Committed (21 page)

Poppy closed the distance between them and smoothed her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. Her smile curled, becoming more sensual as she mapped his abdomen with her fingers, exploring all of him. He welcomed her touch, enjoying the feel of her small, soft hands on him.

She circled him, her hands never leaving his skin, neither of them saying a word. The music throbbed, pulsing a deep, sensual beat. Her hands coasted over his back and shoulders, even tracing a few scars that had never quite faded. Her lips brushed over the one on his upper back, a knife wound. She trailed kisses over the puckered flesh near the bottom of his ribcage, where he’d been bitten by a dog.

They began to sway, her hips against him, guiding him. The chains clanked together as he moved, creating a counter rhythm, a song all their own. Poppy circled him again, until finally coming to face him once more.

He leaned forward and she took a step back. He followed her until the chain stretched taut, his arms straining in the cuffs. It was just close enough that he could duck his head and barely touch her lips with his.

“Last chance to negotiate,” she whispered, her mouth teasing his.

“Bring it on, sweetness.” Damien had never bent to another’s will well, but he could learn to accept this. Couldn’t he?

She wrinkled her nose. “You look like I’m about to give you an enema.”

He jolted and she laughed.

“I’m not going to do that, silly.” She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight and rising up until she could brush her nose against his. “This is about having fun. Enjoying each other. I’m not a domme. I don’t want your submission. I just want to play with you. And just maybe I can turn you on.”

“You don’t need to do this to turn me on.” He dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers, doing his best to distract her. She allowed it, sinking into the kiss with a moan.

Poppy stepped back, panting for breath, her lips glossy and pink. “Fine. Maybe I can turn myself on.”

She pulled on some sort of black glove from her bag and picked up a violet wand. He chuckled and flexed his hands. He had no one to blame for this but himself.

The violet wand was an electrical toy that tickled with a low-level charge akin to static electricity when it was dragged across a person. At higher levels, it could be downright uncomfortable.

“Remember when you asked me about using this?” Poppy turned the dial on the end of the wand. It had a black plastic handle and a glass electrode slotted into the end. The electrode was a six-inch tube of glass, with a flat, almost mushroom-shaped head. As she turned the dial, the wand began to hum.

“I do.”

“I thought you would.” Her lips hitched up on one side.

Poppy strolled toward him, wiggling the fingers of her black glove. He couldn’t tell what was special about it, but he was about to find out.

She brought the electrode to the top of his sternum, but didn’t touch him. The electricity lit up the glass, a brilliant purple, and jumped to his skin. He sucked in a breath as she drew it down all the way to his jeans before lifting it off. It was an odd sensation. He shifted his feet, tried and failed to roll his shoulders. The scent of ozone wafted up to him as the wand continued to buzz.

“How do you like it?” She touched his jaw with her gloved hand. Little, rough bits of metal embedded in the glove scraped him, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“I’d like it more if I could use it on your tits.” He dropped his gaze to her milky-pale cleavage.

Poppy tossed her head back and laughed. She smoothed her gloved palm over his chest and brought the wand to his left nipple. The electricity arced to the dark disc. Damien sucked in a breath and arched his back as the charge raced through him.

“It tickles, doesn’t it?” Poppy moaned and drew her gloved hand down his abdomen.

The sensation was strange. He wanted to cross his eyes, shiver, and laugh all at once. Where the glove touched him, the sensation was more intense. It wasn’t pain, but he backed away, shaking his head.

The metal bits in the glove must be in direct contact with her skin, and thus the charge going through him—went into her. The metal would account for the sharpness of the sensation, as if she were holding a knife to his skin whenever she touched him.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Poppy followed him, grasping the front of his jeans and pulling him until he stood directly under the hard point. She was careful to hold the wand away from him while she positioned him.

Poppy flashed him a grin. There was a light in her gaze, a sparkle he’d only seen during play. She pressed close to him until he could feel the rise and fall of her breasts, the tremors of her stomach as she chuckled, and the point of her hip.

