In the Den Read online

  He wrapped an arm around her back to support her as her knees weakened. He moved his hand and gathered her close, holding her.

  “I didn’t know I could come this many times,” she told him.

  “We’re consuming some of those calories so I can take you to lunch later.”

  “A man after my heart,” she said.

  “I hope so. When you’re ready, please kneel on the bench.”

  She looked at it, then back at him.

  He stepped away from her and went to the closet where he found her Domme stash. “Anything in particular you want to explore?”

  “Ah, no. All of those things were designed for a man’s tough hide.”

  “I think you’ll find yours is much tougher than you might have imagined.”

  “I was afraid you would say that.”

  He pulled out a flogger then selected a cane. When he turned back to her, she was kneeling as he’d instructed. “Ever felt a cane?”

  She paled.

  “It can be vicious,” he said. “But it doesn’t have to be. You no doubt have subs who want varying degrees of intensity.”

  “And?” Her voice wavered.

  “A good Dom can deliver that with almost any implement.”

  “I’m skeptical.”

  “Timing and arousal and location all factor in. Certain body parts are more sensitive than others. And of course, the way I wield it matters more than anything.”

  “Still not buying it.” Her gaze was riveted on the thin, reedy piece of rattan.

  “Enough talk from me. I’ll let you decide for yourself.”

  She stood. “I’m good with skipping this lesson.”

  “Would you like to be tied?”

  “No…” She paused.

  He thought, for a moment, she might call him Sir. Then the moment passed and she resumed the position he’d requested. “Thank you. You please me, Milady.”

  “Can we get this over with?”

  “My pleasure.” And he intended to make sure it was hers, too. He brushed aside her hair and kissed the back of her neck.

  She rolled her shoulders.

  “I’m going to flog your back.”

  “Fine.”

  Damien sighed. At no point had he thought this would be easy. He hadn’t expected it to be so difficult, however. She, though, was worth any cost. He moved all of her hair across her left shoulder, and softly said, “I’m marking you as mine, Catrina.”

  She gripped the bench until her knuckles whitened.

  He trailed the broad, thin strands over her exposed skin. He flicked it back and forth. “What would you do to relax an uptight sub, Milady?”

  “I’d keep talking to him,” she said. “And I’d start easy.”

  “Would you now? Even though a man has a thicker hide, in your words.”

  “Absolutely.”

  While he’d been distracting her, he’d been slowly using the flogger on her, letting it fall with a gentle sway. “How would you know if your technique was working?”

  “His breathing would change. He may perspire a bit…” She trailed off.

  “Then what?”

  “His muscles wouldn’t be quite as tight. So I’d be able to actually see that he wasn’t as nervous as he had been.”

  “Right.”

  “Eventually he’d stop running his mouth.”

  Damien grinned. He noticed that she’d loosened her grip. Since her skin was starting to appear dewy, he made his hits more random, across her back, her buttocks, even her feet. He took a step back so he could get more leverage on his swing to give the blows more impact.

  Her head went a bit slack.

  “You’re doing well, Milady.” She was his. Surrendered. But he wanted to reinforce it in a more serious way.

  He switched out the flogger for a cane. With the tip, he tapped the soles of her feet.

  She curled her toes and her body tensed.

  “Shh,” he said, skimming her neck with kisses.

  “Oh…”

  “That’s it.” He moved back again and laid a few light stripes across her buttocks.

  “Uhm. Ah…”

  “Too much, Milady?”

  She hadn’t clenched her ass cheeks, and that was a good sign. “Milady?” he asked again.

  “I’m okay, Damien. I…”

  “You?” he prompted. He continued his strokes, not adding a lot of variety.

  “Like. Like it.”

  His cock hardened. This woman, beautiful in her submission, thrilled him. He wanted to hold her, cherish her. “Keep trusting me, Milady.”

  Her hair fell forward to shroud her face as she braced herself.

  With the lightest of motions, he struck the bottoms of her feet.

  She cried out.

  “That’s right. Scream. Cry all you want. But savor it.”

  “I…”

  He hit her again, harder.

  She jerked her feet away.

  “Back into position.” He moved so that he could trail his fingers up the insides of her thighs. “You’ll be glad we did this,” he promised her.

  “No,” she insisted.

  He played with her pussy, finding her damp. “Oh, yes,” he said against her ear. “Do you want to come for me?”

  She didn’t respond, but she shifted against his hand, silently imploring him.

  He manipulated her until she began to whimper.

  “Damien, Damien, Damien.” She didn’t pause, making his name sound like a chant.

  He pulled back and used the cane three times, much harder, on each foot, making her convulse and scream before he tossed aside the rattan and dropped to his knees behind her, fingering her pussy, her ass, pounding her as he reached around her to drag her upper body back so that he could support her completely.

  Sobbing, she came, her pussy clenching.

  After removing his hand, he soothed her, kissed her. And when she started to shake, he picked her up from the bench and carried her into the living room. He shoved aside a blanket and several magazines before sitting on the couch and pulling her toward him. Holding her tight, he cradled the back of her head, one of her cheeks pressed to his chest. He splayed the other on her upper back. This, this was where she should be.

