by Skylar Kade
Shit. He was in deep but he’d be damned if he could find the motivation to backpedal at this point. He’d just have to tread lightly and keep things as professional as possible at the club. Maybe tattoo Not Your Submissive on his cock as a reminder every time he fucked her. Camille was a great demo partner, hot in bed, but he didn’t want anything more.
Right?
Her question thankfully interrupted his trip down that murky river. She fixated on a point over his shoulder. “Did I do something wrong on Saturday? Is that why you left?”
The words hit him hard. Needing to erase her doubts, he flipped them over so she straddled him, then tugged her chin down so she stared into his eyes and couldn’t look away. “No. Fucking. Way.” A shuddering sigh left her body. “If I’d been displeased, I wouldn’t have left a note.” He didn’t know why it was so important to make her understand, but she’d been through enough the past two weeks. She didn’t need him adding to her insecurities. “You were perfect, sweetheart. So perfect I’m working with you again this weekend, right?” She nodded. “So perfect I couldn’t get enough of your sweet body.” He thrust up against her and she gasped before trying to look away.
“No.” He tightened his grip on her face. “Pay attention to me. Listen to my words.” His intensity pinned her in place and shook him to the core. “My brother needed me, and that’s the only thing that could have tempted me away from you Saturday.” The truth in his words rang through the room, vibrating through him and Camille like a tuning fork.
Enough. He leaned up and captured her lips, binding her to him with his kiss. With eager hands he shoved down his boxers, grappled with the bedside-table drawer until he retrieved a condom and sheathed himself. With two tugs, he ruined another pair of her panties and thrust inside her. They moaned in unison and he lost himself in her body. Her hips bucked against him and he let her ride him, watching her tits bounce up and down behind his shirt. When he reached for the shirt, she rose above him, leaning back to take him deeper. He stripped the shirt from her as she moved, gritting his teeth when she was finally bared to him.
Perfect. Her soft, curvy body rode him with all the fury of an avenging goddess, intent on her own pleasure as much as his. He took one of her hands from where they were braced on his chest and moved it to the juncture of her thighs. “Touch yourself, sweetheart. Make yourself come hard around my cock.”
He leaned back to watch, the sight alone made his balls tighten up. She threatened his control, but the sacrifice was worth it. Camille writhed over him, one hand rubbing her clit and the other toying with her nipple. Her unselfconscious pleasure told him more about what kind of woman she was than almost anything else. No artifice, no lies, just wild abandon. A rare woman indeed.
When he felt the first clenching of her pussy, he took over, grasping her hips and driving up into her until the full force of her orgasm broke. Like a hot, wet mouth, her body sucked at his dick and he came, marking her. His.
Maybe in the light of day, he’d worry. Right now, he couldn’t feel anything beyond a deep, primal satisfaction.
Chapter Twelve
Their day started late, but all Cam wanted was to stay in bed with him. She’d called in sick to work, let guilt torture her, then let Damien torture her for a distraction. His version of it, though, was far more pleasurable. With his fingers and tongue and cock he’d kept her on the edge of orgasm until she was begging him to fuck her, to tongue her harder, to do anything to push her over the edge. Only when he’d wrung every ounce of pleasure out of her did he let her go, thrusting himself inside her sensitive sheath while she came around him.
They’d cleaned up, then Damien had insisted they go back to bed. She would have put money on not being able to fall back asleep, but Damien pulled her against him, one arm under her neck and the other thrown across her side, his hand resting possessively against her breast. He promptly fell asleep and she followed, lulled by his warm, protective body and his deep, even breaths. No more nightmares, either.
Late in the morning, Camille found herself at a local diner, sitting across from the gorgeous man who had gone above and beyond the call of a Top. That hadn’t seemed like the right categorization Saturday night, even less so now. But he wasn’t her Dom. Not really.
