In the Den (17 page)

Or maybe that was his clothes.

Black T-shirt, black jeans, black leather belt with a thrilling wink from his silver buckle.

Then she noticed something even more relevant—he was holding two cups of coffee. “Is one of them for me? If so, you’ve got my undying love and devotion.”

“In that case, you can have both.”

The mattress sank under his weight as he sat near her. “I didn’t know whether to let you sleep or wake you up.”

“You made the right choice.”

“Thank you.”

She let the steam bathe her face before taking the first sip of bliss. “But I guess I think I should be doing that for you.”

“If you’re up first, you’re welcome to. But ensuring your happiness is a priority to me. You matter to me, Catrina.”

This man, the complexity of him, was ensnaring her. She told herself to be wary, but he was systematically demolishing her resistance.

“I have a conference call with London in ten minutes. You’re welcome to use your office or relax here. I can keep the call on my headset so as to disturb you as little as possible.”

“I don’t have any calls for a couple of hours,” she said.

“Oh, even though this area is soundproof, don’t think I won’t know if you masturbate.”

She hadn’t even considered it. Now it was the only thing she could think about.

He grinned then left the room.

Diabolical, frustrating, confounding…Dom. She’d have thrown a pillow after his smug face if she hadn’t been afraid of spilling her coffee.

She took a shower to finish waking up and while she was there, soaping her body in the steamy warmth, she thought of him, remembering the way he touched her, tormented her, licked and sucked her pussy until she grabbed his hair and forgot how to breathe. It was tempting to slide her fingers between her folds…

“Don’t do it.”

“Out!” she yelled as she yanked back the shower curtain.

“I will know,” he told her. He shot her a quick grin.

Damn him. Somehow, he would know. Despite his assurances that there were no cameras in the private rooms, she didn’t believe him. “Don’t you have a call to take, or a company to acquire, something other than bothering me?” She closed the curtain again.

“Beautiful nipples,” he said. “Make sure you get them very clean.”

She risked a peek and discovered she was all alone.

It took her half an hour to put up her hair, dress and drink a second cup of coffee. All the while, sexual tension gnawed at her. Why the hell hadn’t he touched her last night or this morning?

If she were honest, she’d admit she’d had one of the best night’s sleep ever.

Changing her mind about her outfit, she went back to her closet. Instead of jeans and a T-shirt, she wore a skirt and heels, stockings and a garter belt.

Before leaving the room, she hung up her towel and put away her discarded clothing.

Fresh cup of coffee in hand, she went into the office.

Her breath froze in her lungs.

Over the years, she’d seen Damien at his sexy best, in leather, in a suit and tie. But nothing had prepared her for this. He stood in front of the monitors. One screen showed a glossy conference room table, presumably in England. The other was filled with the face of an aging, attractive gentleman, his tie loosened and askew. His face was drawn in tight lines that radiated his displeasure.

“I do understand, Malcolm, but that’s my best, final offer. Look around you. I think the rest of the board will agree you have no choice but to accept.”

A pulse ticked in the other man’s temple.

This was Damien at his absolute hottest. Resolved. Unshakable. In control.

Little shivers danced through her.

Now she wished she’d masturbated in the shower, even if she risked his wrath.

She stayed toward the back of the room, out of view as she went to her own desk. Obviously having noticed her, he acknowledged her with a thumbs-up.

Feeling welcomed, she continued on.

While he gave the other man a deadline and ended the call with a series of professional pleasantries, she took her files out of the box and moved them into their temporary drawer.

Gregorio, she assumed, had provided everything else she’d need—a printer, paper, notepads, an assortment of pens, even a purple stapler.

As she was sliding the box out of sight, Damien joined her.

“Everything in order?” he asked.

“Yes, thanks.”

“Let Gregorio know if you need anything else. Join me for breakfast?”

“Sounds great.”

Downstairs, he made them both omelets and brewed a fresh pot of coffee.

