In the Den (13 page)

“So I’m sleeping with you?”

“You’ve behaved well enough for me not to cuff you to the headboard. And definitely well enough not to make me tie you to the footboard.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Again, the combination of rigidity that contrasted with his protectiveness. It kept her off-balance. “You mean it.”

“Every word, Milady. Never forget I’m a Dom.”

As if she could.

* * * *

“How was your lesson?”

Catrina wiggled her upper body to better prop her bare shoulders against the headboard and regarded Damien over the rim of her coffee cup. He’d awakened her by wafting the steam near her nose. Smart man.

He’d helped her sit up, then offered her the brew.

She’d taken a sip and sighed in bliss. He’d made the coffee the way she liked, which meant it was strong enough to dissolve a spoon.

He moved to the far side of the bedroom and sat on the window sill.

She wasn’t sure how long he’d been up. Long enough to dress in a pair of jeans and—God help her—nothing else.

Even if he hadn’t reminded her of the sex they’d had last night, the first sight of him would have brought it back. “I thought you weren’t a morning person,” she said, stalling.

“I was thinking of reinforcing it if you hadn’t learned it well.”

Unbelievably, his words aroused her.

“I woke up craving your pussy,” he told her. “Yesterday I fucked you from behind. This morning I want to see your face as you cry out my name.”

“That’s not—”

“You screamed last night.”

“I didn’t.” She sipped and noticed that her shaking hand made the coffee slosh. “Did I?”

“Yeah. Sweetest music I’d ever heard. I’ll give you five minutes.”

She frowned in question.

“Finish your coffee. Do whatever you need to in the bathroom. Put a condom on the nightstand and be on your back on the mattress, knees over the edge, legs spread as wide as you can get them.”

Without another word, he left the room.

Knowing he meant what he said, she took a big gulp, wincing as the heat scalded her mouth.

She dashed into the en suite and was touched when she saw he’d laid out a brand new toothbrush for her. She found a washcloth in the linen closet and scrubbed off her remaining make up. The eyelashes would last a few more days.

The box of condoms was still on the hearth, but he wasn’t in the living room. For not being a morning person, he went to work early, even on a Sunday.

Just under the allotted time, she lay back, naked.

He kept her waiting, and she was sure he did it on purpose to let her mind turn somersaults.

She took a few steadying breaths, then attuned her hearing to listen for him.

Despite hearing nothing, she stayed where she was.

“What a good girl.”

She froze. How the hell had he entered without her hearing, and how long had he been there? “Do you have a camera in here?”

“Our bedroom is a sanctuary, Catrina. No cameras. When we’re in our suite, I share you with no one.”

“So that means you were standing there, watching me,” she said.

“Always. I told you there’d be no privacy.”

She gripped the sheets, unsure if he meant that as a threat or a promise.

“Part your labia, Milady. Use both hands.”

Trembling, she took hold of each pussy lip and pulled it back.

“Keep your legs right where they are while I spank your pussy.”

“But…” She closed her eyes, remembering this was supposed to be a lesson.

“Unless you need a spreader bar?”

“I’ll stay in position.” She jerked when he abraded her clit.

Nothing but the sounds of their combined breathing disturbed the atmosphere. Even though she’d been moist as she’d prepared for him, she was now dry.

It was difficult, but she kept her hands in place.

He pulled back the skin to expose her clit. She tightened her buttocks. He didn’t reprimand her, and he didn’t do anything else for a long time, just kept her there, exposed in the most terrifying way.

Thinking about him.

Her heart raced, but she remained where she was.

He touched her clit with a fingertip that was warm and moist. She should have known his touch would be kind—should have—but hadn’t.

He gave her pussy a couple of gentle swats, enough to help her relax. Then a few more to arouse her, then a few more that made her cry out from the sudden shock, then several open-handed, hard slaps that hurt so fucking bad that it turned her on.

“God. Damn.” She started to pull her hands away so she could protect her cunt, but she kept them in place.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Your cock. Put it in me, Damien.” She writhed, silently urging him to hurry.

