Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
“Something on your mind?”
Jolted back to the moment, the fact they’d just finished eating dinner at the kitchen island, Damien shook his head and met Catrina’s gaze.
“You appear to be somewhere else.”
He was.
Their time together was almost up.
When he’d challenged her to spend two weeks with him, he’d promised that she would learn a few things about submission. But he hadn’t expected he’d be changed by the experience.
In the time they’d spent together so far, he and Catrina had fallen into a familiar and appealing routine.
When they ate at home, he cooked. Unless she was still working, she’d pull up a barstool and keep him company.
Afterward, she’d load the dishwasher and wipe the counter and table while he put away the leftovers. They made a small, but very effective team.
And he didn’t know what the hell he’d do when she vanished from his life, never to kneel for him again.
Forcing himself to focus, Damien refilled their goblets with sparkling water. “When you’re ready, there’s an outfit for you in the closet.”
She frowned. “Now?”
To keep her guessing, he’d left her something to wear every day for over a week.
“Or do you mean later this evening?”
“This moment, Catrina.”
That she didn’t argue further showed they were making progress.
With a curious nod, she slipped from her seat and walked away, her heels forcefully striking the hardwood floors.
Less than two minutes later, she returned, carrying a black, frothy dress with plenty of white lace around the hem of the skirt and the neckline. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
“Not at all,” he swore.
“But… This is a French maid’s outfit.”
“It is indeed.” Complete with a garter to go around her thigh.
Indignant, with one hand on her hip, she scowled at him. “You want me to wash the dishes wearing…” She raised a hand. “This?”
“I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more.” Except, maybe having her naked.
“But there’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing.”
“You’re right. In fact, it’s lovely.” He enjoyed seeing her in skirts and stilettos. “But this is my choice for tonight. And I suggest you put it on in the next two minutes unless you want to wear it all day, every day for the remainder of your time here.”
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to get at.”
“Service can be integral to a BDSM relationship, just as much as impact play. Some subs get off on the opportunity.”
“Others do not.”
“Agreed.” He nodded. “But it’s part of what you’re learning.”
She rolled her eyes, which was something he’d deal with later. “Change into the outfit, Catrina.”
“Be reasonable.”
“A reddened ass would go nicely with it, don’t you think?”
She glared.
But she didn’t use her safe word.
“You’re a beast, Damien.”
“Diabolical,” he agreed. “I’ll give you one minute.”
This time her shoes pounded an angry tattoo as she strode away.
With a grin that he was glad she couldn’t see, he sipped from his glass. This was going to be a hell of a show.
Five full minutes had passed by the time she returned.
With a soft, sultry walk, she headed toward him.
Instantly, his cock hardened.
Damn. She was worth every moment of the wait.
While she was gone, she’d fluffed her hair, tied the apron way too tight, and cinched the satin laces on the corsetlike top until her cleavage appeared to be twice its normal size.
In addition, she’d tied a black fabric collar around her throat.
What the hell…?
“Hello, Sir,” she purred. “How may I serve you?”
He rolled the globe of his glass between his palms.
This was clearly not one of his better ideas.
Her motions exaggerated, Catrina moved behind him. The hairs on his nape rose in response to the stir of her breath. Leaning forward, she nipped the tender flesh of his earlobe before instantly laving away the hurt.
If she kept this up, the kitchen would never get clean.
She brushed her breasts against his upper arm as she took away his plate.
Christ.
His cock throbbed painfully, and she’d barely started cleaning up the kitchen.
Then she lifted onto her toes and reached across him to pick up her dishes, exposing her bare bottom.
“Think carefully about what you’re doing, Milady,” he warned. She was supposed to be wearing the thong that he’d placed on a shelf next to the costume.
“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 so easily 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 finished that, 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. “An employer isn’t supposed to have his wicked way with the help.”
“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 clearly won this round.
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, holding him tight as she fucked him.
Wanting to drive her even madder, he pressed a finger against her anal whorl and slowly worked his way inside.
With a groan, she leaned forward, giving him greater access.
Apparently lost, she murmured his name over and over.
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 cautioned 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 dashing toward their suite.
It was then that he realized she’d left him with the remainder of the clean-up.
