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

by Vanessa Fewings

  I sensed that much was true.

  It had been the way she’d followed my every move as though seeing it for the first time. She’d been mesmerized by each shift in movement, each lap or kiss, and each suckle.

  Grabbing my necktie from where it lay on the seat, I weaved it around my shirt collar until it hung from my neck and then twisted it into neatness.

  With that done, I eased her breasts back into the cups of her bra and pulled down her gown, ensuring her hem was over her legs to hide what I’d done to her.

  All in silence.

  All done with the precision of a master who was merely warming up.

  With a push of a button on the console, I lowered the glass divider exposing us to the driver once more. He glanced in the rearview mirror to check on us and then turned his focus back to the road.

  Fucking her before we reached the house was still a possibility. If she opened her big mouth again. If she made one complaint.

  We were ten minutes away.

  Enough time to get my heart rate below sixty. I fished around in my pocket for my smartphone.

  My cock was rock hard.

  “You may wear these again.” I handed the thong to her.

  Pandora discreetly slipped her underwear on with the endearing shakiness of a novice.

  Popping in my earbuds, I tapped the music app on my phone and selected Puccini’s Madam Butterfly, letting the agony of the soprano flow through my soul. I stared dead ahead, getting myself in the mood for when we reached home and I could torture the truth out of her.

  The pleasure to come would be sublime.

  This was the kind of progress I’d given up on.

  Finally, I was standing inside Damien’s Foxhall home, despite our argument at the St. Regis an hour ago. We’d been tentatively dating for six months and in one brave move, I’d leaped all the way here to his private sanctuary.

  His kitchen, to be exact.

  This…the transformative effect of a simple pendant.

  I’d also dragged him away from the event. There’d probably be repercussions for that later. The polls would be closing in just over three weeks, so every event mattered. Time was too valuable to waste.

  I studied him now, in case that exact fact might have pissed him off, but I couldn’t read his expression.

  I set my purse down on a barstool, my gaze shifting to the wide windows that would welcome the light in during the day. The dark wood paneling of the room complemented the open floor plan. Every time Damien took me to one of his homes, I dived deeper into his world and got to see another side to this mysterious man.

  God, I still felt tingles down there.

  Still reeling from what he’d done to me in the car, I reminded myself why I was here—not to have him overpower me, but for me to keep the upper hand.

  Wandering over to his kitchen table, I looked down at what appeared to be architectural designs. “What’s this?”

  “The Fairfield Project.” He walked over and folded them, his body language changing as he gathered them up protectively.

  Watching him carefully, I asked. “Can you tell me more about it?”

  He turned to face me. “Want a drink?”

  “No, thank you.” I slipped off my high heels seductively, grateful for the feeling of relief.

  He leaned back against the wall and watched me take in the décor of the home he’d never before brought me to—because I’d always been a token and nothing more.

  “Well?” he said, interrupting my musing.

  “It’s beautiful.” I looked at him. “Do you have any staff?”

  “No.” He shrugged. “A housekeeper. Once a week.”

  “You cook?”

  “Yes, Pandora, I am not helpless like some people we know.”

  “Funny.” I looked around the kitchen, impressed with its simplicity. “I like it a lot.”

  “I’ve been told I should sell it. The Secret Service hates all this glass. I have a wall around the property, but drones, you know. They can fly over.”

  Once, when I was sunbathing in our back garden, a drone had flown over and taken a snapshot of me in my bikini by the pool. The photo had appeared soon after in The Inquirer. Privacy was a rare privilege for people like us.

  Damien strolled over to a wall panel and pushed a button. The windows went dark. “Now we have privacy.”

  “No one can see in?”

  “No.” He shrugged out of his jacket and threw it over a corner chair.

  “I’m glad we’ve called a truce.”

  He folded his arms in a no we haven’t pose.

  “Then what are we now, Damien?”

  “You tell me.”

  “More than friends?”

  “These are the rules while we’re here together,” he said, ignoring my question. “You never discuss your family. We don’t ask any favors of each other…ever. We forget the outside world. Most importantly, we’re honest.”

  “I can do that.”

  He glanced at the necklace. “Want me to begin?”

  “Begin?”

  “Where did you get it? And don’t lie to me.”

  I crossed my arms. “I have my own rules.”

  He raised his hand to stop me from saying anything else. “Don’t bother. With that around your neck you have no say.”

  My hand snapped to the key at my throat. “This is who I want to be.”

  “You have no idea—”

  “I have some idea.”

  “I ought to take you home right now.”

  I pulled the straps of my gown down and let the material fall in a pool around my feet, then stepped out of it, reaching back to undo my bra. When I’d removed it I threw it down on top of the dress, standing before him in only my panties.

  His harsh attention raked over me as he straightened to his full height, as though he was preparing to intimidate me.

  I waited for him to say something.

  When no words came, I slipped my fingers beneath my thong and eased it off my hips, slowly wiggling the panties down my legs and then stepping out of them.

  I stood before him naked now.

  Damien’s eyes locked with mine as he walked closer.

