by Cherrie Lynn
Jesus, he was going to ruin her for anyone else. “So tell me,” he murmured, his lips venturing lower, down her neck as her head tilted to the side. “Tell me what you couldn’t reveal to anyone else. When you’re alone in your bed at night and you need to come, what goes through your head to get you there?”
Before you? she almost asked. Because lately, it was all him. He was her fantasy. But the one she’d relied on since college to get her off—either alone or enduring the clumsy fumbling of some of the guys she’d gone out with—swam through her thoughts.
“It’s not anything you could—”
“Tell me.”
“I can’t see,” she blurted, wondering how he had the strength to draw out of her things that no one else could. “I mean . . . it’s someone faceless. I can’t see him, I don’t know him, but he takes me, and I want it despite myself. So I don’t see how you could ever turn yourself into a stranger.”
He lifted his head, the simmering danger in his eyes making her heart leap. “I can turn myself into whatever you want me to be.”
She didn’t doubt it.
“And I knew it would be something like that,” he said.
“How?”
“I knew it from the moment you walked into my office for the first time.”
Emma waited for the outrage to come, that he was pondering such things at her freaking job interview, but everything seemed to be in ashes right now. “You’re just saying that.”
Damien stood up and stepped around her. Confused, she watched him walk across the room, magnificent ass on display, and retrieve a robe from his closet, swirling it around his shoulders. Then he brought another back for her. He helped her to her feet and swept it around her nakedness before he continued, holding her arms lightly. “I’ll be more specific, then, since you won’t. You’re tied down. Maybe you’re gagged, but you’re definitely blindfolded. Either that, or he’s hidden somehow, maybe behind a partition or a sheet. Maybe there are even more than one—you don’t know, because you can’t see them. Am I close?”
Closer than she wanted to admit. Her mouth had gone dry and her knees weak as he’d been speaking her mind as if he possessed a key to it, as if he’d been walking around it for most of her life. “If you think this is something I want to happen—”
“That’s the thing about fantasies. You can explore your desires and know you’re completely safe. If you want to play that out, Emma, I can give it to you.”
“What in the world are you into?” she asked, still struggling to find the strength to oppose him. But her skin was thrumming with excitement, and she wanted him. She wanted that.
“So, so many things,” he said with a wicked grin. “I wasn’t going to spring it on you, but the more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I think you would be interested. We can continue on as we have been, or I can take you to places you’ve never been. But I need to know, and you need to be completely upfront about what you want. There’s no room for denial in these waters. There’s no room here to feel ‘cheap’ or degraded either. And you’re something of an expert at all those things.”
She wasn’t totally naive like Liz thought; she knew exactly what he was suggesting, and maybe it wasn’t fair to get on his case about his pegging her from the moment she’d walked into his office, because she’d done the same thing to him. She just hadn’t realized it until now, when he’d lifted the cobwebs from her brain.
Damien Larson being a sexual dominant made more sense than anything else in the entire fucking world.
But she’d never met anyone from that world, and the sex she’d had with him was already kinkier than anything she’d ever done in her life.
“It’s a lot to think about,” she said. “I’ve never particularly thought of myself as submissive.”
“It isn’t a bad thing, Emma. It’s a beautiful thing. It takes a lot of strength and courage.”
“And you . . . see this in me?”
“From the first moment, like I said. Until just a few minutes ago when you crawled across the floor to me.”
Was he right? God, she loved it when he was in control. She could give herself into his hands, let herself go, and know he would see to her every hedonistic whim. He seemed to know what her body needed before she did.
“But you’re right, it is a lot to think about. Do you have questions?”
So many that she couldn’t grasp on just one for a long moment. “I don’t really know where to start. Obviously this isn’t something you need, right?”
“If you’re asking if I’m 24/7 or a master, I’m not. Do I need this to get off? No, obviously. But never doubt that it’s a need.”
“What exactly are you into?” That was important. “I’m not sure I’d like being tied up and whipped.”
“Tied up, or whipped, or both?”
“Tied up . . . yes. I think I might like it. Whipped . . . no.”
“But you like to be spanked.”
She grinned at the way it wasn’t a question. “Yes. I like that.” And no wonder the smacks he’d given her had been so perfectly delivered, the sting on the surface of her skin rippling out into echoes of pleasure deep inside. He’d had lots of practice.
“That’s good. Because I like to spank you. And I’d love to tie you up.”
“What else?”
“Sensation play. And with you . . .” He trailed his finger down the V of her robe, just barely brushing her flesh. “Your skin is so fucking responsive. I love to watch it light up.”
She whimpered involuntarily, trying to hold on to her train of thought. In his office that day, he’d said he wouldn’t hurt her unless she gave him permission to. So far he’d held to that. “If I let you do everything you wanted to me, what would you do?”
“That doesn’t play into it,” he said. “You have hard limits. I wouldn’t push beyond them. If there are things you’re on the fence about, though, I might push you on those.”
“But if one of my limits is something you love to do . . . ?”
“Every bit of this is about you, Emma. You have the power over everything I do.”
