In the Den (7 page)

She didn’t know whether it flattered or frightened her that his observation was so astute. Her mother had always known when Catrina was lying. Now she wondered if her mother had figured out the same thing Damien had. “We don’t have a relationship, so I don’t owe you anything.”

“She said while looking me straight in the eye.”

She blew out a breath. “You’re insufferable.”

“That was honest. So, would you like to answer, again, why are you here?”

“What I’d like is for you to mind your own business.”

“When you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen.”

“Is this what you do to all your subs? Grind down their resistance so that they’ll beg you to beat them just to get you to leave them alone?”

“You’re onto something.” Very deliberately, he put down his glass of wine.

Then, before she knew what was happening, he had her over his lap, her bottom upturned and exposed. The pillow went flying. She kicked and struggled and protested. He trapped her legs between his then delivered a sharp slap to her right buttock.

She froze.

“Have you ever had a spanking, Milady?”

“I thought you didn’t beat a woman until the second date.”

“You’re the exception to almost all of my rules.”

As much as she was able, she twisted to look at him. “I’m not sure what you think I’ve done to deserve this one. I thought you talked about punishments in terms of a negotiation.”

“This, Milady, is not a punishment.”

“Then what the hell do you call it?”

“Pleasure.”

“You have a warped version of the word’s meaning. That freaking hurt, and it sure as hell wasn’t fun.” She hadn’t used a safe word, and she knew he had noticed, too.

“Oh?” He rubbed the affected area.

He caressed her buttocks with long, sweeping, repetitive strokes. Beneath his palms, her skin heated.

He ran his fingers up the insides of her thighs and tension eased from her body. Shocking her, she felt her pussy moisten. She remembered last night at the Den, when he’d given her a smack. Her physical turn-on had been instant. If she had thought about it in advance, she would have expected to be angry that he’d touched her. Instead, the intensity had added to her pleasure.

“Still think it’s not fun?”

“This is okay,” she said.

“When you’re ready for your spanking, let me know.”

“You can massage all you want,” she said.

“I hadn’t figured you for a brat, Milady.”

Was that how she was behaving? Trying to goad him into taking the decision away from her? The thought disturbed her.

“What do you want?”

“I’d like to get it over with,” she said, her voice softer than usual.

“You want to be equal, Catrina. Tell me what to do.”

She was lost in a spiral of confusion. She was aroused, wanting more, and it seemed a betrayal of her ideals to ask for it. Reminding herself she’d only agreed to one night and that she’d already learnt something, she said, “Spank me, Damien. Please.” She tightened her buttocks in fear and anticipation, though she knew that oftentimes made pain worse.

He didn’t tell her to relax. Instead, he helped her to do so with a light, gentle touch. On top of his earlier massage, this felt wonderful, making it impossible to hold onto any tension.

He started just above her knees and worked toward her buttocks. She became pliant. When he increased the force, she liked it. Earlier, he’d given her a smack that hurt, but this couldn’t be more different. Though she found out what her subs liked and tried to deliver, being on the receiving end showed her, in a way that wasn’t abstract, what it felt like. No wonder some of her executive playmates liked getting spanked. She felt her stress melt in the same way she did while meditating or working out.

“More?”

“Please.”

When he continued she added, “Spank me harder, Damien.”

He did, but gradually.

He took the time to finger her after giving her a dozen or so smacks. She used her toes as leverage to rise up, silently seeking more.

Damien didn’t change what he was doing. She understood that he was delivering what she wanted, but at his pace, on his terms. Confounding Dom. But she had to admit, his way gave her a richer experience.

He varied the location, speed and impact of his hits.

“Surrender, Catrina.”

She closed her eyes. The remaining parts of her hesitation were swept away as he continued the erotic dance on her flesh.

He teased her cunt and covered her legs and buttocks with blazing blows.

The more she went with it, the deeper she seemed to be swimming until an orgasm began to unfurl. She cried out his name, but the word emerged in a jumbled mess. She tried to move, but her legs felt lethargic.

