Committed (31 page)

Ira leaned closer, a Cheshire-cat grin on her face.

“Aunt Ira, don’t,” Damien said, but the train had already left the station.

“Damien used to use Monica’s tampons as grenade launchers for his G.I. Joes.” Ira slapped her thigh and laughed.

Poppy’s jaw dropped. “No!”

“Or did you not want me to tell the one when you climbed the wall at my old house and peed into the street?” Ira placed her finger along her cheek. “You were sixteen at the time, and my ex-husband drove by and saw you waving your wang at cars going by.”

Poppy’s body shook so hard with laughter that her eyes started to leak.

Monica and Grandma howled, while Damien groaned.

“I can keep going,” Ira said, not fazed one bit by retelling Damien’s antics.

“Please don’t.” Damien laughed despite the embarrassing nature of his family’s story time. She loved him a little more for it.

What was love without laughter?

Damien closed the door on his degenerate family and rested his back against the cool wood. Poppy sprawled on the couch, her cheeks quivering with still more giggles.

His family was one in a million.

“They are amazing,” she said.

“Amazingly mental.” He flipped the locks before joining Poppy on the couch.

“Whatever. I haven’t laughed that hard in … ages. I don’t even know.” She turned to lie on her back, feet in his lap.

“They really liked you.”

“They’re just being nice. I get the feeling you haven’t had to introduce many women to them.”

“No, and it’s not even intentional. It might seem like they’re that way with everyone, but they really took to you.”

He hadn’t missed the sidelong looks his mother gave them when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. Hell, no one had even asked if he and Poppy were a couple, they just assumed. It was an assumption he needed to clarify, but nerves held him back. What if she said no? Or had reservations because of his job?

There was no denying he was falling hard for her. But was it one-sided?

Poppy held out her hand to him. “Come here?”

He crawled up her body until he covered her, then gently lowered his weight onto his elbows. She twined her arms around his neck and smiled. There was a sleepy, content expression on her face. He could scoop her up, take her upstairs, and fall asleep with her in his arms in a matter of minutes. But he’d promised other things tonight, and he didn’t renege on such things.

“Where did all the masks and stuff come from?” she asked.

“My grandfather. I got some of it when I took his ashes back to New Zealand after he died, but most of them were his.”

“I knew there was a story behind it.” Poppy brushed her nose against his and raised up for a kiss. She was so sweet, yet she had a naughty streak a mile wide that he wanted to mine for days.

He might as well get started.

Damien sat up, pulling her with him until they faced each other.

“I need to give you the tour,” he said, a plan taking shape.

“Okay.”

“Get your bag.”

She rose off the couch and he followed her, retrieving his play bag from the closet and leading the way up the stairs.

The upstairs had three bedrooms. Or really, his bedroom, his play room, and the spare room. He led Poppy into his bedroom and directed her to stash her stuff there before leading her to the other end of the hall, where he unlocked the door with a key he kept in the bedroom.

“What’s in here?” She followed him into the room.

Damien didn’t answer her. He let the room speak for itself.

The room was the same gray-green as the rest of the house, but that was where the similarity ended. He had a wooden St. Andrew’s cross in the corner, a leather ottoman that served many purposes, and a wooden frame that spanned the room, providing innumerable points to bind someone to, or even suspend a person from. The closet doors stood open, displaying the rest of his toys.

He rolled the suitcase over and placed it on a small bench against the back wall in the closet, kept there for just that purpose.

“Oh, my,” Poppy said.

“Strip.”

“What?”

“I said strip.” Damien turned to face her, arms crossed over his chest.

Poppy blinked at him for a moment before a smile spread across her face. The cheeky little thing. She unwound the scarf from her neck and folded it.

Damien closed the distance between them and pressed his thumb over a dark purple spot on her chest. She winced and leaned against him.

“They’ve colored nicely,” he said.

“Yes, I’ve had to get creative with my work clothes this week.” She grinned, not the least bit concerned.

“Were they too high?”

“There weren’t enough of them.”

Poppy pulled her tank top off and glanced down at herself. There were a few red lines across her stomach, and purple hearts that stood out plainly on her fair skin, but the best ones were on her breasts.

