In the Den (2 page)

Damien took Catrina’s arm to help her up. Her skin was warm, inviting. If she felt the same jolt of electricity as he had, she hid it well. Against her ear, so no one else could hear, he said, “With your hair, you’d look stunning in that position.”

She drew her dramatic eyebrows together as she scowled at him. Without a word, she extracted herself from his grip.

Just then, Master Lawrence arrived and joined them, nodding at Damien and kissing Catrina on the cheek.

“You’re here, Master!” Bradley exclaimed.

At Lawrence’s urging, the boy thanked Catrina as she relinquished the leash. The blond followed his master down the stairs at an enthusiastic trot.

“I’m available if you change your mind,” Damien said to Catrina before moving off to meet his partner in the foyer.

Catrina might have muttered something about Hell freezing over, and with the snow and cold, he figured anything was possible. He grinned. Victory would be a sweet reward.

* * * *

When Damien disappeared from sight, Catrina exhaled. Damn him. Who the hell did he think he was? His words had shaken her, and she glanced around to be certain no one had overheard his outrageous proposition. As if she’d be on her knees for any man.

So what was it about him that sent flutter-kicks through her stomach?

Catrina had always prided herself on being in charge. From class president in high school to editor of the college paper, and now, as the founder of her own company where she focused on the financial success of women, she’d always been outspoken and driven.

After the end of her engagement five years before, she’d gathered up the shattered pieces of her heart and resolved to be in charge of her own life. She’d also made the choice to be equal in her sexual partnerships. Her first experience in taking the initiative with a new man hadn’t been well received. Even now she cringed at the memory.

It had taken her a couple of years to move on after her engagement. She’d finally started dating a nice, agreeable man. In the bedroom, though, he’d bored her. No way could she live with the same unimaginative, missionary-style every night. So she’d boldly tied Todd’s wrists to a slat in the headboard, and when she’d straddled his face, he’d demanded to be released. Feeling awkward but not deterred, she’d let him go.

For the first time in their relationship, she’d seen an angry side of Todd. He’d towered over her and yelled—she didn’t want to be an equal, she was a control freak.

His words had shocked her. He was probably right, but she wouldn’t admit it, so she’d met his gaze and disagreed. In response, he’d captured her hands and offered to tie her up and force her to lick his balls. She’d told him to get the hell out.

The next day, when she’d arrived home from work, his few belongings had been gone from her apartment and his key had been sitting in the middle of the dining room table.

A couple of weeks later, she’d met a handsome blond man at a party. After hearing about her previous, disastrous relationship, he’d said he’d kiss her feet. It had turned out he wasn’t joking.

Ever since, she’d been involved with good-looking men who took care of her every sexual need. She ensured they received everything they wanted and needed, too. What could be better?

At times, especially in the middle of the night, she pushed away the nagging voice that whispered she was missing intimacy. She’d toss and turn, telling herself she had friends for problem solving and conversation. Her life was full in every way. She didn’t need anyone to hold her and connect with about everyday life events. And she didn’t need someone like Master Damien Lowell bossing her around and making her kiss his feet. Definitely not.

Gregorio moved through the rooms, announcing the start of Master Damien’s demonstration. Now that Master Lawrence had claimed Bradley, Catrina was at loose ends. She could avail herself of the services of a house sub, and maybe even Gregorio with his pirate-like looks, silver earring and sexy body would agree to play with her. Since he was busy talking to a couple she’d never seen before, that would have to wait until later.

More out of boredom than curiosity, and not because Damien had issued a challenge, she snagged a sparkling water infused with cranberry juice and wandered into the living room.

The room’s usual furniture had been removed. A couple of rows of fold-up chairs had been arranged in a semicircle near the fireplace. Many dominants were seated, and their subs were standing or kneeling near them.

Catrina stood near the back. From here, she had a clear view of Damien and the pretty sub on her knees, facing him, her head bowed. Catrina appreciated the woman’s lush, feminine form. She wore her hair in a blonde bob that shaded her face. The pair were turned sideways to the room, so that both of their expressions and all Damien’s gestures were obvious.