“I would have a safe word?”
“I would insist on it.”
One nagging thought in the back of her mind buzzed like an annoying mosquito, and she knew at some point it would have to be addressed because it was driving her crazy. She didn’t want to bring it forth and give it life. But there was no other way. “Do you . . . I mean, are there places you go? Women you do this with?”
“I frequent one very exclusive dungeon. Yes.”
Emma was surprised he hadn’t incorporated something like this into his club. Maybe there was a basement she didn’t know about. “Lately?”
“Not since you’ve been here,” he said, as if the idea were preposterous. It made her feel a little better, but then she was angry at herself for the jealously pangs that had forced the question out to start with. Normally she wasn’t given to those emotions, but thinking of him doing these things with other women made her stomach clench.
“You said you don’t like to share,” she pointed out. “So that isn’t something you’d want me to do, right? You wouldn’t really bring another guy in?”
“I have no problem with someone I casually scene with having other partners. But when you’re mine, you’re mine, and no one else touches you. If it was something you wanted, we could discuss it and maybe reach a compromise. I would always want you to be open with me, even if you thought it would piss me off.”
The way he said mine made her tremble. Whether it was the dark ring of steel in his voice or the thought of being his, she couldn’t say, but she knew she only wanted him. “Honestly, I can’t see that ever being a problem.”
“Good. What else?”
“I don’t know right now. Can I come to you if I have any more questions?”
“Of course. Any time.”
“It’s exciting,” she admitted, wondering if she really had the strength and courage he’d claimed she did. “
But it’s scary.”
“It can be. But that’s part of the thrill of it.”
And it seemed so dangerous. Not physically, but emotionally. She could imagine becoming so tightly bound and dependent on him that she would lose herself, and that couldn’t happen. She would have to trust him to know what to do to bring her back from the edge of madness—she only hoped he would have the ability at that point before she was too far gone.
It would take her time to process it all. She had so many things to consider, so much to risk. Her words to Liz came back to her: Who followed him up? Who would pick up the pieces when their time was over? Who would replace the man who’d made all her darkest fantasies come true?
“When you’re in a relationship,” she ventured, “is this make-or-break? Is this something you require in a partner?”
His answer was swift and sure. “Yes. Why?”
“Just curious.” It had been something he’d planned to keep from her until he’d picked up on her cues. Her heart gave a hard, painful beat at the thought. But they were here now, in this strange midnight place that felt like a dream. For the first time, she felt as if he was truly letting her into his world.
He didn’t touch her for the rest of the night, except to pull her close after they crawled into bed, both silent and contemplative as she went over in her head everything she’d learned tonight. Just as sleep began to tease at the edges of her consciousness, she had a thought and tilted her head to look at him. “Damien? What happened to the doll?”
His chest rose and fell twice under her before he met her eyes. “I broke it.”
Chapter Sixteen
“You know, I suspected this all along. I just wondered if he was ever going to tell you,” Liz said as she and Emma browsed the shoes at Nordstrom. Emma had debated whether to even share Damien’s sexual proclivities with her best friend, but she needed to talk it through with someone. Living in her own head for the past three days since he’d revealed his dark desires for her had done nothing but confuse her more.
“I think I did, too, deep down. It’s almost like I know what to do to bring it out in him.”
“You’re a natural, eh?”
“He seems to think so. But then I hear you in my head, telling me to run run run.”
“I don’t know, Em. I personally think you’re making a mistake, but, I mean, I could be wrong. Because I’m a dumbass sometimes. Hell, look at my rocking love life. Why would you listen to me, anyway?” Sarcasm dripped from the words. “Could be the time of your life. Could be major heartbreak waiting to happen. No way to know.” She shrugged.
“You’re not helping.”
“I don’t think I can help you here.”
“Have you ever done anything like that before?”
Liz lowered her voice and stepped closer. “I’ve played at being tied up and spanked and stuff like that. Nothing hard core. But it sounds like he’s in the lifestyle.”
“He said he’s not 24/7 or a master. But he also said he needs this in a relationship.”
“Well, there you go, Emma. It something he needs. If it’s something you don’t like, then you two are not compatible, and you can stop pining over him. I know you are. Because I know you.”
Emma avoided Liz’s bait. “It’s not that simple. I can’t turn my emotions on and off at the flip of a switch like he can.”
“My legit advice is to try it once. It isn’t a lifelong commitment. Let him do his thing and see how you like it. Lay your ground rules. Test him and safe out. If he doesn’t stop when you do that, then you’ll know to run full speed, because he’s not a good guy or a good dom. And promise me you will if that should happen.”
“I will,” Emma said softly. She wasn’t sure what scared her more. Uncovering some new, dark corner of her soul that she had no idea lurked within her, or finding something about him she didn’t want to know. There would be nothing to save her from herself.
“Have you talked to your parents?” Liz asked.
Emma shook her head. That was only something else she didn’t want to deal with. Resentment had settled in the pit of her stomach, twisting it in knots whenever she thought about the people she was doing this for, and she wasn’t sure she would ever look at them the same way, either. Damien Larson had absolutely turned her life upside down, and she’d let him. She’d agreed to it. “No. I know I should.”
