by Skylar Kade
Her aching feet thanked him. She wasn’t used to wearing stilettos and she hadn’t anticipated being out so long tonight. She’d planned on a business dinner before heading home to her most comfortable pajamas. Instead, she was at an anonymous hotel, with her new lover, while he nibbled up the back of her shaking legs.
Each nip zinged along her nerves, rushing blood to her clit until it swelled. When Damien reached the above-knee hem of her dress, he rucked it up to make way for his questing mouth. “You are so soft,” he said.
When her skirt lifted high enough to expose her wet pussy, Damien groaned and pushed her legs apart before licking at her inner thigh. He ran a finger along her slit. “So fucking wet. Is this all for me?”
“Yes, Sir,” she sighed, hoping he wouldn’t tease her all night.
He spun her around and pulled her against his body. “Damien. Say my name.”
She couldn’t deny that voice. “Damien.” The whispered name seemed to break something within him. He shoved a thigh between her legs and settled her against him, then arched her backwards to consume her with a kiss. “Tonight,” he panted between kisses, “it’s Damien and Camille.”
Shivers danced along her spine. His fingers tangled in her hair and she moaned into his mouth, needing him just like this. No games, no play, just mind-blowing passion. She needed to forget, and he was providing that.
She shouldn’t want more. And if a small, greedy part of her did? She’d deal with it tomorrow.
Once her mouth was swollen from his lips and she was on the verge of orgasm, he tugged her to the couch, settling her on it while he draped his jacket over a nearby chair. With aggressive movements, he wrenched the cufflinks from his shirt, yanked his tie loose enough to pull over his head and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the naked body she’d dreamed of for almost a week. In the evening light, his skin glowed, the dark hairs peppering his chest and arrowing down, more than enough invitation for her. Tonight, she didn’t need to obey.
Cam dropped to her knees in front of him and pulled at his belt until it came free of the loops. “God, Camille,” he groaned when she cupped his erection through his fine gray slacks. He jerked his hips, pressing harder against her palm. The heat of his flesh seared her until she let go, desperate to unzip him and feel him without barriers.
Damien helped, shoving off his pants and dark-blue boxer briefs to free his erection. She grabbed him around the base and licked along one side, then the other, avoiding the sensitive head.
“Tease,” he groaned before wending his fingers through her hair.
His thigh muscles bunched under her hands, the crisp hair grazing her hands. He overwhelmed her senses, the clean taste of his skin mingling with the musky, masculine scent of his cock. She leaned back, loving Damien’s hands tugging her hair to entice her forward. Looking upward, her heart leaped. Damien’s hair, mussed from its earlier perfect style, framed his eyes. He stared at her with unnerving intensity, as if he could control her through sheer force of will. It wasn’t too far from the truth—when he looked at her like that, she ached to obey his every command.
But, for a little while, she’d hold back. Instead of obeying that silent order, her eyes skimmed down his body, lingering on the taut brown nipples that stood out from his chest, then down his muscular stomach. He was lean, strong, but without the overdone, bulging muscles of a man compensating for some perceived shortcoming. The light-brown hair caging his cock and balls had been trimmed down. She ran her fingers through the shorter hairs, luxuriating in the aching groan she elicited from Damien.
Convinced he was as eager for her as she was for him, she tongued the tip of his erection, tasting the drop of precome that had collected there. Salty and sweet, like the taffy she got on her lone trip to the Jersey shore as a child. She sucked him deeper into her mouth. His rumbled “Cam!” shot straight to her pussy. She wanted him inside her, but not as much as she wanted to make this big, strong man come apart beneath her hands.
Damien clawed at her hair and the sharp tugs only inflamed her lust. With one hand, she stroked his length up and down, following the path of her mouth. With the other, she reached between his legs, pulling at his high, tight balls. He cursed and thrust his cock deeper into her mouth until he hit the back of her throat, making her moan. He did it again and again, fucking her mouth while she watched the utter abandon on his face.