The crowd didn’t matter, not anymore. They could be alone at home for all the attention he was giving the other attendees. All that mattered was Poppy and the way his insides seemed to sizzle whenever she was near.

He bent his head and she lifted up on her toes, meeting him with an openmouthed kiss. He let himself sink into her, as if he could drink up her essence, possess some spark of her.

Poppy flattened the electrode against his ribs. The low-level electric charge coursed through his body and into hers. Each glide of their lips was endowed with a little zap of power. She dragged her palm up his ribs and he groaned. Each point of contact warred with the next for his attention. The glove. Her mouth. Her breasts. He could feel the place where they each met as the current flowed back and forth.

“That does not tickle,” he got out through gritted teeth.

“What? Did you want it in your armpit?” She zapped the tender flesh and he jumped sideways, chains jangling.

“You’re going to pay for that.” He hissed and wiggled his shoulder, which was all he could do.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

She followed him, but he didn’t wait for her. He sidestepped, moving away from her. Poppy laughed and chased him, her laughter infectious. His sides ached and the muscles in his shoulders were growing sore, unaccustomed to this position.

“I’m going to shorten your chain,” she threatened. Or tried to. The gravity of the threat
was greatly diminished by her dazzling smile.

He gripped the chain above his head with both hands and lifted himself up.

Poppy yelped and backed away, but he was already swinging toward her. He wrapped his legs around her waist, capturing her. She grinned and kissed him, her gloved hand scraping at his chest as she pressed it harder. He’d have marks, and he’d cherish them until they faded.

“Let me go,” she said.

“Make me.”

Poppy arched a brow at him. She zapped his side and stomach with the wand. The charge rushed through his body and into the metal chain.

“Fuck.” He dropped to the ground, shaking out his hands.

“That’s what you get for trying to top me topping you.”

This wasn’t the sort of scene he was accustomed to. It was fun. Sexy as hell, but different. She was right when she’d said she didn’t want him to bend to her will. He was still himself, and a dominant, accepting her play. It was an offering, like foreplay, even. Oh, the payback he would dole out on her ass.

He’d use the wand on her, too. She giggled and wiggled when the charge arced to her. Some people were intimidated by the zap and spark of the charge, but it wasn’t dangerous.

It … tickled.

Poppy unlocked her apartment and glanced over her shoulder at the hulking shadow behind her. Her heart fluttered as she pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold.

They were going to have sex now. In her bed. Neither had said sex was on the agenda; she just knew.

This thing between them wasn’t casual. At some point, things had tipped. The balance had shifted and here they were.

Several insistent meows greeted her. She could be gone for a second and Mario and Yoshi would act as if she’d been missing a year.

“Hi, boys.” She flipped on the lights, glancing around to see if she’d at least cleaned up the kitchen a little. Yoshi twined around her legs, doing his feline best to trip her up.

“What the hell are those?” Damien closed the door and stared at Mario, who’d taken an interest in their guest.

“Have you never seen a cat before?” She bent and picked up Yoshi. His purring accelerated immediately, eyes closing slightly.

“I’ve seen cats, and these are not cats. Cats are small. These are … miniature lions. Or tigers. These are not domestic cats.” Damien crouched and offered his hand to Mario, who deigned to sniff the offered fingers. As if the cat was actually picky about who petted him.

“That’s Mario and this is Yoshi.”

“Where’s Luigi?”

Mario head-butted Damien’s hand and arched his back, his tail swaying back and forth in feline pleasure.

“I adopted them with these names.” She kissed Yoshi’s soft fur and placed him back on the floor. “According to the previous owner, Luigi died several years before these two needed to be rehomed.”

“That’s sad.” Damien scratched Mario, who purred his pleasure.

Poppy breathed a slight sigh of relief. Her cats weren’t all that choosy about the people they liked, but she didn’t know what she’d have done if they had been this once. Now she didn’t have to worry.

Yoshi twisted in her arms, done with being held. She let him go and watched him prowl
toward Damien, flirting with the man. Her cats were cuddle-sluts, which was one of the many reasons she loved them as much as she did.

