Chapter Three
Chapter Three
“You’re out of your mind,” Catrina told him.
The fact she was still hanging on to him and hadn’t uttered her safe word proved that she was out of hers, too.
“Am I? Or am I offering what you secretly want?”
She maneuvered her hands to push him away. Budging him, she found out, was something that required his cooperation. Not having to deal with big, intractable men was another reason she liked being a Domme. “Out of my way.”
“You’re bossy.”
“Assertive,” she corrected. “Don’t you forget it, mister.”
With a smile capable of making her forget her own name, Damien stepped back.
Still trying to think rationally, she escaped.
Gregorio was in the foyer, his arms crossed as usual.
“I’ve got to get out of here.”
He gave a sharp nod. “Of course.”
After what seemed like hours, he returned with her coat and small handbag.
“I couldn’t find the hatcheck girl,” he admitted. “So it took me a minute.”
Tension continued to tighten her stomach.
Then Damien—damn him—reappeared at her side to pluck her coat from Gregorio’s grip.
“I don’t need your help,” she insisted.
“Regardless, you’ve got it.” He moved behind her.
Struggle would be futile against this powerful Dom.
Instead, she shrugged into her coat.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Thank you.” She forced the words through clenched teeth. “I’ve got it from here.”
“Afraid not.” He held up his hand. “I’m being prudent. It’s snowing, and your boots aren’t made for the ice.”
“Does everyone get this kind of personal service from the owner?”
“It’s okay to accept help, Milady.”
For her, it wasn’t. She’d been doing things on her own for so long that she wasn’t certain she knew how else to behave.
“Think of me as your willing servant, if it helps.”
“Right,” she agreed.
Even Damien’s lips twitched at the ridiculousness of the suggestion.
Gregorio opened the front door and said goodnight to a couple who were heading out.
“Well?” Damien asked.
He had a point. The weather was atrocious, and her footwear was meant for a club, not the ice.
Judging by the set of his jaw, this was a battle he intended to win.
“Fine.” She placed a hand on his forearm.
Immediately she recognized her error.
With him, nothing was harmless.
Heat and strength radiated from him and through her. His effortless way of making her feel insulated and taken care of was both irresistibly sexy and unbelievably dangerous.
As he had with the other couple, Gregorio opened the door for them.
Bitter cold air nipped at her ears, making her shiver.
“You’re welcome to stay,” Damien invited.
She ignored him.
Dozens of lights outlined the flagstone path and silence shrouded them. For a moment she could believe they were the only two people on the planet.
Despite his dire warnings, the path had been shoveled, and a layer of salt had been thrown down, providing traction and melting the occasional snowflakes as they landed. “You’ll say anything to get your way, won’t you?”
“I’ll say anything to spend a few extra minutes with you,” he corrected.
He helped her into the backseat of the oversize and luxurious four-wheel-drive vehicle that served as tonight’s shuttle. For this run, she was the only occupant.
“Take good care of her, Jeff,” Damien instructed the driver as he reached across her lap to fasten her safety belt.
Once that was finished, he slid his thumb across the back of her hand.
A shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature danced up her spine.
“Tomorrow,” he reminded her.
Before she could respond, he closed the door.
As the driver pulled away, she glanced over to see Damien still standing there, staring contemplatively.
“You must be important to the boss,” Jeff observed, meeting her gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Not at all.”
The man chuckled. “This could be fun to watch.”
“Fun?”
“The boss doesn’t like to be told no.”
“He’s going to hear it a lot from me,” she replied.
“That’s why it will be fun to watch.”
Because his enthusiasm was infectious, she grinned.
He stopped at the intersection with the highway. “You’re at the Lodge, right?”
“Promise not to tell Damien?”
“As if he wouldn’t find out anyway, Milady.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Not that Damien cared enough to track her down, she was sure. “Yes,” she confirmed. “The Lodge.”
Jeff lapsed into silence.
Why couldn’t Damien be more like him? Big, rugged, quiet, and happy to leave her the hell alone?
Though she collapsed against the luxurious leather, she couldn’t relax. Damien’s invitation played over and over in her mind.
After her broken engagement and the disaster with Todd, she’d vowed to remain in control of herself and her life. So why would she submit to the Dom of all Doms?
But damn…
Even though miles now separated them, every breath she took smelled of him, and her body was still seared from his quick spank.
Her cell phone rang.
“That will be the boss,” Jeff said, glancing at her with an amused grin.
She dug the device from her purse and checked the display. “Aww, hell.”
“I was right, wasn’t I?”
Unfortunately.With a nod, Catrina sent the call to voicemail.
“You’re only delaying the inevitable, Milady.”
The phone lit up again.
“Sorry, Milady. I warned you. You matter to the boss.”
With a deep sigh, she answered the call.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Damien said by way of a greeting.
