sweetheart. But I’m Sir to you. Don’t forget it.”
The knot of lust kinking up her stomach flooded south. She stayed silent, hoping he’d finish their conversation before he talked her into an orgasm.
“I seem to be in a situation and I could use your help.”
“What, you need a literary agent?” Her dull nails tapped out an anxious rhythm on her keyboard.
“I’ll add that to your punishment. As I was saying, I have two events this weekend and my demo partner is still ill. I would be much obliged if you would help me out.”
“Another demo?” There was her Minnie Mouse voice again. But since her two settings seemed to be Bitchy and Squeaky with him, she stuck with the safer option.
“One Friday night in San Diego, one Saturday evening, again at Maison. Give me your address and I’ll pick you up.”
She’d dreamed about the wicked tortures his toy bag held, whether he could make pain as pleasurable as heat or ice. Between the orgasms in her sleep, the embarrassing number of times she’d buried her fingers inside herself and imagined him fucking her and the stress from her week so far, she couldn’t bring herself to say no. She needed the release. “Okay,” she replied, then rattled off her address. In any other situation, maybe she would have hedged, but the promise of having Damien scene with her again overcame her most rabbit-cautious instincts.
He sounded surprised, even upbeat. “How about I take you to dinner tomorrow and we can go over the details. I imagine you don’t want to discuss it at work.”
The blush that crept across her cheeks burned, another reminder of the devious ways he’d played her Saturday. “Good point.”
“I’ll text you the details. Don’t be late, sweetheart.” He hung up on her, the dead air throbbing in her ear.
Hell. The next thirty-odd hours were going to drag on forever.
Thursday afternoon, her first day back in her apartment, Cam received a text from Damien telling her when and where to meet for dinner. After a little research into the restaurant, one she’d never heard of, she realized why—it was so far outside her budget that it never even hit her radar. She was half-tempted to counter his offer with How about In-N-Out? or maybe Dinner at my place instead? I’ll be dessert… But the former would only get her a punishment and the latter was too…honest.
Yep, she had it bad. When she got home, she’d primped and tried to soothe her ragged nerves. He’d presented this weekend as a business arrangement, after all, so she tried to reign in her expectations. It wouldn’t suit to show up expecting a repeat of Saturday and getting nothing but contract negotiations.
Dressed in a conservative black dress and high black heels, her one nod to the possibility of having the evening heat up, she opened her door to go wait for Damien in the lobby and ran into a hard chest on the other side. Strong hands steadied her as her head swam with his scent—Damien.
“What are you doing here so early?”
His hazel eyes twinkled at her when he smiled. “Having beautiful submissives run into me, evidently.”
Cam blushed. Why couldn’t she make it through one encounter with him, dignity intact? “I’m not a subm—” At his look, she bit off her protest. She hadn’t even been able to sell herself on that lie lately. “Fine. But I’m a very particular, picky, demanding submissive,” she groused.
He laughed and the sound rumbled through her chest where they still touched. “No argument from me.” He plucked the keys from her hand, pulled her door closed and locked it before pocketing the key ring and locking their fingers together. Damien led her down the hall like this was a date. Butterflies hatched in her stomach.
While they waited for the elevator, he studied her, his eyes stroking up and down her body with the look of a man who’d seen that body naked and lost in ecstasy. “I’m glad you were ready early. I dislike being tardy.”
She
The knot of lust kinking up her stomach flooded south. She stayed silent, hoping he’d finish their conversation before he talked her into an orgasm.
“I seem to be in a situation and I could use your help.”
“What, you need a literary agent?” Her dull nails tapped out an anxious rhythm on her keyboard.
“I’ll add that to your punishment. As I was saying, I have two events this weekend and my demo partner is still ill. I would be much obliged if you would help me out.”
“Another demo?” There was her Minnie Mouse voice again. But since her two settings seemed to be Bitchy and Squeaky with him, she stuck with the safer option.
“One Friday night in San Diego, one Saturday evening, again at Maison. Give me your address and I’ll pick you up.”
She’d dreamed about the wicked tortures his toy bag held, whether he could make pain as pleasurable as heat or ice. Between the orgasms in her sleep, the embarrassing number of times she’d buried her fingers inside herself and imagined him fucking her and the stress from her week so far, she couldn’t bring herself to say no. She needed the release. “Okay,” she replied, then rattled off her address. In any other situation, maybe she would have hedged, but the promise of having Damien scene with her again overcame her most rabbit-cautious instincts.
He sounded surprised, even upbeat. “How about I take you to dinner tomorrow and we can go over the details. I imagine you don’t want to discuss it at work.”
The blush that crept across her cheeks burned, another reminder of the devious ways he’d played her Saturday. “Good point.”
“I’ll text you the details. Don’t be late, sweetheart.” He hung up on her, the dead air throbbing in her ear.
Hell. The next thirty-odd hours were going to drag on forever.
Thursday afternoon, her first day back in her apartment, Cam received a text from Damien telling her when and where to meet for dinner. After a little research into the restaurant, one she’d never heard of, she realized why—it was so far outside her budget that it never even hit her radar. She was half-tempted to counter his offer with How about In-N-Out? or maybe Dinner at my place instead? I’ll be dessert… But the former would only get her a punishment and the latter was too…honest.
Yep, she had it bad. When she got home, she’d primped and tried to soothe her ragged nerves. He’d presented this weekend as a business arrangement, after all, so she tried to reign in her expectations. It wouldn’t suit to show up expecting a repeat of Saturday and getting nothing but contract negotiations.
Dressed in a conservative black dress and high black heels, her one nod to the possibility of having the evening heat up, she opened her door to go wait for Damien in the lobby and ran into a hard chest on the other side. Strong hands steadied her as her head swam with his scent—Damien.
“What are you doing here so early?”
His hazel eyes twinkled at her when he smiled. “Having beautiful submissives run into me, evidently.”
Cam blushed. Why couldn’t she make it through one encounter with him, dignity intact? “I’m not a subm—” At his look, she bit off her protest. She hadn’t even been able to sell herself on that lie lately. “Fine. But I’m a very particular, picky, demanding submissive,” she groused.
He laughed and the sound rumbled through her chest where they still touched. “No argument from me.” He plucked the keys from her hand, pulled her door closed and locked it before pocketing the key ring and locking their fingers together. Damien led her down the hall like this was a date. Butterflies hatched in her stomach.
While they waited for the elevator, he studied her, his eyes stroking up and down her body with the look of a man who’d seen that body naked and lost in ecstasy. “I’m glad you were ready early. I dislike being tardy.”
She
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