In the Den (16 page)

“Or I’ll withhold a week’s worth of orgasms.”

She turned up the heat on her side of car. “He seems nice enough. Which is why I’m suspicious.”

“You’d be suspicious no matter what.”

“You might be right about that. And no, I probably won’t be able to change my mother’s mind.”

“So be a good little sub and focus on making me happy.”

Catrina laughed.

He raised an eyebrow and looked across at her. “You could pretend to go along.”

“Yeah. But I’m not going to.”

Then she stunned him by reaching across the cab to touch his forearm.

“Thank you,” she said. “For going with me. I appreciate it. Having you there helped.”

“Anything for you, Milady.” He was surprised how much he meant it. “I enjoyed myself. I liked Milton’s sense of humor, and your mom’s a firecracker.”

“She volunteers for a hundred different things. And she is still a substitute teacher.”

Catrina dropped her hand. For safety, that was probably a good thing. Catrina’s touch was magic, but it was a hell of a distraction.

They stopped at a grocery store on the way into town. He picked up a basket and headed for the produce section as he asked, “How are your feet? You okay to walk through the whole store?”

“They’re a little tender, but nothing bad.”

“I was hoping every step would remind you of the way you were caned.”

“It is now,” she said, glaring at him.

“Bananas?” he asked, holding up a bunch.

At the checkout counter, she added three bars of chocolate to their purchase. “I may need to keep up my energy,” she said.

He tossed another one on top.

By the time they arrived home, the sun had already set and the sky resembled inky velvet.

“This is a whole different place when there’s no party here. Peaceful.”

The grounds were brilliantly lit, but the house was mostly dark. A light was on in Gregorio’s quarters across the way. Other than that, it seemed they were on a hundred acres of deserted land.

He parked his vehicle in the garage then grabbed the groceries and her luggage.

“May I help with some of that?”

“Open that door. We’ll take the back stairs.”

“You can come and go as you please without anyone knowing you’re here,” she said when they reached the top. “Like a superhero.”

He juggled groceries and set down her bag to unlock the door to their suite. “After you.”

“Wait, give me a minute. I’m enjoying the image of you in a cape and a sculptured suit. I’m thinking tight pants, too. Really tight.”

“I’ll give you something else to enjoy.”

“Will you, Master Damien?” she asked, her voice oozing with sensuality.

He put down the shopping bags, dropped her luggage then took hold of her shoulders and backed her against the wall. “Open your mouth.”

She did.

He traced her lips with his thumb, and when her eyes fluttered shut, he took hold of her wrists and pinned them above her head. “That’s my girl.”

“Damien…”

He kissed her, tasting the first hint of resistance then the sweetness of her response as she opened her mouth wider. Their tongues mated and he insinuated his leg between her thighs. Damien plundered her depths, teasing, retreating then advancing again, deeper. She relaxed into him and rubbed against his thigh.

Yeah. She was so responsive, and he suspected she’d spent the last few years hiding that fire.

She moaned.

He deepened the kiss, granting her silent permission to take what she wanted.

Her movements became faster and she ended the kiss before burrowing her head into his shoulder.

“Take it.”

She made tiny circular motions against him, getting herself off. He held her, supported her, encouraged her.

She cried out as she convulsed then sank against him.

He let go of her hands and caught her against him. Her breaths came in tiny little gasps.

“How do you keep doing that?” she asked eventually. “An orgasm a week usually keeps me happy. Now I need them every few hours.”

Damien stroked the back of her head. “I’ll give you as many as you want, Milady.”

“You might be creating a monster here, Damien.”

“I’m willing to take the chance.”

He told her to take as much time as she needed to unpack and settle in while he fetched her remaining items from the car.

Over the years, he’d kept his suite private. But having Catrina here seemed natural and inevitable. He refused to consider how quiet and empty it might seem when she left.

It appeared Gregorio had been in. The empty brandy snifters were gone, and cables protruded through a hole in the desk. She’d be plugged in and ready to work in the morning.