Poppy slipped her jacket off and folded it over her arm, while her two little monsters rubbed against Damien and purred.

Her bedroom.

Shit. She’d left a pile of stuff on the bed.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” She snatched her bag and hustled into her haven.

There wasn’t time to put everything away nicely. She grabbed armfuls of clothes she’d deposited on the bed when dressing for tonight, carried them to the walk-in closet on the far side of the room, and unceremoniously dumped them on the floor.

She did a quick pass through the room, straightening the comforter, making sure the floor was clear and the curtains drawn.

“Ready or not,” Damien called out.

Her heart pounded. It wasn’t the first time they’d had sex, but it might as well be. He was a different person to her now. Then, he’d been a fantasy, a dream. Now she’d peeled back the layers a little, and she liked him. Genuinely liked him. Probably more than liked, but she wasn’t ready for that.

Damien stepped into the doorway, flanked by both cats. He’d taken his jacket and boots off, giving him a comfortable, at-home air. He placed his forearms on the doorframe and looked around.

What did her bedroom look like to a stranger?

She’d decorated in light purples, with white furniture. It was feminine, maybe too girly, but she rarely brought a man home. She smoothed her hands down her hips.

Yoshi leapt onto the bed and stared at her, as if to say,
Don’t be silly
.

“I was wondering where all your books were.” One side of his mouth hitched up.

Poppy glanced at the row of white bookshelves against the wall by the door. They were stacked two and three deep, each shelf full.

“Yeah, I have a bit of a problem.”

“It’s not a problem.” He prowled toward her. “Meth is a problem. Books, well, I’m okay with that kind of problem.” He cupped her cheeks and stared into her eyes.

“Okay, not a drug kind of problem, then.”

“Not a problem at all, really.”

Poppy forced herself to stop fidgeting. She’d always been teased by others about her
excessive love of books, but Damien didn’t even bat an eyelash. He’d expected it. Just like that, he quieted her nerves. Her little heart quivered in her chest as he stared down at her.

Did he see her? Really get her? For all that she tried, there were social norms she still didn’t get right. She’d been sheltered from two whole decades of culture, and still her dreams were contained in the pages of books. She didn’t have to be normal or perfect to read, she just had to open the cover and start.

Did he get that?

Damien lowered his face and she held her breath. He brushed his lips across hers, once, twice. Little pecks, glides of flesh on flesh. She gripped his wrists and tried to rise up on tiptoe, but he kept her where she was, right where he seemed to want her. The light glinted off his eyes as he studied her for a moment before ever so slowly bending to meld his mouth with hers. She pressed against him, desperate for more, desperate to touch him, hold him, be one with him.

Poppy moaned as his tongue darted past her lips, teasing her with little flicks and caresses. He gently bit her lower lip and she dug her nails into his forearm.

More
.

The arousal that had built all evening redoubled. Her clit throbbed and her internal muscles clenched, her channel empty of him.

“Damien.” Her voice rose, breaking as she stretched his name out into a one-word plea.

His hands slid around her neck, one digging into her hair, scattering the pins that had held it up all evening. Roughly he pulled her to the perfect angle and slanted his mouth over hers again. His teeth scored her lips before he sucked the abused flesh between his, first the lower lip, then the upper, flicking his tongue over the hurts, soothing them with tender care.

He walked her backward until her calves hit the side of her bed. She clutched him to keep from falling. Still holding her hair, he rocked away from her and cool air caressed her nipples. The halter top of her dress fluttered down, leaving her bare to him. Well, almost.

Poppy’s cheeks heated and she lowered her gaze, squirming under his inspection.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Damien bent to examine her breasts. “Did you do this to yourself before or after we played?”

His finger traced the metal circling her nipple. She’d invested in the magnetic nipple clamps out of sheer curiosity, and found them to be just the right amount of pressure. There was a small metal circle with two holes where magnetized rods fit through and pinched the nipple. Hers were a rainbow-colored aluminum, instead of the stock black most people preferred.