In the Den Read online

  She exaggerated every movement.

  “Hello, Master,” she said. “How can I please you?”

  He rolled the wine glass between his palms. This might not have been one of his better ideas.

  Catrina moved behind him. The hairs on his nape stood up in response to the stir of her breath. Then she stuck out her tongue, nipped his flesh then laved the hurt.

  If she kept this up, the kitchen would never get clean.

  Which could lead to punishing her in the morning.

  “May I, Sir?”

  She brushed her breasts against his upper arm as she took away his plate.

  Within a minute, his cock throbbed.

  She reached across the table for her dishes, exposing her bare bottom.

  “Think carefully about what you’re doing, Milady.”

  “Oh, yes, Sir. Thank you for the advice, Sir.”

  God, he loved how that rolled off her tongue. Now, if only she’d say it when she wasn’t teasing.

  She took her time doing the dishes, bending over to pick up some unseen item from the floor, making sure she wiggled her hips as she moved each plate from the sink to the dishwasher.

  Watching her was delicious torture.

  After she’d cleared the table, she returned with a damp towel.

  “Pardon my reach, Sir.” She leaned across him and wiped the table. Twice.

  Finally, unable to take it, he pulled her off her feet and settled her in his lap, facing him.

  “Oh, no, Sir!” She wiggled as she straddled him. “Are you going to have your wicked way with me?”

  “I’m afraid so, Milady.” He maneuvered them so that she was sitting and he was standing. He kicked off his shoes, socks and pants then grabbed a condom from his wallet.

  He sheathed his already-hard dick.

  She licked her upper lip.

  He throbbed.

  “But what of my virtue?” she asked.

  “Milady, when I’m done with you, your lack of virtue will be the least of your worries.”

  He picked her up, sat and pulled her down on his cock. She was already wet, and her pussy welcomed him with a tight squeeze.

  “Oh, sweet God,” she whispered.

  “Ride me.”

  She moved on him, raising and lowering herself. He groaned. His little vixen had turned the tables.

  He yanked open her front laces and palmed her breasts, lifting them so he could suck her distended nipples.

  Catrina pulled the leather strip from his hair and dug her fingers in, pressing against the back of his head, holding him tight as she fucked him.

  He pressed a finger against her anal whorl and slowly worked his way inside. She groaned and lifted up, giving him greater access.

  She said his name a dozen times, turning it into a chant.

  He made sure he gave her an orgasm before he reached his climax, but damn, it took everything he had to hold back as long as he did. He could have come the first time she lowered herself on him.

  “Well, Sir, that was unexpected.”

  “Let that be a lesson to you,” he said sternly.

  She pulled back his head so she could look at him. “Why, yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.” Then she kissed his forehead before scampering off his lap and heading upstairs.

  It was then that he realized she’d left him with the remainder of the clean-up. Including her discarded clothes in the powder room.

  Yep. He’d definitely showed her who the Dom was in this relationship.

  * * * *

  Two cups of coffee in hand, Catrina stopped in the doorway of the office space she shared with Damien. Greedily, she watched him. He was on his headset, pacing. His hair was loose, long, rakish.

  She didn’t get tired of seeing him like this, in charge with his take-control power radiating, affecting everything and everyone in his orbit.

  Including her.

  Including her? Especially her.

  His T-shirt showed his biceps, and damn, had he poured himself into those jeans?

  Seeming to sense her, like he always did, he pivoted.

  Even though he was in the middle of a conversation, he beckoned her in, indicating she should sit on his desk.

  He walked over to accept the coffee she offered, and he pulled out his earpiece long enough to place a gentle kiss on the top her head.

  Since her first meeting wasn’t for another thirty minutes and they’d both worked late the evening before, she decided to wait while he finished his call. She wasn’t sure what was being discussed, but the financial planner in her was intrigued by the word millions, particularly when it was followed by dollars.

  He was nodding in response to something being said, and she sipped her coffee. The blinds were open, letting in the dappled sunlight. The screens showed only the outdoor cameras, a blanket of snow on the trees and grounds. Steam rose from the hot tub. A deer wandered just outside a fence.

  Such a peaceful, wonderful place.

  Saying goodbye in a couple of days was going to break her heart. Not only did she love the Den, but she enjoyed his company every evening as they sat on the couch, music in the background, a fireplace glowing. Sharing the day’s events with another person was something she’d never experienced before. Even when he pried more information out of her than she liked, it was nice talking to someone who was supportive and non-judgmental.

  The idea of leaving here—and him—ached like a physical pain.

  Catrina breathed in and reminded herself to keep her emotional distance. She’d known from the start this was a temporary arrangement, orchestrated to teach her some things about submission.

  She shoved away the nagging whisper that it might already be too late.

  He hung up and strode to her. He put his cup on the desk and plucked hers from her hand to put it next to his.

  “Time to say good morning to my lovely sub.” He linked his arms around her and pulled her up until she was barely inches from him.

