In the Den (23 page)

Evelyn patted Catrina’s hand. “I want you to be happy. You’re one of the strongest people I know.” She softened her voice. “It’s okay to take your own advice. Protect yourself.” She shrugged. “But you’re allowed to fall in love again.”

She wished it were that simple.

“You risk being hurt. I don’t blame you for wanting to avoid that. But there’s a lot of joy to be had out there, too.” She looked at her future husband. “And there are no guarantees.” Evelyn’s tone soothed, taking any sting out of her words.

“Unless he’s done something dastardly?” Milton asked.

“No. Nothing like that.”

“He’s not a liar or a cheat?”

She shook her head.

“Then ask yourself if you’re trying to avoid failure.”

Catrina sat there, shocked into silence. Was that true?

“That’s not you at all, my Cat. Not at all. At least talk to your young man.” She gave a final pat. “The way he tied his hair back…that was hot.”

“Mother!

“Evelyn!”

Evelyn giggled and sipped her beer. “I’m about to be married, not buried, my darling Miltey. I notice these things.” Then she batted her eyes at him. “Not that there will ever be any other man on the planet for me.”

Until today, the last time her mother had embarrassed her, Catrina had been in middle school. She shook her head to clear the image. “Wedding. Details. Did you decide on”—she so did not want to hear about the honeymoon—“what flowers you’ll decorate the chapel with?”

Milton signaled to the server that he’d like another beer and patiently sat back to listen while her mother bubbled over with excitement. His obvious fondness and tolerance of Evelyn’s enthusiasm endeared him to Catrina. Maybe Damien had been right about that, too.

After dinner, she drove home, and her phone dinged, signaling another incoming text message. With Damien’s tone.

She ignored it, too.

This evening, one of her subs was coming over and she needed to get the house, and herself, prepared. Ridiculously, as she did so, she couldn’t help but think about Damien.

Keeping his coaching in mind, she’d sent her boy several e-mails, building the tension. They’d had a couple of phone conversations, and she’d explored what he liked in greater depth than they ever had before. Shaun had told her how grateful he was.

And she had no doubt he meant it. Damien’s constant sex talk when they’d been together had kept her on edge.

Shaun arrived right on time and, instead of taking him directly to her play room as she always had in the past, she instructed him sit on a chair in her living room. She walked around him, softly talking, bouncing her paddle off her thigh as she went.

She’d been shocked how unnatural it had seemed to dress up in her Domme make-up. She’d grown accustomed to Damien selecting her attire, and she’d agonized over choosing the right outfit. Instead of a skirt that would leave her ass exposed, she’d covered up with shiny black shorts. She’d left her legs bare, but her boots went up past her knees.

Feeling like dressing more modestly than she sometimes did, she’d fought her way into a black corset accented with white leather insets that made her waist look impossibly small.

Shaun’s gaze was transfixed on her. He sat with his back straight, twisting his hands in his lap. He wore black leather chaps, and his cock was already hard and weeping. Generally by this point in a scene, she would already be getting aroused, but not tonight. All she could think about was Damien and the way her pulse roared when he circled her. Part of her wished that she, rather than Shaun, were sitting in that chair. “The bench for you, I think, hmm?” she asked. “I can bend you over it and tie those wrists to the opposite side. That will get your ass up in the air for me.” She stopped in front of him. She took the handle of the paddle and put it beneath his chin to tip back his head. Leaning toward him, she softly asked, “Won’t it, Shaun?”

He gulped. “Yes, Milady.”

“How red is it going to be, boy?”

When he didn’t immediately answer, she dropped the paddle and smacked the side of his leg. She knew the leather would deaden the impact, but the sound was startling.

He jumped.

“How red, boy?” she snapped.

“Very, Milady. As much as you want. Oh, please.”

Pounding on the front door shattered her carefully constructed scene.

“What the hell?” Shaun asked, leaping up.

She blinked. She wasn’t expecting anyone. “I’m sure they have the wrong house. Now where were we?”

His cock had softened a little, and she silently cursed the unseen person.
Damn it
. She’d all but had him mesmerized…

The pounding continued. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ll sort it—”

“Open up the fucking door, Milady!”

