Surrender to Fire: Maison Chronicles, Book 3 (19 page)

He deposited her on a warm, sheet-covered couch and handed her a cool water bottle and some wheat crackers. She ate and drank, resisting the urge to scratch at the drying wax on her skin. The room spun at the edges, but Damien never left her side.

“Ready for me to get that wax off?”

Cam nodded around a mouthful of cracker. With a flick and a metallic click, Damien produced a pocketknife, the sharp edge glinting in the light. She shivered, but remained still as he lifted the large pieces from her skin. “Awfully trusting, aren’t you?”

Blood pounded in her ears and her vision narrowed down to the point where his knife dented against her skin as it slipped under a blotch of wax and pried it free. He could so easily hurt her and that fear preyed on her sure knowledge of his skills. Damien wouldn’t hurt her—but in that moment, he could. That edge of
what-if
tossed her back into the dark, stormy waves of submission.

As he worked to free her body from the wax, lust built until she was on the verge of another limb-wrenching orgasm. He brought the knife to her thighs, scraping along the tender flesh. She wasn’t restrained and her muscles ached with the effort of holding still. She watched him duck his head to her pussy, felt his warm breath fan across her wetness. With deft fingers, he cleared the rest of the wax from the sensitive folds between her legs, then laid his mouth on her. She came, bucking against his mouth and clawing at the sheet beneath her until every drop of pleasure was wrung from her body.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when Damien slipped her shirt over her head and her pants onto her legs. The last thing she remembered was watching Damien talk with the club’s owner, Stephan.

“Ready to go, love?”

His tone was so casual that she couldn’t give any weight to his choice of words. Nonetheless, her stomach somersaulted over the term of endearment. Her emotions were already on the fritz from what seemed like an interminably long and arduous day, so she nodded instead of speaking. Who knew what embarrassing admissions would have tumbled out otherwise?

They stepped into the club proper and she had to do a double take. It looked drastically different from the large, open space they’d entered earlier. The corners were brightly lit by recessed spotlights, but the center was dim. Singles and couples and small groups filled the play stations set up around the room and more sounds of kinky pleasure echoed from two separate hallways. Damien hustled her out a side door which opened right into the parking lot. Good—she was raw from sensory overload and that exposed moment in the club was almost too much.

In the silent, smooth-riding car, she drifted off until they reached the hotel, waking only when Damien’s soft kisses roused her. “Up to the room, then you can sleep all night, uninterrupted.”

Her sleepy brain protested. “What if I want you to interrupt my sleep?” she murmured.

His heart-stopping grin filled her vision. “We can negotiate that later.” Kisses landed on her forehead, cheeks, then lips. “I’m so proud of you, Camille. You’re a beautiful partner.”

She blushed, then took his proffered hand to exit the car.

Just that much contact was enough to rouse her body. Her sheath clenched and her heartbeat sped up. All of it amounted to one thing—trouble.

Camille Verona, you have gone and done it now. You just had to go and fall in love with him, didn’t you?

Chapter Fourteen

Though he hadn’t slept much the night before, Damien felt energized. He’d tried to sleep, curling around Camille despite the extra room in the hotel’s king-size bed, but he’d gotten distracted by the softness of her skin, or the slight citrus aroma that floated from her hair. And just when sleep would start to overtake him, she’d snuggle closer, unconsciously craving his nearness. It made him hard. It made him dizzy with lust.

It made him want to claim her.

But that just wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t want a relationship and neither did she. And Camille was only going to double down on that once she found out about Shawn.

His suspicions had been confirmed by Officer Davis. They’d brought Shawn in for questioning about the diner incident, then asked about the other threats. Shawn had copped to the flowers, but nothing else. Davis suspected he was still withholding information and Damien agreed. Still, something didn’t feel right about the situation. What had made Shawn go from passive-aggressive threats to an all-out attack on Camille?