Afterwards, she offered to clean the kitchen. “To make up for the mess I left last night.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Really?” she asked over her shoulder as she rinsed a plate. He was at the table, long legs stretched in front of him, coffee in hand.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t deliver a secondary punishment at my discretion.”

“I thought the fact you didn’t let me masturbate in the shower was your chastisement.”

“No. Simply an order because it pleased me. That’s my prerogative.”

The back door opened, and Gregorio gave a courtesy knock as he entered. “Got coffee?”

This felt so…normal. It occurred to her she’d had no idea what happened at the Den during the week. She’d always figured the two showed up before an event and threw open the door for the debauchery to begin.

“Am I interrupting, Boss?” he asked.

“Come in,” Damien invited.

As always, Gregorio radiated sex appeal. Even though it was a Monday, he wore an earring, and he was every bit the rogue in that butter-soft leather jacket. His attire wasn’t just an image he projected, it was part of who he was. All in all, this wasn’t a bad place to work and spend two weeks.

“Morning, Milady,” he said. “I like the fact you look like you could run a company but you’re up to your elbow in soap suds.”

“Damien cooked. So I’m cleaning.”

“I think we have a French maid’s outfit in the storeroom,” Gregorio told Damien.

“Now there’s a hell of an idea.”

She dropped the silverware into the basket in the dishwasher with a horrific clatter.

“Bring it up,” Damien said.

“No.” She held up a hand as she turned to face the men. “Absolutely not.”

“Do it,” Damien said.

Gregorio grinned, and the motion looked calculatedly diabolical.

“You seem delighted with yourself,” she snapped out.

“I’m picturing it right now. My place needs to be dusted.”

“Aren’t you a switch?” she asked him.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Then I’ll get even with you for this.”

“I’ll bare my ass for you, Milady. As long as you don’t hit like a girl.”

“We can go downstairs anytime.” And she would definitely be meting out a punishment and not a pleasure beating.

“Boss?”

Damien put his cup on the table with a firm smack. “Not for the next two weeks.”

“Figured.” He poured himself a cup of coffee, refilled Damien’s, then held up the pot near Catrina, as if it were a peace offering.

“With cream.” She dried her hands on a towel. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have work to do.” She grabbed her cup on the way out of the kitchen.

It took her a few minutes to settle in. The office space pulsed with Damien’s presence even though he wasn’t in the room.

The exchange with the men had disturbed her even though it shouldn’t have. She wore scandalous clothing every time she visited the Den. But she would sub only for Damien.

He returned while she was on a phone call with a client. As he had before, he gave her a silent greeting then went on with his own work.

They lunched together, without Gregorio, then went back upstairs. Being this close to him, hearing the modulated tones of his voice, even if she couldn’t make out the exact words, gave her a little thrill.

He looked at her numerous times, not disturbing her, but letting her know he was aware of her.

Mid-afternoon, he approached her desk. “You dressed that way on purpose. After I told you not to play with yourself in the shower.”

“Yes,” she admitted, looking up at him.

“You wanted my attention.”

She nodded.

“What were you hoping I’d do?”

When she moved aside a file, he asked, “Hike up your skirt?”

In instant response, she felt a fluttering in her stomach.

He leaned against the edge of her desk, close, so close, marking her space as his. She smelled his musk, couldn’t look away from the laser focus in his eyes.

“Maybe run my hand between your legs?”

She didn’t answer.

“Finger your pussy?”

Her mouth dried.

“Maybe fuck you?”

“All of those,” she said breathlessly.

He nodded.

This power play did a number on her brain. Never knowing what he’d say, how he’d react or when he’d approach her kept her on edge. She hated it. She was starting to crave it.

“Please stand.”

All day, all of last night, nerves had inched through her, forcing her to suppress them.

She rolled back her chair then stood and waited for him to speak again. He crooked his finger then pointed at a spot on the floor right in front of him.

Captivated, she followed his unspoken command.

“I may ban jeans.” He lifted the hem of her skirt.

At the barest brush of skin on skin, she moistened.