She froze.
Damien?

“Now.”

He’d shredded her nerves. “I’ll be right with you, love,” she promised Shaun. “Wait there.” She put the paddle on the table then ran a finger down his cheekbone in a motion she hoped was reassuring.

But Shaun jumped up and reached for his coat.

Trying for a calm she was nowhere close to feeling, she strode to the door, paddle still in hand. Despite the fact her outfit would shock the neighbors, she jerked the door open. “How dare you, you jackass—” All her angry protests died. All she saw was a wall of red roses.

He moved them aside. “We need to talk. I texted you that I was coming. Invite me in.”

“I’m busy here.”

“Invite me in,” he repeated, “or I’ll drag your ass out here in the cold in front of anyone who passes by and we can have our discussion out there…”

He looked around. A couple were coming down the street with their dog.

“Your timing sucks. Come back in an hour.” She tried to slam the door—that would be satisfying—but he angled his foot on the threshold. “Damn you.”

With inexorable determination he moved forwards, forcing her to back up.

Then he shut the door.

“Master Damien?”

His gaze settled on Shaun. “Did I interrupt something?”

“I tried to tell you that,” she said, hands on her hips.

He put the flowers on the couch. They covered two cushions. “There’s a VIP event at the Den tomorrow night. Not open to the public,” he said to Shaun. “I’ll put you on the list. And I’ll sign you up for a session with Gregorio. On me.”

“Rad.”

“Now, out.”

“Yes, Sir,” Shaun said.

She seethed while Damien ushered the man out. “Who the hell do you think you are, barging into my home, throwing out my guests, interrupting my life?” She strode toward him. “I told you weeks ago I was happy to put the smack down on your arrogant ass. And I’m ready to do it right now, this fucking minute.”

“Really?” he asked, voice smooth, silky soft. Lethal with its restrained power. “Is that what you want, Milady? Really?”

As he advanced, she stood her ground though instinct warned her to retreat.

He caught her hair and wrapped it around his hand. She remembered her safe word, but couldn’t force herself to use it.

“Or do you want to hear me say I love you?”

The floor spun beneath her. “What?”

“Or do you want to hear that I was an idiot that night in my dungeon?”

“Which night? There was more than one,” she said.

To his credit, he ignored that comment. “You know what I’m talking about. When you called me Sir.”

“It was a scene,” she insisted.

He nodded. “It meant nothing?”

“It meant I respected you,” she hedged.

“It meant you submitted to me,” he challenged.

“No. I…”

“Stop. Now. Give me the honest truth, Catrina.”

“That was the truth.”

“You looked down and to the left. I’m calling bullshit on your answer.”

Adrenaline knocked the wind out of her.

“Look me in the eyes,” he said tightly. “And have a grown-up conversation with me. You don’t like where it goes, then I’ll leave and you won’t hear from me again. Fair?”

“Have a seat,” she said.

“I’d rather stand.”

“And I’d rather you sat.” She stood there, resolved. She needed the distance between them, needed him not to tower over her where she was aware of his power, the musky scent of him that spoke to something entirely too female in her.

It took two swipes for him to move all the roses aside.

Hardly able to string two coherent thoughts together, she said, “I’ll be right back with you.” She went into her bedroom for the thickest, fluffiest, most unflattering robe she owned. She knotted the belt around her waist then gave it an extra tug for good measure.

With a deep breath, Catrina took a moment to compose herself.
Love?
Did he mean it? And so what if he did? She wasn’t changing who she was for any man.

It might have been easier to convince herself of her resolve if she hadn’t stopped breathing when he’d said those words.

She closed her eyes, arming herself with determination, then went back to the living room. He’d taken off his coat and he sat there as if he had every right to occupy her space.

And damn it, his hair was tied back, all sexy like her mom had said.

Pretending to be unaffected, she sat in a chair across from him. “I can spare five minutes.”

“You’re lucky I don’t pull down your pants and spank your ass until you get real with me.”

