by Skylar Kade
He stroked Camille’s hair, amazed that just a week ago he hadn’t known this woman. While the audience watched their every move, he knelt by her head and yanked back on her hair. “Are you floating yet?”
Her words slurred together somewhat as she replied, “Yes, Sir. Floating… Yeah.”
“Tell me your safe words.”
She paused, opened her mouth, then closed it again. Yes, she was deep in subspace. His perfect little submissive, so eager to fly for him. “Red…red and yellow, Sir.” She licked her lips and he couldn’t help but kiss her.
“Good girl.” He turned back to the crowd. “It’s essential that you have your submissive reaffirm his or her safe words, just to make sure they’re not too far gone to remember them. If they are, the scene needs to scale back or end.”
He gestured for the two male submissives who’d helped him earlier. They joined him onstage. “But since my girl is doing so well, I have something special planned for her.” He unbuckled her limbs, then slid a blindfold over her eyes before handing her over to the men. With utmost care, they maneuvered her to the Saint Andrew’s Cross, locking her in place so she faced the audience.
“Wax play is something best tested and learned on the fleshiest parts of the body: the back, the thighs, the ass. Otherwise, it’s too easy to burn your submissive, or to overestimate how much wax you’re pouring.” While the two men rolled the table aside and brought the cross to the front of the stage in its place, he lit his candles. “Can you tilt the cross back a bit?” he asked the men. When Camille reclined back farther, he nodded and they locked the frame in place.
He showed the audience a few different kinds of candles they could use, then lit his favorite glass pillar candle.
Camille trembled when his boots thudded closer on the stage. “Are you ready for this, sweetheart?”
Oh God, what had she agreed to? This was not like the last time. Cam could have safe-worded, asked to be put back on the table, but she trusted Damien not to hurt her more than she could take. And she was curious—why did he want her front exposed?
When she nodded, her question was answered. Hot splashes hit her collarbone, then the top curve of her breast. Not too hot, but her brain was so overloaded by sensation that she jumped and groaned at the contact. Her nipples hardened in the cold air, the stark contrast to the hot wax making her head spin. She’d had no idea what she was missing, not being played by Shawn. He’d been too gentle, never able to quiet the incessant inner monologue of her mind long enough to get her to let go and truly submit. That was, the few times he’d actually engaged with her. She’d been an idiot, thinking he’d eventually fulfill her needs.
The hard wax pooled and spread on her skin, drying to a tight, warm weight. Rivulets of wax trailed down the sides of her breasts, dripping onto her stomach. He never hit her nipples, but they began to throb with her heartbeat. She ached for his attention on them.
Cam could hear him speaking to the audience, feel him move around the stage, but she couldn’t think beyond the tactile impressions on her body. When a hot mouth closed over her nipple, she cried out. Her swollen breasts, enflamed by Damien’s wax, tightened from the human contact.
Damien’s woodsy scent enflamed her desire until her core throbbed and the cool air blowing across her damp panties was enough of a tease to almost make her beg to come. Wisps of his hair blew against her skin and when he abandoned one nipple to suck on the other, she yelped. “Sir, please,” she pleaded, but he ignored her.
Without her sight, without being able to move, she could do nothing but lose herself in the pleasure he gave her. Her body was drawn taut as a tightrope, on the edge of breaking from the suspense of his next move. He released her nipple, letting the cool air caress her body.
Then, without warning, an endless trail of almost-painful wax fell on her breasts, across her nipples in biting streams. She felt like an erotic live version of a Jackson Pollock painting. Her body responded to Damien in unprecedented ways and she would have been scared if she didn’t trust that he’d catch her if she fell off into some mindless pit of submissiveness.
She wouldn’t lose herself with him. She wouldn’t have to fake her submission, either. He reached into that willing and obeisant part of her and charmed it forth.
“Are you ready to go deeper, Camille? Tell me your safe words if you are.”
Her mind bent around his words until they made sense. She licked her lips. “Red. Yellow.” She was safe with him.
Damien moved and she heard the wheels of the little cart whishing against the wood platform. The heat of his body settled at her side. She almost relaxed into his presence when wax hit her chest, her breasts, her stomach—everywhere at once—each point zipping straight to her clit until she couldn’t tell which part of her he was actually toying with. A tug at her waist, a fabric ripping, a third pair of panties destroyed and cool air wicked across the wet lips of her pussy. She waited for his hands to find her—instead, the wax did, rolling down from the cooling blobs on her stomach, reaching ever closer to the juncture of her thighs.
Tongues of hot wax teased her mound, licking across her labia.
“Farther back.” Damien’s odd words broke through her lusty fog and didn’t make sense until the world tilted and she was on her back, arms spread wide above her head. She was exposed, bared to the whole crowd, but in that moment it only made her hotter. She wanted to show off what Damien did to her. He was a masterful Dominant and every drop of her arousal was a testament to his skill.
It was also an unmistakable sign of possession. He was doing things to her, with her, that he self-admittedly hadn’t done with other women. Every intimate touch on her body was, in a way, Damien staking his claim on her.
And after the day she’d had and the way he’d supported her, she could no longer deny it: she wanted him for herself. All of him, and not just for a weekend.
