Committed

by Sidney Bristol

  “Damien,” she moaned.

  He ignored her plea. She was too lost to subspace. One look at her lust-driven face and he’d see what he wanted to see there.

  “Sir.” Her nails scored his shoulders, leaving deep marks. He groaned and his eyes grew unfocused for a moment. “Fuck me already, please.”

  Damien had to move before his muscles locked into place. He withdrew and slid back in, gritting his teeth against the desire to go faster, harder.

  “Enough with the slow shit. Fuck me.” Her green eyes blazed.

  “You want me to really fuck you?” He leaned in until her head was pressed against the wall.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes!”

  Damien jerked back and slammed so deep his balls slapped her ass. “Like that?”

  “Fuck. Yes.” She dug her fingers in and bit her lip, eyes partially closed.

  He held her firmly in his hands and moved in and out of her body like a piston, watching the play of desire across her features. How she would gasp when the head of his cock kissed her entrance, and moan when he thrust deep. They beat out a rhythm against the wall as he fucked her hard. She tried to move with him, but was so far gone that she didn’t seem to be able to form words any longer. Helpless noises escaped her lips, rising in ecstasy. But her body knew him.

  She arched and moaned on a long exhale, her head tossed back.

  I love you.

  Damien pressed his mouth to hers.

  Orgasm rolled up through him, obliterating his strength, shaking his soul, and emptying his body. She clung to his shoulders, moaning her release and milking his, drawing it out longer, making it more intense than he’d ever experienced.

  For several moments he kept his head buried in the crook of her neck, not moving, or even daring to speak, for the words on the tip of his tongue could never be taken back or explained away.

  I love you, and it scares me.

  Matías parked his borrowed car at the end of the street, between a minivan and a truck. The older-model vehicle blended in with his surroundings, and the dark of night hid his presence.

  He glanced up and down the road, but all the houses were quiet, families tucked away for the night. Everyone was safe under their roofs.

  There was a time when Matías had dreamed of having a house like these, and a family to fill it, but his all-consuming obsession with the Valdez cartel had made him pay a high price. He wasn’t marriage material. Not anymore. No woman wanted a man with his baggage. Half the time he didn’t even know who he was. Was he the special agent or the drug tough? Some days he didn’t know anymore.

  He eased his seat back, reclining until it was comfortable.

  Matías’s future might be a story already written. He’d spend the rest of his days serving law enforcement in one way or another, alone. But not everyone had to. Damien had a chance at something better, and Matías hoped the man held tight to the promise of a better future, a future Matías wanted to ensure happened.

  Damien didn’t know it, but Matías had shadowed him several times in the last few weeks, since they’d teamed up. The man made himself a large target, one Matías didn’t think Emilio would pass up. Except that when Emilio came calling, Matías would be there.

  Poppy rested her head against Damien’s shoulder, her body so thoroughly used that even breathing was tiring.

  “You need to drink something, sweetness.” Damien pressed a cup to her lips and tipped it up.

  She could either drink or drown. She found the strength from somewhere to swallow the liquid he poured into her mouth.

  Damien kissed her brow and smoothed her hair back. They were little gestures, and he made them often, but each time it tugged at her heart. She knew he’d carried her from the play room, and she had an impression of a dark, open space that had to be his bedroom, but she couldn’t muster the strength to care. All she knew was that she was wrapped in a soft blanket, and held tight on his lap. That was all that mattered. If she could have crawled inside him to be closer, she would have, but this would certainly do.

  “Do you want to wash up before going to bed?” he asked.

  “Hmm.” She shrugged.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” His chuckle was a deep rumble against her ear.

  She shrugged again. “Hmm.”

  “You are something else.”

  “What?” she mumbled.

  Damien kissed her brow, his lips lingering against her skin as he tugged a tendril of her hair. “You’re, like, a Disney princess on kink-crack. It’s kind of cute.”

  Poppy lifted her too-heavy head and stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re adorable.”

  Adorable wasn’t always a great word. Men weren’t attracted to adorable, were they? It hadn’t worked out so great for her in the past.

  “Why don’t you get into the shower? I’m going to make sure everything is picked up downstairs and grab a little snack. Then I’ll join you. How’s that sound?”

  “Okay.” She unfolded her legs and he helped her to stand while she clutched the blanket around her. He even guided her into the master bath. “Holy shit.”

  Poppy stopped and stared at the gargantuan en suite bath. It was more like a spa. There was a Damien-sized tub, a glass shower so big she didn’t think she could touch two sides at once, and even a separate toilet closet with a pocket door.

  “Hey, women like their closets, I like my showers.”

  She peeked into the toilet closet. “And this?”

  “Oh, come on. You’ve never let one loose before a shower and wished you could be in another bathroom taking a shower?” He turned the tap on in the shower, but she didn’t miss the sheepish grin.

  Poppy met him outside the shower and leaned against his chest. He tapped her nose and his grin took on another light, one she couldn’t quite read, but it made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. The butterflies were still there, but swaddled in his presence, it was hard to feel anything except contentment.

