Why wasn’t she surprised that he knew where she lived?

  He dropped her in front of her door, opening it for her and waiting for her to enter.

  “My hands,” she told him as if she didn’t need any more explanation.

  “You’ll find a way to cut those,” he said with a dark chuckle.

  He turned his back on her and started to walk back to his car.

  “Why?” Rose asked finally.

  “Why? Why did I kidnap you? Why did I hang you from my ceiling? Or why am I letting you go?” He answered with his own question but didn’t let her elaborate. “Why? Because that golden arrow that you managed to hit me with, wasn’t some mere arrow. It was one of mine. One of the magical ones. And I hate you. And I crave you. And it was only fair that you experienced even a small portion of the hell that has been my life for the past few days.”

  Chapter 10

  When the heroine has questions

  Cupid had left her like this. Her hands were still tied together and her head was spinning with his revelation.

  What the hell was all of this?

  From his words she had gathered that she had somehow managed to bewitch him with his own arrow.

  She hadn’t even thought it was a possibility. In her mind, the arrow on the sign inside “Cupid” was a prop. First, because she hadn’t known that Cupid was really… Cupid and it only made sense that this arrow only had been for decorative purposes. Second, because, who the fuck was stupid enough to pin on a wall something so important and powerful.

  Well, powerful she wasn’t so sure, she had always believed that Cupid’s arrows would deliver instant love, and Cupid’s reaction was far from love or even affection.

  It was dark, harsh, and all vengeful.

  But he had felt want, need, and desire for sure so maybe those arrows worked differently than she had expected, or this one worked differently because it was him that it had hit. Maybe he had some kind of immunity to his own magic, one that wasn’t an almighty one from the look of it.

  Rose wondered if Cupid was more infuriated by the fact she had managed to hit him with his arrow — even if she still had no clue how she had succeeded in doing so — or by the fact that his own arrow had — even only partially — worked on him.

  He might have thought that he was completely immune to it.

  Rose pondered all of this while trying to cut the ropes around her wrists with the kitchen knife that she had retrieved once she was back inside.

  The task was tedious and took several minutes for Rose to complete. By the time her hands were free, she finally looked at the time on her microwave. 10:12 pm. She had left work around 7:30 pm, she hadn’t even been retained for more than three hours, and it was without counting the car trip and her own walk from the journal, to almost her place. The time she had hung up from Cupid’s ceiling had felt unending, if she hadn’t been facing the time displayed on her microwave, a time that she had set herself and that no one would have changed, she wouldn’t have believed that she had stayed so little time under the clutches of Cupid. As a reflex, she tried to grab her phone to double-check the time, but it wasn’t in her pocket. Oh yeah, Cupid had borrowed it. She would either need a new one or to visit Cupid to get hers back. She wasn’t rich to the point that she could decide just like that to get a new smartphone on a whim. It only left one solution, she would have to go and ask Cupid for her phone. Rose didn’t like the idea one bit and wasn’t ready to face the bastard a second time on the same night, she would have to go after work tomorrow.

  She went into her room and opened her computer. 10:13 pm. She had to believe it now. Her mind had made her believe that she had been roped and toyed with for most of the night, but it wasn’t even bedtime.

  The mind was a tricky thing.

  Rose undressed and slipped under the shower. Her skin was red and marks had been left where the ropes had rested against her skin, canvassing her milky skin with red diamonds.

  She brushed her fingers against the reddened skin and she gasped at the feeling it caused. Her skin was still highly sensitive from Cupid’s ministrations and each stroke against the red lines made heat pool between her legs.

  She was still turned on by what Cupid had done to her.

  It was the knotwork, not Cupid. Rose couldn’t believe that she had to convince herself of this.

  She could not want Cupid.

  But at the same time, she was so hot and bothered and when her fingers slipped inside her wet pussy the only thing she could picture was the expense of his muscled torso and his blue eyes. And the expert way he had massaged her body back to life after releasing her from his knots. Yes, his hands had been the work of god and now she could only imagine them where hers were stroking.

  No!

  Stop.

  She couldn’t be thinking about him while she pumped two fingers inside her pussy. She couldn’t be thinking about him when her other hand joined the first and rubbed her clit in circles that kept going faster. She couldn’t be thinking about him when she felt herself tighten and heat spread through her body when the speed of her fingers against her clit and inside her pussy accelerated to an almost painful speed. And she absolutely couldn’t be thinking about him when her orgasm hit her, forcing her to remove the fingers inside of her pussy to lay her hand against the shower wall and avoid falling forward.

  No, she couldn’t have been thinking about Cupid while masturbating under the shower. No, she couldn’t.

  And yet, she did.

  Fucking Cupid.

  Now he was everywhere, even in her wet dreams and it wasn’t alright.

  Rose wasn’t alright.

  But she was also very tired and her mind was fuzzy.

  She grabbed a large shirt, put it on, and snuggle under the blanket in her bed.

  Her head had barely hit the pillow when she fell asleep, haunted by blue eyes. Cupid’s fucking blue eyes.

