Surrender to Fire: Maison Chronicles, Book 3 (14 page)

More surprises. Excellent. Damien kept his face blank, even when he wanted to shake Camille for not telling him what was going on.
You’re not really her boyfriend. You had no claim on her before tonight.
The truth roiled in his gut. But what were his options? He wanted to keep their relationship casual and this was the price.

Camille shook her head. “I don’t know. This seems more personal than the flowers or the note at work.”

Davis nodded and tugged a notepad from his back pocket. “Nothing else out of the ordinary of late?”

“No.” She smiled up at Davis then stepped back and leaned against Damien. That took care of one source of skyrocketing blood pressure. He didn’t like seeing another man’s hand on her.

Shit. He dipped to lay a kiss on Camille’s head, hiding his eyes from the too-observant cop for a moment. He gathered his composure, shoved all his questions and uncertainties and unruly emotions into a box to peek at later. Right now, he needed to focus on Camille and whatever threat loomed over her.

Keeping her against his side, Damien gestured to the apartment. “I saw the doorjamb had been tampered with. The door’s unlocked, as I found out.” He held up his handkerchief. “Didn’t touch anything, but I did get a good look at the apartment from two steps inside.”

Davis moved to the open apartment door. “Appreciate the care you took with the scene, Mr. Winter.” Beginning with the doorway, Davis looked over the scene, periodically scribbling into his notepad. Camille started to follow, but Damien held her back. She didn’t need to see her home just yet. After Davis was done, they could go in.

Then Camille would go home with him. Instead of the icy trepidation he expected to feel at a woman invading his personal space—especially after all Natali’s ridiculous harping about the size and location of his Manhattan condo—he felt nothing but satisfaction. He had a primal urge to throw her over his shoulder, beat his chest and take her back to his cave. Which, when he measured it, was really the ancient equivalent of what he was already doing.

Damn the consequences and damn the rational voice that told him it would take their relationship beyond professional territory. She was staying with him.

Little tremors still radiated through Cam’s body. After Officer Davis had thoroughly explored her apartment and taken stock of the destruction, Damien had let her go in. Her heart had cracked. She didn’t care about the broken stuff, or even the mess, but the feeling of sick violation clung to her like toxic sludge. She didn’t think a year of showers could erase it.

But Damien might be able to.

He’d supervised while she threw a few days of clothes into her bag, instructing her to grab everything she’d need to stay out of her apartment until Sunday. It wasn’t much, just clothes, a few toiletries, her Kindle. Being low maintenance felt unfeminine, especially with Damien’s stark masculinity filling the room. She bet he was used to classier women, the kind who took one hour just to curl their hair and a second one to primp and dress.

Damien’s hard eyes surveyed the room. With his hands tucked into his pockets, sweeping back his knee-length coat, he looked like a Victorian lord surveying his demesne, albeit in a much nicer suit. She melted. She couldn’t resist him, even in the face of this crisis.

“Are you sure that’s all you need?”

Well, the jig was up, she might as well cop to it. “I’m not exactly what you would call high maintenance.” She scanned over the single large duffel bag. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Cam looked around her bedroom—the one area that hadn’t been damaged in the invasion—to avoid meeting his eyes. She could feel him staring. The prickles of awareness on her neck filtered through her body to meld with the growing lust he already inspired.

“Well don’t be fussy on my account. I’m not exactly a fan of overdone women.” The air shifted as he closed the distance between them. She could feel the heat of his body soaking into her back, even though he hadn’t touched her. “Especially when I’m just going to be stripping them and mussing their fine hair and makeup.” He ran a finger along her neck, sweeping aside her hair before pressing a kiss to her nape. “But that’s just me.”

Desire swamped her, washing aside the nauseating tension from the evening’s events. Hot damn. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to lose herself for a few hours. “Take me away from here, Sir.” She whispered the words, but when Damien’s hands squeezed around her hips, she knew he’d heard.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he growled. “I hope you’re not too tired.”

