In the Den Read online

  “So, why did you respond that way?”

  “Nerves,” she replied. “I liked the spindle, and I didn’t think I would. I liked the beating, and I didn’t think I would. I had a number of orgasms, and I’m still restless.” She lifted her hands then let them fall again. “I apologize.”

  “You drove an intentional wedge between us.”

  “Yes,” she admitted softly.

  “Hoping to piss me off.”

  “I seem to do that a lot.”

  “And if you do it again?”

  She licked her upper lip.

  Damn it. This was part of the reason she didn’t do relationships. It was simpler to play with her boys then send them home. “Why do you have to complicate things?”

  He smoothed her hair back from her face. “Is that what I’m doing?”

  “If I’d wanted a relationship, Damien, I’d have gone looking for one.”

  “You knew what to expect when you showed up here. Yet you came of your own free will.”

  “The gag would have been easier than this conversation.”

  “It might have been.” He dropped his hand. “But remaining silent would prevent you from destroying whatever intimacy we were building.”

  His question stood. Now that they were both aware of her behavior, how should he handle it in the future? It occurred to her that she’d done the same thing before, in her relationship with Todd. She’d been so desperate to not be hurt again, she’d kept him at a distance with her sharp comments.

  Damien had been serious when he’d told her he intended to eradicate her barriers.

  “I want you to be who you are.” He fisted a hand in her hair and pulled back her head so that she couldn’t look away.

  This Dom amongst Doms offered no quarter, as he imprisoned her gaze with his searing blue eyes.

  “No, correct that. I want you to be your authentic self. I want to know the real you, the woman you really are, not sub, not Domme, but the whole, complete person you are when you’re not scared.”

  Those words terrified her.

  “Your quick wit is part of your personality, and I want you to share that. But question your own motivation, Milady. Are you being funny? Or are you trying to drive me away?”

  The column of her throat was exposed to him. He still held the gag, but that didn’t stop him from placing the pad of his thumb in the hollow of her neck.

  She felt humbled that he cared enough to continue to move toward her emotionally rather than pull away as Todd had done.

  “I’ll know you, Catrina. Nothing less.”

  Trapped, unable to avoid his scrutiny, she nodded.

  Slowly he released his grip on her hair, but he held her shoulders until she regained her balance.

  “I’m waiting for my answer.”

  “A spanking,” she said. “If I say something disrespectful, I think you should spank me.”

  “Nice try.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “There isn’t a single misbehavior that will earn you a spanking, Milady.”

  “I thought we got to agree on something together.”

  “Together,” he affirmed. “So spanking is off the table. Once you’re over my lap with your bare bottom upturned, I can only think of bringing you off. Trying to spank you would torture me.”

  The way he said it, so rich, so husky, she believed he meant that. “The gag it is, then.”

  “Hopefully we won’t need it.”

  She glanced at it. The part that would go in her mouth seemed enormous. “It certainly seems like a disincentive,” she said.

  He traced her upper lip with a finger. “Turn to me,” he encouraged her.

  “I’ll try.” She offered nothing else. No false promises.

  “You may put on your dress and shoes as we go through the public area. I’d prefer you naked and gagged, however.”

  “No gag.”

  “I think it would be hot.”

  “Is that all you think about?”

  “Since the first time I had my hand on your bare skin,” he confessed.

  She trembled. The way he looked, coupled with his tone, made her certain he meant it.

  He picked up her dress and held it while she wriggled into it. “You make an excellent ladies’ maid,” she said.

  “When the woman in question is you, it’s an honor.”

  While she put on her shoes, he tidied the room and gathered her undergarments.

  “You could put those in your pocket,” she said when he opened the door. Silk, satin and lace dangled from his grip.

  “I could.”

  But he didn’t.

  On the main level, they garnered a couple of curious glances. Long-time members knew she was a Domme, so seeing her with Damien must have been a shock.

  When she’d checked in and asked for a white wristband, the house sub at the door had called Gregorio over. He’d ensured she knew the meaning of what she was doing.

  “This is better than any fireworks on the Fourth of July,” Gregorio had said before personally helping her into the wristband.

  She’d gone downstairs and stood at the bar. A Dom she often conversed with had joined her and started to chat. When he’d noticed her wristband, his attitude had changed. Since he was alone for the evening, he’d invited her to join him for a scene.

  The idea hadn’t appealed.

  She would sub, but only for one man.

  She’d made her excuses then sat at a table where she’d be less approachable.

  “We’ll continue up to my quarters,” Damien said.

  Like many people, she’d wondered about the off-limits parts of the Den. There were rest rooms upstairs that were available to guests but a door sealed off a big section of the third floor.

  Gregorio was leaning against the balustrade, and he pushed away when he saw them approach.

  “The production company could use you as a model,” Gregorio said to her. “Your height shows the spindle off to its fullest effect.”

  “How long did you watch?” Damien asked, voice tight.

  “The whole time.”

  “And by that you mean?”

  “Thirty seconds. No longer. Just enough to be sure everything was okay.” He held up his hands. “Promise.”