Fuck buddies? Maybe until they’d had their little heart-to-heart last night—but they were way beyond that now. She’d known Dominants were in tune with emotions, had been told by other subs that their men had some freaky sixth sense and always managed to pull answers from them, but she’d never experienced it with Shawn.
And in light of what she’d experienced with Damien, that was no longer negotiable for her—she needed that synchronicity. She did not feel bad for letting her relationship with Shawn peter out. They each deserved someone better suited to their desires. She needed…well, not Damien, but someone like him. They’d agreed to a professional partnership and, hot sex notwithstanding, she wasn’t ready for anything more.
Damien ordered breakfast for both of them, ready the moment the perky blonde waitress stopped by their table. She would have protested, but his take-charge attitude always turned her on. It was what she’d craved since discovering the BDSM scene a few years earlier. Though they didn’t talk much, just Damien outlining his plan for their day—cueing another shiver of arousal in her—the lack of conversation never weighed on her. Comfortable silence was a new, shiny social interaction.
Once their food arrived, Damien shifted it to the middle of the table and set in front of her the empty plate he’d requested along with the order. “Take whatever you’d like, Camille.”
Really? He’d ordered two breakfast platters with a variety of items. She loaded up on an egg-white Florentine omelet, wheat toast and bacon. After grabbing a spoonful of home-style potatoes and a few pieces of fruit, her plate was full. Perfect. Damien grinned at her. “Hungry?”
Cam rolled her eyes. “After last night’s aerobics? Understatement of the year.”
His silverware clinked on the table and the noise of the diner receded into the background. His fingers locked around her wrist, halting her fork on the way to her mouth and tugging it back down to her plate. What the hell?
In his most pleasant, scary voice, Damien said, “Did you roll your eyes at me, sweetheart?”
She dropped the fork and it clattered to her plate, dislodging the strawberry she’d stabbed on it. “Fuck.”
His smile promised wicked retribution. “I think you forgot yourself last night. Will you need a punishment before we leave for San Diego?”
A hot rush of anticipation ran through her, washing away her trepidation. His punishments had been delicious, everything she’d ever craved and more. “Okay, Sir,” she whispered, willing him to understand what she was offering.
His fingers tightened around her and his nostrils flared. Could he smell her arousal? “Do you know what you’re saying, sweetheart?”
She could almost see the wicked gears in his head turning. She wanted to run and hide, and pray he chased her down. “Yes, Sir.”
Like a snapping rubber band, he let her go and the tension disappeared. “Eat, then.”
Had she misstepped again? She rubbed her chest, trying to ease the bubbling anxiety there. Her appetite disintegrated, but she took a bite of toast anyway, not wanting any questions from Damien. It tasted like ash on her tongue.
Cam continued to work through her food, anything to avoid looking across the table. She managed to eat the bacon and fruit, but the eggs were too much. She focused on the other diners instead—mothers alone with their children or older couples together. Everyone seemed to be in such a rush, eating and going up to pay. Even outside, the pedestrians raced by as if trying to keep pace with the cars zooming down the street.
Cam had always loved the frenetic pace of her city, but she seemed to be moving in slow motion today. The rest of the world was giving her motion sickness.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of familiar white-blond hair outside the
window. She turned, but only saw random pedestrians. Maybe she’d been thinking too much about Shawn. She snuck a glance at Damien, caught him watching her with that level stare that lasered to her innermost secrets, then risked another gaze out the window.
A familiar silhouette came into view by the door to the diner. Her stomach sank. It was Shawn. He paced back and forth for a moment, then set his shoulders back and pushed open the door.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Camille, what’s wrong?”
Cam shook her head, unable to voice her concerns when Shawn marched over to them. She recognized that stubborn look on his face. This was going to devolve into an ugly scene—and fast. “I’ll be right back,” she said and stood. She paused beside Damien, begging him with her eyes. “Please wait here.”
Whether or not he’d listen, she didn’t know, so she’d have to talk fast. Snagging her arm through Shawn’s, she turned him around and marched him out the door and around the corner. “What are you doing here?”