Power rose within her, knowing that her body brought him such pleasure.
With a gasp, he let her go and stumbled back a step. “Not like that. Not tonight.” One of his hands ringed the base of his thick cock, the tip looking purple and angry. She wanted him to finish in her mouth, begged with her eyes, but he shook his head and pulled her up from the floor instead. While she stood there, clad only in moonlight and fighting the urge to cover herself, he sidestepped to the couch and sat in the middle. “Come here.”
Two steps brought her to his side, where he grabbed her leg and pulled her off-balance until she fell against him, straddling his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck while Damien pulled her tight against his erection. She undulated against his hard length, but he wouldn’t let her move enough to take him inside her. A whimper formed on her lips, but Damien’s kiss stole it, along with her sanity. Deep, cocaine kisses had her nails scoring down his chest, fighting against the hands that held her thighs in place, biting at his lips and tongue until he bent her back to feast on her nipples instead.
Hands supporting her back, Damien lifted her breasts to his mouth, licking at one nipple until it beaded painfully, then switching to the other. The cold bite of air on her wet skin made her body shake in his arms. She rubbed her clit against his erection, racing toward orgasm. “Please, Damien,” she begged when he bit down on the full flesh of her breast. As the bruise formed under his teeth, she raked her hands through his hair in a silent plea to stop the torture.
He released her flesh, leaving a perfect bite mark on her pale body. “Mine.” His ragged voice cut at her with its unfettered possession, calling to something equally needy and demanding in her. She yanked back his head and lost herself in his kiss.
So focused on the feel of his tongue sliding along hers, Cam barely registered the crinkling condom wrapper or Damien’s hands at her ass until he lifted her up, then filled her with his cock in one long thrust. She cursed and bit his lip as his erection stretched her sensitive tissues. He guided her up and down his length with fingers biting into her ass until she established a rhythm. As she fucked him, his thumb brushed against her clit, making her pussy clench around him. He groaned and bit down on her shoulder, marking her again. She needed him deeper, faster.
As if she’d begged aloud, Damien clamped down on her hips when he rose up, holding her in place. “Don’t fucking move.”
The effort to freeze made her whole body quiver. Her cunt squeezed the tip of his cock, still inside her. Her clit throbbed with her racing heart. Then, like an unleashed gladiator, Damien lunged upward, filling her until he bumped against her cervix in impossible pleasure-pain. Cam clung to him, her head dropping forward to rest against his shoulder while she held on and let him possess her body. He slammed her down onto his rising dick, the edge of pain launching her into orgasm. She cried out, squeezing as he shoved into her once, twice, then came inside her with a hot, searing shudder.
Once they’d caught their breath, Damien cleaned them both up and ran a hot bath, surprising her when he slipped into the deep tub behind her. With incredible tenderness, he washed her hair and soaped her body, paying special attention to the swollen lips of her pussy. One long finger worked inside her while his thumb stroked her clit.
He brought her to a soft, rolling orgasm that left her boneless and exhausted well into the middle of the night.
Chapter Eleven
Damien woke long before his alarm clock. The city was silent outside his bedroom window and a quick glance at his phone showed him it was only four in the morning. His roaming eyes landed on Camille, knees curled up under her chi
n, sitting in the corner of his room as she watched him.
“You’re up early,” he said, his voice sleep roughened. He didn’t know what she was doing, but her wide eyes told him something had spooked her. He was going to tread lightly.
“I had a nightmare.” She’d slipped into the athletic shirt he’d laid out for his morning run. It dwarfed her shoulders and, in her current position, did little to hide her body from him. Pale legs, white in the moonlight, stood in stark contrast to the maroon of his alumni colors.
While he wanted her to crawl back into bed and let him wrap her up in his arms, she looked frozen in place. So he accommodated, slipping from the covers and grabbing the second blanket that lay across the foot of the bed. He approached her slowly, watching for any signs of trigger or alarm. Instead, her eyes squeezed shut, forcing a tear down her cheek.
