Surrender to Fire: Maison Chronicles, Book 3 (15 page)

As if she’d begged aloud, Damien clamped down on her hips when he rose up, holding her in place. “Don’t fucking move.”

The effort to freeze made her whole body quiver. Her cunt squeezed the tip of his cock, still inside her. Her clit throbbed with her racing heart. Then, like an unleashed gladiator, Damien lunged upward, filling her until he bumped against her cervix in impossible pleasure-pain. Cam clung to him, her head dropping forward to rest against his shoulder while she held on and let him possess her body. He slammed her down onto his rising dick, the edge of pain launching her into orgasm. She cried out, squeezing as he shoved into her once, twice, then came inside her with a hot, searing shudder.

Once they’d caught their breath, Damien cleaned them both up and ran a hot bath, surprising her when he slipped into the deep tub behind her. With incredible tenderness, he washed her hair and soaped her body, paying special attention to the swollen lips of her pussy. One long finger worked inside her while his thumb stroked her clit.

He brought her to a soft, rolling orgasm that left her boneless and exhausted well into the middle of the night.

Chapter Eleven

Damien woke long before his alarm clock. The city was silent outside his bedroom window and a quick glance at his phone showed him it was only four in the morning. His roaming eyes landed on Camille, knees curled up under her chin, sitting in the corner of his room as she watched him.

“You’re up early,” he said, his voice sleep roughened. He didn’t know what she was doing, but her wide eyes told him something had spooked her. He was going to tread lightly.

“I had a nightmare.” She’d slipped into the athletic shirt he’d laid out for his morning run. It dwarfed her shoulders and, in her current position, did little to hide her body from him. Pale legs, white in the moonlight, stood in stark contrast to the maroon of his alumni colors.

While he wanted her to crawl back into bed and let him wrap her up in his arms, she looked frozen in place. So he accommodated, slipping from the covers and grabbing the second blanket that lay across the foot of the bed. He approached her slowly, watching for any signs of trigger or alarm. Instead, her eyes squeezed shut, forcing a tear down her cheek.

Camille was locked up so tight. He couldn’t bear to see her sad. All those possessive instincts that had roared to life last night when someone had invaded her apartment, and again when Officer Davis had touched her, left him no choice—her happiness was of utmost importance. He would accept that conclusion for now and dive into the logic behind it later. Right now, she needed him. Not a Dominant, or a sugar daddy, but him.

He tossed the blanket around his shoulders then sat next to her. When she didn’t run or tense up, he gently lifted her onto his lap, wrapping her up in the soft fleece. Her skin chilled him and he rubbed up and down her limbs until they warmed. Only then did he speak. “What happened in your nightmare?”

Only her harsh breathing disrupted the calm around them. “I don’t really remember.”

That was a lie, but they’d get back to that. She was going to be revealing a lot of secrets, if he had his way. And since they were both going to take the day off—there was no way she was going into work if she’d been threatened there as well—they had endless time. If being a Dominant had honed one skill, it was patience. Instead of pushing the issue, he took a different tack. “Why are you in the corner?”

“I didn’t want anyone sneaking up on me.” Camille wrapped her arms tight around her knees, as if making herself a smaller target.

Well, that was telling. He rubbed circles along her back until she unclenched, then he rested her head against his chest and held her tight. “Tell me about your week.”

She jerked. “Non sequitur much?” He remained silent until she sighed, then spoke. “It was rough. Nothing bad in particular, just tense. My boss, Ian, was helpful. Even offered to let me stay with him, though I turned him down.” Damien beat down his flash of jealousy at the affection in her voice when she spoke of another man. “It’s been all hotels for me this week.”

He focused on her issue instead of his own. “Why hotels?”

She groaned. “I didn’t want to talk about this, I swear.”

“Sweetheart, any good BDSM relationship, even something casual—” his chest tightened at that label, “—relies on complete trust. I’ll make a deal with you. For every question you answer, you can ask me one. Complete honesty.”

