I knew the feel of his hands. He had big hands, strong hands. My entire hand had fit easily in his palm, his fingers easily closing around mine. His voice came from above me, it seemed, so I imagined him to be fairly tall.I was curious. I wanted to know what he wanted from me. Why me? That was the biggest question I had. Why me? He’d watched me for “a long time,” he’d said, and the depth of his knowledge about me made it clear that he wasn’t lying or exaggerating. But yet, despite this, I’d never, ever sensed his presence in my life. Never had the feeling of being followed or watched, except for those few times that he’d already explained. He’d never interfered with my life, never sent creepy letters or made stalker phone calls. When I’d been in the most direly desperate straits of my life, he’d…saved me, and claimed to not want financial repayment.And he’d also promised that he wouldn’t force sex on me. He just wanted me to…what? I still didn’t know. Be here? Have bizarre blindfold
“I’m sorry about the glass,” I said.Rebecca shrugged. “It is no matter. It was just a glass.”“Just a glass? Those look like crystal.”She nodded. “Yes.”“It wasn’t, like, a family heirloom, or anything, was it?”Rebecca shook her head. “No, nothing like that. Please, do not worry. Such things are no matter to him. Possessions can be replaced, and he does not put high value on mere objects.” She gestured at the sitting room, the foyer, and the hallway leading back the way we’d come. “You’ve seen this area, then. Follow me, please.”From what I’d seen so far, Rebecca was a quiet, efficient woman. She didn’t ramble on about the artwork on the walls, or the vases on the pedestals, or the suits of armor that stood to either side of the front door. She merely led me from room to room, occasionally pointing out items of interest. Such as the original Vermeer in the formal living room, the frame encased behind thick temperature-controlled glass. Or the suit of armor from the twelfth century
So tense, freya.”“I’d say I have reason to be a little tense, don’t you?”“Mmm. I suppose you do, at that.” His palms ran down my arms, and his thumbs worked into the knots around my spine with smooth, powerful, rolling strokes. Jesus help me, that felt good. “Are you hungry?”My stomach gurgled, answering for me. He laughed, and I heard a chair scrape across the floor beside me. “How’s this going to work?” I asked. “You can’t expect me to eat with this blindfold on.”“You’ll see,” was his cryptic response.A few seconds later, I heard a door open, and plates were set down before us. I smelled soup, beef stock possibly, and fresh-baked bread. Rebecca left, and I fumbled in front of me for a spoon, found it, and then hunted for the edges of the bowl. I found it, only to jostle it so scalding liquid sloshed onto my hand, causing me to jerk away and curse.“Why. So impatient. Give me your hand.” His voice was equal parts amused and disapproving.I hesitated, and then held out my throbbi
"Freya you are…so gentle, so responsive. Do you feel that? I know you do, my sweetest thing. I know you feel it.” His voice was a low, murmuring thread, his breath touching my shoulder now like a sun-hot wind. “It’s lightning, isn’t it? Pure lightning, arcing between us. Every time my lips touch your perfect skin, you blush and you shiver. I’ve barely touched you, barely begun to kiss you, only just learning the secrets of your body, but already you react so beautifully. you are so beautiful. Such a precious thing, and I simply cannot wait to make you sing, to make your body hum and shiver for me.”I had no breath, heard no sound but his voice and the poetry in his words. If I’d heard anyone else speak that way, I’d mock and scoff. It would sound so contrived, but somehow with him, with his rich and melodic voice, it sounded perfect, natural. And his words, god. I couldn’t help but react to such statements. I felt my spine arch, felt my head turn to the side and my neck curve away, of
“It was amazing,” I answered, “thank you.”“Indeed,” he said. “Truly wonderful, as always.”“The main course is salmon,” she said, “freshly caught and baked with herbs. Beside it you will find hand-made garlic mashed potatoes and green beans.”“Ah, this looks excellent,” he said, his voice smooth with appreciation. “And the wine?”I heard a cork pop, and liquid being poured. “This is a ’96 pinot gris,” Rebecca said. “It is from the winery in France.” She said this last part as if describing something he would be familiar with.“Ah, perfect,” he said. His next words were addressed to me. “I own several wineries throughout the world, one of which is in Alsace-Lorraine. While I own it, I made sure the original family continues to run it, seeing as they have been making wine there for more generations than I can number.”He took my hand in his, and pressed a wine glass into my palm. I curled my fingers around it, brought it to my nose, and sniffed. “I don’t know much about wine,” I admitt
“I don’t think you would.” His voice was close, his breath hot on my ear, speaking just above a whisper.“You feel it, Freya, If I kissed you right now, I do think you might faint. You’re barely breathing as it is.”“I’m breathing just fine,” I lied. “Would you? Let me go home right now?”“No, I don’t think I would.”“Why not?” These two words slipped, breathless, from my lips.His breath moved, warming my ear, then my cheek, and then, oh god—I felt his lips on my skin, mere centimeters from my mouth. “This is why.” As close as our faces were, I still barely heard him.My heart was pounding, hammering, thudding in my chest, sending blood pulsing in my ears. My skin was tingling, my hands shaking. Nerves, anticipation…fear? Parsing what I felt was impossible. I only knew I dreaded and needed in equal measure the feel of his lips on mine. So close. Yes. There, please. A kiss, a single kiss.I’d only known this man for a matter of perhaps two hours, yet his lips were grazing mine, and he
“That’s why.”“Oh.”“Yes. Oh.” He gave my cheekbone one last graze with his thumb, and then I heard a utensil scrape against a plate. “Open.”At his command my mouth opened of its own accord. A fork touched my lips and tongue, and I tasted metal, and then salmon, light and flaky and perfectly flavored with herbs. He took a bite, and then told me to open again, feeding me potatoes, thick and strong with garlic, and then green beans, buttery and crisp. It was the perfect meal, filling and balanced and bursting with flavor, and even the oddity of being blindfolded and fed like an invalid faded.The maid brought dessert the moment we had finished the main course. It was a crème brûlée, creamy and sweet and thick.“You weren’t kidding,” I said. “rebecca is an amazing chef.”“I chose her out of a thousand candidates. I spent nearly a year vetting each individual applicant. I only interviewed four of them, and she, obviously, is the one I chose. She is a miracle worker, truly.”"thousand can
“I almost wish I hadn’t,” I said. “But I did, and…thank you. For protecting me from him.”“Of course. I couldn’t sit by and allow him to hurt you.”“So…that goes a long way toward helping me trust you. But…it’s not that easy. Not for me. I don’t…I can’t just decide to trust someone. It takes time. Effort.”“And that is why the blindfold must remain.” One finger touched my chin, tilting my face up. “Kiss me.” It was a command.“Ask me.”“No.”“Then, no.”“You’re not grasping the arrangement, it seems.”“I don’t do commands very well.”“And I don’t repeat myself.” His voice grew sharp. “But, just this once, for you, I will. You want to know what I want? What this is about? It’s about trust. Obedience. Compliance. You obey, I learn to trust you. If I trust you, I will give you my name and allow you to see me. Then I’ll allow things to go further. If I don’t trust you, this will take much longer, and be much harder.”“You said you wouldn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to.”I hear