The Darker Side of Pleasure (32 page)

“Let it go,” he whispered.

And she did, just let her body melt into the dual sensations, until the pain of the spanking and the absolute pleasure of his fingers working her clit, then sliding inside her, became all one thing. One sensation: pure pleasure. She rocked back into the pain, forward into the pleasure, not caring how wanton she must look.

Soon she was reaching that lovely peak once more. This time she took one deep breath and fell over the edge, into the shattering embrace of orgasm. Her body shook with the steep rush of sensation. And before the last ripple subsided, he was pulling her up, against his body. She burrowed into the heat of him behind her. His strong arm held her tightly around her waist. She let her head fall back onto the hard plane of his chest.

“Christ, Magdalena.”

She smiled. She’d heard the ragged heat in his voice, felt the tremble of his body against hers. And knew a different kind of satisfaction.

Being upstairs, dressed again and sitting in his elegantly furnished living room, seemed surreal to her now. Too unbelievably civilized, given what they’d just done together.

Her head was still spinning a bit, her body light, weightless. She had to make an effort to keep a foolish grin off her face.

He stood against the fireplace mantel, a casual pose except for the betraying set of his shoulders. And he had a drink in his hand now. But she felt too smugly sated to be concerned about the tension held in his stance.

“How are you?” he asked. “Are you warm enough?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Wonderful.”

“Do you have any questions about what happened?”

“I’m sure I will later. But not now. I feel too good.”

“You do look like a cat with a bowl of cream.” He smiled then, and the tension, whatever had been bothering him, seemed to wash away. His smile was as devastating as ever.

“I do have one question. Are you always so distant with your partners after you play with them?”

His dark brows furrowed for a moment, then he was at her side, sinking down onto the cushions beside her.

“Forgive me. I should be more attentive. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Really. I just…”

She shook her head helplessly. She didn’t know how to explain it, this need to have him close to her. Was this simply an effect of what had happened to her? Or was it something else?

She would have to think about it later.

“I should have told you about this. Sometimes the bottom can crash. It’s an emotional reaction to what your body has been through. A release of sorts.”

“Ah, that explains it, then.”

Did it?

He stroked her hair from her face, tucked it behind her ear. Such a tender gesture from him, the man of steel. Perhaps he wasn’t so cool and steely on the inside after all?

But no, he was just being nice to her, doing his job. He was excellent at his job.

“I’m going to take you back to your hotel now. You need to rest, to think about everything that’s happened here today.”

“Okay.”

Why the hell was her throat tightening at the thought of his leaving her alone in her hotel room?

He helped her to her feet, showed her through the house, back into the garage, into the car.

He started the engine, pressed the magic button, and backed out of the garage. They rolled through the iron gates, onto the street. She was surprised to see the sky darkening already. How long had she been in his house? She’d lost all sense of time.

Fog was rolling in as he drove through the streets of the city. It was dark enough now that the colorful lights of neon signs stood out as they passed. She watched idly as storefronts, bars, apartment buildings slipped by outside the window. It all seemed a little less than real. And too cold out there, too unfriendly.

She turned to watch Damien’s profile instead. He was so intent on his driving. But there was a vague softness about his mouth that hadn’t been there before.

“Damien? Are we supposed to talk about this?”

“Yes, of course.” He downshifted as the car climbed a hill. “We’ll talk later. When you’ve had some time to normalize.”

Why wouldn’t he look at her? And why did that make her chest knot up? She wasn’t the type to become emotionally involved. It must be that reaction he’d told her about. Because this loose-limbed woman on the verge of tears was not her.

She wasn’t sure right now that she would ever be her old self again.

They reached the front of the sleek and thoroughly modern W Hotel on Third Street, and the doorman opened her door. Damien got out of the car, handed the man a tip, and told him he’d be only a few minutes. Then he was by her side, his arm slipping around her waist. He felt good. Strong.

“I’m going to see you up to your room. Do you have your key?”

She dug through her purse, handed him the plastic card.

“What room?”

“Fourteen twenty.”

They crossed the slick expanse of black-tiled floor in the lobby, passed the curved check-in counter with its enormous bowls of green apples, and went to the bank of elevators. He kept his hand at her waist. She couldn’t help but think of where else those hands had been today.