“So pretty, all swollen and red.”

“And wet.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

She felt his tongue on her, soothing and exciting. “Please, please.”

“Hands above your head.”

His sheathed cock was at her entrance, but then he took hold of his penis and moved it across her pussy, teasing her with it.

“I’m going to go crazy,” she warned him.

“You’re thinking about yourself.”

He was right. She was at such a fevered pitch, she was no longer considering him. “Yes, Damien,” she said. Her resolve to concentrate on his pleasure lasted for all of three seconds before she lifted her hips to envelop him as he thrust forward. “Yes,” she said around a gasp.

“Look at me.”

She opened her eyes.

His face was only inches from hers. His blue eyes had never seemed so compelling, and she couldn’t look away. He placed her wrists one on top of the other and encircled them with one of his hands.

“You can come after I do.”

“Not sure I can wait that long.”

“It’ll be two days before I let you climax again if you don’t follow my instructions.”

“You’re dastardly.”

He grinned, and it made him seem all the more intimidating. “I could screw you for the rest of the morning, Milady.”

“Please don’t.” She was already fighting back an orgasm with every breathing technique she’d ever learnt. The way he held her and fucked her blazing cunt had her teetering on the precipice.

Damien used his free hand to play with her nipples, driving her mad.

She felt desperate to close her eyes, certain it could help break the bond.

“Look at me,” he reminded her.

Instead of fighting, she kept her gaze fastened on him, drinking in strength from the set of his jaw. She met his surges and whimpered with each one.

“Beautiful,” he said. “So beautiful in your surrender.” He released her wrists and pushed a thumb against her clit.

“Damien! Damien,” she pleaded.

“Legs around my waist.”

The change in positions gave her moment of respite, but ultimately it put him deeper inside her.

“Now.”
He impaled her then jerked inside her a few times, his ejaculate pulsing from his body.

Using her calves as leverage, she ground out her own orgasm, sobbing as she splintered from the inside out.

“You’re an apt student,” he said when she turned her face to look at him.

“The teacher provides plenty of motivation, though it might be fun to stay after class.”

He pulled out and helped her get back on the bed properly. “Rest for a minute,” he said, and joined her, tucking her head beneath his chin.

Across her body, his arm felt heavy, and she didn’t mind.

“I’ve decided I’ll go to Denver with you today.”

She rolled over so she could look at him. “What happened to sending Jeff?”

“He has the day off, and I didn’t know that until I checked the schedule this morning. And before you suggest it, you’re not going alone. You’ll spend too much time inside your head and freak out.”

“I don’t
freak out
,” she protested.

“No? Then what’s happening right now?”

His radar was keen. “Maybe a little. You can be a bit overwhelming.”

“We need to take some of the tension off. Enjoy the day.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“We’ll leave in half an hour, grab some breakfast on the way.”

It sounded suspiciously mundane.

Nothing with him ever was, though.

She was overdressed, or underdressed, depending how she looked at it, for the rustic mountain lodge where they ate. He hadn’t given her back her undergarments, so she was aware that her nipples were hard, and she was sure everyone knew she had on no panties.

No one, though, gave her a second glance. Skiers and snowboarders were talking about the weather, conditions on the slopes and discussing the runs they were going to get in. Locals looked at newspapers and the national news broadcast.

He ordered steak and eggs, with a side of salsa. No carbs.

She went straight for the specialty,
migas
. She’d never had them before, but they sounded delicious, three scrambled eggs with jalapenos, green chillies, tomatoes, gobs of cheese and tortilla strips. “I need my energy to keep up with you,” she said while biting into the accompanying banana walnut muffin.

He finished a few minutes ahead of her. “Impressive,” he said.

“Now I need a coffee,” she said, when she forked the last bite of potatoes from her plate.

“We may need to hire a cook if you’re going to consume a couple of thousand calories at every meal.”

“Or stop exercising so much.”

“Eat up.”

She grinned and raised her juice glass in his direction.