  A shudder ran through my body when he loomed over me. Leaning in, he dipped his head to my throat, capturing the key pendant between his lips and sucking it. His daring sensual act stirred lust-fueled memories of our journey here in his chauffeur-driven car.

  He wasn’t touching me, but he was close enough for me to feel the power dripping off him. Still suckling on my necklace, his soft cologne teased me, hinting of things to come.

  Finally, he let the pendant drop from his mouth. Stepping back, he tilted his head, his eyes narrowed on me, assessing my reaction. “What happens now, Pandora?”

  I have no fucking clue.

  Dropping to my knees, I recalled the advice I’d been given back at the St. Regis, to peer up at him with adoration, which was easy because his looks were so striking—even now, after a long evening, with his hair sensually disheveled and that smoldering burn in his eyes boring through me knowingly.

  With me on my knees, lips parted and eyes wide and pleading for his approval, I saw an internal switch seemed to flip within him. His stance became aggressive and dominant as he glared down at me with a fiery certainty. He knew what he was looking at—a woman who was willing to do anything to accomplish the impossible…make him fall in love with her.

  But, oh, God, this was going to hurt. I might even stain his high-thread count with the blood of my innocence.

  “Get up,” he snapped.

  I obeyed, pushing to my feet.

  “This is what will happen, Pandora. You are going to get dressed and walk back the way we came, down the hallway to the front door. My driver will take you home.”

  I don’t want to leave.

  Not after the suffering I’d endured all these months. Not when his touch felt like it turned a key within me—awakening my sexuality.

  “I’m m
aking this easy on you,” he said with a rare kindness in his tone. “I’ll call you, okay?”

  That flash of decency he was displaying might be a once in a lifetime event, a compassionate effort to help me avoid a shameful mistake.

  Don’t fall for his charm.

  I turned my face away to hide my flushed cheeks.

  “Ms. Bardot, if you choose to stay you will suffer the consequences of that decision.”

  “I know,” I said, my voice trembling. “I…I want to.”

  Just breathe, that’s all that’s required.

  “Do you want to risk it all? Turn right instead of left. Head through the red door and down the set of stairs. Walk to the end of the corridor…” He raised an eyebrow.

  Swallowing my nervousness, I ran through my options. Leave and he may never speak to me again—although his promise to call made that decision easier. But the reason I came here would be lost. Stay and I would have to face the dire threat of what he would do to me becoming my reality. Madeline had revealed that much at least.

  “This is what concerns me,” he said darkly. “You’re wearing a clavis but have no idea of its origin.” He tucked his tongue into his cheek as though finding this fact amusing. “Are you really this brave?”

  I tried to answer but no words would come.

  He smirked. “Are you willing to obey the directive of the clavis?”

  I gathered my dress off the floor, along with my underwear, unable to look him in the eye. Grabbing my purse off the barstool, I scooped up my high heels as I went, clutching everything to my chest as I hurried naked into the hallway, heading fast for the exit.

  I pulled my gown on at the end of the hallway, but I paused before opening the front door.

  There was a different kind of suffering my body craved, a deep yearning buried within me.

  It made me turn around to stare in the opposite direction—at the long shadows falling over a dark red door.

  She’d turned left instead of right, and then she’d changed her mind.

  Glancing at my Rolex, I timed how long it would take before Pandora reached my dungeon. She’d be looking around at the instruments of pain positioned strategically around the room, ready to be used on the willing.

  That should be enough to have her running for the car. If this glimpse into my psyche would accomplish that, then so be it.

  I should be down there now, watching her reaction so my diabolical side could snag a few minutes of entertainment before she made her escape.

  The thought of Pandora in that room was a revenge play for all the crap I’d taken from her these last few months. Hating her had become my favorite sport. Our arguments were so damn arousing it was enough to make me believe that, subconsciously at least, I liked being around her.

  I had to admit that the scent of a woman within these walls lifted the loneliness, but it was only temporary. She’d be gone soon. Pushing that aside, I reasoned I was used to the quiet.

  I headed over to the liquor cabinet and uncorked the Cognac, pouring some of the dark amber liquid into a tumbler. I took a sip, waiting for Pandora to fly by the door leading to the kitchen and out the exit. It made me chuckle…the thought of scandalizing my pretty debutante.

  This was a decent brandy—sweeter than a whisky, tasting of fruit and citrus. The bottle’s contents had been aged in an oak barrel that had been switched out each year to ensure its quality. Not bad for a four-year-old liquor. I swirled my nightcap around in the glass to let the liquid breathe, savoring the scent.

  Hmmm. She isn’t coming out.

  My move.

  I headed out into the hallway to find her.

  Wait.

  You need answers before you dive in and potentially fuck up your life…or hers.

  Doing a one-eighty, I went back into the kitchen and grabbed my phone off the central marble island. If my suspicion was right, calling this number would confirm the clues I’d deciphered. There were a handful of intimate friends who knew about Vanguard—most of them men. And only one woman.

  Madeline answered her phone on the third ring. “What a lovely surprise.”