Camille was locked up so tight. He couldn’t bear to see her sad. All those possessive instincts that had roared to life last night when someone had invaded her apartment, and again when Officer Davis had touched her, left him no choice—her happiness was of utmost importance. He would accept that conclusion for now and dive into the logic behind it later. Right now, she needed him. Not a Dominant, or a sugar daddy, but him.
He tossed the blanket around his shoulders then sat next to her. When she didn’t run or tense up, he gently lifted her onto his lap, wrapping her up in the soft fleece. Her skin chilled him and he rubbed up and down her limbs until they warmed. Only then did he speak. “What happened in your nightmare?”
Only her harsh breathing disrupted the calm around them. “I don’t really remember.”
That was a lie, but they’d get back to that. She was going to be revealing a lot of secrets, if he had his way. And since they were both going to take the day off—there was no way she was going into work if she’d been threatened there as well—they had endless time. If being a Dominant had honed one skill, it was patience. Instead of pushing the issue, he took a different tack. “Why are you in the corner?”
“I didn’t want anyone sneaking up on me.” Camille wrapped her arms tight around her knees, as if making herself a smaller target.
Well, that was telling. He rubbed circles along her back until she unclenched, then he rested her head against his chest and held her tight. “Tell me about your week.”
She jerked. “Non sequitur much?” He remained silent until she sighed, then spoke. “It was rough. Nothing bad in particular, just tense. My boss, Ian, was helpful. Even offered to let me stay with him, though I turned him down.” Damien beat down his flash of jealousy at the affection in her voice when she spoke of another man. “It’s been all hotels for me this week.”
He focused on her issue instead of his own. “Why hotels?”
She groaned. “I didn’t want to talk about this, I swear.”
“Sweetheart, any good BDSM relationship, even something casual—” his chest tightened at that label, “—relies on complete trust. I’ll make a deal with you. For every question you answer, you can ask me one. Complete honesty.”
From the corner of her eye, she measured him, lips pursed so invitingly that he almost forgot his mission. At last, she agreed. “You’ve probably read Memoirs of a Dominatrix. Have you been watching the news recently?” He nodded. “Well, I’m the literary agent for Indigo Baumgardner.”
His blood iced as he recalled his gut reaction to hearing that story. She must have felt his tension because she began to pull away from him. “See? This is why I didn’t want to say anything. Everyone assumes I knew something, that I helped her steal the story or covered for her.” She fought against him and the part of him that hated his ex-sister-in-law wanted to let her go. But despite their limited time together, he knew this woman.
“Stop it now, Camille Verona.” Damien let his voice lash over her. She stilled, shooting him her best glare. His voice softened. “I believe you.”
She collapsed against him and nuzzled into his neck. He felt her tears trail down his chest. “Whoever’s threatening me doesn’t agree. I got an email at work the day after the story broke, then dead flowers and another note outside my apartment door, calling me a lying bitch.”
He winced, feeling guilty for his own assumptions about her. “Is that when Ian—” he gritted his teeth at the thought, “—invited you to stay with him?”
Her hand stroked along his jaw until he unclenched. “Yes. My turn now,” she said, clearly wanting to move on from her own issues. “When did you book this hotel room? Did you think I was such a sure thing that I’d spend the night with you?” Her halting words belied her self-doubt.
Did she think so little of him? He reigned in his disappointment, then reviewed the evening from her perspective. “Ah, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He held her closer. “This is my temporary home.”
Her head popped up, confusion in her eyes. “You don’t have a family off in the valley somewhere, do you? Or an estranged wife waiting for you to sign divorce papers?”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her assumptions, as off base as they were. Before she could get more worked up, he kissed her forehead and stroked his thumb across her mouth. “I just moved to Los Angeles. This is where I’m living for now.”