The surprisingly short drive to Damien’s was filled with their mutual tension, until Cam felt like an overtightened guitar string. One pluck and she was going to pop in his hands. She distracted herself by trying to conjure a vision of Damien’s place. She imagined a cold, sterile condo, professionally decorated to model-home standards. It would have to overlook the city, as befit the kind of power and strength demanded by a man like him.

When Damien pulled his sleek car into the parking garage of a luxury hotel, her heart sank. She guessed that made sense. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to welcome intrusion into his personal space. He parked, then Damien hefted her bag over his shoulder and guided her to the elevators. He hit the button for 40, then lounged back against the wall. His closeness, the mirror shine on the elevator walls, made her think of their interlude on her elevator earlier. Was that just a few hours ago? It seemed like days.

Suddenly weary, she slumped against the gold, waist-high railing that lined the elevator. She dug her thumbs into her temples to ease the throbbing headache that steadily grew. The elevator
ding
ed and Damien grabbed her hand to lead her down the hall.

Only a few doors broke the long, nut-brown lines of the hallway. Damien didn’t stop until he reached the far end. He dropped her hand, pulled a keycard from his pocket and swiped it, then held the door open for her.

Cam entered and looked around as Damien set the bags next to a black leather couch with chrome legs. The main room gleamed, from the kitchen to the small dining table to the entertainment area, complete with a massive flat-screen TV. Wide windows overlooked the Los Angeles city lights, just as she’d predicted. Disappointment trickled through her. He’d surprised her as a Dominant. She didn’t know what else she’d expected from him as a man.

The lights flicked off, leaving only the ambient nighttime light pollution to highlight the room. Damien returned to her side, spun her around to face the kitchen area and set her hands on the cold marble bar top that separated her from the small cooking area. “Don’t move.”

Heat suffused her at his sharp words. What did it matter if he was a typical rich bachelor? She wasn’t dating him. Wasn’t in the market for a husband. His trappings didn’t change the way he dominated her and that’s all she wanted right now. He tugged at the zipper until her dress parted and cool air skated across her back. Damien warmed her, trailing kisses along her spine until her fingers dug into the edge of the bar, desperate to touch him. He knelt, the soft material of his suit dragging along the backs of her legs. He traced his tongue along her spine before lifting one leg, then the other, to remove her heels.

Her aching feet thanked him. She wasn’t used to wearing stilettos and she hadn’t anticipated being out so long tonight. She’d planned on a business dinner before heading home to her most comfortable pajamas. Instead, she was at an anonymous hotel, with her new lover, while he nibbled up the back of her shaking legs.

Each nip zinged along her nerves, rushing blood to her clit until it swelled. When Damien reached the above-knee hem of her dress, he rucked it up to make way for his questing mouth. “You are so soft,” he said.

When her skirt lifted high enough to expose her wet pussy, Damien groaned and pushed her legs apart before licking at her inner thigh. He ran a finger along her slit. “So fucking wet. Is this all for me?”

“Yes, Sir,” she sighed, hoping he wouldn’t tease her all night.

He spun her around and pulled her against his body. “Damien. Say my name.”

She couldn’t deny that voice. “Damien.” The whispered name seemed to break something within him. He shoved a thigh between her legs and settled her against him, then arched her backwards to consume her with a kiss. “Tonight,” he panted between kisses, “it’s Damien and Camille.”

Shivers danced along her spine. His fingers tangled in her hair and she moaned into his mouth, needing him just like this. No games, no play, just mind-blowing passion. She needed to forget, and he was providing that.

She shouldn’t want more. And if a small, greedy part of her did? She’d deal with it tomorrow.

Once her mouth was swollen from his lips and she was on the verge of orgasm, he tugged her to the couch, settling her on it while he draped his jacket over a nearby chair. With aggressive movements, he wrenched the cufflinks from his shirt, yanked his tie loose enough to pull over his head and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the naked body she’d dreamed of for almost a week. In the evening light, his skin glowed, the dark hairs peppering his chest and arrowing down, more than enough invitation for her. Tonight, she didn’t need to obey.

