, she held her breath as the sound of footsteps approached her bed.

“Good morning, sleepy head. We have a very special day ahead of us. Let me unbind you, to start.”

“What are you going to do?”

“New rule: stop asking me that question. I will tell you as I desire to. Sit up, please.”

Regan temporarily forgot about her nakedness as she drew her sore arms into her body, rubbing her shoulders. His warm hands took over, kneading the knots from her neck and back, with an occasional kiss to the bare skin. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped a soft robe around her body, warming her quickly, before leading her to the restroom.

“If you give me your promise not to try to remove the blindfold, I will allow you to take care of your needs without my assistance,” came the warning.

“I promise,” Regan said quickly, knowing damn well that she probably couldn’t unbuckle the intricate ties that held the blindfold in place, anyway.

He led her to the toilet and placed her hand on the roll of paper as well as on the knob to the bidet, cautioning her that he would come in to check on her shortly. Regan waited for the door to close and quickly took care of her personal needs, stifling a giggle as the bidet cleansed her gently. She stood, startled at the automatic flush, and felt her way to the sink. A toothbrush was placed there for her, as well as mint toothpaste.

She brushed her teeth, wondering what he had in store for her that day. In her blindfolded state, she felt nothing but helplessness and dependence upon him. Yet, in the back of her mind, she could not recall ever having to trust anyone to the degree he was forcing her to.

Something else nagged at her as well. Something all too familiar about the situation she was in. It was almost as though… It was almost as though he was
reliving scenes from her books
! Dread filled her heart as she brought to mind some of the less enjoyable parts that, while the readers believed them to be erotic and mesmerizing, would be horrific to actually experience! Which of those scenes would he chose to play out if, indeed, he was doing that? Why the time and expense to make this house like the one in her book,
Dream House
?

She bit her lip as she realized that this would be either her greatest fantasy or her worse nightmare. Either way, she was powerless to prevent it.

“Are you hungry?” he asked from outside the door.

“Not really,” Regan lied. Truthfully, she was famished, but she did not want to give into any more temptation if she could prevent it.

He opened the door and brushed by her. The sound of water striking a hard surface caught her attention.

“I'll give you a bath, and then maybe you will want to eat. Smell,” he ordered, sticking something under her nose.

“Is that cypress?” she asked, inhaling the woodsy scent. “Where in the world did you find that? I've been searching for that scent for years.”

“I can always find what I am looking for when I put my mind to it,” he chuckled, pouring the oil into the bathwater.

“You are either the world’s most obsessive stalker or a member of the CIA. How do you know my likes? I know for a fact that I have never mentioned cypress in any of my stories!”

“Like I said, I can always find what I want. And I wanted to discover some of your secrets.”

“You are creeping me out here. This is wrong. Don’t you have any moral sensibilities at all?”

“I can assure you that I am neither an obsessed stalker nor a member of the CIA. And if I did not have any moral sensibilities, would I have been so careful with you? I've spent a long time finding you so that I could make an attempt to court you. I want this to be long term, Regan. I want you.”

“
Court me
? What are you, eighty? And normal men ask a woman out, not kidnap her!”

“No, I'm not eighty. I'm forty-two. And if I had asked you out, what would you have said?”

Regan was silent. There had been several prospective men in the recent past who had asked her out, all of whom she’d refused. Even Kennedy had commented to her that if she would just let herself get laid, she would be less grumpy. But Regan did not want that. And she destroyed her chances with Steve, although their life would have been an unsatisfying and unhappy one if they’d stayed together. Still, it would have been better than being alone, right?

He continued, “As you see, you have made it very difficult for anyone to become part of your life. I made the decision for you in that you will allow yourself this one time of not being in control, to see how you like it. It will change your life, if you allow it to.”

“Maybe I'm happy with my life the way it is!” Regan barked.

“Snarky comments are not becoming, my dear,” he scolded. “Do you really think you’re happy? Is that why you drink yourself to a stupor alone and live so far out of reach that even the coyotes can’t find you? If you really believe you are happy and content, then I think it's time that you stop lying to yourself. Now, take off that robe and let me help you into the tub. No arguments, or I will warm that lovely backside again.”

Regan clenched her teeth as she gingerly stepped into the hot water. She slowly sat down, releasing a sigh of content as the fragrant bubbles surrounded her. Jet bubbles were turned on, and she jumped, startled. “Oh!”

“You weren't expecting to have just a plain old bath now, were you? How does that feel?”

“Okay, I guess. What are you doing?” she asked as she felt the water level rise.