“Do you want to come, Catrina?”

His voice seemed to come from quite a distance.

“Milady?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. Please.”

He drew moisture from her pussy and used it to insert a finger in her ass.

She whimpered.

He placed two more fingers in her heated core and moved in and out of both holes quickly, making it impossible for her to think. “Damien,” she said.

“I’ve got you.”

She expected him to ease up, but he didn’t. Instead, he moved faster, purposefully. He grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled it, arching her head back. He kept her legs trapped. She was helpless, his prisoner.

Her body was stretched and arched, and she was aware of him everywhere, holding her still. Whatever he wanted to give or take, he could.

That she’d given him this much power made her shiver. She could take it back with a single word, and despite the temptation, remained silent.

Her stomach clenched at his persistent invasion. The feelings were almost too much, and she could barely breathe.

“That’s it,” he coached her. “Come for me, Milady.” He pulled out his fingers, tugged her head back farther then re-entered her in a single, forceful push.

She screamed.

His ruthless domination shoved her over the edge into a stunning climax.

The orgasm made her go rigid. Time and space collided.

Moments later, she shuddered.

“Damn, you’re responsive, Milady,” he murmured, extracting his hand, turning her over and holding her against his chest.

Her first response was to push him away. She felt vulnerable and wanted to be alone. But when she started to move, he tightened his grip. He placed her head against his shoulder and stroked her hair, uttering soothing words that she couldn’t quite make out.

He held her until her breathing evened out.

She’d never been held after lovemaking. Not that this scene had counted as lovemaking, she reminded herself. Then again, she’d never experienced anything quite like it. She’d gone from college sex, to an abbreviated engagement, to a ho-hum sexual encounter, to being a dominant. She gave comfort. She didn’t receive it.

Damien kept his arms looped around her even when she straightened and put some distance between them.

“That was…” She tried to find words, but was lost when she looked at him.

Damien’s eyebrows were drawn together over his electric blue eyes, and he said nothing. No one had ever regarded her as intensely.

He cocked his head to the side, indicating he’d wait as long as she needed.

“It was different than I thought it would be.”

“In what way?”

Trying to steady herself, she drew a few breaths. “This sounds ridiculous.”

“I doubt it.”

“Humbled.”

He nodded.

“But also empowered.”

“Perfect,” he said. “The dichotomy. The yin and yang of submission.”

Though she’d had no real idea what to expect when he’d turned her over his knee, she hadn’t been prepared for her emotions to be as overwhelmed as her body.

On some level it concerned her that he hadn’t needed to cajole her compliance, rather, she’d offered it. “My ass really does sting,” she said.

“Of course it does. It would hardly be a spanking if it didn’t hurt.”

That resolve-melting smile played around his mouth again.

Her heart warned her to run. He caught her chin. So much for thinking he’d allow her to hide.

“That was a hedonistic beating, meant to arouse both of us.”

“I’m the only one who got off.”

“Doesn’t matter. I get fulfilment from turning you on. That’s what it’s about for me.”

She looked at him.

“As a Dom,
your
Dom…when you come, I am pleased. Giving is more important than receiving.”

Although her ideas of domination were similar to Damien’s, the execution of their scenes were different. Before one of her boys arrived, she would chat with him on the phone. She would find out what he wanted, and they would discuss their mutual expectations. After a scene, she would soothe her sub, dry any of his tears, tell him how proud she was of him, allow him as much time as he needed to dress in street-legal clothes, but she didn’t sit in patient silence for this long while he made sense of the physical experience. Maybe Damien was right. Maybe she did need to experience this for herself.

“How are you doing?”

She was shattered. No matter how much time he gave her, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to comprehend the emotional implications of them being together. “I need to go,” she said, pressing away from him.

Surprising her, he helped her up. “Let’s get your clothes.”

She made small talk while they went into the kitchen. “Remain there,” he said. “Don’t get dressed.”

He excused himself and went into the bathroom, and she heard water running.

