Realization dawned.
Oh, dear lord. Other men would be noticing her body tonight, too. "Damián, I don't think…"
"No, you won't be thinking tonight. This date and evening are all about changing perceptions and misconceptions. Now, lose those ugly shoes."
"But you didn't include any shoes in the bag."
He pointed to the floor, near the table, where she found a pair of matching neon-pink, platform stiletto mules.
She looked back at him to see if he was kidding. The man had a serious teasing streak in him.
He grinned, but didn't back down. "I didn't want you to break your neck on them coming down the stairs."
"What's to keep me from falling in them now?"
"Me, querida. I get to grab your sweet body to keep you from falling anytime you stumble."
Is that what men found so attractive about these kinds of shoes—all the free grabs in the name of being chivalrous?
Adam picked up Savannah's coat from the chair. "You kids have a good time tonight." Adam helped Savannah into the sleeves. She'd never welcomed a coat more than now, because it covered her nearly naked body. Damián held the back door and they walked out into the cold night air.
Damián drove her Nissan across the downtown area to a Mexican cantina that reminded her a little bit of the one they'd stopped at on the way home from the beach cave. He'd insisted that she give him her coat at the door and forced her to walk through the restaurant in the revealing outfit. Even though there were few other patrons, she'd lost much of her appetite by the time they'd reached their table.
After ordering two huge plates of enchiladas and Spanish rice, she kept her gaze on her plate as they began to eat in silence. Her mind had been bombarded over the last month to the point she barely could focus on anything anymore. No wonder he hadn't even tried a scene at the club before tonight. She wasn't even sure she could keep her focus for this one.
Damián brushed his thumb over her cheek and wiped away the telltale dampness. She hadn't realized she'd shed a tear.
"Thank you, Damián."
"De nada."
She smiled. "Not for wiping away my tears, but for being such a wonderful daddy to Mari."
"I'm just grateful to be a part of her life, even if—"
She held up her hand. "Don't say it." She looked down at her plate; she'd lost her appetite. They'd gone round and round about his wanting to be something more permanent in Savannah's life, too, but she wasn't ready yet. For now, her plan was to find a house near Damián's place and fairly close to Mari's school.
She trusted Damián. Really, she did. She wanted him to continue to be her Top, but lately when she looked at him, she knew he wanted something more—something she couldn't give. He'd soon grow tired of her if she couldn't perform fully sexually.
He'd told her he understood why her body betrayed her at those times. Still, the words kept rolling around in her head.
Dirty slut.
Damián said tonight would be a chance to redirect those messages, but could they ever be erased from her head? Hearing her father and Lyle speak them again last month, she'd found that the word whore held less power over her than when she was younger. Damián had helped her with that. She knew from her clinicals how hard it was for her patients to erase those negative mental tapes. Savi had allowed hers to become so deep-seated, because she'd avoided tackling them for so long. She'd even tried to hide that part of herself from Damián, but he'd discovered her secrets, her shame. Would she ever be able to fully heal?
She looked up from her plate. Damián was looking at her, concern on his face. He'd been taking care of her ever since she'd come out of the hospital. Now she needed to stand on her own two feet.
"The real-estate agent called this morning and she's found another house for us to look at. Just went on the market. Just a few blocks from Mari's school. Do you want to go with us? You'll probably be able to check things out better than I can to make sure there aren't any structural problems."
"You know I'll do anything I can to help you get settled here."
Mari had been quiet and subdued until the three of them had come back to Colorado last week. Denver was going to be a good for both of them to start over, but Savannah didn't see how a romantic relationship could work with Damián or if it was even possible, given her past. Continuing to live together wasn't fair to him.
Savannah looked down at her plate and pushed several pieces of rice to the side. They'd been discussing living arrangements the past few days. Damián wanted marriage and happily ever after, and that just wasn't possible with her. He'd come to resent her for her inability to be a full partner in a marriage. He deserved someone whole.
"I know my place is too small, Savannah, but I still wish you'd reconsider keeping us together. We can get a new place."
"I can't. It would confuse Mari."
The light in his eyes grew dim, a clear indication she'd disappointed him. But it would only get worse with time if she wasn't honest.
"Savannah, your talk about moving away from me is what's confusing her. She wants us to be a family. Hell, we are a family, even if we aren't married yet."
Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back.His "yet" implied they would marry someday. "That fairy-tale life wouldn't be fair to either you or Mari. I'm not the marrying type." She wondered why, lately, she wished she could be that type of woman. Thoughts of having Damián beside her, to hold her when she needed comforting, to help her deal with the demons that still bombarded her when she least expected…
But that was selfish on her part and wasn't enough for a virile man like Damián. Marriage meant romantic love that included sex, which was impossible for her at this point, and probably forever. Better to set the boundaries now than to get his hopes up that she'd ever be more than the mother of his daughter and a bottom he helped at his club.
Damián's hand stroked hers. "You seem a million miles away, bebé."
Savi glanced up at Damián and blinked. Why couldn't she let the past go and enjoy her time with Damián? Savi cleared her throat and looked away. "Sorry. I still can't believe all that's happened."