  She tipped back her head to look at him. “I’m not sure what you’re thinking,” she said. “But I’m not sure I like it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you are looking down your nose and you appear very serious. So your head is either still thinking about business or you’re considering doing something wicked to me.”

  “Wicked,” he said. “You’re onto me.”

  “Ah.”

  “Hold out your tongue.”

  She blinked.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself.” The teasing was gone from his voice, replaced by a stern, wouldn’t-tolerate-disagreement tone.

  “I’m not sure I want to.”

  “No?” He pulled her a little closer. His cock pressed against her.

  Her resolve wavered. “It will hurt.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The question piqued her interest, as she was sure he’d intended.

  If she’d had any doubts before about Damien Lowell’s ability to master her, it was gone now. He knew exactly how to get her to do what he wanted.

  Butterflies doing a backstroke in her bloodstream, she stuck out her tongue. Before he could touch her, she chickened out.

  “Catrina,” he snapped.

  “Sorry.” She obeyed his command but closed her eyes.

  He gently held the tip of her tongue.

  It was everything she could do not to dance away.

  When he increased the pressure, she whimpered, not from pain but from the raw pulse of desire.

  Damien took one of her hands and placed it on the front of his trousers. She squeezed his cock as she surrendered and leaned into him.

  Time was swallowed by sensation.

  She barely registered the way he decreased the pressure until he sucked her tongue into his mouth. Then it became a kiss that left her raw, ragged and breathless.

  When he finally ended it, setting her away from him, she couldn’t hold up her head.

  “Thanks for the coffee, Milady. Now get to work.”


  She shook her head and looked at him. “Seriously? That’s it?”

  “It’s a work day. What else did you expect?”

  “You to finish what you start,” she said. She continued to stroke him, certain he was joking. “It will only take a minute for both of us to be satisfied.”

  He clamped a hand around her wrist, stilling her movements. “You’ll have to wait until tonight.”

  “You’re the most frustrating man I’ve ever met.”

  “It’s my decision.”

  She tried one more angle. “I’d focus better if I had an orgasm.”

  “This way you’ll also be thinking about tonight. I’d like you to meet me downstairs after dinner.”

  “Oh?”

  “That was foreplay, Milady, not a tease.”

  He moved her hand to her side before letting it go. “Yes…Damien.” It would have been easy to call him Sir. In fact, not using the title was becoming more difficult. She was thinking of him in those terms, but actually saying it would mean she’d accepted his domination.

  The night she’d dressed in the French maid’s get-up, she’d been free to use the word without either of them taking it too seriously. It had felt liberating.

  “Don’t even think of using a vibrator,” he said as he let her go.

  “But…”

  “Please honor my request.”

  The morning dragged. “I’m not sure I like your idea of foreplay,” she said over lunch.

  “That’s good to know.”

  He gave her a quick kiss before excusing himself to return to work. She sank against her chairback and blew out a breath, ruffling her hair.

  Gregorio knocked then entered without waiting for an invitation. He brushed snow from his sleeves before hanging up his black leather jacket.

  What was it with the men and leather around here?

  “Where’s the boss?”

  “Back at work.”

  “Everything okay?” He helped himself to a cup of coffee. “Yuck,” he said.

  “Been there a while.”

  “What, since the turn of the century?” He put it in the microwave and pulled out a carton of cream. “So, dish, Milady. What’s up? It’s not like you to sulk.”

  She thought about denying it, but figured that would do no good. “Damien can be confounding.”

  “Submission challenges?”

  “I think I’ll stick with being a Domme.”

  “Really?” The microwave dinged and he took out the cup. He added a dollop of cream, tasted it again, then added another drop.

  “Is that a coffee or a latte at this point?”

  “Neither. Putting it in the java family is an insult.”

  “Want me to brew you another pot?”

  “Thought you were done being a sub?”

  “Damien is clear about common courtesy and D/s.”

  He dragged back a chair and sat across from her. “You’re a quick study. So. I imagine this has been a challenge for you. Confusing?”

  “Yeah. I knew I wasn’t a sub. And a whole lot of the time has been instructive.”

  “But?”

  “I like Damien, okay?” She grabbed Gregorio’s cup and took a drink, more because she wanted something to do with her hands than anything else.

  “And that’s a problem because…”

  “I’m a Domme. And sometimes he pisses me off enough to want to bend him over and blister his ass.”

  “You’re horny.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Deny it.” He took back his coffee.

  “So?”

  “It’s a hell of a journey,” he said. “I don’t blame you for finding it confusing.”

  “The submission part, I get. Or at least I think I do. He was right that I’ll be a better Domme when this is over.”

  “And the rest?”

  “Sitting with him on the couch.” She paused. “At night. The talking. Maybe a movie. It’s…intimate. Not sex, but sharing things, even seemingly insignificant details. I’ve never had anything like it. I’m going to miss it, even though I never knew I wanted it.”