Yep.
He’d definitely proved who mastered who in this relationship.
* * * *
A couple of mornings later, two cups of coffee in hand, Catrina stopped in the doorway of the office space she shared with Damien. Intrigued, as always, 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 me?
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 of 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 took a drink that she’d added extra creamer to. With the number of calories she burned every day, she could afford the treat.
Through the open blinds, dappled sunlight filtered in. The screens behind him showed only the outdoor cameras, a blanket of snow on the trees and grounds. Steam rose from the hot tub, and a deer wandered just outside a fence.
Such a peaceful, wonderful place.
Not only did she love the setting, 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.
A couple of times, they’d taken their morning beverage onto the front patio, though she’d needed to wrap up in a blanket to stay warm.
Now, 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.
After ending his call, he strode over to her and set his cup on a coaster. Then he plucked hers from her hand to slide 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 stood barely inches from him.
Her pulse fluttering, she tipped back her head to look at him. “I don’t know what you’re thinking,” she said. “But I don’t think I’m going to like it.”
“Why not?”
“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.”
“You’re on to me.”
“Yep.”
“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.
“Pretty sure I don’t want to.”
“No?” He pulled her a little closer, until his cock pressed against her.
Her resolve wavered. “It will hurt.”
“Are you certain?”
The question piqued her interest, just as he’d intended. If she’d had any doubts before about Damien Lowell’s ability to own 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.
“Think about how much this is turning me on.”
Yes.She squeezed his cock as she surrendered, leaning 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 workday. What else did you expect?”
“You to finish what you started.” Certain he was teasing her, she continued to stroke him. “We only need a few minutes for both of us to be completely satisfied.”
Forcefully, he clamped 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.
“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.
Since she couldn’t settle and, needing a jolt of caffeine, she went downstairs to the main kitchen where extra sodas were stored. After digging around on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, she found her favorite diet flavor.
Moments later, Gregorio entered. “Milady.” 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.”
“Been there a while, I imagine. You probably brewed it this morning?”
“Maybe yesterday.” 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 this tar 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. Has this been a challenge for you? Confusing?”
“Yeah.” She paused. Even to herself, this didn’t make a lot of sense. “The time together has been instructive.”
“But?”
“I like Damien.” Trying not to fidget, she folded her hands around her aluminum can.
“And that’s a problem because…?”
“As you said, challenging. That’s a good word.”
“It’s a hell of a journey,” he agreed.
“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.”
“Is that what you want?”
Catrina stilled.
Is it?
She’d become a Domme after that handsome man had vowed to worship at her feet. She knew she wanted to make the experience wonderful for her boy, so she’d done her research and plenty of experimenting to make sure her subs were satisfied.
Before that, there’d never been a time when she’d dreamed of dominating anyone. In fact, she’d wanted to be protected and nurtured…then ended up with men who didn’t provide that.
Still, she enjoyed sceneing.
And mostly, she kept her heart safe, and that was the main thing.
Realizing Gregorio was quietly watching her, she shook her head to clear it. “That’s why I’m here.” Her words were a half answer. And maybe not completely truthful.
“What about the rest?”
She tried to remember where they’d been in the conversation…and now she was getting dangerously close to admitting things to him that she was trying to hide from herself. “Sitting with him on the couch.” She paused. “At night. The talking. Maybe watching 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 have convinced myself that I don’t want it.”
Very carefully, he asked, “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?” he challenged right back.
She tucked a stray lock hair behind her ear.
“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. Maybe you can work out a compromise.”
“How do two Dominants have a relationship?”
“Unless they have that conversation, they don’t.” He took a big drink from his cup. “Tastes like shit.”
“Dump it out.”
“It’s caffeine, and I had a long night.”
She tilted her head to one side, studying him, noting the bruises beneath his eyes and the lines etched next to him. She’d been so wrapped up in her own problems that she hadn’t noticed how exhausted he looked. “Doing what?”
“That, Milady, is none of your business.”
Rude.“I should give you a flogging for that.”
“Not on my fucking watch,” Damien said.
The arctic chill in his voice froze her.
“Something you’d like to tell me, Catrina?”