“You’re dealing with a lot. I’m not sure how you’re holding up.”
“Sometimes I think I’m about to lose my fucking mind.”
“Well, you’re certainly entitled.”
They had huge slices of cheesecake at The Cheesecake Factory—mango key lime for Emma and salted caramel for Liz, the pieces so big they had to get to-go bags. Emma hadn’t been able to eat much in the past few days anyway. She lived in a state of mass turmoil. Something deep inside of her whispered that the only way to get rid of it was to let Damien in. The way he could settle her with a touch, a look, a light squeeze . . . the only time she felt like she knew where she stood was when he was inside her. It was when their bodies weren’t combined that she was in a haze of confusion. She was in for a rough few days, because her period had come yesterday, and her cramps were always awful, and there was no damn way she was letting any man near her, even him.
She and Liz had met at the Galleria, so they parted ways at the Saks Fifth Avenue entrance. Emma had opted for valet parking, feeling a little spoiled rotten but liking it as she tipped the valet and settled into the opulence of the Bentley. God, it was going to be so hard to go back from this, but she had to keep remembering that almost half of her and Damien’s time together was already over. If she ever wanted to seize an opportunity to push her limits, the time was now.
She’d spent three nights in his bed, which meant three mornings waking up with his arms encircling her, the warmth of his naked body pressed against her back. The danger she’d put herself into had become staggeringly clear, and maybe he was right; maybe she should have maintained her separate space, because his body had become an addiction. The more she got, the more she wanted. If she gave him any more of herself, there wouldn’t be anything left.
He’d planted this seed, and it had sprouted, begging him to water it. She feared once it grew it would tear her apart.
Clouds hung low over the city as she steered out of the parking garage. Damien was at the club, and even though he’d left the house only a couple of hours ago, she ached to see him. Maybe fulfill a few fantasies that took place on that massive desk of his. But it would arouse too much suspicion to go there, especially driving his car.
She was lost in one of those fantasies as she crossed an intersection and was broadsided in a scream of metal and rubber and shattering glass.
Pain exploded in her head with the force of a hammer and the world went momentarily dark. Her ears rang, everything was ringing, but she was numb, she couldn’t feel anything . . . I’m not hurt, I’m okay, I’m okay . . .
The world spun and her focus began to return. She was okay, but the passenger side of Damien’s Bentley was smashed, the windshield shattered in front of her. The impact that had damn near knocked her loopy had been the airbag deploying.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, stunned and shaking violently, silent tears leaking down her face. Paralyzed. She’d wrecked his car. Her biggest fear, her worst nightmare, and she’d done it. He was going to kill her. Oh God, this couldn’t be happening.
People were running all over the place. A man came to her door yelling, wanting to know if she was all right. Emma managed a small nod and reached for the door handle, but it wouldn’t open, and somehow that was the worst thing of all because she was trapped and the entire world stank of gasoline and the car could catch on fire and Oh God get me out get me out—
Panic overtook the next ten minutes of her life. By the time the police and EMTs and firefighters showed up to extract her, she was sobbing hysterically. Questions were shouted at her, if she had any pain, if she’d hit her hea
d, if she was alone, and she shook her head for all, even though she’d meant to say yes, she was alone. Her brain had yet to come back online. They wanted to check her out in the ambulance. Was this her car? A teenage girl had run a stoplight and hit her. She managed to ask if the girl was okay; yes, they were checking her out now in the other ambulance. A soaking rain began to fall.
The handsome paramedic helped her up into the back of the ambulance and she lay on the gurney, shuddering and crying while he checked her blood pressure, his hands efficient and gentle. It was through the roof, but that was no surprise. Her heart still galloped in her chest, but it was there, it was beating.
“That’s my boss’s car,” she said dazedly. And my illicit lover and potential dom and the man who is absolutely going to have my ass when I get home. The paramedic looked at her sympathetically.
“Oh, man. It doesn’t look like it was your fault.”
It was though, in a way. If she’d stayed at home, if she hadn’t taken Liz up on her shopping invitation, if she’d lounged around and watched Netflix like she’d planned to do when she got up that morning, then Damien’s beautiful car wouldn’t be sitting ruined in the middle of the street and . . .
“Emma.”
The voice tore through everything else, and she lifted her head, a fresh wave of tears bursting forth as she saw him standing under an umbrella at the back of the ambulance, dangerous in black, his face tense, pale, and carved from stone. But his eyes were soft and unguarded, not hard or angry or glaring. They seemed to fill her entire universe.
“Can I go now?” she asked the paramedic, needing to be in Damien’s arms more than anything else in the entire world. No hospital could do her as much good.
“Are you sure you feel up to it?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t look too happy about it, but gave her strict instructions on what to do if she started having any funky symptoms. Damien reached for her as she wobbled her way to the back, absorbing her full weight as he lowered her to the ground, then pulled her gently against him.