He stood but resumed his seat when she nodded toward the couch. Instead, he leaned forward, elbows on his thighs and cradling his head. “Look, Milady, I screwed up. I let you leave when I shouldn’t have.”

“Don’t be a martyr. You tried to stop me.”

“Before that. Before you had the need to run. I had chances to talk to you, but I ignored them. I told you I didn’t believe in love. I didn’t.”

She inclined her head. “And now?”

“I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. When I realized how empty the Den was without you, I went back home. And that’s when I figured it out.”

Holding back a dozen questions, she waited.

“My life is empty without you. I want to share my days and nights with you. I want you to share your dreams and fears with me.”

Heart thundering, breaking, she bravely said, “It would never work. D/s would be a problem for us.”

“How so?”

“Did you pay any attention to me over the two weeks we spent together?”

“Every word, nuance, plea, moan, whimper. Along with a few screams.”

“Then you’d know that I can’t be a sub.”

“Won’t,” he contradicted.

“Can’t,” she insisted.

“My touch does nothing for you?”

“You know it does.”

“The way I build a scene doesn’t leave you breathless with anticipation?”

“Of course it does.”

“Then where’s the problem?”

“I can’t fit into a typical D/s relationship.”

“There’s no such thing.” He came to his feet.

She supposed she should have been grateful he’d harnessed his energy as long as he had.

“I think you have an idea that D/s has to mean something specific.”

“It doesn’t to you?”

“Just as every relationship is different, so is the way the couple treats D/s. I like beating your ass. I like bringing you off slow. I like the way you writhe and scream. I like the way you called me Sir.”

“That was a slip.”

“I agree. But it was an honest one. Your defenses were down. It was one of the most real moments we’ve shared.”

A chill held her spine rigid.

“Don’t diminish it by denying it.”

It scared her how easily he could read her. It had meant something. And even she didn’t want to believe that. “Okay.” She tried for flippant. “But I also love chocolate. And I refuse to eat it more than once a month because it makes my butt bigger. And the more I get, the more I want.”

“More truth, Milady. You want it. You want me. You want my domination.”

She shook her head and knotted the tie more carefully.

“You just don’t want to get hurt again. You want someone you can lean on, trust, who will be there for you. And you think that if you get on your knees for me and call me Sir, all of the other disappears. But it doesn’t have to. What if you can have it all, Catrina? Love and submission. Respect and security?”

“I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

“We’re good together. Even if you submit in our sex life, it doesn’t mean I require it of you in public. I will always treat you like a lady and invite you into the inner circle of my life, my plans, goals and ideas.”

She didn’t know what to say.

It astounded her that he’d sorted it all out, even when she hadn’t. Yes, the word Sir had been a slip, but he’d caught the significance. Not as quickly, maybe, as she would have liked. And instead of letting it feed his ego or shoving it aside, he’d pursued her. He’d tried to give her the space to come to him, but in the end, he’d relentlessly tracked her down.

He’d taken the time to figure out what he wanted and was willing to give. And he’d thought about her and how to give her what she needed.

“I’ve heard you coach your clients. I’m willing for us to exchange financial plans…whatever you need to feel comfortable. All I need in return is the word Sir spoken of your own free will.”

“I’ve got to have room to think.” Which wasn’t easy with him standing there and with the overwhelming scent of flowers permeating the air.

“I understand. I’ll give you five seconds.”

“You are impossible.”

“I am who I am.”

She knew the next words without him saying them. “You know what you want.”

Tension radiated through his shoulders. A pulse throbbed in his temples. She’d thought he was determined, two-hundred pounds of unstoppable Dom. But now she glimpsed beneath his gruff exterior and saw the raw truth exposed in the stark blue depths of his eyes.

The Big Bad Dom was nervous. This—she—they—mattered that much to him?

The truth was, she’d become a Domme to close herself off, to protect her emotions from hurt, much as he’d guessed a month ago.

Tonight, with Shaun, the kick she used to get out of dominating a man was missing.

She wanted to be the focus of someone’s attention. And not just someone’s. Damien’s.

“I love you, Milady Catrina,” he said again, voice hoarse with emotion.