“Isn’t this pretty?” He drew his finger along the scalloped edge of her bra. The red satin demi-cups were covered with black lace. He could make out the curve of her areolae through the sheer fabric.

She removed her jeans and folded them as well, leaving her in the bra and matching barely-there panties. He took her arm and turned her, admiring the handful of marks he’d left.

“What is this from?” He slapped the front of her thighs and she danced in place.

“Ouch. The bed. The foot rail bruised me.” The smile never left her lips.

“Huh. Interesting.” He popped the thin strap over her hip. “I don’t think you want these ruined, so you’d better take them off, too, though I do love the red and black against your pale skin.”

Love
.

He wanted to shove the word back in his mouth. It came too close to the truth. How was it a woman so small and gentle could control his heart?

Poppy slid the panties off and removed her bra, adding both to the pile of clothing by the door. Her cheeks were flushed. For a woman who could be so bold, she balanced it out with a good measure of modesty. It made for an interesting contrast.

His gaze slid over her body, noting his marks and the evidence of their time together. It did something inside of him. He wanted to lock her away, so he’d never be without her, so no one could steal her.

He wanted her to be his Rapunzel.

Damien stripped his shirt off and tossed it in the corner. His hands itched to touch her. He
needed to feel her against him, taste her surrender.

They stood face-to-face. He kneaded her shoulders with his fingers, taking joy in simply touching her.

“Anything you want to tell me before we start?” he asked. They hadn’t changed their initial negotiations except to clarify one thing or another.

“No, sir. I trust you.”

“What did I tell you I’d do earlier?”

“That you would own my mouth, my breasts, and my body.” Her gaze dropped to his chest and her voice grew husky.

“Hmm.” Damien cupped her mound and pressed his fingers against her folds. “You’re wet just talking about it.”

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. “Yes, sir.”

“Because you like to be fucked?”

Her brow wrinkled. “It’s more than that. Do I enjoy sex? Yes.” She peered up at him. “But I’m wet because it’s you saying you want to fuck me.”

Damien resisted the urge to grin at the profanity on her lips. He curled his fingers until he found the hard nub of her pleasure and pressed harder. Her lids lowered and she flattened her hands against his chest.

“How many times do you think I can make you come?” he whispered.

“I don’t know.”

“What makes you come the hardest?”

“Your cock.”

He grinned. “Don’t give me platitudes. You won’t like the result.”

“A rabbit vibrator.”

“And that’s what I won’t be using, because you don’t get to come until I say so.” He turned to the closet and glanced around for the bag of toys he’d purchased when he’d laid out his single-minded plan to woo Poppy.

The bag sat on the floor of the closet, innocuous in its plainness, but inside was a wealth of things reserved just for her. There were a few vibrators, but he had one in particular in mind.

“Stand in the middle of the room,” he said.

While Poppy placed herself in position, he retrieved the bag and sighed in relief when he realized he’d already thought to set it up. He laid the vibrator in his suitcase and pulled out a length of rope.

Tonight he’d push her, he’d fuck her, and for a few minutes she would be his, body and soul.

He tied a quick loop of rope around her hips and left the rest of the rope dangling down one leg. The vibrator was next. He pulled it out and pressed the play button on his MP3 player as he turned to face her.

Poppy’s brows rose. By some odd twist of fate, the gently curved, spade-shaped vibrator also happened to be purple, her favorite color. As the music rose in the speakers, the vibrator began to dance.

“Its intensity is controlled by the beat of the music,” he explained.

Poppy gulped and her eyes grew a little wider.

“Spread your legs.” He shook his head when her feet moved only a few inches. “If that’s how you’re going to be, we’ll just use this.”

He grabbed an innocent-looking bar with rings on either end from the closet.

“No, I just didn’t know how far you meant,” Poppy said in a rush.

“You had your chance.” He held back a chuckle as he pulled out the restraints. The vibe went into his back pocket for the moment, its wiggling an odd sensation against his ass.