From the corner of her eye, she measured him, lips pursed so invitingly that he almost forgot his mission. At last, she agreed. “You’ve probably read
Memoirs of a Dominatrix
. Have you been watching the news recently?” He nodded. “Well, I’m the literary agent for Indigo Baumgardner.”

His blood iced as he recalled his gut reaction to hearing that story. She must have felt his tension because she began to pull away from him. “See? This is why I didn’t want to say anything. Everyone assumes I knew something, that I helped her steal the story or covered for her.” She fought against him and the part of him that hated his ex-sister-in-law wanted to let her go. But despite their limited time together, he
knew
this woman.

“Stop it now, Camille Verona.” Damien let his voice lash over her. She stilled, shooting him her best glare. His voice softened. “I believe you.”

She collapsed against him and nuzzled into his neck. He felt her tears trail down his chest. “Whoever’s threatening me doesn’t agree. I got an email at work the day after the story broke, then dead flowers and another note outside my apartment door, calling me a lying bitch.”

He winced, feeling guilty for his own assumptions about her. “Is that when Ian—” he gritted his teeth at the thought, “—invited you to stay with him?”

Her hand stroked along his jaw until he unclenched. “Yes. My turn now,” she said, clearly wanting to move on from her own issues. “When did you book this hotel room? Did you think I was such a sure thing that I’d spend the night with you?” Her halting words belied her self-doubt.

Did she think so little of him? He reigned in his disappointment, then reviewed the evening from her perspective. “Ah, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He held her closer. “This is my temporary home.”

Her head popped up, confusion in her eyes. “You don’t have a family off in the valley somewhere, do you? Or an estranged wife waiting for you to sign divorce papers?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her assumptions, as off base as they were. Before she could get more worked up, he kissed her forehead and stroked his thumb across her mouth. “I just moved to Los Angeles. This is where I’m living for now.”

“Oh. Well that makes more sense.” Her wry smile set them back on even footing. “With my runaway imagination, I should be the one writing fiction.”

She looked around and he wasn’t sure what he wanted her to think of the place. He didn’t exactly have a lot of his own things there.

He charged ahead before she could say anything about the room. “It’s not really my style. A little cold, but my partner, Evan, booked it for two weeks. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have stayed. My home here is pretty much ready for me to move in, though there’s still no hot water.”

Camille threw a considering look around the room. “What would you change?”

“There’s no color. Stark black and white, sure, but I’d like to see something with blues, maybe a little green. Beachy.” He gestured around the room. “Less metal, more wood. My house in Marina del Rey was renovated to blend more with the beach scene. It was too modern.”

“That was…far more detailed than I was expecting.” She cracked a smile—a great improvement over her post-nightmare terror.

He shrugged, shifting her body against his. Her ass rubbed against his insistent cock and he swallowed before answering. “I’m an architect. I think about this stuff too much.”

“Really? Is that what brought you to LA?”

How much should he tell her? She didn’t seem money hungry like Natali, but he hadn’t seen that in his ex until it was too late. Given the amount he’d already opened up to Camille, he decided to play this one close to the chest.

“Yes, a new job out here.” Enough on that topic. He turned the questions on her again. “Ready to talk about your nightmare?”

She cocked her head, considering him, then quirked her mouth into a smile. “Yes. Why did you need a last-minute submissive at Maison Domine?”

The switch of topics made his head spin. “Excuse me?”

This time, Cam’s eyes danced with merriment. “Well, I answered your question. Now you owe me one!”

Crafty little sub. And even though he’d answered a string of her questions about his hotel room and home, he had to grin at her witty banter. Since when did that turn him on? There was no denying the twitch and fill of his erection pressing into her hip. He’d answer her question, but he’d make her pay for it.

Before she could figure out what he had planned, he’d lifted her out of his arms and onto her back, spreading her legs with his hips. He pinned her wrists to the soft, white carpet above her head and ground into her. “Feel what you do to me?” He nuzzled her neck, waited until she gasped and sighed into his ear before pulling back and answering, “My local demo partner got sick.”

