Pain And Pleasure 18+✓

Four

Blindfold? Does this mean I'm seriously trapped in some kinky fuckery date with this dude I hardly know? I inhale sharply, every word sending a precarious message that has me hanging on a thin thread.

Deep down I know I have to obey him. It's crystal clear by now that no matter how conflicted and undecided I am about this whole mess, the best option is to ignore the conundrum in my heart.

Put feelings at bay, and face the music head-on, Ara. I remind myself.

Tentatively, I put my phone on the loudspeaker per his keen instruction. I'm not thinking straight, that's for sure, as I lay it down on the immaculately dressed bed of milky white sheets and burgundy duvet with matched pillowcases.

The blindfold feels like batter as I delicately hold it in my hands. Heat rises through my body, turning my breath shallow yet rapid, the reason unfathomable. Is it my nerves? I swallow tightly and soon I close everything out of my sight using the silk fabric in my hands.

"Leave no space, Miss Lincoln. I'll put my trust in you, as you certainly know the repercussions of any sort of deceit as stated in our agreement." His words pour like honey, sweet and slow, but I know they heed a deeper and darker meaning than the abyss.

"Okay," I acquiesce to his demand, tightening the fabric's knot at the back of my head once, then twice, the latter tighter than the former but in a way I can easily undo the knots upon any event of such temptation. I can't see anything, and I guess he's swimming in pleasure at this little triumph of his. "Done." I let my arms fall to my sides, every beat of my heart a reminder that I'm in the tiger's den.

"Good girl," he says proudly.

I mentally roll my eyes.

Seconds fly by and my breath quickens as I wait for him to say something more, which he doesn't. I twirl around, my steps careful for I can't see anything. What is this, dammit? He needs to say something.

"Now what? Are you coming here or are you going to keep this creepy situation as it is? I simply don't understand what kind of games you're playing!" I roar, although quiet, curiosity and anticipation joining forces to drive me out of my wit. "What do you want, Mister Castle?" I demand.

"You," he says automatically. I gulp tightly, a slight shiver sliding down my spine like a touch of bare ice on my bare back. "Isn't that obvious, Miss Lincoln?" he quizzes me gently.

"Then come and get me!" I flap my hands as though he can see me right now.

Can't he, though? He's a creep after all.

Instead of his answer, I hear the line disconnect. What the fuck!

"He can't be serious!" I try searching for my phone on the bed while muttering incoherent words, my arms stretched forward as if I'm walking in a dark tunnel. "He loves playing around, huh? This son of a—" I make a brisk pause.

My senses stop me from moving and my ears become attentive alongside my nose. No, it can't be! For some reason, I sense that I am not alone in the room; being unable to see anything seems to work wonders with my other four senses.

I can feel his presence, prepossessing and strong. I can even smell him, a wild fragrance of male cologne, and little by little I manage to hear him, his footsteps, small and nonchalant, a perfect click of monk straps or something similar.

He's here. He's been here all along, perhaps. Dear Lord! I slowly pull a step back from the bed, standing straight. His scent bewitches my nostrils, and that total eclipse in my eyes doesn't do much in helping my speedy heartbeats.

Only feel, no see. Is this his ultimate intention? I can't help but wonder even though it still doesn't justify the waste of time over the games of cat and mouse he seems to fancy as far as my relationship with him is concerned. What's his agenda, honestly?