Committed (3 page)

Damien opened the door of the library and glanced around the dim interior, but didn’t spy his little switch. Good. He had a little brainstorming to do.

He closed the door, hanging a bit of rope around the lever handle to signal that the room was occupied, stowed his bag under one of the large tables piled high with books, and slowly prowled around the room.

The library had two levels, with two spiraling staircases going up to the open second floor. He didn’t know why Dom Yamamoto had such an extensive collection of books when there wasn’t enough time in this life to read them all, but Damien could be accused of minimalism, so who was he to judge?

In the far right corner behind the rows of bookshelves, a four-poster bed sat ready for someone’s use.

Hopefully, theirs.

While the furniture was all well and good, the library itself provided a lot of potential. Rapunzel had come to the library instead of her private room. She seemed the most comfortable here, surrounded by books, so he would use that.

A ladder mounted against the built-in bookshelves drew his attention. It rolled along the length of the entire wall. Damien walked around it, considering the possibilities.

The sound of a long, slow squeak stopped him in his tracks.

Someone had entered the library.

Damien crept between the bookshelves, keeping to the shadows until he could see the main seating area where he’d first met Rapunzel.

There she stood, her back to him as she gazed into the fireplace. She’d changed from the yoga pants and tank top into a silky robe that fell only to midthigh. A belt cinched in her waist, displaying the lovely hourglass shape of her body. A duffel bag sat on the chaise longue, and he had to wonder what toys she’d brought with her.

He’d considered the idea of ladies first, letting her top him before he got his turn, but his anticipation was too high, his desire to heat her body, show her wicked pleasure, too much.

She turned toward the door as if waiting for someone, letting him see her profile. There was something refined about the way she held herself, the slight tilt of her nose, that was almost regal.

“Looking for me?” he said at last.

She gasped and turned toward his voice, one hand gripping the front of her robe.

Damien chuckled and stepped from the shadows. Rapunzel glared, but held her tongue.

Let the mind-fucks begin.

The brain was the biggest sexual organ. Capturing a person’s thoughts and sending them ricocheting into all the possibilities was the best drug ever, and the contact high was just as good on his end. He knew what he did to her body as he strolled toward her, and he kept the silence between them, building the anticipation.

He cupped her cheek to ground himself in the moment. Her eyes were a light shade of green, with little flecks of gold. The subtlety would be lost on anyone who wasn’t in close proximity to her, and that he was given that honor was remarkable.

“Is there anything else you need to tell me? Speak now, because I don’t do negotiations during a scene.” Damien relished the smooth feel of her skin on his palm, the way she stared back at him without fear.

Negotiating during a scene was dangerous. With emotions heightened, a bottom could be convinced to do anything, and that was both unethical and dangerous.

Damien wanted no regrets, not with her.

His switch shook her head.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetness.”

“I don’t think so. Sir.”

Damien chuckled and swatted her ass. She had spunk, and he liked it. “We’ll use red and yellow for safe words. Tell me what they mean.”

“Red for all stop, yellow for slow down.” She was in complete control of herself, poised, confident.

He’d have to fix that.

“I’ll make you a deal. Tonight I call the shots. Tomorrow is all yours.” Damien didn’t specify tomorrow night or tomorrow all day; he’d leave that up to her, and how tonight went.

Her brows rose, and he could see the plethora of possibilities scrolling across her face.
Good. He liked a woman he could read, someone with good energy.

“Yes or no?” he prompted her.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” she said, with a slight tilt of her head.

“Promise?”

“If you ask nicely.”

They grinned at each other, another positive sign. He liked power exchange, being in control and mastering a partner’s body, but he also liked to laugh. It was called play for a reason, and he intended to do just that, all night long.

Damien kissed her gently, a brief press of lips. If he didn’t go lightly, he was going to bend her over the chaise and fuck her hard. He was just that into her.

“Wait right here,” he ordered.

Poppy had to pick her jaw up off the floor. Her dom for the night had changed from slacks and a button-down to jeans and a T-shirt. The way the denim hugged his ass, she wanted to sink her teeth into the firm globes. When he bent down, the view just got better.