The sound of his voice sent sparks of remembrance straight to her scorched skin. “That makes one of us.”
He laughed. “Do you know how to tell the truth? Once you’re at your hotel, you’ll take a shower and masturbate to thoughts of me. You’ll be wondering what a real spanking feels like.”
“Absolutely not,” she insisted, her words breathless.
“I should forbid it,” he said.
Momentarily holding the phone away from her ear, she scowled. “As if I’d do anything you told me to.”
“Well isn’t that a conundrum? If you touch yourself, you’ll imagine my fingers tracing your skin. If you don’t play with that pretty pussy, you’ll be following my explicit command. Oh, and, Milady…”
Keenly aware of Jeff’s interest, she remained silent.
“Lick your fingers when you’re done,” Damien finished.
Without another word, the damnable man hung up.
A few moments later, she realized Jeff had parked beneath the hotel’s portico.
At a jog, he climbed from the driver’s seat and hurried around to open her door, offering his help as she stepped down.
Then over her protests, he escorted her to revolving glass doors.
“When the boss issues an order, I follow it,” he said.
“Are you insinuating I should do likewise?”
“Oh, hell no, Milady. This is much more entertaining.” He waited until she was inside before making a dash back to the sports utility vehicle.
In her room, she dropped her coat on the end of the bed before sitting on a chair to remove the tight-fitting boots. The cursed things might be gorgeous, but they hurt like hell. Her poor toes would be cramped for days.
Which would be another reminder of the evening…one that had turned her world upside down.
And if Damien had his way, they’d continue their exploration tomorrow.
She stripped and folded her clothes then placed them in her suitcase to make packing easier.
With that task handled, she headed for the bathroom and picked up a washcloth to scrub off her makeup.
Moments later, she was transformed back into her regular self.
No doubt the plain and ordinary Catrina would appeal to him a lot less than the dramatic diva she portrayed.
Which made her wonder… Away from the Den, what was he like?
Still pondering, Catrina turned on the shower faucet. As steam billowed in the room, his earlier words haunted her.
Damn him. He had caused her a conundrum.
She was aroused, and she didn’t want to be.
With a deep sigh, she pinned up her hair, then stepped beneath the spray.
As he’d hoped, her thoughts were filled with images of him. She didn’t want to play with him. And she most certainly had no intention of submitting to him.
But as she closed her eyes, she recalled the stunning shock that had rocked her when his hand had connected with her flesh.
The momentary hiss of pain had been replaced almost immediately with the white-hot heat of desire, making all her protests irrelevant.
Warmth from the water suffused her.
Focusing on her shower, she opened her eyes and reached for the bar of soap then made a lather. She slid her slick hands over her chest. Her nipples beaded, and her breasts were swollen.
Damn you, Damien.
With her lips pursed, she continued down her belly. She paused for a moment at her pelvis. Her pussy throbbed.
No matter how she justified things or what stories she told herself, the truth was, she didn’t have sex as often as she would like. Far too often she used her trusty vibrator.
Right now, the idea of having Damien’s cock inside her made her tremble.
Lightly, she skimmed her fingers across her pussy before continuing on. She didn’t need another orgasm.
After finishing her shower, she dried off.
When she was finally in bed, sleep proved elusive.
Every five to ten minutes she’d sigh and check the time.
An hour later, she was frustrated that she tossed a pillow on top of the offending clock so she couldn’t see the mocking numbers.
Because she had been restless, she ended up sleeping well past her normal time, leaving her discombobulated.
Across the room, her phone sat on the dresser, blinking at her, beckoning her over.
Unable to resist the impulse, she crossed the room to look at the screen.
A text message from Damien was waiting.
I hope you didn’t steal an orgasm that belongs to me.
Her heart thundered. Belongs to you? The arrogance.
But if she were honest with herself, she’d admit the words sent a little thrill through her.
The words were part of the reason he was such a good Dom. If he behaved this way with everyone, that meant he started the seduction, the alluring mind-fuck, hours before he ever touched his submissive. Maybe she could learn a thing or two from him.
Still, she hadn’t decided how to respond when a second text followed.
If you’re a good girl, you’ll be rewarded.
Ignoring both messages, she dressed and rode the elevator to the lobby restaurant in search of breakfast and a much-needed caffeine fix.
Unfortunately, the tall, black coffee didn’t help. In fact, it flooded her system with nerves. The combination of that and no sleep left her jittery.
Then her phone chimed again, making things worse.
She looked at the screen.
Tonight?
A moment later, an address appeared on the display. If her guess was right, it was in a sprawling north-western Denver suburb, not too far from the foothills. Lots of land to go with the privacy and mountain views.
Catrina slammed the phone on the table, facedown.
Damn him for tempting her.
Preferring carbs over healthy eating, she ordered a waffle and slathered it in butter and maple syrup.