  He stroked her hair and uttered soothing words.

  “That was…”

  Curious, he waited.

  “Amazing.”

  Her answer, along with the way she’d reacted to his physical domination, turned him on. This woman, independent and strong, yet so trusting in his arms, was starting to get to him.

  She twisted slightly to look up at him. “If you’d have asked me if I was willing to try that, I would have refused. I had no idea the cane could be so stimulating or so nasty. And hitting my feet…?”

  “What did you think?”

  “I hated the idea. I honestly considered using my safe word. But because it scared the shit out of me, I wanted to prove I could do it.”

  “You have nothing to prove to anyone, to me, to you. No one. Do you understand me?”

  “Yeah.” She wiped a knuckle beneath her eye to mop up a stray tear. “But you don’t know me, clearly.”

  Her words made his gut twist. “You need to hear me, Catrina. And I mean it.”

  She met his eyes, and he saw her take in the set of his jaw. “As much as you trust me, I need to be able to trust you. Have you ever had a sub use his safe word?”

  “A couple of times.”

  “Did you think less of him?”

  She worried her lower lip. “I wouldn’t have done anything that would have hurt him.”

  “You never, ever know where someone is mentally, emotionally, physically or what scars they bear from previous experiences. I will never judge you. But the biggest part of this relationship is about honesty. You’ll have to give me everything you have. Everything. And that includes exposing your fears.”

  “You don’t ask for much,” she said wryly. “You want honesty? Well, this is as real
as it gets. No one will get that deep inside me ever again. My submission is yours for two weeks. Nothing more. That’s the agreement.” She put her hands on his chest, creating a physical barrier. “Nothing more,” she reiterated.

  “Know this, Milady”—he captured her wrists—“I will spend the entire time trying.”

  “I wish you luck.”

  He’d seen it, though, the way she’d glanced down and to the left as she pushed herself off his lap. His Domme wasn’t as sure of herself as she wanted him to think. He warned himself to be doubly vigilant where she was concerned.

  She went into the bedroom to dress.

  When she returned, she’d secured her hair with a ribbon. The black jeans clung to her hips, and she’d tucked them into a pair of stiletto boots. Her legs looked to be miles long, and the near-knee height of the leather was giving him a hard-on. No doubt she’d been deliberate in her selection. “Obviously your feet don’t hurt?”

  “Not at all.”

  The long-sleeved T-shirt he’d picked out showed the feminine swell of her breasts. “No bra?”

  “I always do what you say.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Would you like to see?”

  “I would.”

  She blinked.

  “Show me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Show me.”

  With a sigh, she grabbed the hem and lifted her shirt, showing her gorgeous tits and still-swollen nipples.

  “I suspected you’d followed orders.”

  “So you were being a pervert, Damien?”

  “Yeah. Because I can.”

  She grinned and their earlier tension dissipated. Her phone rang.

  “Anyone important?”

  “It’s my mom.”

  “You’re allowed to talk to her.”

  She twisted her lips.

  “Unless you’re gagged.” He carried the box and her luggage to the car and waited with the engine running.

  A few minutes later, she locked the front door and knotted her jacket’s belt as she walked. Not that that was a good word. This woman oozed class and seduction, and she more resembled a model on a runway.

  She slid into the passenger seat and turned to look at him.

  “Problem?”

  “We’re having lunch with my mom and her new boyfriend.”

  “We are?” He watched her until she fastened the safety belt, then he eased away from the curb.

  “Yeah. Sorry. I couldn’t get out of it.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. Where are we going?”

  “There’s a brew pub at Denver west. Steaks aren’t bad.”

  “You’re hungry again?”

  “You would be, too, if you’d been beaten.”

  “Good point.” The farther west they drove on I-70, the quieter she became. He slid her a sidelong glance. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  “It’s okay to talk about it.”

  “My mom’s getting married.”

  “Congratulations?”

  “I’ve never met him.”

  “Is that a prerequisite?”

  “You don’t get it,” she said, staring straight ahead.

  Rather than argue, he suggested, “Enlighten me?”

  She was silent for so long that he thought she might not answer. “They’ve known each other less than six weeks. In fact, until recently, I didn’t know she was dating. I don’t know anything about him. Hell, she can’t know anything about him. And they’re already shacking up.”

  “Meaning, they’re living together?”

  “You say that like it’s okay.” She scowled.

  “She is an adult, I presume. Of sound mind?”

  “I thought so, until this.”

  Wondering why it suddenly felt as if he were navigating a minefield, he asked, “What’s your concern?”

  “I wish she’d slow down, make sure she’s making wise decisions.”

  “You’re assuming she’s not.”

  “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  “Yours.” He took her hand. “Always.”

  Catrina reclined her seat a little. “She made a disastrous decision with my dad.”

  “That was at least twenty-five years ago, unless I’m mistaken.” He waited until she nodded to confirm his guess. “Other than that, does she have a bad track record?”