  Chapter 11

  When the heroine wants her phone back

  Rose’s night had been restless. All she had been able to do was replay the previous night’s event and what it meant for her. For Cupid too.

  She had bewitched Cupid, or more exactly he had bewitched himself and she was just collateral damage.

  She would stick with this version of the events if anyone asked her. Not that anyone would ask her. Isis and Carla hadn’t talked again about what had happened on Valentine’s Day and it had been a week ago already. So maybe they all thought that it was well in the past. Rose had hoped it was well in the past but after being kidnapped, she was obviously wrong.

  No one needed to know though.

  It wasn’t that Rose was ashamed that she had gotten caught by two gorillas and hung from a ceiling by Cupid, no, what she was ashamed of was that she had been warned — by Athanaël in the first place — and still she had tried to get the last word with Cupid and… failed.

  Yeah, coming with his face and hands on her thoughts was this. A failure.

  Of course, Cupid didn’t know he had won the argument — he probably didn’t know they were having one — and she preferred it stayed that way. Thank you very much.

  Rose was sitting at her desk at the journal and opened the thread of messages she had with Isis and Carla. It was linked to her phone number but would work on the computer mic if she tried to call her friends and she didn’t want that to happen with the nosy intern they had at the journal.

  Rose: Charger died during the night. Don’t have another and I’m out of battery. I can only be contacted by messages today.

  Rose knew it was a lie, but it was better than having to explain what her evening had entailed.

  Isis: 👍

  Carla: Okay. Do you need me to bring you a new charger?

  Oh god no. If Carla did, Rose would have to explain why she was still not answering. Oh shit. Cupid had shown her her screen yesterday when she had been in his office. It had been unlocked. Would he answer her messages or even write some new ones? She hadn’t even been able to see what was on her screen from the distance he had kept between them at that time. She had believed him when he had told her that he had warned her job she would be absent, but when she had showed up in the morning no one had been even surprised.

  He had obviously lied to stress her more.

  Rose: No it’s alright. I can survive without my phone for a day

  Carla: If you say so. I surely can’t

  Isis: I’ll put mine away in solidarity!

  Carla: I won’t 😛

  Isis: killjoy

  Rose: I’ve got to work a bit. Talk to you when I’m home

  It was easier this way. If Carla showed up, Rose would have to explain to her what had happened the very past day or she wouldn’t even have been able to look her in the eyes.

  Rose turned back to her computer screen and wrote.

  Like the day before, Rose had uselessly written and erased, and again as if she was a broken record always on the same loop.

  By 5:30 pm she was eager to leave work and get her phone back. She had parked her car next to the journal to be able to go directly to “Cupid” after work.

  She didn’t want to have to walk there. It was too far away and now she had a strange – and constant – feeling of being observed or followed, and being in a car diminished that feeling maybe not completely but at least a little.

  She parked in front of the back entrance, the one the two gorillas had brought her through the night before, and knocked.

  It would have been so much easier if it could open from the outside, but no, there was no handle, only a lock that made sure that only the key’s owner could enter this way. Maybe she should have gone through the front door.

  Sunglasses-guy opened the door and how surprising, he wore sunglasses again.

  “The boss was waiting for you. Come,” the guy said in a gruff voice.

  “Hello to you too,” Rose said sarcastically as she followed him inside. It felt completely different now that she wasn’t bound and forced to follow.

  They walked down the same small corridor she had the day before and arrived at the end, sunglasses-guy knocked at the door. Without waiting for any answer he opened the door and pushed her in before retreating and leaving the room.

  “You’re late,” Cupid said without even raising his head from the paper he was writing on.

  What was it with those men and forgetting the barest politeness? Was “hello” too hard to say? Would it hurt them to utter one or two extra syllables?

  “Hi, Stu. Did you forget today was a new day?” Rose asked, adding extra emphasis on the word “hi”.

  ‘Oh hello, Sunshine, please have a seat. Would you like some coffee, tea, maybe?“ his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

  “I’d rather get my phone back,” Rose answered.

  “And what do I get in exchange?” Cupid said, his eyes lighting with mischief.

  Rose stopped breathing for a second. How had she not thought that he would want something in exchange? He would have given it to her after dropping her at her place if he had no plan for her phone.

  “What do you want from me this time?” Rose asked, mustering all of her strength to hide the excitement she felt at the idea that he could rope her again.

  Yeah, she could lie to him all she wanted, but she was done lying to herself. She had loved the ropes. She still hated Cupid though, didn’t she?

  “I haven’t heard you scream… yet.” He let his voice trail on the last word as if it were a promise.

  “No, you… wouldn’t da…dare.” Rose stuttered. It was probably the first time it happened in all her life, but she couldn’t contain it.

  “Oh, yes, I dare,” Cupid cut her, “put this on.” He threw a fabric bundle that was on his desk at her and she scrambled to get it.

  Chapter 12

  When the heroine has to do something to get her phone back

  The bundle actually consisted of a black dress, a pair of high heels, and an egg. Not the kind of egg you ate though. This one was wrapped in silicon, and Rose was pretty sure that Cupid had a remote somewhere. And he wanted her to put this in.