Gregorio entered and stood near Damien.

The gathered crowd quietened as Damien touched the woman’s head.

Even from the distance, Catrina saw the submissive tremble. It took courage to participate in a demo, especially with the house owner. Her nervousness radiated in the room.

Catrina noticed his biceps flex as he made tiny, massaging motions. His silent communication was impressive.

“I’d like you to stand,” he told the woman. “And tell us your name.”

“Susan, Sir.” She kept her eyes on the wooden floorboards, even as he offered a hand to help her up.

Warmth shimmied up Catrina’s spine as she remembered the feel of his firm grip on her arm. She didn’t normally accept help, and it had surprised her how much she’d liked it.

“I appreciate your show of respect,” he said.

Damien had not used that tone with her. He’d spoken to her as an equal, not as a man intent on seducing a woman.

“And I’d like you to look at me,” he continued.

The woman glanced up, her eyes wide and unblinking.

“I want you to be completely comfortable with everything we do here tonight.”

“Yes, Sir.”

In that same, reassuring voice he went on, “Is there anything you’re uncomfortable with?”

“I’d like to leave on my panties, Sir,” Susan whispered with her head turned.

He took her chin and recaptured her gaze. “Of course you may leave on your panties. Anything else I can do to reassure you?”

She shook her head but started to fold her arms.

“It appears there may be something else you’re reluctant to tell me.”

“Ah… I have very sensitive nipples, Sir.”

“Then I’ll treat your nipples with all due respect.”

“Thank you, Sir.” She gave a tentative smile.

“And do you have a safe word, Susan?”

“Stop.”

“So, to be clear, stop means
stop
.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And a slow word?”

“Slow, Sir.”

“Got it. We’ll take a break if you use the word slow.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re also aware that ‘halt’ is the house safe word?”

“Yes, Sir.”

In that instant, Catrina understood why Damien taught demos at the open house events. It was one thing to inform Doms that they needed to make their sub feel comfortable, but Damien was a genius. He was repeating what Susan said, but not in parrot-fashion. He soothed and built trust not only with the way he spoke but with physical touch. It was subtle and elegant. Maybe he had been correct in thinking she could learn something from him, as much as that thought rankled.

Transfixed, she took a drink while she watched him undress Susan. He could have ordered the sub to strip. Instead, he squeezed her shoulders and ran his fingers over the skin he bared. “Now I’d like to remove your bra.”

Catrina gulped. The seduction in his tone made her wish the words were directed at her.

“Yes, Sir,” Susan said.

He turned Susan so that her back was to him.

After he’d released the clasp, he turned her once again. Her shoulders were rolled backwards so that the bra remained in place.

“Thank you for your trust,” he continued, drawing the straps down her arms. “Remember you can stop or slow down at any time.” When he’d removed the lacy black brassiere and handed it to Gregorio, Damien put his hands on her and said, “You’re beautiful, Susan.”

As if a switch had been turned on, she smiled, and her cheeks flushed with color, making her look radiant. Hesitancy had been replaced with confidence, impressing Catrina.

She couldn’t look away even if she wanted to, as he cupped Susan’s breasts and flicked his thumbs across her nipples. Her eyes closed. As he continued, she moaned and moved toward him, curling her fingers around his wrists.

Catrina clutched her glass.

Shock tightened her throat. Damien’s concentration seemed riveted on Susan. It appeared as if neither of them were aware of the dozens of people observing them.

For the first time, Catrina saw submission and dominance from an entirely different perspective. For them, nothing seemed to exist outside of one another, and Damien’s attention didn’t wander from the woman under his care.

Catrina took care of her men, meeting their needs. In return, she had at least one magnificent climax. Until now, that had been enough.

“Tell me what you want, Susan.”

“An orgasm, Sir.”

He smiled. “Oh, you’ll most certainly earn that.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Her knees buckled.

“Can you wait?” he asked.

