In the Den Read online

  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.

&n
bsp; 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.”

  “You know, my Cat, you’re the one who tells clients it’s okay to fall in love again. You even told me that.”

  Catrina sighed. “It’s easier to give advice than to accept it.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “But I didn’t call to talk about my life.”

  “Of course not. You called to stick your nose in mine.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Look, sweetheart, I realize you think you know best.” Evelyn’s voice was soothing. “You want to reassure yourself that I’m aware of what I’m doing, but you’re positive I don’t. I appreciate that you don’t want me to get hurt and lose everything again, but honey, that was over twenty years ago.”

  “I know, but…”

  “You took on the burden in ways you never should have. And then when that jackass fiancée of yours did the same things your father did, it reinforced your worldview.” Evelyn sighed. “It was a struggle back then, I grant you, and I should have never allowed you to see the struggle.”

  “Mother, you couldn’t have hid it.”

  “I tried to protect you,” Evelyn said. “But I could have done better for you.”

  She recalled Damien’s words. “I think you did okay.”

  “I wish I could be as sure. But I do know this. Milton makes me laugh. I feel alive more than I ever have. He has plenty of his own money.”

  “So why do you need to get married?”

  “We don’t need to. I want to be a bride, and have flowers and a cake.” She paused. “I never had them.”

  Catrina’s shoulders slumped forward. “I didn’t realize.”

  Like a schoolgirl, Evelyn giggled. “And I want a honeymoon. Peggy already bought me a negligee.”

  “Okay, okay. If I don’t mention a prenuptial again after this, do you promise not to tell me stuff like that?”

  “Oh. Dear. I’m sorry. I was hoping you had a recommendation for a vibrator.”

  “Mother.” She broke the word into two distinct syllables. “Ask Aunt Peggy. I’m sure she knows.”

  “She recommended two—”

  “Exchange financial plans. Make sure your goals align and that you have adequately saved for retirement. Social security will not be enough to keep up with cost of living increases—”

  Evelyn’s laughter drowned her out.

  Finally, Catrina relented.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have a clue.”

  “Life is short. Miltey lost his wife a couple of years ago. Don’t let fear rob you of possible joy. Be smart, but be happy.”

  With that, Evelyn said she had to go. Miltey had bought her a gift certificate for a massage, and she had an appointment to use it.

  Wondering at the transformation that her mother was undergoing, Catrina disconnected.

  She glanced up to see Damien on one of the monitors. He filled an entire screen, and she felt him as keenly as if he were in front of her. He stood in the kitchen, looking directly into the camera. He pointed at his wrist. Even though he didn’t wear a watch, she understood his meaning. She was almost out of time. And if there was one thing she’d learnt, it was to take Damien very, very seriously.

  * * * *

  Over the next few days, they fell into a routine. He brought her coffee in the mornings. They’d work. He’d torment her at some point while they were alone. At night, he’d teach her something new.

  Thursday, she drove to Denver and he called to make sure she had made it safely. Rather than chafing at the intrusion, she appreciated it. It was nice to have someone know her comings and goings, even though it meant she was more connected to him.

  She met with her client, Lara, and they spent most of the time talking about her soon-to-be ex and her grief. Catrina helped Lara draw up a realistic plan for saving, paying down credit card debt, investin
g, giving her real tools to use.

  “This feels better,” Lara said. “It’s something I can do other than wring my hands.”

  In the doorway, Lara hugged Catrina.

  She grinned with satisfaction. There was nothing more rewarding than helping others.

  It shocked her when she realized her first instinct was to tell Damien about her day. She closed the door and leaned her shoulders against the wood. Tell Damien?

  In such a short time, he’d become important to her. After her engagement had ended, she’d chosen freedom over intimacy. Now she was questioning that decision. Hating the questions tumbling through her mind, she pushed away from the door.

  She straightened her office, realizing she’d definitely been a brat to Damien. So what if he kept his environment in perfect order? He’d made his choices, too. Just because she’d thought his life needed to be shaken up, it didn’t mean she had the right to do it.

  He’d asked if she thought he was a tight ass.

  Maybe he was.

  And maybe that restraint was the very thing that attracted her to him.

  She sent him a text message, letting him know she was on her way back. And as she slid into the driver’s seat, she realized how much she was looking forward to seeing him.

  The next afternoon he asked if she’d like to attend the Den’s event, stay in their quarters, go out or travel back to his house.

  “How about dinner out?” she asked. “Then we can sneak in the back way? I’m not ready to step out in public as your sub.”

  “Even though you wore a white wristband and scened with me last week?”

  “It’s different.”

  He nodded.

  “I can’t explain it. It just is.” When he just looked at her, as if he were unconvinced, she thought it through and added, “Maybe the same reason you didn’t want me to play with Gregorio. It’s just not… A week ago, things were different.”

  “They were,” he agreed.

  “I didn’t know how you’d react to seeing me, if the invitation was still open. And now, I don’t want to be with anyone else. Unless, of course, it was your choice as part of my training.”

  His jaw tightened. “It’s not.”

  “Thank you.”

  He swept back an errant strand of her hair.

  As usual, he chose her outfit, this time jeans and a sweater.

  “No bra,” they said simultaneously.

  “A gift arrived for you.”