Pandora's Pleasure: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

by Vanessa Fewings

  “What about what happened in your loft?” I inhaled sharply. “Did any of our time together mean anything to you?”

  I felt lightheaded just remembering how he’d touched me there. He was the first man I’d ever been with in that way—and I’d foolishly let myself fall for this playboy.

  He hesitated with his hand on the handle, ready to pull the door open, his expression taut as he said, “I remember you saying you wanted your freedom…”

  “Please, don’t go like this,” I pleaded.

  Damien looked back at me, his eyes dark with emotion.

  And then he left me alone, trembling in the shockwave of his anger.

  I fought to get my breathing under control, trying to hold back the tears.

  Falling for this man was not the plan, I reminded myself.

  No matter what happened next, I needed to escape this life.

  I couldn’t go back to my table.

  Not yet.

  I wasn’t ready to face my parents and their questions. I didn’t want to tell them how terribly wrong it had gone between me and Damien.

  I stood there with my hands shaking, trying to figure out what I’d say when the Spanish Inquisition came crashing down on me. I could imagine the angry glances I’d receive from my father and the look of disappointment I’d see on my mother’s face. They had relied on me and I’d let them down.

  I should never have told Damien those things…even if he’d been just as cruel, just as dismissive and rude. There’d been a glimmer of hope between us and I’d missed my chance. He might have seen past our differences if I’d not blurted out those cruel words.

  I’d fucked up.

  My father might never speak to me again.

  I’d lived without their affection for most of my life, but since returning to the States, I’d found I couldn’t exist without it. Their approval was my lifeblood. My brother had stolen the limelight when we were children, but since he was living in Dallas, I’d had my chance to shine.

  I sighed. It was time to admit defeat and get the ordeal over with. I had to hold back the tears until I got home and I was alone, locked in my room.

  Once back in the ballroom, I looked around for Damien—not that I was ready to face his wrath again. I just wanted to see him one last time.

  Would it be the last time?

  Damien was leaning against the bar nursing an amber-colored drink, surrounded by sycophants as he held court with members of the Political Action Committee. No doubt those members of PAC were offering to throw money at the campaign to help shoehorn the family into the White House, if he promised to return the favor once Daddy was President.

  And to think this wasn’t even the dirtiest side of Washington.

  A woman eased past me even though there was plenty of room around us.

  “Excuse me.” She touched my arm as she slid past.

  Turning, I saw it was Madeline Rhodes.

  She strolled away, flaunting her beauty with every step as she headed over to the dessert table. Her exquisite bright red gown had a slit up the side. Madeline wasn’t stealing the show, she was the show.

  And she was back for him.

  Visiting her classroom a week ago had been a colossal miscalculation.

  Pretending to be interested in the sugar feast set before me on silver trays, I perused row upon row of delights—from the selection of delicate chocolate truffles to the classic creamy mousses cupped in individual glasses, from lemon and saffron bites to miniature cupcakes.

  “Oh, hello.” She sounded surprised.

  Seriously?

  “Pandora, you look divine.” She picked up a set of silver tongs and reached for a tiny cupcake, placing it onto her plate. “Want anything?” She raised the tongs and gave them a click.

  “That one.” I pointed to a chocolate profiterole.

  “Good choice. Very subliminal.”

  I took a deep breath. “Why are you here?”

  She turned to look at me. “Let’s talk over there.”

  Following her into the corner, I tried not to watch her hips sway. My boyfriend’s ex, no less, sashaying around like the Queen of England. She pulled a chair out and sat with the same assured style.

  “You know whose table this is?” I plopped down beside her.

  “Damien won’t mind.”

  “What if he comes back?”

  She scooped some icing off the cupcake and brought the spoon to her mouth, eating with a sensuality usually reserved for other pursuits. “How have you been?”

  A part of my brain advised me to take notes.

  “Dr. Rhodes, friends don’t swoop in for the kill when they see a weakness.”

  She tutted. “I’m going to stop you right there, Pandora. Never reveal a chink in your armor. First rule of war.”

  “Is that what this is?”

  “You know how breathtaking you are. You can’t pass a mirror without being reminded.” She looked me up and down. “But your parents still have you dressed up like a debutante. Imagine when you’re finally allowed to choose your own gowns. “

  “I chose this.”

  She wrinkled her nose at me. “No, you didn’t.”

  Bitch. I hated how her guesses were always right. “I never opened the box,” I admitted. “If you’re wondering.”

  She let out a thoughtful sigh.

  My fingers tightened around my clutch purse, and I saw her glance at it.

  “I’m not here for Damien.”

  “Then who?”

  “You.”

  Picking up the profiterole, I munched on the round end, making an erotic noise while doing so. The chocolate pastry was delicious.

  “Love your style.” She gestured to the waiter.

  When he arrived at our table, Rhodes ordered four shots of Patrón.

  I waited until the server wandered off. “Hope one of those tequila shots isn’t for me.”

  “If you insist on keeping the necklace, you’ll need a stiff drink.” She licked her spoon, her tongue dancing on metal again. “How shockable are you?”

  “In what respect?”