  I listened for any hint of where she might be at this late hour. “Thought I’d say hi.”

  “I’m flattered,” she said. “I know how busy you are.”

  “How’s teaching?”

  “Fulfilling. You?”

  “Honestly, I’m exhausted.”

  “You need to take some time for you, Damien. A day off once in a while.”

  “I wish.”

  “I’ve been following the polls. It’s looking good for the Senator. How does it feel?

  Your dad’s going to be President! Oh, my God, you have to invite me over to the White House.”

  She made me smile. “Consider yourself invited. But let’s not pick out new curtains yet.”

  “Are you freaking out?”

  “No.”

  “How are you this calm?”

  “It is what it is.” I paused. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

  “The feeling is mutual. To what do I owe the honor?”

  “You’re a great distraction from the work I have waiting on my laptop.”

  “I’m so glad,” she purred.

  Her husky voice always did things to me—it was like melting butter. My balls

  remembered the feel of her mouth…the way she’d suckle my sac like that was all she cared about. Like it was her goddamn job.

  I adjusted my pants to accommodate my reaction, cursing the day ten years ago that Madeline had told me she wanted to top. I’d been twenty-two and balls deep into the lifestyle. Balls deep in her, too.

  Weeks later, she’d officially become a dominatrix, a waste of a good submissive.

  Still, she was happy and therein lay the wisdom of that decision. She’d found what I’d been searching for—fulfillment. I was glad for her. If not a little jealous.

  “Still there, Champ?” she said with affection.

  “There’s a submissive inside my dungeon. Waiting for me to fuck her into

  oblivion while I burn off some stress.”

  Silence lingered on the other end.

  “I have an excellent selection of toys to use on her,” I continued. “A few new pieces shipped in from Italy.” I smirked. “Some antique torture devices from medieval times. She’ll be destroyed by the morning.”

  “I thought you had work to do?”

  “I consider this a gift to myself. Some night play. This need has been building for quite some time. I’m going in strong.”

  “Damien,” she scolded.

  Yeah, you better break, bitch. “I’m listening.”

  “Okay, okay, I gave her the clavis.”

  I felt a rush of relief at knowing this ruse had been orchestrated by Madeline and not some deviant with a political objective.

  “Keep talking,” I coaxed.

  “I thought Pandora would be good for you as a submissive.” She breathed out a sigh.

  “Since when do you decide what I need?”

  “Since I decided I love you. And I know you, too. I know what you need to keep you sane. You’re starving, Damien. I can see it in your eyes at the pressers.”

  “You watch my interviews?” I downed the rest of my drink in one go. “I’m flattered.” Citrus and spice danced on my tongue and heated my throat.

  “Be gentle with her. Ease her into it.”

  “She’s using me.”

  “I showed her Amelia.”

  “What?”

  “I showed Pandora the video of Amelia being taken by Theo and Landon at the same time—you couldn’t see their faces in the footage.”

  I raked my fingers through my hair.

  “You should have seen her reaction, Damien. Pandora was mesmerized. It was like a light being turned on full beam. Her response was pure sub. I tested her with some other photos and—”

  “Where?”

  “At the St. Regis.”

  “You were there tonight?”
r />   “I was.”

  “Where?”

  “Ballroom. You were off wheeling and dealing in the anteroom.”

  And we both knew we couldn’t be seen together. This job was stifling.

  My back stiffened. “You showed her those things with all of those people around?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “What were you thinking?” I scolded.

  “That she was being forced on you. Might as well make it a good relationship. For both of you.” The rustle of sheets revealed Madeline was in bed. “I watched her reaction. You know I have a knack for spotting subs. Pandora watched the footage and pressed her hands to her breasts. She wasn’t even aware she was doing it. She only watched five minutes and was hungry for more. There’s your new sub.”

  “I’m quite capable of finding my own.”

  “Really? If your father makes it all the way to that house on the hill, you’ll be locked out of Vanguard. Those are the rules. No further access.”

  “What the fuck do you know?”

  “Everything. I still visit.”

  “Vanguard? I thought you hated that place.”

  “Not since certain changes were made.” She chuckled. “A dominatrix runs it now. So, it’s well suited for the female gaze. It’s now more respectful and emotionally fulfilling for female members.”

  If I wasn’t hard from knowing Pandora was waiting for me in my dungeon, I certainly was now. Rhodes was a scholar in and out of the classroom. I’d always wanted the women in Vanguard to get as much out of it as the men.

  “I respect your opinion.” A session with Madeline was probably mind-bending. She thrived on the play as much as I did. “And if I’m ever in the mood to be topped…”

  “Like that would ever happen.”

  “True. I fucking hate it.”

  “Enjoy her. That’s all I want out of this.”

  “She’s not here to be dominated, Madeline. She’s here to use me.”

  “I don’t necessarily believe that. It’s probably what she’s telling herself. Either way, use her right back.”

  “This could blow up in my face.”

  “Or…”

  “She’s probably in shock at what she’s seeing right now.”

  “You’ll find her kneeling. Her mouth ready for your cock.”