As daylight streamed through the room, he studied Camille’s sleeping form. She looked so peaceful. The last thing he wanted was to disrupt her day with more ugliness from that asshole. He’d tell her tomorrow, once their weekend was done. Then he could offer to help her cope, any way he could.

What, by bringing her to Sunday dinner? Or maybe you just want to play her until she passes out and forgets. But will that really help her?

Shit. He sighed, blowing ripples over the surface of his coffee. He hated being out of his depth, but that’s exactly where Camille put him. With his former subs, they’d had very clear lines—their relationships existed only in the club and they met each other’s needs. From the arrangement he got a demo bottom, someone to scene with and his partner had slaked her submissive desires as needed. His last submissive, though…she had wanted more. And he’d almost been ready to agree, until she showed her true colors.

Right after his sister-in-law abandoned Derek, nothing had mattered beyond helping his brother. His ex had rebelled against his “neglect” by taking his Amex Black on a shopping spree. That’s when he knew they wouldn’t work out. Family always comes first. Always. If all Natali saw in him was an ATM, despite her professions of “love”… Well, at least he saw through her in time.

Camille stirred on the bed, tangling her legs in the white sheets until they showed the sensual outline of her body. He wanted her again. Would he ever get tired of slipping inside her body, feeling her shatter around him?

He set his coffee down on the dinette and stalked across the room, intent on waking her. With gentle tugs, he freed her from the blanket. She barely stirred. Grinning, Damien ringed his fingers around her ankles, then slid them upward, spreading her knees apart to make room for his body. He could already smell her arousal. Her satiny panties were wet and clinging to the outline of her pussy lips. He licked along her center, sucking against her clit through the fabric. Camille moaned, let her knees drop farther apart, but didn’t wake.

Damien tugged her legs closer together and slipped the panties off her body, exposing her to his rabid gaze. A trail of cream glistened, and he couldn’t resist tasting her. He licked up one side then down the other, avoiding her most sensitive areas. A sigh resonated down to his ears as he wiggled one finger inside her.

God, she was tight. Hot, wet and ready, but tight enough to strangle his dick when he worked inside her. He set his mouth on her clit and sucked until she awoke.

“Damien? Oh yes…”

“Come for me, Camille.” He doubled his efforts, slipped another finger inside her and massaged that little bundle of nerves with his tongue. She cried out, her legs closed around his back like a vise and she bucked against his mouth, coming in waves.

Before she could finish, he slammed himself deep inside her, groaning when he felt her muscles clenching at him. Her arms looped around his neck and he let her pull him downward to meet her lips in a deep, passionate kiss until he came as well, long, searing waves of pleasure rippling through him.

It was just fucking. So why did it feel like so much more?

He rolled off Camille and she snuggled up to his side. “Want a shower?” he asked, tendrils of panic starting to tighten around his throat. He was entering dangerous emotional territory. Not only did it scare the shit out of him for practical reasons, but he didn’t want Camille getting any ideas.

“Sure.” She pulled herself from their tangle of limbs and padded off to the bathroom before he could move. The
ping
of water on the shower tiles roused him from the bed. He grabbed his coffee cup, filled another and took them both to the bathroom. Arm extended, he handed one to her. He admired the messy black curls that fell around Cam’s face. She looked like a woman who had been well fucked, and damned if he could sidestep pride at that.

“Thanks.” She gratefully sipped the coffee, her fingers curled around the mug. He wanted her to touch him with that much joy on her face.

Great. Now he was trying to compete with coffee? He reached in to test the water, eager to get back to familiar territory. Where he’d find it, though, he had no clue. The shower wasn’t quite warm enough, but a cold shock didn’t sound like a horrible idea, so he set down his coffee and jumped in.

He hissed when the cool water hit his skin, though it did clear his mind. Or maybe that was because of the shower door separating him from Camille. He couldn’t think when she was around, not clearly anyway. He kept repeating
no relationships, no emotional entanglements
in his head
until she joined him.