  Cupid had the decency to turn his back to her after motioning for her to hurry up with a fast circle movement of his hand.

  Was she really going to dress for him? And for what purpose exactly?

  “What am I getting ready for?” She asked with ice in her voice, still holding the dress, the heels, and the vibrating egg in her hand and not even trying to put anything on — or in.

  “Cocktails at the mayor’s,” Cupid said without missing a beat, “we’re already late, hurry up.”

  Had he planned all of this in advance? It felt oddly practical that he had kept her phone right on the day he needed someone to accompany him to some kind of fancy gathering.

  “There’s no we, Stu,” she bit back.

  “Yeah, yeah in your dreams, Sunshine.” It was his only answer, and Rose had no idea what he meant by this. Or no, actually she knew all too well. Since her shower last night, her dreams had been filled with images of his hands expertly massaging her, without clothes this time and also with a lot of oil.

  He didn’t need to know about that though.

  “Hurry up,” he added when she had not started to change yet again. The psycho was probably keeping an ear out and guessing her every move listening to the sounds in the room. Or there was a camera in the office and he had a monitor on his phone, and he knew instead of guessing.

  She couldn’t understand why, but it thrilled her. Rose had stopped wanting to analyze her own reactions.

  She hated the man but was weirdly aroused by everything he did.

  As long as she didn’t act on her arousal, it would be all good and she would be able to still hate him.

  Rose looked at the back of his head as if he was facing her, and with a teasing smile, she started to undress. First went her coat, then her boots, her sweater dress, and finally her tights. When she was in her plain dark blue underwear she finally took the time to study the dress. It was a backless shimmering black dress that was floor length. It felt so soft against her fingers, she wondered how it would feel over her skin.

  One way to find out.

  She removed her bra — it would work with the back of the dress — and passed the dress over her head. It slid on her skin like water and Rose thought that it felt even better than she had anticipated. It was fitting her like a second skin down to her hips, then pooled at her feet and opened on her bare thigh.

  She then proceeded to put the heels on, expecting them to hurt a bit as they obviously were new, but they felt like wearing slippers and they fit perfectly.

  Rose didn’t know how Cupid had done this, but everything looked expensive and perfectly fit her as if he had made them tailored especially for her. Or as if it had been made with magic?

  She wouldn’t put it past Cupid.

  But how he had found clothes that fit like gloves wasn’t what clouded Rose’s mind right in this instant, no, it wasn’t.

  What kept the whole focus of her brain – and her eyes at the same time – was the egg.

  It started to vibrate in her hand and stopped.

  “Everything,” She heard Cupid hiss, his back still to her.

  Did he just turn it on to hear it?

  What the fuck was Rose doing? Did she really want her phone back to the point she would listen to him, and… shit, obey him?

  Or was she lying to herself when she thought she didn’t want this?

  She still didn’t want Cupid. She hated him.

  But his ideas? They were exhilarating and made her feel adventurous.

  Rose couldn’t stop thinking that it was just a toy… but he would be wielding it. He would be wielding her pleasure or her torture.

  If the night turned out like even just a portion of the night before, Rose knew it would bring both. Cupid would start with torture, and by the end of the evening, Rose would be so damned horny that she would have to take matters into her own hands again.

  But it would be thrilling.

  Would Rose dare?

  Cupid had seemed to realize she needed time to come to terms with the idea, so he waited patiently. Maybe he wasn’t as stupid as she had first thought after all.

  Rose peeked at his back, his wings folded at his back, and reached for the slit in the dress.

  Then she paused.

  “Is it clean?”

  She didn’t need to explain what “it” was, Cupid knew exactly what she meant.

  “It’s new and yes, I cleaned it. But you can go to the bathroom on your left if you want to clean it yourself again,” He didn’t turn while he said this, but Rose heard a click and where she had thought there were only walls, a hidden door appeared.

  Rose rushed to the bathroom and turned the faucet on. She grabbed the soap that looked like it had been left on the side just for her and proceeded to clean the egg.

  When she was done, she went to go back inside the room.

  She stopped abruptly without having reached the door yet. Why would she insert the egg while in the same room Cupid was? A room she was pretty sure had a camera?

  That made no sense.

  She turned her back to the door and before she could start regretting her decision, she slid her hand under the dress, pushed her panties to the side, and slowly rubbed the egg on her pussy until it was coated in enough of her juices to make it slip inside seamlessly.

  It was cold and when she walked again she felt the weight of it moving inside of her, bringing to life her pussy and forcing herself to squeeze her thighs to avoid the inexorable feeling that the egg was about to fall.

  Bracing herself for whatever was to come, Rose finally said, “I’m ready, Stu, now who’s late?”

  Chapter 13

  When the heroine hates Cupid even more

  Cupid’s answer had only been a deep chuckle and Rose didn’t want to investigate why goosebumps had spread over her skin when she had heard him. It was fear, right? Not anticipation for sure.

 

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