  “I’ll be back.” He planted a sweet kiss on her lips and tugged the blanket from her hands, leaving her naked once more.

  “I’ll be waiting.” She entered the shower stall, which was more like a shower room, and listened to his retreating footsteps.

  What am I doing?

  Poppy stepped under the showerheads and let the water wash away the sweat clinging to her body. Her limbs were so rubbery, she didn’t have the energy to lift her hands and soap her hair.

  There was a real risk she was in love with Damien already. Somehow, it had begun before she could stop it. Whenever he was around she turned to putty, her only desire to please him.

  Was that so bad?

  Was she losing herself to him?

  Or was she, as Nikki put it, evolving?

  When she was with Damien, it didn’t feel wrong. Everything about their chemistry, the way he made her laugh, all of it was right. Better than right. Perfect. He made her feel cherished and loved, which was all she’d ever wanted. But could she handle playing fifth fiddle to the rest of his life?

  She didn’t know the answer to that question.

  Damien’s chuckle echoed in the bathroom. “Are you just going to stand there? I don’t think that’s going to do you any good.”

  “Why not? It would be so much more convenient if I could just stand here and let a mechanical arm wash my hair for me. Is my bag out there? I have shower stuff in there.”

  “It’s right here. May I dig it out?”

  “Side pocket. No digging required.”

  Damien was a dark figure through the fogged glass. His presence alone calmed her thoughts and brought a smile to her face. She wasn’t fifth fiddle, but she wasn’t first, either.

  “Here you go.” He stepped into the shower, her plastic bag of overnight bottles in his hand.

  “Thank you.” She reached for the bag, but he held it tight to his chest.

  “Let me?” Damien placed the bag of shower toiletries on a marble bench and joined her und
er the spray.

  He squirted shampoo into his palm and stared intently at her hair, as if trying to decide how to proceed. He began by running his fingers through her waterlogged hair, massaging her scalp before moving to the ends. She tipped her head back, luxuriating in his touch. Moments like this, she felt like the center of his world.

  “You’re going to smell like a girl,” she said.

  “I don’t see anything wrong with smelling like you. It’s not like I’ve kept you a secret.”

  Her heart pulsed painfully in her chest. What did that mean? Was that what she wanted?

  “Rinse.”

  Damien directed her to turn and back into the direct spray of water. He pushed her hands away again when she tried to help, so she wrapped her arms around his waist and let him do all the work.

  “Is this considered aftercare, too?” she asked.

  “It is after we’ve played, and I am caring for you, so I suppose.”

  He went through the whole process again with her cream rinse, taking extra time to ensure he’d washed it all away. It was tender and sweet, and deep down, she knew she could get used to this kind of attention.

  When they finished the shower, he wrapped her in a huge towel and even dried her off.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she said with a smile.

  “I know, which makes me want to.” He tapped her chin with his knuckle and bent for another quick kiss.

  It was the drive-by kisses that were the worst, she decided. They knocked her slightly off kilter and left her with a goofy grin. In their wake, she couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be doing.

  Damien scooped her up and carried her to his bed, unconcerned about his own nudity, or that he was dripping wet. He laid her in the middle of the bed and handed her a bowl of his grandmother’s cobbler. She hadn’t been able to eat any after dinner because she’d been so full. She greedily snatched up the warm bowl and ate a bite. Her stomach rumbled a bit, a testament to just how many calories they’d burned.

  Damien toweled off and slid in beside her, cradling his own bowl.

  “What are your plans for the rest of the week?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Hadn’t really thought about it.” That was a lie. She’d thought about it a great deal, and about how if Damien had to work late, she wouldn’t get to see him. “What are you doing?”

  “Being bitter I’m not with you.”

  She snorted.

  “What? I’m serious.”

  Poppy spooned a bite of the gooey filling and crust into her mouth.

  “Look, I know we didn’t meet that long ago, and we haven’t been on good terms for half of that, but I like you. A lot. It’s hard to find people like us, who click playing, and in the vanilla world. This next week is going to be busy, and I know my job isn’t just an eight-to-five, but I want to devote as much of myself to this as possible. If that means putting the Emilio investigation on the back burner, I’m willing to make that call.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest. Was this the Relationship Talk? Was that what they were doing?

  He put his bowl down on the mattress and his gaze narrowed. “I realized this week that I was a lot more obsessed than I wanted to admit. And being focused on that is taking away from other parts of my life. If having the chance to see where this goes between us means cutting back on work, that’s what I’ll do.”

  She swallowed hard and placed the spoon in her bowl. Part of her was jumping for joy, while the other half was waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under her.

  “What are you thinking? Talk to me, please?” Damien took her hand in his.

  An invisible fist squeezed her heart. He’d give up his one-man search for Emilio? For her? That didn’t feel right. It was what she wanted to hear, but letting the bad guy go free was so against what Damien was about.

  “I want to say yes. I want to be totally and completely excited about being with you …”

  “And yet?”

  “I don’t want you to give up finding Emilio.”