This was awkward, standing in the middle of the kitchen, half-naked. She supposed it shouldn’t bother her as he’d eaten her while she was spread on his countertop. He had a way of demolishing her inhibitions.

A moment later, he returned with a damp cloth. “Spread your legs, Milady.”

She knew better than to argue.

He crouched to bathe her pussy and ass. She appreciated the attention, but was becoming more and more desperate to make her escape. “Thank you,” she said, when he nodded his satisfaction.

Aware of his gaze and wondering if her buttocks were bright red, she first pulled on her thong, then her jeans before tugging on her socks and stuffing her feet into her boots. She knew he noticed how much her hands trembled.

When she started to pull off his T-shirt, he said, “Keep it.”

Back in the foyer, she gathered her discarded clothing, wadded it all up then shoved it into her purse. With a half-smile that felt as fragile as her control, she dug out her keys.

“I’ll take those.”

“Uh…”

“Milady, I’m not going to try to keep you here. I wish you would stay. And you’re welcome to. But if you’re intent on leaving, then I’ll warm up your car while you finish getting dressed.”

Put that way, how could she refuse, even if it prolonged the goodbye? She dropped the keys into his palm.

He pulled on a fleece jacket over his bare chest. Damn. No matter what he wore, he was a good-looking man. After turning up the collar, he headed outside.

Catrina shivered when she closed the door behind him. And it had nothing to do with the sudden gust of cold air that had swirled around her.

She heard the car engine start, and she shrugged into her coat before she could change her mind about leaving.

When he returned, a few snowflakes clung to his midnight-colored hair.

“I’ll walk you out,” he said.

Survival instinct warned her to run…now.

“Send me a text when you arrive home,” he said.

“I’ll be fine. The drive is short and the roads aren’t all that—”

“Don’t push your luck, Catrina.” His words were tight with tension. He captured her chin and tipped back her head. “I didn’t ask for a call. Just common courtesy. I’d prefer to tie you to the foot of my bed and keep you there until morning. So I think a text is a hell of a compromise.”

She sucked in a breath. The image that kaleidoscoped through her mind terrified her. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Of course not. That’s far too uncivilized.”

She exhaled.

“I’m not an ogre. I’d handcuff you to the headboard.”

He gave her one of those wicked smiles that made it impossible to know whether or not he was joking.

“I need to go.”

He walked her to the car. As she slid into the driver’s seat, he leaned in and said, “You’ll think about this interaction a lot. You’ll relive it. And after you have, you’ll be curious.”

His voice wrapped around her, heating her.

“You’ll wonder what else there is and what you’re missing,” he continued. “You liked the spanking. Maybe you didn’t want to like it, or it offends your sensibilities that you enjoyed it. And we can talk about that. But the fact remains, you want more. You want me to fuck you as much as I want to be inside your hot pussy.” He paused, but he didn’t give her time to object. “You know my number. Call it anytime.” Damien stepped back, started to close the door, but then hesitated. He captured a fistful of her hair, looped it around his hand to draw her head toward him, then finished with, “I meant it when I told you to text when you get home. If you don’t, Catrina…”

She wanted to protest but couldn’t find the words.

“I will give you a spanking you won’t like and will always remember. Am I clear?”

She nodded.

“I didn’t hear you,” he said softly.

“Yes, Damien.” She needed to escape while she still could, before she begged him to let her stay. Hell. He was right. As he spoke, a hundred different ideas tumbled through her brain, and it was as if she could already feel his cuffs around her wrists. “I understand,” she said.

He pulled her head back a little more. Then he placed a light, gentle, full-of-promise kiss on her mouth before he released his grip.

“Drive safe, Milady.”

Without another word, he closed the car door.

She pulled away, hands shaking, grateful she could drive without conscious thought. She looked in the rearview mirror. He remained where he was until she lost sight of him.

Chapter Four

Catrina clutched the steering wheel as she drove. The tension in her grip made her shoulders ache. Damien Lowell disturbed her in a way no other man ever had.