Pupils blown, Camille licked her lips, started to speak, then paused. Good—he had her off-balance. Her slow swallow, the flexing of her throat, gave him all kinds of ideas. “You found a sub out here awfully quick. I guess that makes sense, considering you found a replacement just as fast.” Some of the arousal leached from her eyes and her soft lips pressed into a tight line.

To make sure he had her full attention, he locked both wrists down with one hand and used the other to grab her jaw. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. Lara, the sub I was going to work with, is married to a friend of mine, another Dom. He was letting me work with her on a short-term basis.”

Camille’s soft exhale fanned across the back of his hand. How could that one little gesture make him ache to be inside her? He didn’t understand it, but he couldn’t fight it either. “My turn, and this is going to be it, sweetheart. After you answer my question and I answer yours, I’m going to rip those flimsy little panties off you and do sinful things to your body.”

A shudder ran through said body, jerking her core against him for a bare moment. He could feel the heat of her arousal searing through her panties and his boxers. He ached to forget about the questions and just take her, but he still needed to know one thing. “Why did you never hit subspace before?”

Her eyes squeezed shut and her hands fisted beneath his grip. “No fucking clue. I couldn’t let go? My ex was inexperienced? We never played? Take your pick. Maybe you and I just have really good chemistry.” She peeked at him through her lowered lashes. “But if that’s what the other subs mean when they talk about subspace, I don’t think I can get enough.” Her low voice wrapped around his cock and painted all too vivid pictures of the ways he could make her fly.

Though part of him—a foreign, unfamiliar part—relished the idea of staying up all night talking, his body clamored for hers now. He hoped there would be other nights to simply talk, though he couldn’t imagine a scenario where being around her wouldn’t turn him on to the point of distraction.

Shit. He was in deep but he’d be damned if he could find the motivation to backpedal at this point. He’d just have to tread lightly and keep things as professional as possible at the club. Maybe tattoo
Not Your Submissive
on his cock as a reminder every time he fucked her. Camille was a great demo partner, hot in bed, but he didn’t want anything more.

Right?

Her question thankfully interrupted his trip down that murky river. She fixated on a point over his shoulder. “Did I do something wrong on Saturday? Is that why you left?”

The words hit him hard. Needing to erase her doubts, he flipped them over so she straddled him, then tugged her chin down so she stared into his eyes and couldn’t look away. “No. Fucking. Way.” A shuddering sigh left her body. “If I’d been displeased, I wouldn’t have left a note.” He didn’t know why it was so important to make her understand, but she’d been through enough the past two weeks. She didn’t need him adding to her insecurities. “You were perfect, sweetheart. So perfect I’m working with you again this weekend, right?” She nodded. “So perfect I couldn’t get enough of your sweet body.” He thrust up against her and she gasped before trying to look away.

“No.” He tightened his grip on her face. “Pay attention to me. Listen to my words.” His intensity pinned her in place and shook him to the core. “My brother needed me, and that’s the only thing that could have tempted me away from you Saturday.” The truth in his words rang through the room, vibrating through him and Camille like a tuning fork.

Enough. He leaned up and captured her lips, binding her to him with his kiss. With eager hands he shoved down his boxers, grappled with the bedside-table drawer until he retrieved a condom and sheathed himself. With two tugs, he ruined another pair of her panties and thrust inside her. They moaned in unison and he lost himself in her body. Her hips bucked against him and he let her ride him, watching her tits bounce up and down behind his shirt. When he reached for the shirt, she rose above him, leaning back to take him deeper. He stripped the shirt from her as she moved, gritting his teeth when she was finally bared to him.

Perfect. Her soft, curvy body rode him with all the fury of an avenging goddess, intent on her own pleasure as much as his. He took one of her hands from where they were braced on his chest and moved it to the juncture of her thighs. “Touch yourself, sweetheart. Make yourself come hard around my cock.”