  “I’m going to show you something.” She set the spoon down on her plate and fished around inside her purse, withdrawing her phone. After swiping to the left a few times, she placed it on her lap and covered it with her palm as the waiter dropped off the four shots.

  He looked flustered, which was typical male behavior around Rhodes, I imagined.

  After the server left, she leaned in to show me the screen. “Take a peek.”

  My breath caught as I stared at the image of a naked woman with her hands tied behind her back, red silk ribbon binding her wrists together.

  My face felt scorching hot; she knew Damien had done this to me.

  I couldn’t drag my stare away.

  “Ms. Bardot, what is your first thought?”

  She knows what happened in that loft.

  A sense of betrayal flipped my world and turned an already ruined evening into a nightmare.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking?” she whispered.

  My throat tightened with grief over a breakup there was no coming back from. Damien had told her what we’d done. All trust was lost.

  “Why?” My chest heaved with uncertainty.

  “This is the tamest thing he likes.” She slid the tequila shot glass toward me.

  “What?”

  She gave me a sympathetic smile.

  I gave my head a little shake to clear it, trying to grasp her meaning.

  “The moment you walked out of my office with that necklace, I felt guilty. What wearing it brings…”

  “What does it bring?”

  “Pain, pleasure…everything that traverses the spectrum of bondage. Do you understand what I’m saying? I need you to know what is expected of you if you wear it.”

  I blinked at her. “He likes it rough?”

  She swiped the screen. “Look.”

  Another photo, only this one was of a woman kneeling before a man in
a suit. She was dressed in a bodice with no panties, peering up at him with adoration. Her hands were tied behind her back with black silk.

  “How does it make you feel?” asked Madeline.

  My nipples beaded, my body shuddering through the realization that I was aroused by what she was showing me. My face flushed with embarrassment as I imagined being that girl.

  “Very good, Pandora.” She approved of my reaction and slid to another photo. “Now this.”

  Needing a break from the assault on my mind and senses, I reached for the shot glass and downed the tequila, swallowing the burn. It tasted nasty.

  “Want some water?” she asked.

  “Just show it to me already.”

  Oh, God.

  Both of us stared down at an image of a naked woman completely bound in rope, hanging from the ceiling. Her breasts were caught in the binds themselves, pink and very pert nipples peeking out between the strands of rope. Her lover’s face was buried between her thighs and he was making her come hard, her blonde locks flying wild as he feasted on her pussy, her mouth open as though crying out in agony. Another swipe led to the next image, showing her with a half smile on her face.

  Madeline offered me an earbud connected to her phone. I slipped it in, swept away by what came next—actual footage.

  On the screen a woman was moaning loudly as two men took her. Both of them had their cocks shoved deep inside her, one in her vagina and the other in her ass.

  Rhodes was showing this to me, here—with all these oblivious people around us—in the St. Regis, no less.

  Yet I continued to watch…mesmerized by the footage. It was the way the woman looked up at her lovers with wanton gratitude, as though this experience of being taken by two men was a gift meant to be savored. The woman was enraptured by what they were doing to her, her thighs shaking uncontrollably, her moans echoing. I pulled the earbud out to make sure no one else could hear.

  “Madeline, why are you showing me this?” I blurted out.

  “Because I care about you.” She leaned forward to whisper. “I care about Damien, too.”

  Her expression made her words seem sincere.

  She took the earbud out of my fingers and eased it back into my ear so I could continue to secretly watch the video. I allowed myself to awaken to what was possible—that could be me.

  The woman’s eyelids flickered as she endured a toe-curling orgasm.

  “Doesn’t it hurt?” I heard myself saying.

  Madeline’s hand swept up and down my arm to comfort me. “Her master has trained her for double penetration.”

  “Shush.”

  “No one can hear us.”

  My panties were wet; a familiar stickiness I’d come to welcome.

  “Do you want that to be you?” she asked, her voice sounding distant.

  Yes.

  No.

  I don’t know.

  Because right now it felt like my clit was buzzing even though nothing was touching it. All I’d done was imagine myself in the woman’s position and my arousal was spiraling toward a pinnacle.

  How dare she show me this.

  I yanked out the earbud again. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “Your irises are dilated.”

  I pushed to my feet. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Dr. Rhodes.”

  She reached out and grasped my hand before I could walk away. “Then you won’t want what’s in the box.”

  Madeline had suggested that wearing the necklace would show I belonged to him entirely—like the woman in the video. I knew the term used for those kinds of women.

  Submissive.

  “Damien will know what it symbolizes?” I whispered.

  “Yes.” She studied my reaction. “The one who wears it is the chosen one. An elite submissive. This is their emblem.”

  Reaching into my purse, I pulled out the box. “I don’t want it.”

  “You don’t want that level of passion?”

  “You got me drunk.”

  “One tequila shot. What you’re feeling isn’t the booze, Pandora. It’s because your true nature desires this.”

  “You’re a bitch.”

  “Quite frankly, I’m flattered. And now you know why I’m not the one wearing it.” She gave me a sweet smile. “I’m not that kind of woman.”