He slumped against the outside wall of the diner. “I saw you inside with that man.” He spit the words like venom. “I knew you would cheat on me as soon as my back was turned.”
Her knees throbbed with the threat of punishment and then she remembered who she was talking to. “He’s just…a friend.” Again, not the right designation, but Shawn didn’t need to know that. And as long as she got rid of him before Damien grew impatient, he’d never have to find out.
“Bullshit!” His face twisted into an angry mask. “You’re a lying bitch.”
Cam reared back, his words cutting deeper than the slap he’d laid on her face right before their breakup.
Unlike that night, now she got angry. She shook her finger in his direction. “You arrogant asshole!” He tried to interrupt, but she flapped her hand in his face until he went wide-eyed and silent. “Let me count the ways, hmm? First, you left me. I may have spurred you to that decision, but you made it. Second, you have no idea what you’re talking about. Third, I’m done with you. I don’t know why you’re here and I don’t care. But we. Are. Over!”
She turned to go, her heart fracturing with long-gone dreams all over again, when one of his cold hands latched around her arm and yanked her back. “We’re not over until I say we’re over.”
Before she could protest or remind him—again—that he’d already done that, he’d dragged her farther down the street and behind the restaurant. No pedestrians, no kitchen staff, just the occasional car driving down the side road. Despite the brightness of the day, Shawn loomed over her, shoving her against the rough brick wall.
Okay, maybe she shouldn’t have copped an attitude. He was used to his compliant little submissive, always getting twisted up when she showed any rebellion, even unintentionally. Near the end of their relationship he’d developed a bad habit of imagining slights, blaming her out of the blue or blowing things out of proportion.
But today, instead of sending her to do some inane chore, he got in her face. “See, lying again. You dumb cunt, you think I wouldn’t find out? You’re not done with me.” He licked across her lips and rubbed his erection against her.
Bile crawled up her throat. This was not the man she’d dated, thought she loved. “Shawn, please let me go.” Cam used her most calm voice, the one that soothed nervous authors and deadline-tight editors.
When he laughed, she knew she was in trouble. “Who do you think you are, slut?” His hand wormed under her blouse and thumbed her nipple. It hardened under his fingers and she blushed with shame. “See, your body knows.” He bit her earlobe, making her wince, then hissed, “Did your body come for him? Did you show him what a filthy whore you are?”
She had to get him to let her go. Despite his thin frame, Shawn hid enough muscle that she’d never be able to fight her way free. She’d only seen him this angry once and the switch that had looked at her funny at Maison Domine—their first and last visit—had walked away with two black eyes. On their way down the mountain after Shawn was banned from the club, he’d blamed the episode on a rough day at work. It should have been a red flag, but at the time she’d brushed it aside for the sake of their relationship.
Stupid. And now it was going to cost her, unless she worked fast. “Please, Master, I’m sorry,” she said in her most submissive, meek voice. Swallowing down her churning stomach, she shut her eyes and forced herself to reach for his erection. “You know I can’t come for any other man.”
He twisted her nipple cruelly and she cried out. “That’s my girl.” He reached for his zipper and pulled himself out, forgetting or not caring that they were in broad daylight.
What had happened to him? Had their breakup pushed him to these new depths of anger?
“Suck my cock.” He shoved Cam to her knees, then smacked her on the cheek with his semihard erection. Fear and guilt fused together into one awful mass. Tears sprang to her eyes. He braced his hands on the brick wall behind her and thrust in her direction.
Then she realized the vulnerable position he’d left himself in. With one hand, she steadied herself on his thigh and with the other she grabbed for his erection, stroking him until his eyes closed. She reached deeper into his pants and fondled his balls—then gave them a sharp tug and twist, digging her nails into the skin until he yelped. She shoved him, knocking him off-balance, then stood and backed away from his hunched form. A stream of curses dribbled from his mouth, his voice high with pain.