When she popped the door open, her full lips were curled into a tantalizing smile. “I thought you’d be able to give up cold showers with a willing partner in your bed.”

The water hit the tips of her breasts as she stood at the edge of the huge shower space. Lunging forward, he wrapped his arms around her waist, dipped her back, then licked one nipple clean of water before sucking at the other. Her fingers tightened on his hair, holding him close.

“Cold showers are good for you, didn’t you know?”

She snorted, then moaned when he bit down on her distended nipple. “I hate being cold.”

“Is that so?” He pulled her upright, nibbled her earlobe. “You didn’t object last night.” Before she could answer, he crab-walked her backward until her back was mere inches from the cold tile.

She tilted her head up. “That was different.” The mulish set to her mouth wouldn’t suit.

“Are you questioning me, sub?” He infused his words with a playful tone, eager to see what she’d do with a little teasing. Would she get pissed, like some women did?

Her long eyelashes batted over her blue eyes. “Sir, I would never dream of doing such a thing.”

Game on. He’d curbed his playful Dom side for so long, after too many confused submissives who only wanted one personality from him. But Camille…she was complex, her needs as varied as his. Even if he couldn’t provide the kind of permanent connection she might be seeking, he could do this.

Taking her arms from around his neck, he tangled their fingers together, then spread her arms wide. “I think you’re lying to me.” He waggled his eyebrows. “We can’t have that, can we?”

Camille bit her thick lower lip and his cock bounced against his stomach. “No, Sir, I’m not lying!” The studied innocence on her face, the twinkle in her eyes… She loved this as much as he did. This kind of teasing was fun. Freeing.

“I think you are. A punishment is in order, I believe.” He crowded her back against the tile. She yelped when her skin hit the chilled surface and he smiled as she dissolved in laughter, begging him to let her go.

Releasing one of her arms, he reached between her legs. Wet and ready for him. “Why would I do that when you obviously enjoy it?”

“Please, Sir, my back is so cold!” She giggled, used her free hand to tug at his hair and bring him closer for a kiss. Their tongues tangled, searing heat through his body that the cool shower air couldn’t touch.

“Only because you begged so sweetly.” Damien let her come off the wall, lost once more in her mouth. As soon as she sagged against him, he grabbed her arm, spun her around and pushed her front to the tile. She yelped and squirmed and laughed.

Hell, he couldn’t help it. He laughed along with her, caging her in with his body. His cock rested against her ass and he rolled his hips once, twice, rubbing against her there. She shuddered and moaned. “Ask nicely and maybe you can have some hot water.” Curious to explore her reaction, he trailed one hand up her thigh and brushed across her asshole.

She jerked in his arms, her hips arching backward into his hand. He circled her back entrance with his thumb. “Well? Would you like hot water?” He bit down on her shoulder, the need to mark her rising with his eagerness to take her, claim her—everywhere.

“Hot water would be—oh, don’t stop!—uh, nice…” Her words were as ragged as his control. His thumb breached her ass, pumping in and out while she shook against the tile.

“Have you ever been taken here, sweetheart?”

She nodded, her black hair dipping up and down her back. “Once. A while ago. Didn’t feel like this, though. This is good.”

He froze, pulled his thumb from her body. Ice coated his stomach at the thought of Camille having an unpleasant sexual experience. He’d have to tread carefully. Instead of pushing her further, he drew her under the water, ignoring the lost-puppy look on her face.

“Sir, I’m sorry. What—”

He cut her off with a kiss, holding her tightly under the triple-headed spray of now-hot water. “It’s not supposed to hurt, love. It’s supposed to feel good.”

She shrugged and tossed her hair back to look up at him in defiance. “That was then. This is now. And you stopped!”

And he’d hurt her in doing so. He could see it in her eyes. He traced the lines of her lips with his index finger. “I didn’t want to trigger anything.”