He rummaged inside a large, rolling bag, while she fantasized about putting her hands on that ass.

He stood and she swallowed a groan. Tonight was going to stay with her for a very long time, she was sure of it. He walked toward her holding a length of black cloth.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed her.

Blindfolds weren’t one of her favorite things. If she couldn’t see something, she couldn’t prepare for what was coming. It was a layer of control she usually didn’t give up. It was her fault she hadn’t mentioned it during their brief negotiations, but it wasn’t a deal breaker.

Poppy inhaled a calming breath and closed her eyes. She would have to trust him. The fabric was silky, cool to the touch, and smelled faintly of leather. He wrapped the blindfold over her eyes, careful to not catch even a single lock of hair in the knot.

He spoke next to her ear, the heat of his body warming her backside. “Take my hand and follow me. I won’t let you fall.”

Poppy gripped his hand with both of hers. He led her slowly off the rug onto the wooden floor. The floor was cool against her bare feet as she tiptoed across the floor.

“We’re turning right. There’s a table on your right and shelves on your left,” he said, two steps before they changed directions. “Right again. Keep hold of me.”

“I am.”

“I am …?”

Poppy sighed. “I am, sir.”

He chuckled. “I’ll make sure you remember it. Keep digging yourself that hole, Rapunzel.”

The muscles in her core tightened. The tone of his voice, the confidence: she didn’t doubt for a second that he would do it.

“I’m going to have you sit here for a moment.” His hold on her hands changed. He must have turned to face her, because he gripped her shoulders and pushed her backward until her thighs hit something soft. “Sit.”

Poppy lowered herself onto a soft, cushiony surface. A couch? She leaned back a little, but he pulled her forward.

“Don’t fall over.” He chuckled.

“What am I sitting on?”

“A bed.”

What was a bed doing in a library? Then again, this was House Surrender. She’d seen metal rings for restraints in her bathroom. Anything that could be perverted in this place seemed to have been thought of.

“I’m going to set some things up. Just wait right here for me.” He tapped her nose and kissed her brow, the gesture playful, sweet, even. It was not what she’d have expected.

The sound of his steps on the hardwood floor grew fainter, until she couldn’t hear him at all. She shifted on the mattress and the springs squeaked. What carnal acts had transpired here? There was an entire staff on hand who scrubbed and disinfected everything between scenes, so she wasn’t concerned about the cleanliness of the play space; she was excited by the memories this room and the furniture held. It was enough to kick her pulse up another notch.

Suddenly, she heard him rolling his bag closer, and then it stopped.

For five, maybe ten minutes, Poppy listened to the clank of metal, the slap of leather, and the sounds of other materials she couldn’t name. With each passing second, her senses heightened. She could practically smell the scent of rawhide in the air, though maybe it was the blindfold, except there were more layers to the scent. Something heavy, like oil, and a woodsy scent, and the unmistakable trace of her own perfume. Was he in her bag, too?

“Up,” the dom said, almost right in front of her.

Poppy gasped and jerked her head around. She heard him chuckle just as his hands alighted on her shoulders and then slid down her arms. The moment skin met skin she couldn’t
help but shiver. There were slight calluses on his hands, not what she’d expected from a well-dressed, obviously educated man. Goose bumps broke out over the tops of her thighs.

His hold tightened on her wrists as he hauled her to her feet. Poppy yelped and tipped forward, face landing against smooth skin with the faint scent of soap. Somebody’s shirt had been removed, and it wasn’t hers.

Her short breaths and his mischievous chuckle were the only sounds in the library.

“I said up.”

“Oh, sorry.” She honestly hadn’t intended to disobey. The loss of her sight had thrown her for a loop.

“You’ll pay for that,” he promised, in a low, sensual tone. Still holding her against him, his hands coasted over her back, along her waist, as if he were mapping her body.