  “Who says you have to give it up?”

  “Do you see Damien keeping me around when this is done? If I want to meet him as an equal?”

  “You’re still seeing a submissive as someone less important or inferior to a Dom?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  She brushed her hair back from her face.

  “Discuss this with Damien. I’d give you my opinion, but you need to hear it from him.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “If that intimacy thing you’re talking about is real, then you’ll trust him enough to go to him. Tell him what’s on your mind. Listen to what he has to say. He could want the same things as you. You could work out a compromise.”

  “How do two dominants have a relationship?”

  “Unless they discuss that, they don’t.” He took back his cup and swallowed a drink from it. “Tastes like shit.”

  “Dump it out.”

  “It’s caffeine, and I had a long night.”

  “Doing what?”

  “None of your business.”

  “I should be with you. I could flog you every night.”

  “Not on my watch,” Damien said.

  She froze at the chill in his voice.

  Gregorio shrugged. “Security cameras, Milady.”

  “It was a joke,” she said, turning to look at Damien, her heart thundering at double time. She stood, met his gaze, silently implored him to understand. “Since Gregorio is a switch… I’m babbling.”

  “Go on.”

  “I was telling him about my frustrations over the last few days.” She dropped her gaze. “Sorry if I was out of line.”

  “You’re an adult, Milady. You can discuss anything you want with anyone you wish. I’d like it if you would come to me.”

  “After lunch, I tried.”

  “So you’re complaining to Gregorio you’re sexually frustrated because I wouldn’t get you off upstairs?”

  “God. No.” Exasperated, she took a step toward him. “It’s about me. My confusion.”

  “Fears?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m glad you talked to Gregorio. And I want you to know that I’m available to listen, too. I may be a caveman, but if you whack me up the side of the head, you can get my attention.” He took the final step that would bring them within inches of each other then he took hold of her upper arms with the reassuring gentleness that could only come from such strength. “I have broad shoulders, Milady. To help carry whatever troubles you have.”

  “That’s what I told her.”

  “You…” He addressed Gregorio over his shoulder. “I thought we had a one o’clock meeting?”

  “I’m here, Boss.”

  Damien jerked his head toward the back stairs.

  “Oh. Right. I’ll be waiting in your office.” He picked up his coffee cup then headed up.

  “To be fair,” she said when they were alone, “Gregorio did tell me to talk to you.”

  “I believe him. And you. As long as you’re here as my sub you scene with no man but me. If that’s not acceptable, we can discuss it. But you’re not free to scene with others without first seeking permission.”

  “Were you listening, Damien? It was a joke.” Her voice was higher pitched than normal, and she closed her eyes to get hold of her fraying temper. When she did, she hit them both with the raw truth. “I don’t want to be with anyone but you.”

  “Good.” He loosened his grip and he made tiny circles with his fingers. “I appreciate you saying so.” He dragged her onto her toes. “We have a lot to talk about tonight.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “We do.”

  He eased her toward him and his thick cock pressed against her.

  “What about the security cameras?” she reminded him.

  “There’s no volume unless I turn it up.”

  “But we are
providing a peep show.”

  “Come here.”

  He led her into the powder room.

  “A clandestine meeting, Damien?”

  He spun her around so fast her breath whooshed out. She desperately pushed her hands flat against the wall as he lifted her skirt and blasted her with five hot slaps on her rear. Then he yanked aside her thong and masturbated her until she screamed out an orgasm and collapsed in a sobbing heap against the wall.

  It may have taken him ten seconds to give her the relief she’d all-but begged for.

  His motions now tender, he turned her back to him and held her tight against his chest. In his arms, she shook. Damien didn’t let her go until she found the wherewithal to push him away.

  “I needed that,” she admitted.

  “I know.” He took a washcloth from a drawer and daubed her face. “Better, Milady?”

  “Much.” She gave him a smile. “Thank you.” But she was lying. And she wondered if he knew it.

  Conflicted, she followed him from the room.

  The restless energy that had been churning all day worsened during the afternoon. The scene with Damien should have soothed her, but it didn’t. In fact, it contributed to her cauldron of angst. She craved his touch, didn’t want this to end, couldn’t figure out a way for it to last. The more often they scened, the deeper she cared for him. The more they shared, the more she ached to share.

  Trying to work was impossible, and being separated from him and Gregorio by only a glass partition was torture.

  Unable to concentrate, restless, she went into the suite and grabbed her coat from the closet. “I’m going for a walk,” she told Damien.

  “Would you like me to go with you?”

  “No problem,” Gregorio said, pushing back his chair. “We can finish up at a more convenient time.”

  “Thanks, but I’d rather be alone.”

  She walked for less than an hour. Her toes were numb in her boots, her fingers were frozen even though she’d kept them in her pockets and she was grateful her hair covered her ears. As it was, the cold bit at her lobes.