Cam dropped to her knees in front of him and pulled at his belt until it came free of the loops. “God, Camille,” he groaned when she cupped his erection through his fine gray slacks. He jerked his hips, pressing harder against her palm. The heat of his flesh seared her until she let go, desperate to unzip him and feel him without barriers.

Damien helped, shoving off his pants and dark-blue boxer briefs to free his erection. She grabbed him around the base and licked along one side, then the other, avoiding the sensitive head.

“Tease,” he groaned before wending his fingers through her hair.

His thigh muscles bunched under her hands, the crisp hair grazing her hands. He overwhelmed her senses, the clean taste of his skin mingling with the musky, masculine scent of his cock. She leaned back, loving Damien’s hands tugging her hair to entice her forward. Looking upward, her heart leaped. Damien’s hair, mussed from its earlier perfect style, framed his eyes. He stared at her with unnerving intensity, as if he could control her through sheer force of will. It wasn’t too far from the truth—when he looked at her like that, she ached to obey his every command.

But, for a little while, she’d hold back. Instead of obeying that silent order, her eyes skimmed down his body, lingering on the taut brown nipples that stood out from his chest, then down his muscular stomach. He was lean, strong, but without the overdone, bulging muscles of a man compensating for some perceived shortcoming. The light-brown hair caging his cock and balls had been trimmed down. She ran her fingers through the shorter hairs, luxuriating in the aching groan she elicited from Damien.

Convinced he was as eager for her as she was for him, she tongued the tip of his erection, tasting the drop of precome that had collected there. Salty and sweet, like the taffy she got on her lone trip to the Jersey shore as a child. She sucked him deeper into her mouth. His rumbled “Cam!” shot straight to her pussy. She wanted him inside her, but not as much as she wanted to make this big, strong man come apart beneath her hands.

Damien clawed at her hair and the sharp tugs only inflamed her lust. With one hand, she stroked his length up and down, following the path of her mouth. With the other, she reached between his legs, pulling at his high, tight balls. He cursed and thrust his cock deeper into her mouth until he hit the back of her throat, making her moan. He did it again and again, fucking her mouth while she watched the utter abandon on his face.

Power rose within her, knowing that her body brought him such pleasure.

With a gasp, he let her go and stumbled back a step. “Not like that. Not tonight.” One of his hands ringed the base of his thick cock, the tip looking purple and angry. She wanted him to finish in her mouth, begged with her eyes, but he shook his head and pulled her up from the floor instead. While she stood there, clad only in moonlight and fighting the urge to cover herself, he sidestepped to the couch and sat in the middle. “Come here.”

Two steps brought her to his side, where he grabbed her leg and pulled her off-balance until she fell against him, straddling his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck while Damien pulled her tight against his erection. She undulated against his hard length, but he wouldn’t let her move enough to take him inside her. A whimper formed on her lips, but Damien’s kiss stole it, along with her sanity. Deep, cocaine kisses had her nails scoring down his chest, fighting against the hands that held her thighs in place, biting at his lips and tongue until he bent her back to feast on her nipples instead.

Hands supporting her back, Damien lifted her breasts to his mouth, licking at one nipple until it beaded painfully, then switching to the other. The cold bite of air on her wet skin made her body shake in his arms. She rubbed her clit against his erection, racing toward orgasm. “Please, Damien,” she begged when he bit down on the full flesh of her breast. As the bruise formed under his teeth, she raked her hands through his hair in a silent plea to stop the torture.

He released her flesh, leaving a perfect bite mark on her pale body. “Mine.” His ragged voice cut at her with its unfettered possession, calling to something equally needy and demanding in her. She yanked back his head and lost herself in his kiss.

So focused on the feel of his tongue sliding along hers, Cam barely registered the crinkling condom wrapper or Damien’s hands at her ass until he lifted her up, then filled her with his cock in one long thrust. She cursed and bit his lip as his erection stretched her sensitive tissues. He guided her up and down his length with fingers biting into her ass until she established a rhythm. As she fucked him, his thumb brushed against her clit, making her pussy clench around him. He groaned and bit down on her shoulder, marking her again. She needed him deeper, faster.