A number of people wandered into the dining room. Some, she recognized from the Den.
She was taking her final bite when Bradley and Master Lawrence strolled in, smiling at each other. They never looked in her direction.
Suddenly, unaccountably, loneliness rippled through her, leaving behind a gaping hole of emptiness.
For the first time since she’d made her lifestyle choices, she missed the intimacy that came with a relationship.
Something like I shared with Damien…
Shaking off the awful feelings, Catrina paid her bill then went upstairs to finish packing before heading back to Denver.
With the snow-covered mountain roads, the drive took an hour longer than it usually did, leaving her with far too much time to think.
When she was finally safe at her small but cozy Washington Park bungalow, she put away her clean clothing and tossed a load of laundry in the washing machine before going about her weekly chores.
Even after she was finished and hit the elliptical machine for a punishing forty-five-minute run, there were still too many hours left in the day before she could go to bed.
At loose ends, she wandered into her office.
She’d finished her monthly newsletter before heading to the Den, but she opened the document on her computer and proofed it a final time.
Then she pulled out manila file folders belonging to women she was meeting with the next day.
Her first appointment would be with her newest client, Jenny. The woman’s husband had stunned her less than a week ago with the news that he was filing for a divorce. In the twenty-eight years the couple had been married, Jenny had allowed him to handle the bills and investing. When Catrina had met with her last week, Jenny had cried the whole time.
At times, Catrina felt as if her role were one of a counselor more than a financial advisor, but that was the part of the job, and she treasured it.
A little over five years ago, she’d been in similar circumstances…facing the unexpected and unwelcome end of a relationship and staring at the all-too-real possibility of financial ruin. Now, helping others navigate treacherous waters gave her life meaning.
An hour later, she closed the files and slid them back in the desk drawer.
She was at her desk, staring out of the window at a couple walking past, holding hands, when angst returned in a massive rush.
The rest of the afternoon and evening loomed.
Even though she didn’t want to sit in front of the television all night, bingeing a show while eating a carton of ice cream, that was becoming a bigger possibility with each passing minute.
Sighing, she shoved her chair back from her desk and paced the hardwood floor of her still-to-be renovated home.
No light blinked on her phone, meaning Damien hadn’t contacted her again.
Clearly he expected her to appear at his home, something she had no intention of doing.
A little while later, she wasn’t as sure.
No matter what she focused on, she couldn’t banish thoughts of him. Despite her resolve, he intrigued her.
Then her great internal debate began.
It couldn’t hurt to see him.
But no good could come of it.
I’m not a sub.
But she did like to learn and grow.
Since she hadn’t masturbated since she left the Den, sexual tension crawled through her. She hadn’t deliberately followed his orders, yet she ached to feel his strong hands on her body.
Hells bells.
She didn’t need his touch. Any man would do.
Which was a total lie.
Cursing her traitorous thoughts, she set up the coffeemaker for the following morning and programmed its timer. Still, it wasn’t even five o’clock in the afternoon.
One thing was certain, she needed an outlet for her turmoil.
She telephoned a couple of friends, but no one was available to hang out.
As a desperate measure, she called Bradley. He begged off with an apology, saying he had to get ready for work the next day, adding in a sheepish voice that Master Lawrence had exhausted him.
That left only one option.
With confidence, she dialed her mother’s number. Evelyn didn’t answer until the third ring. With a gleeful giggle, she said she was going to a movie with a new beau.
My mother has plans?Then it hit her. “Wait. What? When did you get a boyfriend?”
“A few weeks ago. Milton. He likes to rock climb at an indoor gym. Can you imagine?”
“I’m having a hard time getting past the fact you’re dating, Mother.”
“Yes! Isn’t it awesome?”
“Awesome?” She pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it. “Sorry, who is this? I thought I was talking to my mom.”
“I’ve got to go. Miltey will be here in a few minutes, and I hate to keep him waiting.”
Miltey?In the background, her mother’s doorbell rang.
“I’m sure you’ll find something to do, dear. Give me a call later this week. Maybe you can meet him.”
Without a formal goodbye, Evelyn hung up.
At times like this, that nasty, nasty internal voice turned up the volume, reminding Catrina she’d made the choice to shut herself off from intimacy and that there were consequences.
She informed her clients it was okay to trust again, even fall in love, as long as they made savvy financial decisions and didn’t abdicate all their power. But she refused to take her own advice.
The clock on the kitchen wall indicated it was a few minutes past seven. She still had time to make it to Damien’s house.
Catrina raked a handful of hair back from her forehead.
Who was she fooling? A man hadn’t held her interest like this in years, if ever. In fighting herself and him, she was also fighting the inevitable. She could see him again and prove to herself that last night had been an anomaly.
After collecting a well-deserved orgasm, she’d wave farewell and never see him again.
Right?