She was beginning to realize that he was a lot more dangerous and devastating than she’d thought. Not that her safety was in question. House Surrender was supposed to be safe, heavily monitored on a closed-circuit surveillance system. On top of that, all of the guests were vetted before attending. It was one of the reasons the price tag was so high.

“Let’s lose this.” Her dom stepped back and untied the belt at her waist.

The silky fabric fell open, the corners slapping against her knees, the hem whispering around her legs. She’d worn a thong and a lingerie piece made up mostly of see-through black fabric and a plumping bra. How did she look to him? What was his expression? Not knowing was driving her crazy.

A single finger tapped her collarbone, then slid slowly down her chest. Her breathing hitched as he dipped between the swells of her breasts, plumped as high as a great bra could make them go.

“Very nice,” he purred, his face so close to her own she had no idea how she hadn’t realized he was there.

He wiggled his finger between her breasts at the point where the fabric inhibited his progress.

“Come on.” His hands took hers again and he gently pulled her forward. His feet made no sound as they walked. Had he removed his shoes? He’d definitely taken his shirt off, she’d felt that for herself.

He led her to something, his hold changing to her shoulders, directing her to stop and turn slightly, then shuffle forward.

What was he doing?

“I’m going to place your hands and feet where I want them. Trust me that I’m not going to let you fall.”

Poppy nodded. Someone as detail oriented as he seemed to be wasn’t the type to be thoughtless, she hoped.

A whoosh of air was her only warning before something hard cracked against her bottom. The sound, more than the pain blossoming over the globe of her ass, was startling. She yelped and rocked forward, but he caught her, bringing his arm around her waist.

“When I speak to you, I expect a reply,” he growled into her ear.

“Yes, sir,” she answered quickly.

Adrenaline and a thrill of fear coursed through her veins.

Oh, he was going to be fun.

“Do you trust me?”

She grinned. “I do, sir.”

“Good.” He stroked her ass, heat radiating from where he’d smacked her. If there was a God, she didn’t look ridiculous wearing a thong.

His hold changed, arm sliding to her shoulder, the heat of his body aligning with her back.

“Take a small step forward,” he directed her.

She did as asked and his hand wrapped around hers. He lifted it and placed it on something wooden, a little thicker than her wrist.

“Hold on to that, but not too tight. Treat it like my cock.”

Poppy slid her hand around the girth, worn smooth with age, it seemed.

The dom was a silent presence at her back. Was he watching? Did he see what she’d do to him, given the opportunity?

When she was satisfied testing her grip around the wood, she stroked it, up and down, running into something above and below.

“Tease,” he said, just over her shoulder.

“Yes, sir.”

He placed her other hand where he wanted it and nudged the back of her thigh with his knee.

“Lift your foot.”

She did as he asked, and was directed to put her foot up on something narrow.

Something like the rung of a ladder.

Poppy grinned and let the dom guide her up onto the ladder.

“Perfect. Stay right there for a moment.”

She was intrigued. Where was this going? She tilted her head to the side and listened to him rummage in his toy bag behind her. Soon he was back, his hand between her shoulder blades, caressing her gently in a way that had her heart hammering in her chest.

When something rough dragged along her inner thigh, Poppy jumped.

“You are so damn quiet,” she grumbled as the rough object slowly brushed her skin, up and down.

He chuckled and her mind skittered off, wondering what he found so funny. He was doing a great job of keeping her on edge.

That was the problem—turning off her brain so she could just feel. He’d almost accomplished it by just placing her sightless on the bed, but she’d gathered bits of herself back again.

“Slide your feet out as far as you can,” he ordered.

Poppy did as he asked, placing her feet at the very edges of the ladder rung. It was wide enough that only her toes hung off; she didn’t know how long she’d be able to perch there, otherwise.

“Very good.” He stroked her side with his hand and she cursed the flimsy material that kept her from feeling him now.

He looped something around her knee.

Rope.

It was rope.

Holy shit
.

He was restraining her, tying her to the ladder.

Poppy gripped the ladder and resisted a shudder at the sensation of what had to be a hemp-blend rope binding one of her knees to the ladder. Rope bondage was one of the things she was most curious about.