They rode up in the elevator quietly. But she didn’t need to talk about anything right now. She was busy enough with the images of the day flashing through her head. Happy enough with his arm around her.

The elevator doors opened and he walked her out, found her room number, opened the door with the key. His hand still on the small of her back, he ushered her into the sparsely elegant room.

She assumed he’d leave right away, but he stood there, his arm still curved around her back. With his other hand he tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. His hazel eyes were burning.

“You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes. Are you?”

He didn’t answer her, just stared into her eyes with that intense gaze of his. He still radiated power in the same way he had when she’d first laid eyes on him. But there was more there now. Her body was heating up again, needing him. But he was going to leave her there.

“Magdalena…”

“What is it?”

He gave a small shake of his head, then moved in and kissed her, crushing her lips against his. Bruising, almost, but she wanted it, needed it.

He tasted faintly of the Scotch he’d had to drink. A little sweet, a little sharp. Masculine. He tasted even better when he opened her lips with his tongue, slipping right in, tasting, teasing. She moaned into his mouth, her body lighting up with need.

Just as quickly it was over and he was pulling away from her. His eyes were blazing with a dark golden fire.

“I have to go. You should eat something, maybe have a bath. I’ll check on you later.”

He moved toward the door, opened it, and slipped out so quickly she had to ask herself if she’d imagined that kiss. But the taste of him still sat heavy on her tongue. The heat of him was still on her skin.

She moved to the mirror over the dresser. Her reflection peered back at her. Her lips were full and looked a little swollen. Her eyes were huge, the pupils enormous. Her skin was pale, yet her cheeks were flushed a deep pink.

She looked different, felt different. She wasn’t sure what she thought about it yet. Yes, she needed some time to come back to earth, to dissect what had happened to her, figure out what it all meant.

The one thing she knew was that Damien Knight had touched a place in her no one else had ever reached before. In one afternoon, he had opened up a part of her she had kept tightly closed for years, had made her really let go. He’d made her feel the purest pleasure she had ever known, just as he had promised. What else would he do to her? Too deliciously frightening to think about.

But she wouldn’t stop thinking about him. Oh, no, he had burned an indelible place in her mind already. And like a smitten schoolgirl, she found herself wondering if he felt the same way.

Silly of her, very much unlike her. But for tonight, she would indulge herself.

What was the calm and cool Damien Knight thinking? Because he certainly hadn’t been calm and cool when he’d left her hotel room. Was it possible she had managed to shake up the one man who was, finally, stronger than she was?

CHAPTER SIX

D
AMIEN SPED THROUGH THE CITY STREETS. WHAT
the hell was wrong with him? His heart was hammering in his chest as though he’d just avoided a car wreck.

He’d certainly avoided what could have been a tragic mistake if he hadn’t left her hotel room when he did.

Maggie. Magdalena.

He loved that she didn’t like it when he called her by her full name. Even now it made him smile. God, he really was a sadist. But right now he was the one being tortured. By images of her long, sleek body, her polished skin, those enormous gray eyes that looked as though they were carved out of crystal. The woman was so incredibly responsive. The way she came into his hand, over and over…

His groin tightened, his thickened cock pressing against the fabric of his slacks.

She would be easy, physically. It was her mind he’d have to work with. She’d given in a bit too effortlessly today. By tomorrow her mind would be full of questions. Doubt. He would deal with it then.

Meanwhile, he had to put her out of his mind, somehow. He hadn’t been so obsessed with a woman in a very long time. Not since his early days with Julia.

Stupid of him, to even think about Julia now. It wasn’t as if he were going to marry Maggie. No, he’d never make that mistake again.

Why the hell was he even thinking about such a thing?

Maybe because she made his heart beat and his palms sweat as though he were twenty-one again, as he had been when he’d met his ex-wife. What a disaster that had turned out to be, and all of it his fault.

He revved the engine at a red light, tapped on the steering wheel with impatient fingers. He wanted to get home, have a drink. He wanted to drink too much, really. Take a shower so he could get the smell of her off his skin before it drove him completely insane.

He was being ridiculous. He wasn’t twenty-one again. A man of his age, his experience, shouldn’t feel like this, like he would come apart if he didn’t see her again. Ridiculous.

But as absurd at it was, he knew when he got home he’d find some excuse to call her the moment he walked in the door.