Camilla

 

Stunned, I cover my mouth with my hand.

Red.

Red.

Red.

I walk along the closet in the playroom, touching each article of lingerie. Every red article of clothing. Oh, no. It hits me like a semi barreling fast. I was wearing red the night we were drugged by Tony.

Does he remember me? Is this a game to him? What if this moment is part of his master plan to destroy me? Maybe he’s leading me on, sucking me in so I’ll fall for him and get accustomed to this life of luxury, only to take it all away from me, along with Liam.

I sit down on a bench that’s another reminder of Ellis’s wealth. Its cushiony seat is upholstered a light grey, and it’s held up by fancy black legs.

I don’t know what to do. If I confront him with accusations, he’ll be angry for sure, especially if his heart is in the right place. All our secrets must be shared for us to trust each other, so I have to start somewhere and tell him about Christopher.

I go over to an elegant grey dresser and open it. I find a pair of red thigh-high stockings that are adorned at the top with silky bows.

At least they look nothing like what I wore that first night we met, so if he doesn’t remember me, they shouldn’t trigger the memory.

I’m pulling on the second one when I hear him in the other room. I freeze and listen to his footsteps as he moves around. Slipping on a pair of spiked black heels, I examine myself in the mirror.

Damn, I could use a boob lift. Having a child did a number on my body, but I guess it could be worse. My hips are wider, too, but the curves don’t look so bad.

Nervous as hell, I approach the door, and my hand trembles on the knob. I gradually open it, and Ellis turns to me. While his eyes soak me in, he pinches his lower lip like he so often does.

“Come here,” he says authoritatively.

Being careful not to slip on the shiny floor, I walk toward him, admiring him as I go. He’s wearing only dark grey sweats, similar to the ones he had on that night in the kitchen, and he’s barefoot, too. He’s holding the ruby necklace he gifted me.

“Turn.” Hooking the clasp at the back of my neck, he then presses his lips to my shoulder, causing the hair to stand up on my arms. I swear I can feel his appreciation as he turns me back to face him. “Kneel.”

Doing as he ordered, I kneel at his feet and sit back on my legs.

“Sir, may I please speak?”

“Go ahead.” Slipping his fingers under my chin, he lifts it.

“I need to confess something. It’s important.”

“Does it have to do with our time in the playroom?”

“No, Sir.”

“Then you will wait until tomorrow to tell me.”

I can’t say I’m looking forward to the conversation, so I nod in agreement.

“I’m struggling to know where to begin with you. With so many options in this room, it’s hard to choose. Stand again.”

Once I’m upright, he takes my hand and leads me over to the left of the bed. A plush raven rug is on the floor, and on top of it is a red cushioned ramp.

It appears foam-filled, and attached to it at the bottom of the short slope is a cushiony wedge to use as a pillow. I can’t help but notice, too, that there are restraints on both sides and at each end of the ramp.

“Lie over the ramp on your stomach with your hips resting at the top of it. I’ll be right back.”

Getting on my knees, I lean over the cushion and rest my forearms on the wedge. I find I’m rather comfortable, but I have an alarming thought of how my ass is in the air, perfectly positioned for Ellis to spank if he wishes.

Sensual music fills the room, and I recognize the artist, Alan Walker. A drawer opens at the dresser, causing my breath to hitch. The wait is enthralling in itself, gripping me to my bones, holding me still for Ellis’s return.

I eye his backside and how his sweats hang low on his hips, revealing the top of his ass. So help me, I want to squeeze the firmness of his cheeks.

Strolling back, he then squats next to me and sets some items down beside him. I heave for a breath as he puts my wrist in a black leather cuff and buckles it. He moves around to the other side and does the same. I’m still on my forearms but shackled to the wedge.

He holds something up in front of my face.

“This, my Rose, is a pinwheel.” There’s a devilish sparkle in his eyes as he holds the metal handle. He rolls the device over his fingers, and I notice the pins sticking out of the wheel are rounded at the tips. Gently, he glides it along my forearm, creating a tingly sensation. “How does that feel?”

“Prickly but good.” Setting it down, he holds up another item.

“This is a butt plug. I’ll ease it in before I fuck your pussy from behind. Something I’ve wanted to do since you first gave me attitude in my car.”

Holy. Hell.

“Lie down on your chest and relax.” Although I’m restrained, I’m able to move my arms enough to rest my cheek on my hands.

Lowering to his knees, about center to my body, he begins moving the pinwheel across my shoulder. I know this because I feel the prickly sensations.

It’s not painful like I first expected it to be. There is the faintest sting, and as he glides it over my other shoulder, my body quivers, and I hum from the stimulating motion.

He skims it down the center of my spine, igniting my arousal, especially once he reaches the curve above my ass.

It rolls up each side of my back, and I relish in the spine-tingling feel of it all as I get lost in the sensual sound of the music.

I take notice of the lyrics in the song “Faded” that speak of someone disappearing or only ever being imaginary … a fantasy. I’ve come to realize how much that night we shared years ago affected Ellis.

The intimate time between us was a contrasting kaleidoscope of light and dark. A colorful confusion, yet a clarity of truth. We were two complete strangers baring our souls amidst a blurry fog.

My closed eyelids can’t hold back the forming tears. A couple of them manage to slip from the corners of my eyes. Ellis and I were meant to find one another.

I feel it…

I believe it.

This is genuine.