They grabbed a to-go latte from a local coffee shop before hitting the road.

“You’re a great chauffeur,” she said. His sedan was all luxury, with heated leather seats and individual temperature controls for the driver and passenger sides.

Her side was ten degrees warmer than his. Then again, he had on jeans, boots and a cable-knit sweater.

She sipped the vanilla-flavored latte while he told her about his business ventures and gave her the history on how the Den had come about. His wife had been an avid skier who had a large family. She’d envisioned it as a place for family retreats, holidays, reunions.

“You were married?” she asked, putting the drink in the cup holder. How had she never heard that juicy piece of gossip?

“Didn’t last long.”

“I had no idea. What happened?”

“Nothing,” he said. “It was unremarkable. Margot and I married. Things didn’t work out. We went our separate ways. End of story. No great devastation that left me emotionally crippled.”

“Quit holding out.”

“We started dating when I was in grad school, then we got married a year or so later.” His grip on the steering wheel was light yet competent as he negotiated a hairpin curve while climbing Berthoud Pass. “I got a job at a private equity firm. Getting married seemed like the next logical step. But I was at least as fascinated by money as I was with my wife, and I worked a lot of hours, including weekends.”

Catrina turned in her seat to face him. “What happened to the marriage?”

“Things fell apart when she realized she didn’t want to be my sub anymore.”

“Wait. What? Sub? You left out whole chunks of the story.”

“Frustrating, isn’t it?”

She collapsed against the seatback. “I get it.”

After a few seconds, he relented. “A bunch of us frat brothers flew to a friend’s bachelor party in Vegas. We went to a BDSM club. It was my first visit, and I was hooked. I’d known I had dominant urges, but until that night, I didn’t have a term for it. My girlfriends had just thought I was an overbearing jerk. They were probably right.”

“You bossed them around?”

“And ordered them to suck my dick while I pulled on their tits.” He had the good grace to wince. “I’m not proud of it.”

“Now you make women beg for the privilege.”

“I hope my technique has improved over the years.”

“Yes.” She remembered the way her body had felt last night and the ultimate, crashing satisfaction he’d given her. “I can say it has.”

“It didn’t come easily. I joined a BDSM club out by the old airport. At a demo one evening, the instructor suggested Doms switch roles. I wish I could say it was my idea, but one of my subs told me I should give it a try.”

“Sounds as if you had a rough go of it, ego-wise.”

“When you’re told your sexual tactics need improvement? But she was right. Getting a swipe from a cane taught me that I should be a bit more careful with how I wielded one.”

She shuddered. Canes intimidated her. It was part of the reason she didn’t use one unless her boy requested it. “Was the sub Margot?”

“No.” He glanced her direction. “I met Margot at a concert, and by then I was upfront about my lifestyle and what it entailed. The idea of doing something scandalous thrilled her, at least initially. After we were married, she didn’t find it as exciting. She was bored and restless because of the amount of time she was spending alone. And being my slut princess every night when I got home close to midnight lost its appeal. She found someone less demanding and more available.”

“I wonder how that’s working out.”

“She misses it.”

“How do you know that?”

“Ran into her recently at a dinner party.”

“And the two of you immediately had a discussion about BDSM?”

“She brought it up.”

Jealousy nipped at Catrina. She shoved the emotion away. He could play with whomever he wanted, even his ex-wife.

“I don’t scene with married women, unless their husbands are there. And her fourth husband, Larry, has no intention of letting her anywhere near me.”

“Can you blame him?”

“He’s a retired pro wrestler. Could still pile-drive me straight into the ground.”

The image was laughable. “I’d stay away, too. Seriously, no lasting repercussions from the divorce? You haven’t remarried.”

“No need.” He slid her a sidelong glance. “I have my businesses and my fill of beautiful women.”

The unwelcome envy slithered back in. “Seems a little superficial, maybe even lonely.”

“We all make our choices, Catrina.”

She crossed her bare legs. The man had a way of saying things that made her see her own life, as if he were holding up a mirror in front of her.