“Love the stockings,” he said. He traced one of the garters upwards, bypassing her pussy to skim her belly.

She could barely breathe.

“You’ve seduced me all day,” he said.

“I’ve seduced you, Damien?”

“You inspired me to get all my work done fast so that I would have more time with you.”

With his free hand, he unbuttoned her shirt and caressed her breasts through her bra. If this was part of submission, she liked it. Her body zinged with anticipation.

He didn’t linger anywhere, but he looked at her intently. Motions slow, he moved between her legs. “You can come anytime, Milady.”

“I need it,” she said.

“I know. I know.”

She suspected he really did.

Catrina allowed her head to fall forward to rest on his broad chest. He brought her off, slowly, deliberately.

She cried out as the orgasm snuck up then took her legs out from under her.

He was there to catch her.

Before she knew what was happening, he had her across the desk.

“Grab the other side.”

She heard rustling, but when she turned her head, couldn’t see what he was doing. He scorched her ass with what had to be his belt.

She screamed.

“There’s a price for your torment, Milady.”

“I’ll gladly pay it, Damien,” she said. Anything was better than being ignored. And she knew he hadn’t hit hard, just enough to get her attention, but on top of yesterday’s caning, it didn’t take much to ignite her senses.

“Don’t let go,” he told her as he striped her again.

The orgasm he’d given her minutes ago hadn’t made this any easier. She was aroused and hungry again.

“Your ass is so red, Milady. Made for my belt.”

The thick leather felt different than anything else, covering a broader area. She liked it. And she understood better now why her boys asked for certain implements rather than others. Each—his hand, belt, cane, flogger—created a different sting or sear. This suited her.

Swimming through a minefield of sensation, she lost count of the hits and only became aware of the two of them, the numbness of her fingers where she gripped the desk and the dampness of the wood where her tears fell.

She barely registered that it had ended, but she felt his cock at her entrance.

“Say it.”

“Fuck me, Damien. Fuck my pussy.”

He did, slamming into her with the same ferocity with which he’d beaten her, satisfying the craving he’d created. She came again. Then again as he pulled her hips backward, held her imprisoned and kicked apart her legs a little more.

In that moment, she was his.

She wanted no one else.

Time merged then ceased to exist.

He played with her clit and said, “Squeeze my cock. Come.”

She would have insisted she couldn’t climax on command, but he surged in her so deeply, she was helpless.

His dick grew harder in her, signaling his impending orgasm.

That,
that
was enough for her to go over the edge again.

He jerked a few times before gasping. He said her name with a guttural moan then ejaculated.

He moved aside her hair to soothe her nape. “You… Milady. Thank you.”

She said nothing. She thought of a dozen different things but she couldn’t force a single thought to coalesce into the words that would cross her vocal cords.

He helped her to stand and straighten her skirt. He buttoned up her blouse and watched as she tucked it into her waistband.

“Back to work.”

“Are you serious?” she asked.

“I have a meeting with Gregorio then I’ll take you to dinner. Be ready in an hour. And wear what I leave on the bed for you.”

He walked off, presumably to dispose of the condom.

And she sank into her chair.

She needed to find some furniture polish to clean her tears from the desk top. First, she took a long drink of her water.

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head as he walked past.

Telling herself she would survive this, she picked up her phone and called her mother, something she’d put off most of the day.

“How’s your young man?” Evelyn asked.

“Damien?” she responded, stalling. How did she answer that question?

“Yes, Damien. How many do you have?”

“He’s an acquaintance.”

“Right.”

“Right?” she repeated.

“Business meetings aren’t held on Sundays. And associates don’t touch each other the way he touched you. And furthermore,” she pronounced with the same flourish as a television lawyer, “you wouldn’t have brought him along unless you were in one car, which you wouldn’t have been in unless he’d picked you up somewhere.”

Catrina’s mother was giving her a headache. “He’s fine,” she said.

“He must be special to you.”

Catrina paused. “I have no idea yet. It’s nothing serious. I mean that.”