“If it’s your desire, Sir.”

“You’re a very pleasing submissive. Tell me what we’re demonstrating this evening.”

“A flogging, Sir.”

“I’d like to make love to you with my flogger,” Damien said.

As if she were the one standing in front of him, Catrina’s insides melted. The man had hypnotic appeal.

“Yes, Sir.”

Catrina had never looked at a man the way Susan was looking at Damien, eyes wide with trust and reverence.

Damien led Susan to the hearth and placed her hands on the mantel. “Legs farther apart for me,” he said, his words like a caress.

Susan moved into position.

“I can secure you in place, if you’d like?”

“I’ll remain as I am, Sir, if that’s okay with you?”

“Perfect,” he replied.

She looked lovely, wearing only her panties. She’d been trembling earlier, but now she was still. Though Catrina would never admit it, Damien’s power held her spellbound.

Damien had said he wanted to make love to her with his flogger, and that’s exactly what he seemed to do. He started with tender leather kisses, licking at the woman’s shoulders and back. He let the strands fall in gentle waves.

Catrina had never wielded a handle with such skill. She told herself it was because a man’s skin was much tougher than a woman’s, but now she questioned whether she’d assumed too much.

She watched as he brought Susan’s body to life. He increased the intensity of his blows on her panty-covered buttocks. Her cries were whimpers of desire, not of distress. She appeared to surrender not only to Damien but to the flogger.

Goosebumps rose on Catrina’s arms, and her skin tingled with anticipation. And she knew one thing. She didn’t want to watch Damien please another woman.

Confused by the irrational thoughts careening through her, she gulped the last of her drink then slammed the empty glass down and headed toward the foyer.

“I’d like to be on the next shuttle to Winter Park,” she told the submissive.

“It will be about twenty minutes, Milady. Jeff’s just on his way back now.”

Catrina nodded, said thanks then found the women’s locker room. The place was empty, and she exhaled in relief. She took several minutes to smooth her hair, straighten her skirt, adjust her corset and splash cool water onto her face.

All that done, she felt more in control. She pulled back her shoulders and stepped into the hallway. Damien stood there, overwhelming the space, blocking her way.

She started to take an instinctive step back, but managed to stop herself.

Power cloaked him. Before sanity returned, she wondered what it would be like to play with him.

“You were there,” he said. “At the demonstration.”

“I had nothing better to do.”

“What did you think?”

She shrugged. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Weren’t you curious to know what it would be like to be in her position?”

“Not at all. I can have a gorgeous man at my feet and tell him exactly what to do.”

“Is that what you want? Or do you want a man who will concentrate all his efforts on pleasing you?”

“I have that now.”

“Do you?” he countered. “Do your men give you the attention I gave Susan?”

“Of course.”

“You ought to be taken to task for your lack of honesty.”

She shivered. With a stubborn tilt of her chin she snapped back, “How dare you?”

“You looked down and to the left before answering,” he said. Then, softer, seducing her with his voice, despite the nature of their conversation, he continued, “When was the last time anyone cared enough to watch your movements so intently that they knew you were lying? Do all your relationships exist strictly on the surface? Do you give no one a piece of your soul?”

His questions wormed their way inside her. They were the same ones that she ran away from. When they caught up to her, she turned up the volume on her television or distracted herself on her elliptical machine, music blaring from ear buds.

“Aren’t you curious about what you’re missing?”

“No.”

“Another lie?”

She shook her head quickly. Too quickly.

He dropped his arms and advanced toward her. This time, she retreated. “Damien…”

“You know the house safe word,” he told her. “You can use it at any time. But you aren’t going to, are you?”

Jesus.
God.
What the hell was happening here?

Her back was to the wall. This close, she was overwhelmed by his masculine scent and determination.

His blue eyes were as dark as a twilight sky. A tiny pulse in his jaw mesmerized her.

“Is your pussy wet, Milady?”

“From what? Being near you? Watching your little demo? Not at all.” His words suffocated her. And her pussy
was
wet. Damn it.