When wax hit her inner thighs, she reflexively tried to close her legs, but she was tightly stretched against the cross and unable to move. Pressure built in her body, her pussy soaked with arousal, demanding fulfillment.
Drop by drop, Damien stoked her fire, the wax getting hotter as he neared her clit.
“Please, please, please,” she begged, not quite knowing what she was asking for. But Damien would know what she needed.
A wash of searing wax covered her clit, dripping down the lips of her pussy, and she shattered, feeling the wax breaking along her skin while she strained against her cuffs. A burst of applause filled her ears. Whistles and deeper, more sensual sounds formed a backdrop as Damien unbuckled her restraints, then carried her into the back room.
He deposited her on a warm, sheet-covered couch and handed her a cool water bottle and some wheat crackers. She ate and drank, resisting the urge to scratch at the drying wax on her skin. The room spun at the edges, but Damien never left her side.
“Ready for me to get that wax off?”
Cam nodded around a mouthful of cracker. With a flick and a metallic click, Damien produced a pocketknife, the sharp edge glinting in the light. She shivered, but remained still as he lifted the large pieces from her skin. “Awfully trusting, aren’t you?”
Blood pounded in her ears and her vision narrowed down to the point where his knife dented against her skin as it slipped under a blotch of wax and pried it free. He could so easily hurt her and that fear preyed on her sure knowledge of his skills. Damien wouldn’t hurt her—but in that moment, he could. That edge of what-if tossed her back into the dark, stormy waves of submission.
As he worked to free her body from the wax, lust built until she was on the verge of another limb-wrenching orgasm. He brought the knife to her thighs, scraping along the tender flesh. She wasn’t restrained and her muscles ached with the effort of holding still. She watched him duck his head to her pussy, felt his warm breath fan across her wetness. With deft fingers, he cleared the rest of the wax from the sensitive folds between her legs, then laid his mouth on her. She came, bucking ag
ainst his mouth and clawing at the sheet beneath her until every drop of pleasure was wrung from her body.
She didn’t know how much time had passed when Damien slipped her shirt over her head and her pants onto her legs. The last thing she remembered was watching Damien talk with the club’s owner, Stephan.
“Ready to go, love?”
His tone was so casual that she couldn’t give any weight to his choice of words. Nonetheless, her stomach somersaulted over the term of endearment. Her emotions were already on the fritz from what seemed like an interminably long and arduous day, so she nodded instead of speaking. Who knew what embarrassing admissions would have tumbled out otherwise?
They stepped into the club proper and she had to do a double take. It looked drastically different from the large, open space they’d entered earlier. The corners were brightly lit by recessed spotlights, but the center was dim. Singles and couples and small groups filled the play stations set up around the room and more sounds of kinky pleasure echoed from two separate hallways. Damien hustled her out a side door which opened right into the parking lot. Good—she was raw from sensory overload and that exposed moment in the club was almost too much.
In the silent, smooth-riding car, she drifted off until they reached the hotel, waking only when Damien’s soft kisses roused her. “Up to the room, then you can sleep all night, uninterrupted.”
Her sleepy brain protested. “What if I want you to interrupt my sleep?” she murmured.
His heart-stopping grin filled her vision. “We can negotiate that later.” Kisses landed on her forehead, cheeks, then lips. “I’m so proud of you, Camille. You’re a beautiful partner.”
She blushed, then took his proffered hand to exit the car.
Just that much contact was enough to rouse her body. Her sheath clenched and her heartbeat sped up. All of it amounted to one thing—trouble.
Camille Verona, you have gone and done it now. You just had to go and fall in love with him, didn’t you?
Chapter Fourteen
Though he hadn’t slept much the night before, Damien felt energized. He’d tried to sleep, curling around Camille despite the extra room in the hotel’s king-size bed, but he’d gotten distracted by the softness of her skin, or the slight citrus aroma that floated from her hair. And just when sleep would start to overtake him, she’d snuggle closer, unconsciously craving his nearness. It made him hard. It made him dizzy with lust.
It made him want to claim her.
But that just wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t want a relationship and neither did she. And Camille was only going to double down on that once she found out about Shawn.
His suspicions had been confirmed by Officer Davis. They’d brought Shawn in for questioning about the diner incident, then asked about the other threats. Shawn had copped to the flowers, but nothing else. Davis suspected he was still withholding information and Damien agreed. Still, something didn’t feel right about the situation. What had made Shawn go from passive-aggressive threats to an all-out attack on Camille?
As daylight streamed through the room, he studied Camille’s sleeping form. She looked so peaceful. The last thing he wanted was to disrupt her day with more ugliness from that asshole. He’d tell her tomorrow, once their weekend was done. Then he could offer to help her cope, any way he could.
What, by bringing her to Sunday dinner? Or maybe you just want to play her until she passes out and forgets. But will that really help her?
Shit. He sighed, blowing ripples over the surface of his coffee. He hated being out of his depth, but that’s exactly where Camille put him. With his former subs, they’d had very clear lines—their relationships existed only in the club and they met each other’s needs. From the arrangement he got a demo bottom, someone to scene with and his partner had slaked her submissive desires as needed. His last submissive, though…she had wanted more. And he’d almost been ready to agree, until she showed her true colors.