  “I wouldn’t be giving it up. I would be giving up the search on my own time. If a lead comes in at work, of course I’m going to follow it. But no more of this after-hours searching. I can’t let him consume me—because then he wins.”

  She dropped her gaze to the bed, shame eating at her. “I’ve always settled in relationships. I don’t want you to settle. But I also don’t want to pretend I’m happy not being a priority. I don’t know if I can keep doing that. Giving all of me and not getting half that in return.”

  Damien took their bowls and placed them on the nightstand. He grasped both her hands and peered up at her.

  “I can see where I’ve made you feel that way, and I’m sorry. It’s not always like this. And you have never been a low priority for me.” The sincerity in his voice made her shame burn hotter. “Think of it this way. During the holidays, your family is all around. That’s what holidays are about. But in the middle of all that, when the bell dings that the turkey is done—you gotta go get the turkey out of the oven before it burns. My job, for as much as I love what I do, is still a job. I have, in the past, let it consume me, but that is not where I want to be. I want to be with my family, and if that includes you in the future, I’m a happier man for it.”

  Poppy wanted to bury herself under the pillows. Heat gripped her cheeks and it hurt to breathe. She didn’t know if she should be excited or worried, run away screaming or jump his bones. It was too much.

  Damien kept speaking, filling the silence with his deep, velvety voice. “That’s a lot to say at once, but I think it speaks to where I am. I realize I’ve been mentally all-in with you since I first laid eyes on you. I don’t think you saw me. It was at dinner on that Friday night, and you were all alone. You were nervous, I could tell by the way you kept glancing around, but there was something about you, and I knew I needed to get to know you. I bet you thought I just happened by the library, didn’t you?”

  “Kind of. I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you all that. It just makes me look like a creepy stalker.”

  “Maybe a little, but not in a bad way.”

  “Now you’re rationalizing for your stalker.” Damien pulled her against his chest and kissed her brow.

  “Am not.” She clung to him, burying her face against his shoulder. She didn’t know what to think or feel. Her brain simply would not compute everything, not after so much play.

  Damien stroked her face, her hair. He was so careful with her, even when he marked her body, but she didn’t think he’d meant to mark her soul.

  “I probably shouldn’t have brought this up right now. You subspaced pretty hard back there. How about we table this until later this week? Or better yet, what if we went away this weekend? Just us?”

  “I’d like that.” Given a day or two, she would be able to get her head around his words, but even her play-addled mind could read between the lines.

  They were falling for each other—and neither knew if there was a safety net in place.

  Emilio rolled the windows down to let out some of the stench. The car smelled of pot, cigarettes, and body odor. It disgusted even him. The evening breeze was humid and heavy, but it was better than the odor inside.

  He checked the time and cursed that it had gotten so late. It had taken longer than he’d have liked to dump the thugs’ bodies. Now that the Valdez cartel was floundering, other gangs thought they could move in, take the territory Emilio had held sway over for years.

  Let them have it. He was done in Chicago after he delivered a little payback. The gangs could have the city, but the agent was his. So he’d sent his message. Chances were the bodies wouldn’t be found for another day or two, but that was fine. They’d be a little more fragrant by then.

  Emilio needed to dump the piece-of-shit car, but first he wanted to take a little drive by Special Agent Moana’s house. He’d nearly pissed himself when he’d found the lovebirds had moved out
of the woman’s apartment.

  He’d surveyed the brownstone the woman lived in, but there were cameras, and the first-floor neighbor seemed particularly nosy, so he’d scratched off her house as a potential grab site. The agent’s house though, that was another matter altogether.

  A car pulled out behind him, keeping far enough away that if it weren’t getting close to midnight, Emilio might not have noticed.

  “There you are,” he whispered at the rearview mirror.

  It was time to dish out a little revenge. His favorite kind, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Poppy, Poppy wake up.”

  Poppy groaned and pried one eye open. She didn’t know what time it was, but it was too early for this being-awake business.

  The bed dipped. She could make out Damien’s figure in the dimness of the room. Was the light from the sun? Or the bathroom?

  “Poppy?”

  “What?” she mumbled.

  “I’m sorry, sweetness, but we’ve got to get up.” There was a hint of … was that fear in his voice?

  “Why?” She picked up her head and blinked at him.

  “One of the guys I work with was hurt real bad tonight. I need to go and see him, but if I go you don’t have a ride.”

  Someone was hurt. Those words registered and shot adrenaline into her system.

  “I’m up.” Poppy tossed back the comforter and the chill air wrapped around her naked body. “Holy crap, it’s cold.”

  She dove for her bag, blinking as Damien turned on the lamp. He was already dressed, one hand in his pocket, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

  “How bad is it?” she asked as she pulled her clothes on in a mad rush.

  “Bad. They said he’s in surgery. Probably won’t tell me more until I get there.”

  Poppy pulled on her dress, shoved the few bits and pieces of her things she could find back in her bag, and slung it over her shoulder.

  “Ready. Let’s go,” she said.

  “What about—”