“We are done.” Her voice shook more than she’d like, but he wasn’t touching her anymore—she’d be okay.
Shawn winced in pain. His eyes blazed with hatred. “We’ll never be done. You’re mine!”
Heat at her back made her turn. Damien loomed over her, looking beyond pissed. Cam almost cowered from him, but refused. She’d gotten enough of that in ten minutes with Shawn. Instead, she faced him head on, expecting accusations and anger for leaving him in the restaurant.
He surprised her yet again. Damien’s face sagged and he pulled her against his chest, holding her tight. Tremors racked her body now that she was safe—and that was how she felt in his arms. Secure. Protected.
Shawn’s spiteful words still reached her ears, but they no longer touched her. She looked at him over her shoulder as she soaked in Damien’s body heat. Shawn staggered to his feet, then lurched toward her.
In a blink, Damien released her and had Shawn up against the brick wall with one arm twisted behind his back. “Camille does not belong to you,” he said, so coldly she shivered. “She does not belong to anyone. I don’t know what you were trying to do to her back here, but you’d better hope I never find out.”
She expected Damien to lay a blow on him, he was so furious. Instead, Damien let go of Shawn, patted him on the back and returned to Cam’s side. With studied casualness, he added, “And if I ever see you near her again, you will regret it.”
No violence, no threats, just a promise. She almost felt sorry for Shawn, but not enough to miss basking in the glow of Damien’s care for her.
They didn’t speak until they’d gotten halfway to San Diego. Damien had loaded her into the car, started it up, then headed south with classic rock providing a background for their drive. Cam watched his hands clench and unclench on the steering wheel until she was sure it would snap. It didn’t affect his driving, though. He was still confident and precise, weaving through the freeway traffic with utter self-assurance. Every mile between her and Shawn, every minute spent studying Damien, soothed her abraded mind.
She’d just started to drift off to “D’yer Mak’er” when he spoke. “If you want to talk about what happened…” He reached across the console and took her hand.
With that simple touch, every ounce of anxiety she’d repressed flooded back. Tears sprang to her eyes and he let her cry, quiet and patient as he drove. Her interaction with Shawn seared through her brain like a horror movie on a loop until it filled her up and she had to either speak or drown. In halting words, she explained what happened, trying to be as ma
tter-of-fact as possible. Halfway through, Damien cut over two lanes of traffic and skidded to a stop on the side of the road.
Cam bit her tongue to keep silent, especially when he shoved his door open, then slammed it shut hard enough to shake the car. Passing traffic rocked Damien’s sedan as she stared off into the distance, wondering just how disgusted he was. He probably couldn’t stand the thought that she’d complied with Shawn. Hell, it made her sick too. She’d wanted to explain to Damien how scared she’d been, how strong she knew Shawn could be, but it seemed too much like making excuses. When her door wrenched open, she yelped.
Then Damien was there, on his knees, wrapping her in his arms. Wetness hit her cheek and she craned her neck to look at his reddened eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry, Camille. I should have been there.”
He held her tighter as his words rang in her ears, vibrating down to her chest where they wrapped around her heart. “Damien, this is ridiculous. You didn’t do anything wro—”
“I’m supposed to protect you!” He leaned back from her, studied her face, then kissed her with such gentle brutality she had to swallow down tears. “Do you want me to take you home?”
She was tempted to go home, hide and pretend this morning had never happened. But she knew well enough it would fester and ache like an old wound. She stroked a hand down his back, feeling him shake beneath her touch. “No, Sir. I want you to take me to the club and make me forget.”
All of Damien’s fury drained away at Camille’s request. She was so brave, an alluring mix of bold confidence and pure submission. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out the man who’d cornered her in the alley was her ex. From the way he’d spoken, to the bravado puffing up his chest, he’d just known—and that man, Shawn, was not enough to break his sweetheart. Pride suffused his heart, boiling everywhere Camille’s body touched his.