Poppy pouted, or pretended to, at least, while he fastened cuffs to either ankle and attached them to the rings with snaps. Now her legs were forcibly spread a good three feet. He stood and pulled a nylon cord down to hang from the wooden structure.

“You can hold on to this for balance. Don’t fall.”

She clung to it while he took a knee in front of her and pulled the vibe out and placed it at her entrance. The music eased into a gentler beat. He bit his lip and pushed the wider end of the vibrator into her pussy.

Poppy whimpered and held still, her eyes squeezing shut. He eased it in, pulling it out and pushing deeper.

Damien bit her thigh and she hissed. If she wanted more marks, he’d give them to her. When the vibrator was fully seated in her pussy, he held it in place with one hand and brought the rope between her legs with the other. He looped it over the belt of rope and back through her legs so that the crisscrossed ropes held the vibrator exactly where it was supposed to be.

The music picked up the pace and Poppy groaned. “Not nice. Not nice at all.”

“Did I ever say I was nice?” He pushed himself to his feet and stared at her.

“No.”

“Okay, then.” He grabbed her braid, pulled her head back and kissed her, exulting in the
power she gave him. She could pull the rug out from under him and shut their play down in a second, but she hadn’t yet. She just kept giving to him, taking everything he offered and asking for more. “You said you wanted marks. Let’s give you some.”

“Shit,” Poppy muttered.

He selected a thick, carbon-fiber cane from the wall. It was similar to the evil stick Poppy had provided, except this one didn’t sting as much. He swung it through the air. It whistled at a high pitch before cracking against his palm.

Poppy jumped even though she could see the toy hadn’t been aimed at her.

The music kicked up a notch and her eyes rolled back in her head. Her knees buckled, but her grasp on the strap was enough to keep her upright.

He circled her, slapping the cane against his palm.

When she couldn’t see him, he swung the cane and landed it across the middle of her ass. Poppy yelped and rocked forward. He didn’t pull the cane away very far before popping her again, then over and over again, up and down her ass. Her skin turned a bright cherry red and she leaned forward, sticking her bottom out more, even as she grunted and whined.

He laid his palm against her heated flesh and she hissed again. The cane wouldn’t leave more than superficial marks, a few light bruises. He wouldn’t use it on her hard enough to do more than that—though he could.

“Not too bad for a warm-up, hmm?”

“Oh, fuck you,” she groused, standing up straight.

“You like it.” He cupped her mound, pushing the vibe deeper, and at the perfect moment, the music kicked up a notch with a heavy bass beat.

“Oh.” Poppy’s eyes went completely unfocused as the vibrator started a pulse-vibe-pulse-vibe rhythm.

“Don’t come,” he whispered.

“Oh, come on.” Her voice was barely audible.

“You can’t come yet. Don’t do it.” He wiggled the vibrator back and forth. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to obey him.

She wouldn’t last long. He didn’t think she had as much control over when she orgasmed as some who were used to the role of submissive or slave. To ask more from her would push her ability. How much could she take?

A few feet of rope hung from her hip. He picked up the ends and ran the fuzzy bits over her breasts. Poppy thrust her chest forward, eyes still closed. Her cheeks were a lovely shade of
pink. He trailed the rope across each nipple, then used the rope to wrap around a breast, effectively noosing one, then the other. He pulled on the ends, lifting her breasts higher.

Damien tweaked her nipple, enjoying the helpless noises she made as she tried to remain still. Toying with her would drive him mad, but he would keep at it.

Poppy shuddered and bent her knees.

“Did you come?” he asked.

“No, sir, but I want to.”

“Not yet.”

“Oh come on, please? Please, sir?”

“Not yet. Not unless you want to be in trouble.” He chuckled and kissed her lips.

“You suck.”

“I do, but only if you’re good.” He tweaked a nipple and received a hard-earned chuckle from her.

“I can be good.”

“I know you can, so don’t come.”

She made a disgusted sigh. That was not the answer she seemed to have wanted.

He cupped her mound again and used his fingers to press the vibrator deeper, then release it, over and over again, fucking her as it vibrated.

Poppy’s whimpers rose in pitch and volume.