Damien placed her box and computer backpack on her new desk, feeling inordinately pleased with himself.

He rejoined her in the bedroom. She was stowing her bag on a shelf. A few items hung from the hangers. And a drawer stood slightly ajar. He could get used to this. “Can I get you a glass of wine?”

“Not if we’re playing.”

“We’re not.”

“Oh?”

“We’re listening to music, enjoying the fireplace and seeing where the conversation leads.”

“Would you like me to change?”

“No.” It was tempting, though. Since he’d packed her suitcase, he knew what was in it. Red leather. A corset that left her breasts bare. Skirts, heels, fishnets. He’d been selective. He’d only chosen his favorites.

But she was fine as she was. The fact that he could see the swell of her breasts and a faint outline of her nipples was enough for now.

“I’m afraid you’re confusing me.”

“Good.”

She followed him back into the living room. He opened a bottle of red for her and set it aside for a few minutes while he adjusted the blinds. She perched on the arm of the couch, watching him, with one leg crossed over the other at the ankle.

He flipped the switch to turn on the fireplace then selected a jazz station on the satellite system.

“Frank Sinatra?” she asked.

“Is that okay?”

“Fine. Just…” She paused and linked her hands on one thigh. “I don’t know what I thought you’d choose, maybe classic rock. But not that.”

“Were you thinking I’d strip you down, or better yet, dress you up?”

“Actually, yes.”

“Maybe shackle your naked body while I arouse you to the point you’re begging for release?”

She licked her upper lip. “Well…”

Foreplay took many different forms. “Sit with me?” He’d phrased it as a question, but he knew there’d be no doubt she’d understand it wasn’t a request.

He poured them each a glass of wine.

She was on the couch when he turned back around, but she was pressed against the far side.

“We could watch television,” she suggested. “A news show. Or surely there’s some sporting event on. Or maybe a movie. I’m even up for an action adventure, doesn’t have to be a chick flick.”

“No.”

“No? That was pretty domineering.”

“It was,” he said unapologetically. “Move a little closer to the middle, if you don’t mind.” He held out the glass, forcing her to move to accept it.

“I’m on to your nefarious plan,” she said when he sat next to her.

“Are you?” He took a drink. “Do tell.”

“All this is part of your idea of submission. And it’s so different from mine that you’re illustrating how complex it is.”

“It’s part of submission, how?”

She looked at him over the rim of the glass. Her stare was wide and unblinking. “I’m guessing you’re going to tell me a true sub doesn’t get to hide any part of who they are.”

“Well done. And yes, you’re right. I want to know all about you. What makes your heart flutter? What things sneak up on you when you’re trying to go to sleep?”

“I didn’t agree to all this,” she said.

“You did. You couldn’t have imagined that I’d keep you tied up twenty-four hours a day.”

“No?”

“Not that the idea is without merits. I love how your nipples harden when you’re anticipating the touch of my leather. But I invited you to explore for a couple of weeks. I didn’t invite you to my dungeon for a few random scenes.”

“It
is
a nice dungeon,” she said lightly.

“I invited you into my life,” he said.

The wine sloshed in the glass. He took it from her and slid it onto a nearby table. “And I’m glad you’re here,” he added. He took her hand, raised it and kissed her. Then, still holding her gaze captive, he gently bit her thumb.

She moaned and closed her eyes. “That’s—”

“Just the beginning,” he said.

Chapter Eight

And it was.

Damien’s words, combined with the delicious twinge from his bite, caused her pussy to tighten. He turned her on in ways no one ever had

She opened her eyes to find him staring not just at her, but seemingly inside her. The intensity of the blue chilled her, as if his eyes were made of ice.

He was breathtakingly handsome, and she itched to pull that leather strip from his hair and run her fingers through its thick length.

As he’d planned, he’d turned her idea of submission inside out then he’d dumped it upside down. He made her question everything she’d thought she knew and had assumed.

She used D/s to keep her emotions separate from those of other people. He used it to pry inside. In ways she could never have imagined, he terrified her.