"Quit apologizing. Things will get better. Your life's been turned upside down these past few months." He reached out and squeezed her hand, enveloping hers in his warmer one. His thumb stroked her wrist and she felt a spark jolt up her arm.
She pulled her hand away with the pretense of adjusting the napkin on her lap. "Dr. McKenzie hired me to work in his clinic, just as soon as I can get licensed. Until then, I'll be a Spanish translator there and help him hire some other therapists, as well." Thank God the good doctor couldn't see her tonight. Mac, as he asked her to call him, had patched her up last December, no questions asked, and won a soft spot in her heart.
"He's a good man." Damián smiled. "You'll be great there. I still remember what a help you were to Teresa last year."
It hadn't taken long for Savi to realize she could do a lot of good with Maman's money. She'd instructed her attorney to meet with Dr. McKenzie to make the much-needed improvements, hire additional staff, and purchase the up-to-date equipment necessary to give his low-income patients deserved, without regard to their ability to pay.
She also would give money to the children's program at San Miguel's and to the clinic where Anita worked—where Savi had been on staff until her firing last year at her father's instigation. Maybe with fewer ties to state finances, they would never have to let another employee go because someone higher up the political food chain dictated how they should run their clinic.
"I'm proud of you, Savita. You've been to hell and back, but all you do is think about how you can improve the lives of others."
She cast her gaze away, uncomfortable with his praise. "It doesn't take any great courage to give away money you didn't really work for in the first place."
His hand cupped her chin and raised her face to meet his gaze. "You have more courage in your pinky than most people do in their entire bodies."
Savi blinked away a sting in her eyes. "Please don't think I'm some kind of hero. If you only knew how scared I am of everyth..."
The pad of his thumb brushed over her lower lip and caused it to tingle. She pulled away, leaning back in her chair.
"Retreat, if you must. Just promise me we'll continue to date, and that you'll let me be your Top whenever you need one."
She'd never known anyone to be so patient—and persistent. "I'd like that. You've helped me so much, Damián. I'd still like to try and put more of these abuse issues behind me."
He grinned. "Good. Then I have the perfect scene planned for later to help you do just that."
Her heart fluttered as she wondered what he had planned, but she knew from experience no amount of questioning would result in his dropping any hint of what was to come. Anticipation was good for her, he often repeated. Whether true or not, she knew it was part of the discipline he talked so much about teaching her.
"You haven't finished your dinner."
"I don't think I can eat another bite—especially if you have something strenuous planned."
"Eat. It's your mind that will be getting the workout tonight; not your body."
He would have to keep dropping hints that made her even more curious. But she wouldn't ask; he wouldn't tell.
She finished the cheese enchilada, but left the rice. He seemed satisfied that she'd eaten enough and settled the check. Then he stood and came around the table to pull out her chair. She looked around to notice that the cantina was packed with patrons now.
Oh, great.
She'd have to walk past every one of them dressed like a slut, until Damián could retrieve her coat from the rack near the entrance. He placed his hand on the upper curve of her butt.
His butt.
She held her head high and preceded him toward the door. Oddly enough, the few people at the tables she forced herself to look at had no interest in her whatsoever. The women were all looking at Damián, some with blatant sexual interest, which made Savi feel an odd sense of pride.
Mine.
As she continued toward the coat rack, it was the men who truly surprised her. Despite her obviously suggestive clothing, they didn't gawk at her at all. Some nodded at Damián as a show of respect or greeting, but none of them so much as looked at her.
It was almost as if Damián had put out some kind of pheromone to alert them that she was his and that they'd better not even think of looking at her.
She smiled.
As always, Damián protected her. He made her feel safe.
Damián helped her into her coat. "I think you're ready to play in the dungeon tonight."
Blood rushed through her ears blocking out anything else he might have said. She turned to stare at him and make sure she'd heard him correctly. He grinned at her discomfort.
Sadist. Oh, yes. No doubt about it.
Sensual sadist.
She shivered in anticipation.
Somehow, the words play and dungeon didn't go together in her mind. The very word dungeon sent a quiver through her. Was it fear, excitement, or both?
Just what did he have planned for the rest of their date?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Damián placed a firm hand on the back of Savannah's neck and she nearly crumpled to the floor. With that simple gesture, he took control of her and led her across the great room to a closed door near the stage. When he opened the door, she found herself staring at two familiar-looking brick staircases.
She recognized the one that led upstairs. The door behind her was the one she'd tried to open on Christmas Day, expecting to find a Victorian living room or parlor beyond the doors. Good thing they'd kept the door locked. If she'd seen the way the room was decorated—like something in a film about the Marquis de Sade—she'd have run so fast Damián would never have caught her.
Keeping his firm hand at the back of her neck, he guided her toward the stairway leading down.
The dungeon lay beyond that door.
"Breathe, querida." His breath was warm against her ear.
Easy for you to say.