  “No. She’s dated a little, and she’s had some long-term relationships. But that doesn’t mean I like this.” She drummed her fingers on the dashboard. “Nor does it mean that I think you have a point.”

  “Of course not.” He exited the highway at Colfax. At a red light waiting to turn left, he flicked his thumb across her fluttering pulse.

  “It’s just sudden. You think I’m crazy?”

  “No. I think you care. I think you want her to be as cautious as you’d be.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  The light turned green and he accelerated. “Does she know I’m with you?”

  “Yes. You’re a business associate whom I’ve known for a few years. We see each other from time to time. Nothing serious.”

  “That works.” He nodded. “Close to the truth.”

  “Better than telling her you made me strip and kneel before caning me.”

  “Good call.” They exchanged grins, and he saw her vulnerability beneath her tough-girl exterior. He wanted to see that more and more.

  Her mother and boyfriend were already seated at a table with large mugs of beer on the table when Catrina and Damien arrived.

  “When did you start drinking beer?” Catrina asked after introductions were performed.

  “I’ve developed quite a taste for it,” Evelyn said.

  Catrina kissed her mother on the cheek but limply shook Milton’s hand. Damien pinched her ass before they sat down. “Behave,” he warned against her ear.

  Catrina shuddered, but she didn’t protest.

  Evelyn, bursting with enthusiasm, started talking about their upcoming wedding plans. The woman surprised him in some ways. Both she and her daughter were tall and slender, but Evelyn was as outgoing and vivacious as Catrina was reserved. It made him double his determination to break through her shell, prove the world wasn’t an unsafe place.

  The server dropped off menus and silverware then nodded when Catrina ordered red wine. Damien took Milton’s advice and asked for the house amber ale.

  “Traitor,” Catrina whispered.

  “Brat,” he responded with a smile. Then he looked at Evelyn. “When’s the big day?”

  “Next month,” Evelyn said.

  “Next month?” Catrina repeated.

  “The chapel isn’t available any earlier than that.”

  “Any earlier? You just met,” Catrina responded. “What’s the rush?”

  “Young lady, I assure you we don’t have to get married,” Milton said with a grin.

  “Miltey!” Evelyn scolded, but she ruined it by laughing, and the two clinked their beer glasses together.

  “So will it be a large wedding?” Damien asked.

  “Small,” Milton said. “A few hundred people, our closest friends and family.”

  Catrina straightened her spine.

  “He’s kidding, my Cat. We’re only inviting those closest to us.”

  “How did you meet, anyway?” Catrina asked.

  “Miltey and I met online.”

  “You use the Internet, Mom?”

  “What, you expected us to say bingo?” Milton deadpanned.

  Damien already liked the man.

  “He sent me a flirty little heart icon.”

  “Because you captured mine the minute I set eyes on you.”

  The pair made eye contact as if no one else were there. Catrina played with her rolled-up silverware, looking a bit pale.

  Recognizing how difficult this was for her, he placed his hand on her knee. She went still for a moment then he felt her fingers swirl across his knuckles.

  The server dro
pped off drinks and took food orders.

  Damien kept the conversation light, telling them about some of his business ventures.

  “So, that’s how you and my Cat met?”

  “We share similar interests,” he replied as he squeezed Catrina’s thigh.

  “Well, Cat, you’re welcome to bring a guest to the wedding.” Evelyn looked at Damien before taking another drink of beer.

  Damien and Milton wrangled for the check. Damien promised to let Milton pay the next time they all went out.

  “That was nice of you,” Catrina said as they walked to the car. “Unnecessary, but nice. They could have split the bill four ways.”

  “It’s okay to let people do things for you. For example, this.” He opened her car door, waited for her to get settled then sealed her inside.

  “I’m not used to it,” she admitted.

  “Our two weeks together are about learning.”

  She didn’t respond, and he headed west on the highway.

  They were almost to the Evergreen exit before she spoke again. “Do they still do that part in a wedding ceremony where the minister asks if anyone objects when a couple gets married?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “What harm is there in them waiting until they know each other better?”

  “How long is that?” he asked.

  She tugged on her safety belt. “I don’t know.”

  “A year? Five years?”

  “Longer than a few weeks.”

  “If it’s right, it’s right. Time doesn’t make a lot of difference when it comes to matters of the heart. You can know in two weeks if you want to be with someone. And you can still be uncertain after five years.”

  “I hadn’t figured you for a romantic.”

  “More of a realist,” he countered.

  “I’m not sure how you consider that realistic.”

  “Doesn’t it somewhat depend on how they spent their time together? What if they’ve been talking? Sharing their secrets.”

  “Look, if you mention the fact my mother may be having sex, I will wash your mouth out.”

  “They are living together, it makes sense that they’re doing the—”

  “No. Just…no.”

  He chuckled.

  “I need to talk to her about protecting her financial interests. Maybe I’ll suggest that she put together a prenuptial agreement.”

  “Or consider the possibility she knows what she’s doing.”

  She exhaled. “You don’t ask much.”