Charted Territory || BDSM

Chapter 4 ~ 234 Aristaeus Place

WARNING: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD <3 

As I listen to Cameron fiddle with the lock, my heart rate spikes faster and faster and my legs turn to jelly. The red door opens with a creak and the man who intimidated me in the club intimidates me once more when he reveals himself.

He stands tall with perfect posture in a glamorous front hallway with marble flooring, high ceilings, and the same white pillars that mark each flat mark the entryway to his common areas and to the kitchen. His hair looks darker in this lighting now. His curtain bangs swoop in front of his eyes and he quickly rakes a hand through them. His arctic blue eyes light up as he catches his first glimpse of me. Before I can say hello, his large hand reaches for mine and he pulls me straight into his home.

As soon as my feet land on his marble floor, he says in a low tone, "Hi, Alexa."

"Hi, Cameron."

Ecstasy. Tingling between my legs. The warmth of holding hands with a handsome gentleman. I'm smitten within a single second.

I open my arms for a loose hug. He wraps me into his right bicep like he's known me for years, shutting the door behind me. He feels protective and warm. I desperately hope he is not merely putting on a caring man act to get something from me. 

Cameron studies me intently before he says, "You're even more beautiful up close. Those lips. Your eyes...I feel like an idiot even trying to look at you."

I giggle, "You have all the lines."

"Christ, you're American?"

I freeze and look up into his eyes, "Is there something wrong with that?"

He laughs loudly, "It just makes you prettier, that's all."

I utter that same giggle and start to look around his space nervously, admiring his interior design.

"You're allowed to look at me. Feel free to take a good look. I'm used to it," he now holds my waist with both hands and looks down at me, an early display of dominance.

All my lips can pronounce is, "Very handsome."

Cameron briefly leans forward to rest his forehead on mine for a fleeting moment in response. It's a sweet gesture. He then lets go of me and stands tall again, "Let me get us some water. You need it."

I try not to roll my eyes at his juvenile comment and I start to take my heels off. Quickly, he says, "Leave those on."

I follow him to where he is getting his water in the kitchen, my heels clanking as I go. He stands there with his back turned to me, perfectly composed pouring with control and poise. It seems like in his perfectionist brain, the thought of spilling is a dreadful one. He was cut from the same cloth as an aristocrat.

He turns around with our water and I study his hands for the third time now. First at Blondie's. Second on his profile. They're veiny, smooth, and have the girth that allures me. His fingers are long. My attention is caught as his muscular chest and his chiseled abdomen burst through his spotlessly white button-down shirt. His body is lean, yet his shoulders are broad and he's beautifully sculpted everywhere. 

"That was smooth of you to follow me," he is now so close I can breathe in his silky, masculine scent. "Are you always this good at getting a man's attention?"

I feel my expression form into a devilish smirk, his presence drawing out my bratty side. His brows furrow a little, his cheerful look dissolving into a slightly more stern one as he takes notice of my smirk. My heart picks up pace as he frowns, overtaken by his small acts of dominance. I change the subject, "You have a beautiful flat. Gorgeous, actually. I love this style."