  She’d be the first to admit she didn’t know Damien all that well, but his behavior seemed unusual.

  “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Gregorio nodded.

  “Milady? Shall we?”

  She started up the stairs, and he was right behind her.

  Within a few seconds, she was inside, sealed off in silence. She’d expected to see a big bed. Or a living room. Instead, they’d stepped into an enormous open space. Off to her right was a wall of windows, complete with a set of French doors that presumably led to a deck.

  An enormous desk loomed in front of her. “Yours?”

  “It is.”

  Like she expected, there was no mess. The surface was bare, except for an empty brandy snifter.

  He rounded to the far side of the desk and deposited her undergarments on a chair. He put the blasted gag on top. “I hadn’t realized you’d brought it,” she said.

  “It was more than an idle threat, so I figured we’d keep it close.”

  Did he forget nothing?

  He opened a drawer and pulled out a remote control. He aimed it at the wall behind her. She turned, surprised to see dozens of images, each showing a different place on the property. She saw people getting out of cars, checking in at the front desk, milling in front of the hearth, heading down the stairs. “Command central?” she asked. “Unless you have serious voyeuristic tendencies?”

  “I’d rather participate than watch.” He pushed a button, and the pictures vanished.

  To her left, there were two cubicles, separated by a thick sheet of glass that was etched with a mountain scape, an eagle soaring above a peak. “Your choice. They were both prepared for you.”

  She chose her wor
ds with care. “You expect me to work here?”

  “There’s someplace you’d rather be?”

  “Anywhere.” When he’d instructed Gregorio to ready an office for her, this hadn’t been what she was expecting. She’d thought there’d be walls between them, doors…distance. “I’ll never get anything done with you so close.”

  “I’ll shackle your foot to the desk.”

  Catrina wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m not sure whether or not you’re joking.”

  “I’m not.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” She’d played with him in private, been to his secluded house, yet nothing had felt more intimate than this.

  “Would you like to see the rest of the place?”

  His domain.

  He gave her the code that would open the opaque glass door. “We can leave it open if it’s more comfortable for you,” he said.

  “Whatever you prefer.”

  His grin made her pulse stammer.

  He closed the door.

  While not overly large, the space was wonderful. Glossy hardwood floors were covered with numerous throw rugs. A couple of tables were placed strategically, and a chair sat next to a leather couch, and both faced the television atop the gas-burning fireplace.

  He had a small kitchenette, complete with coffee pot, small refrigerator, sink and microwave oven. “I feel like I’m at a luxury hotel.”

  “That was my designer’s intent. I don’t always want to go downstairs for my coffee. And I prefer my own deck for my first cup, especially if anyone has stayed over.”

  “You’re not a morning person?” It astounded her how little she knew him, and how much she was about to learn.

  “I prefer some quiet time before I engage with others. Let me finish showing you around.”

  The luxury continued. His bedroom had a walk-in closet. He had a built-in dresser, a few shelves and a rod. Several pairs of black slacks hung next to dress shirts and a couple of suit coats. He had a sexy pea jacket, a leather bomber and an entire selection of ties. All his shoes were in individual cubbies. Even the dirty laundry in the wicker basket was arranged by color and fabric weight. He had a ridiculous number of belts, and the idea of one of them hitting her bare butt made her back out of the closet.

  A king-sized bed faced a window, and two nightstands only had artistic, elk-antler lamps on their surface. His bathroom was tiled, with double sinks, a soaker tub and a shower big enough for two. “I want you to be comfortable here. Ask for anything you need.” He met her gaze. “Except privacy.”

  “Do you spend all your time coming up with words to terrify me?”

  “Of course not.”

  He backed her up until a wall stopped her.

  “No?” she asked.

  “I also think about the dozens of ways I’d like to fuck you.” He took a step back. “There’s a box of condoms and a bottle of lube in a basket in the linen closet. Fetch them.”

  He left her behind in the bathroom.

  Because everything was so perfectly organized, she found the items exactly where he’d said they were.

  She joined him in the living area again.

  “Put them on the mantel.”

  He’d turned on the fireplace and dimmed the overhead lighting, bathing the room in a soft glow. He was seated in the chair, an ankle propped on his knee. He never took his gaze from her. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever paid this much attention to her, ever. She tried to give the scenes with her subs all her concentration, but rarely for this long.

  There were no personal effects in his space, no pictures, no knick-knacks. There hadn’t been any in his office, either. Clearly he’d left everything the way the designer had arranged it. She had an urge to clutter things up, shake him up as much as he unsettled her.

  “It’s really quiet in here,” she said, voice hardly over a whisper. She’d expected to hear some sound from the music, the dozens of guests, even the comings-and-goings of vehicles.

  “I like my privacy. And I want you to have the freedom to scream all you want.”

  “I’ve told you, Damien, that’s not likely.” She placed the items where he instructed then turned to face him again.

  “You do like to challenge me.”

  “I think it’s time someone did.”