  “You’re more likely to wear a strap-on and fuck them in the ass?” I surprised myself with that one.

  “Very much so. I’m a dominatrix.” She held out her hand. “Now, Virgin Princess, you have ten seconds to be honest with yourself or I’m taking that back.”

  “What if I decide to wear it?”

  “Your permission is not required for Damien to do whatever he wants to you while the pendant hangs from your throat.” She lowered her focus. “Including what I just showed you—and other things.”

  “What other things?”

  “Do you want me to spell it out for you on my whiteboard? I could sketch a level of debauchery that would make those photos look tame.”

  My breath caught as a rush of adrenaline spiked in me. I was reliving the sensations that had captivated me when I’d been bound with those silken ties.

  I glanced around the room self-consciously, as though others might guess what we were discussing.

  “He won’t care if I’m wearing this or not.” I struggled to convey the obvious. “Damien hates me.”

  “That’s because you trigger him.”

  “In a bad way.”

  “Not in that way,” Madeline purred. “He assumes his fantasy of you could never be realized because of your innocence. Which means he’s concerned you’d look down on him if you discovered his secret.”

  “Never.”

  “Would you like for him to adore you?” She reached for one of the shot glasses of tequila. “How would you feel if you were able to bring him to his knees?”

  “He likes that?”

  “Figuratively speaking.”

  Damien adoring me?

  Was such a thing possible?

  If wearing the necklace meant he would talk with me again, I’d have the time to prove my case. Perhaps he could be persuaded to plead with his father not to pass mine over as a candidate. If I pleased Damien, he’d make that scandal go away.

  My body thrummed from the shot of Patrón—or maybe it was from the possibilities of what was to come. Those photos and that footage would likely never fade from my memory, their imagery promising to slide into my dreams and have me soaking wet before I awoke.

  I yearned to feel the same level of pleasure as that woman in the video, whose erotic writhing had left me mesmerized. I wanted to be her.

  “I’d never do anything like that,” I fibbed.

  I glanced at her phone, wanting to see the footage again.

  She gave me a knowing smile.

  “What kind of woman does that?” I insisted.

  “A woman who respects herself, who is honest about her needs and doesn’t let the world dictate her happiness.”

  “That’s impossible for someone like me.”

  “I disagree.”

  I yearned to have that kind of life. It was as though Madeline had sensed my deepest and darkest fantasies. She knew what Damien needed…and this was it.

  “Are you all right?” she asked softly.

  I’d never been envious of anyone until three minutes ago when I’d seen that woman hanging between two men, their cocks buried deep inside her. Such an experience was forbidden to me.

  I would never know that level of passion. “Girls like me don’t get to have those kinds of fantasies fulfilled.”

  “You’re a woman now. You can make your own decisions.” She threw back the rest of the tequila, seemingly not feeling the burn. “Stand before Damien wearing the necklace. Watch his reaction.”

  “He won’t even talk to me.”

  “Oh, you’ll capture his attention.”

  Doubt lingered in my mind. Could I follow through with what she was suggesting?
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  Seeing the conflict in my expression, she shrugged. “When in doubt, kneel. Stare at his cock and then look up at him as though he’s your only salvation.”

  I blushed. “The things you say…”

  “Pandora.” She smiled at me mischievously. “Open the box.”

  With my head held high, I strolled out of the ballroom, still feeling a buzz from the tequila. I quickly found a private corner and sank into a leather chair behind two large plants with lush, sprawling leaves, feeling grateful for a place to hide.

  I clicked open my purse and slowly pulled out the velvet box, glancing up to see if anyone was watching. Then I eased open the lid.

  The silver key pendant looked so pretty on its delicate chain. I ran a fingertip over the glinting diamonds that lined the setting. At the top of the key were four round circles and within each of those lay a fleur-de-lis sparkling with secrets.

  Still, to me it was just a necklace.

  Madeline had called it an emblem.

  Curiosity had me lifting out the fine chain and securing the catch behind my neck. Reverently caressing the pendant, I nearly swooned remembering the footage I’d glimpsed.

  Surely no one here would know about the necklace’s true meaning so there was no shame in wearing it. All I had to do was find Damien and grab his attention. If he responded, I’d lead him away to a more private part of the hotel. We’d get to talk properly this time and hopefully see through our differences.

  He’s into all that kinky stuff…

  Knowing he liked to do all those things that Madeline had shown me would probably make me blush when I saw him again. He wouldn’t know why, though—wouldn’t know I’d discovered that he liked his sex immoral, filthy and lust ridden and tantalizingly debauched.

  Returning to the ballroom, I saw my parents sitting at the same table. They were deep in conversation with another couple. Pride rushed through me that they were entrusting me with such an important diplomatic mission. Letting them down wasn’t an option.

  My heart skipped a beat when I realized that Damien had left.

  Men like him tended to gravitate toward the quieter lounge where they could make their plans to rule the free world. I went looking for him there, and paused when I saw him.

  He was speaking to his father. They were huddled close together, proving they were intent on scheming—two intimidating men of power holding tumblers of hard liquor, their private security detail not far away.