What happened at the end of the two weeks when she went back to her home in Washington Park? If she gave Damien what he wanted, what he demanded, she’d be stripped bare emotionally.

He’d go on with his life as if this had been nothing more than a diversion.

But what about her?

Even though she’d found him annoying at the time, having him at the dinner with her mother and Milton had made it easier for her. Damien’s little touches had helped keep her calm. He’d offered silent strength and support in a way, she supposed, it might happen in a real relationship. Not that she’d had any real experience with that.

They spent the next couple of hours discussing mundane things. She told him about her business, and he answered questions that she’d had while he was talking to her mother and Milton earlier.

When she yawned, he said, “Let’s go to bed.”

Finally.

“Since I didn’t bring you any pajamas, I’ll get you a T-shirt.”

She felt so off balance it was as if he’d spun the world backwards. Shaken, she left her wine glass on the coffee table.

While he tidied up, she took a shower.

He was holding a towel for her when she stepped out.

“Thank you.” She lifted her arms and he wrapped it around her.

It was odd sharing the bathroom, strangely intimate to be brushing her teeth only a few feet from where he stood in front of his own sink.

He’d taken off his shirt, but his hair was still held back. In so many ways, he was right. Part of her had expected him to keep her tied up and to beat her twenty-four hours a day.

His enormous biceps rippled as he moved. She couldn’t help but think of the strength he possessed, but also the tenderness he showed her. He restrained his power, she knew. It would have been easy for him to have used too much force with the cane, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d been deliberate with her. Though it had hurt, it had also aroused her.

He grabbed a T-shirt from his closet and held it while she pulled it on. She combed out her hair then braided it while she sat cross-legged on the bed waiting for him.

“Don’t think I’m not onto you,” he said as he entered the room.

“I’m sorry?” She slid the brush onto the nightstand and scooted against the headboard.

He stood only feet away, arms folded, naked, penis semi-flaccid, legs spread about shoulder-width apart. Though he wore nothing, he looked suitably intimidating.

“Dropping your towel and clothes on the floor and leaving them.”

“I apologize. I’m afraid I’m a bit of a slob.”

“No you’re not. I was in your house, remember? Lived-in with magazines and all kinds of…stuff, but your dirty clothes were in a hamper and all of your toiletries were put away.”

“Ah…”

“Point taken. You think I’m a tight-ass.”

“It seemed like a better idea ten minutes ago than it does right now,” she admitted, her stomach plummeting.

“I think you’re hoping for a spanking.”

Maybe she had been.

“I’ll let you think about it for a while,” he said.

“What?”

“Consider your actions carefully, Catrina. We’ll talk about it more before we agree on how we handle it.”

“About that.”

He nodded.

“Can we get it over with?”

“When I say so, yes. Ready for bed?”

She wasn’t sure her brain had ever been tied in more knots.

He folded back the comforter then climbed in next to her before turning off the lamp. “Come here,” he said.

This was more what she’d expected.

When he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her, she said, “There’s no lesson for this evening?”

“There definitely was.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“The mundaneness of it all. That’s where trust and intimacy are built.”

“You frustrate me.”

“Milady, the feeling is mutual. Now, rest.”

“I don’t snuggle, Damien.”

“You do now.”

“But—”

“Go to sleep.”

His grip was unbreakable.

It was only a minute later that she heard the change in his breathing pattern that indicated he was already asleep. How was that even possible?

She tried to sneak away, but his hold tightened.

“Stop,” he murmured against her ear. “This is a battle you can’t win.” To reinforce his point, he put a leg over hers.

Trapped but oddly comforted, she gave in.

It had been a hell of a day, and nothing had gone the way she’d planned, from him dominating her in her house, caning her feet, meeting Milton and introducing Damien to her mother, to spending the evening chatting in front of the fireplace.

And the next morning, when she opened her eyes, she was in the bed alone.

She sat up while she blinked. “I think I’m seeing things,” she said. “A Celtic god, maybe.” And indeed he did look like that. He’d opened the blinds in the other room and light radiated behind him, making his hair appear darker than ever.