Right after his sister-in-law abandoned Derek, nothing had mattered beyond helping his brother. His ex had rebelled against his “neglect” by taking his Amex Black on a shopping spree. That’s when he knew they wouldn’t work out. Family always comes first. Always. If all Natali saw in him was an ATM, despite her professions of “love”… Well, at least he saw through her in time.
Camille stirred on the bed, tangling her legs in the white sheets until they showed the sensual outline of her body. He wanted her again. Would he ever get tired of slipping inside her body, feeling her shatter around him?
He set his coffee down on the dinette and stalked across the room, intent on waking her. With gentle tugs, he freed her from the blanket. She barely stirred. Grinning, Damien ringed his fingers around her ankles, then slid them upward, spreading her knees apart to make room for his body. He could already smell her arousal. Her satiny panties were wet and clinging to the outline of her pussy lips. He licked along her center, sucking against her clit through the fabric. Camille moaned, let her knees drop farther apart, but didn’t wake.
Damien tugged her legs closer together and slipped the panties off her body, exposing her to his rabid gaze. A trail of cream glistened, and he couldn’t resist tasting her. He licked up one side then down the other, avoiding her most sensitive areas. A sigh resonated down to his ears as he wiggled one finger inside her.
God, she was tight. Hot, wet and ready, but tight enough to strangle his dick when he worked inside her. He set his mouth on her clit and sucked until she awoke.
“Damien? Oh yes…”
“Come for me, Camille.” He doubled his efforts, slipped another finger inside her and massaged that little bundle of nerves with his tongue. She cried out, her legs closed around his back like a vise and she bucked against his mouth, coming in waves.
Before she could finish, he slammed himself deep inside her, groaning when he felt her muscles clenching at him. Her arms looped around his neck and he let her pull him downward to meet her lips in a deep, passionate kiss until he came as well, long, searing waves of pleasure rippling through him.
It was just fucking. So why did it feel like so much more?
He rolled off Camille and she snuggled up to his side. “Want a shower?” he asked, tendrils of panic starting to tighten around his throat. He was entering dangerous emotional territory. Not only did it scare the shit out of him for practical reasons, but he didn’t want Camille getting any ideas.
“Sure.” She pulled herself from their tangle of limbs and padded off to the bathroom before he could move. The ping of water on the shower tiles roused him from the bed. He grabbed his coffee cup, filled another and took them both to the bathroom. Arm extended, he handed one to her. He admired the messy black curls that fell around Cam’s face. She looked like a woman who had been well fucked, and damned if he could sidestep pride at that.
“Thanks.” She gratefully sipped the coffee, her fingers curled around the mug. He wanted her to touch him with that much joy on her face.
Great. Now he was trying to compete with coffee? He reached in to test the water, eager to get back to familiar territory. Where he’d find it, though, he had no clue. The shower wasn’t quite warm enough, but a cold shock didn’t sound like a horrible idea, so he set down his coffee and jumped in.
He hissed when the cool water hit his skin, though it did clear his mind. Or maybe that was because of the shower door separating him from Camille. He couldn’t think when she was around, not clearly anyway. He kept repeating no relationships, no emotional entanglements in his head until she joined him.
When she popped the door open, her full lips were curled into a tantalizing smile. “I thought you’d be able to give up cold showers with a willing partner in your bed.”
The water hit the tips of her breasts as she stood at the edge of the huge shower space. Lunging forward, he wrapped his arms around her waist, dipped her back, then licked one nipple clean of water before sucking at the other. Her fingers tightened on his hair, holding him close.
&nbs
p; “Cold showers are good for you, didn’t you know?”
She snorted, then moaned when he bit down on her distended nipple. “I hate being cold.”
“Is that so?” He pulled her upright, nibbled her earlobe. “You didn’t object last night.” Before she could answer, he crab-walked her backward until her back was mere inches from the cold tile.
She tilted her head up. “That was different.” The mulish set to her mouth wouldn’t suit.
“Are you questioning me, sub?” He infused his words with a playful tone, eager to see what she’d do with a little teasing. Would she get pissed, like some women did?
Her long eyelashes batted over her blue eyes. “Sir, I would never dream of doing such a thing.”
Game on. He’d curbed his playful Dom side for so long, after too many confused submissives who only wanted one personality from him. But Camille…she was complex, her needs as varied as his. Even if he couldn’t provide the kind of permanent connection she might be seeking, he could do this.
Taking her arms from around his neck, he tangled their fingers together, then spread her arms wide. “I think you’re lying to me.” He waggled his eyebrows. “We can’t have that, can we?”
Camille bit her thick lower lip and his cock bounced against his stomach. “No, Sir, I’m not lying!” The studied innocence on her face, the twinkle in her eyes… She loved this as much as he did. This kind of teasing was fun. Freeing.
“I think you are. A punishment is in order, I believe.” He crowded her back against the tile. She yelped when her skin hit the chilled surface and he smiled as she dissolved in laughter, begging him to let her go.