“Oh. Well that makes more sense.” Her wry smile set them back on even footing. “With my runaway imagination, I should be the one writing fiction.”
She looked around and he wasn’t sure what he wanted her to think of the place. He didn’t exactly have a lot of his own things there.
He charged ahead before she could say anything about the room. “It’s not really my style. A little cold, but my partner, Evan, booked it for two weeks. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have stayed. My home here is pretty much ready for me to move in, though there’s still no hot water.”
Camille threw a considering look around the room. “What would you change?”
“There’s no color. Stark black and white, sure, but I’d like to see something with blues, maybe a little green. Beachy.” He gestured around the room. “Less metal, more wood. My house in Marina del Rey was renovated to blend more with the beach scene. It was too modern.”
“That was…far more detailed than I was expecting.” She cracked a smile—a great improvement over her post-nightmare terror.
He shrugged, shifting her body against his. Her ass rubbed against his insistent cock and he swallowed before answering. “I’m an architect. I think about this stuff too much.”
“Really? Is that what brought you to LA?”
How much should he tell her? She didn’t seem money hungry like Natali, but he hadn’t seen that in his ex until it was too late. Given the amount he’d already opened up to Camille, he decided to play this one close to the chest.
“Yes, a new job out here.” Enough on that topic. He turned the questions on her again. “Ready to talk about your nightmare?”
She cocked her head, considering him, then quirked her mouth into a smile. “Yes. Why did you need a last-minute submissive at Maison Domine?”
The switch of topics made his head spin. “Excuse me?”
This time, Cam’s eyes danced with merriment. “Well, I answered your question. Now you owe me one!”
Crafty little sub. And even though he’d answered a string of her questions about his hotel room and home, he had to grin at her witty banter. Since when did that turn him on? There was no denying the twitch and fill of his erection pressing into her hip. He’d answer her question, but he’d make her pay for it.
Before she could figure out what he had planned, he’d lifted her out of his arms and onto her back, spreading her legs with his hips. He pinned her wrists to the soft, white carpet above her head and ground into her. “Feel what you do to me?” He nuzzled her neck, waited until she gasped and sighed into his ear before pulling back and answering, “My local demo partner got sick.”
Pupils blown, Camille licked her lips, started to speak, then paused. Good—he had her off-balance. Her slow swallow, the flexing of her
throat, gave him all kinds of ideas. “You found a sub out here awfully quick. I guess that makes sense, considering you found a replacement just as fast.” Some of the arousal leached from her eyes and her soft lips pressed into a tight line.
To make sure he had her full attention, he locked both wrists down with one hand and used the other to grab her jaw. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. Lara, the sub I was going to work with, is married to a friend of mine, another Dom. He was letting me work with her on a short-term basis.”
Camille’s soft exhale fanned across the back of his hand. How could that one little gesture make him ache to be inside her? He didn’t understand it, but he couldn’t fight it either. “My turn, and this is going to be it, sweetheart. After you answer my question and I answer yours, I’m going to rip those flimsy little panties off you and do sinful things to your body.”
A shudder ran through said body, jerking her core against him for a bare moment. He could feel the heat of her arousal searing through her panties and his boxers. He ached to forget about the questions and just take her, but he still needed to know one thing. “Why did you never hit subspace before?”
Her eyes squeezed shut and her hands fisted beneath his grip. “No fucking clue. I couldn’t let go? My ex was inexperienced? We never played? Take your pick. Maybe you and I just have really good chemistry.” She peeked at him through her lowered lashes. “But if that’s what the other subs mean when they talk about subspace, I don’t think I can get enough.” Her low voice wrapped around his cock and painted all too vivid pictures of the ways he could make her fly.
Though part of him—a foreign, unfamiliar part—relished the idea of staying up all night talking, his body clamored for hers now. He hoped there would be other nights to simply talk, though he couldn’t imagine a scenario where being around her wouldn’t turn him on to the point of distraction.