She drew in a deep breath, having become so used to obeying his commands when she was in bottom mindset. When they reached the landing, he opened a door in front of them. The room ahead of her was dark and she balked, then he reached out for a wall switch and the area became awash in bright light. She noticed the equipment along the walls on either side of the long, narrow room. It was nothing but what one would find in a weight-training room.
"It is a weight-training room, bebé."
Surprised at his words, she turned to him. Had she spoken aloud? She hadn't even realized.
"This way, querida, before you faint from holding your breath."
He grinned. Placing a finger under her chin, he turned her head to face forward as he led her past the benches and bar bells to another closed door at the opposite end of the room. The door creaked when he opened it. Surely a little lube would take care of that, but she'd definitely felt her stomach drop a few inches when the door creaked. They probably left it unoiled on purpose, just to freak out the bottoms and submissives brought down here to play. The eerie sound certainly had done a number on her psyche. She'd seen too many movies.
I can do this.
"After you, bebé."
Savannah looked through the open door into yet another darkened room. Going from the light to the darkness seemed rather symbolic, yet terrifying. She took another deep breath.
Placing one foot in front of the other, she stumbled in the damned stilettos. Damián wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against his hard body. His hand grabbed her breast and squeezed.
"I was beginning to think you weren't going to miss a step all evening." He chuckled and then, just as suddenly, he pulled away and let her go with a pat to her butt. He took her by the elbow as she stepped over the threshold. She felt a bit like Alice must have after falling down the rabbit hole. She'd entered a world just as foreign and strange. The question was, how would she be changed when she left this place?
Her eyes couldn't make out anything at first, then the wall sconces blazed to life, giving off a warm glow from what looked like undulating flames above torches. She was mesmerized by one for a moment, then realized they weren’t real flames. Illusion.
Slowly, as the room came into focus, she began to notice more details. The walls here were brick, as well, and the floor was made of rough-hewn boards. It looked like an old cellar. The effect it had on those brought here to "play" must be daunting. She certainly felt a frisson of fear rising in her stomach.
Even more disturbing were the implements she found hanging along one wall—a pair of rusty-looking metal restraints and chains reminded her of the castle dungeons she'd seen in old movies. Were they merely here for effect, or did anyone actually get chained to the wall? Hanging near the center of the wall was an iron mask. Maybe they were used as part of castle-dungeon fantasy play, if there was such a fetish.
Who was she kidding? After spending a number of nights at the club, she was learning there was a fetish for everything.
Then, she saw modern-looking leather wrist cuffs and chains on the walls as well. Ahh. That's probably what he'd use if he were going to restrain her here. But Damián seemed to have other plans for her. He led her past the shackles and up to a wooden St. Andrew's cross. Why had he brought her down here, rather than use one of the crosses upstairs?
Clearly, he was messing with her mind. This room was on the creepy side, for sure. Was he planning to use the whip and clothespins again? She certainly had enough bare skin to clamp the pins onto.
"Are you ready to submit to me, body and mind, Savannah? Totally and completely?"
I already have.
"Yes, Sir."
Without another word, he took her left wrist and buckled a leather cuff on her. He did the same with the other, then slid two fingers inside each to test the tightness. "How does that feel?"
"Perfect, Sir."
<
br /> "Like you, querida."
She turned away, not knowing how to respond to a comment that ridiculous.
"Look at me."
She did and shrunk back at seeing his probing expression. Sometimes she wondered if he read her thoughts. She needed to stop disagreeing with him, even with her mind.
"As always, if your fingers start to tingle or you feel cramping anywhere, I want you to tell me immediately. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir, but…" Oh, she didn't have permission to speak.
"Is there a problem or a question?"
She nodded. "Yes, Sir. Wouldn't it be easier for me to undress before you put the restraints on?"
"If I'd wanted you to strip, I'd have ordered you to do so already."
"Oh. Yes, of course, Sir." This would be her first BDSM scene with her clothes on. Oddly enough, in this setting, she was grateful to be able to cover as much of herself as this skimpy outfit did.
"What is your safeword?"
"Tamale, Sir."
"If you need to stop, just say that word and all play will end. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Your slow-down word?"
"Guacamole, Sir."
"Good girl."
He'd lifted the first cuffed hand and attached it to the cross before she realized she hadn't reacted negatively to being called a good girl.
I'm Damián's good girl.
Within seconds, she was clamped onto the frame in a Y shape.
He held a tall, leather collar in front of her, D-rings and studs on either side and in the front. Before she had a chance to ask, he explained. "This is a posture collar, an alternative to using a blindfold in this scene. I do not want you to look down or away from me."
After placing the collar around her neck, a kinky neck brace of sorts, he hooked the rings on either side of her neck to chains already attached to the cross. Her head and chin were locked firmly in place. When she tried to bend her head forward, she couldn't move anything but her eyes. Even so, she couldn't see below her nose and the tops of her cheeks.
He pulled her hair into a scrunchee and bound the ponytail to the cross. Seemed like overkill, but something about the act also made her body respond in ways she didn't expect, as if he'd grabbed her hair in his fist. Heat pooled in her lower abdomen and she almost felt the stirrings of desire.
Nobody's Perfect Page 43