  “Be careful where you step, Milady.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “Come here, Catrina.” He stood and extended his hand, a gesture that looked like an invitation, but that she knew was a command.

  She came to a stop in front of him. He took her shoulders and drew her even closer, closer than was comfortable for her.

  He released one of her shoulders and moved his hand to her face where he tipped back her chin. “I promised you lesson two.”

  “Lesson two?”

  “Concentrating, fully, on pleasing your Dom. We’ll start with you undressing, we’ll continue with you undressing me.”

  Chapter Six

  Catrina had watched his scene-setting demonstration that night with Susan. Now she realized he’d only offered a glimpse at the weapons in his arsenal. His tone seduced her. The way he touched her sent her pulse skittering. Even the silence added to the atmosphere, seeming to amplify what little noise there was.

  It was the spell he wove with his words, though that stirred her imagination in a way that could have been an art form.

  Though they hadn’t been sexual, she was already dazed.

  “Proceed,” he said, releasing her.

  Her legs felt wobbly as she took a step back.

  As she had earlier, she removed her dress. He nodded toward the couch, and she draped the material over the back.

  “We’ll keep the wrist band. I like what it symbolizes. Oh, and leave the heels on for now.”

  “That male thing again?” she asked.

  “Turns out I’m suddenly an ass man. Much as I loved seeing you displayed on the spindle, I’d like to put you over it the other way, just for my edification.” He sat. “Start with my shoes.”

  It was one thing for a man to kiss her feet, it was another to be at his. She considered crouching, but that would give him a glimpse of her pussy. So that left kneeling as her only option. “Too bad you’re not wearing boots. I could straddle your leg to get them off.”

  “I’ll wear a pair tomorrow.”

  Bastard probably would, too.

  She knelt and untied his laces before removing his shoes and socks.

  He stood. “I’m at your mercy, Milady.”

  Since she was on her knees, it made sense to remove his belt. She tugged the leather free and rolled it up before placing it on top of one of his shoes. She contemplated dropping his trousers, but she needed a minute to prepare herself before having her mouth mere inches from his cock.

  Ignoring the way his lips twitched in a half-smile, she stood. She removed his sweater and tossed it near her dress, pretending not to notice his wince. Yes, it was definitely time to shake up Damien Lowell.

  She unfastened his trousers, and let them fall down. “Boxers, Damien?”

  “I like my balls loose,” he said. “But wool can chafe. I can wear something else if you prefer?”

  “No. I like the way I can reach my hand in the front of boxers.”

  “Do it.”

  He already had an erection, and she closed her hand around him. “Silky,” she said as she moved her hand back and forth. “And I love how thick it is.” She might have said the same words to a sub, but there was a difference when the man intended to dominate her with it.

  A few strokes later, he clamped his hand around her wrist. “That’s enough.”

  She was accustomed to deciding when enough was enough for a man’s dick. And most times, it was a couple of seconds before he spilled. But she gritted her teeth and instead took off his boxers.

  He stepped out of his clothing.

  “Remain as you are.”

  Knowing she’d never get away with leaving his pants on the floo
r, she hung them from the couch. The boxers, though, she wadded and tossed beneath the couch.

  “Play with your nipples,” he instructed.

  “They’re already sensitive from your clamps.”

  “All the better.”

  She rolled them and squeezed them and tugged on them, aware of his perusal, of the pre-cum leaking from his cockhead.

  He took hold of a handful of her hair and she whimpered a little. “I want you to look up at me.”

  Compelled, she had no choice.

  “Now play with your pussy. But don’t come.”

  She fingered herself.

  “Slick already?”

  “Very,” she said. In the absence of any other instruction, she continued to slide her fingers, then she dipped inside.

  “I can smell you,” he said.

  “Yes.” She’d had so many orgasms earlier that she thought it would take her forever to get turned on. But she already felt as if she were close to a climax. Her whimpers became moans.

  All embarrassment disappeared as need built.

  “That’s a girl,” he said. “Play with that gorgeous pussy.”

  As the edge neared, she moved faster and faster, jerking her hips, trying to get better angles, more pressure.

  She stopped caring how tight he held onto her, and she closed her eyes. So close…

  “That’s enough.”

  When she didn’t immediately respond, he snapped, “Catrina, stop!”

  She blinked and froze.

  “Lick your fingers.”

  Frustrated, she made an exaggerated show of sticking out her tongue and curling it around her fingers. All the while, she kept her gaze fastened on his face.

  “Sexy,” he said. “I like the added sound effects. Been watching some of Master Niles’ videos?”

  She dropped her hands to her sides.

  “I know this is an adjustment for you, that you’re accustomed to being the one who decides what to do and when to do it, so I’ll be more patient than I normally would.” He pulled her head back a fraction of an inch. “I’m mentioning it, however, so you’ll know I’m aware of your behavior. If it happens again, we’ll need to discuss it.” He loosened his grip and continued in a gentle tone. “There’s something magic that happens when you get out of your own head, like you did when we played downstairs. It’s only two weeks. Yield, Milady.”