Committed

by Sidney Bristol

  Her reservations about him melted in his presence. All the points she’d jotted down about why seeing him again was a bad idea might never have existed. Reason didn’t begin to explain the way he made her feel.

  Damien bent and brushed a quick kiss over her lips, so fast that she blinked and wondered if it had happened at all.

  “Been here long?” he asked.

  “No, just got here. You?”

  “I’ve been here for a few.” He glanced at the shelves. “Looking for anything specific?”

  “Not really. I like to browse to see if I can find anything I think my kids will like.”

  “Your kids?” One brow arched.

  Heat blossomed on her cheeks. “No, not my biological kids. My school kids. Christ, my mother would probably kill me if I had children right now.”

  “She’s not a fan of babies?”

  “She’s very old-fashioned and religious, despite being a complete hippie. You get married and then have babies, according to her.”

  “And what do you think?”

  Poppy tilted her head to the side. “My mom was a single mom. Well, kind of. It’s complicated.”

  “How so?”

  She cringed inwardly. “I grew up in a commune—”

  “You grew up in The House?” His smile grew wider.

  “Yeah.”

  “Man, I’ve been by it and I know of it, but never talked to anyone who lived there. It seems kind of weird from the outside. How did you like it?”

  Poppy shrugged. “To me, it’s normal. There are so many things other people are used to that I’m still not really comfortable with.”

  “Like?”

  “Noncommunal living rooms. I keep expecting my neighbors to come in and ask if they can change the TV channel.”

  Damien tossed his head back and laughed. “My grandpa used to do that to me all the time, and I hated it. Just walk in and change it during my cartoons, and there was nothing I could do about it.”

  “Imagine that, but having to share it with, like, fifty people who live on your floor.”

  “No. I did it with four people growing up and that was bad enough.” His eyes sparkled when he smiled. “I totally interrupted you. You were telling me about your mom.”

  “Oh.” Where did she start? “Well, my mom was practically a single mom. My dad left when I was little. I’ve never been told why, but mom was all we had. Everyone in The House pitches in to help, but it’s not the same as your own parents. If I were going to have a family, I’d want to have someone with me. You know, like an ultimate parenting team, or whatever.” Poppy bit her lip and her cheeks heated further. She felt foolish saying it out loud.

  Damien didn’t respond for a moment. He tucked her hair behind her ear, fingers brushing across her cheek. “I get that. My dad died when I was five or six, so my mamma moved us in with his parents. It took the three of them plus my aunt to raise me. I couldn’t imagine someone doing it on their own.”

  Despite the sad nature of their similar tales, Poppy felt even more connected to him.

  A pair of teen girls scooted down the aisle, whispering to each other and pointing out titles.

  “Want to walk and browse some?” she suggested.

  “Sure.” He gathered a plastic bag she hadn’t noticed in his other hand around his knuckles. She couldn’t make out what was in it, but he’d purposefully kept it behind him. What was he hiding from her?

  They turned and began ambling away from the teens. His hand pressed gently against the small of her back, warmth gathering in the pit of her stomach almost immediately. They turned and headed into another section, and he took her hand in his. The simple gesture set off a flurry of butterflies in her chest.

  “Did I ask if you were looking for anything already?” Damien glanced down at her.

  “You did, and I’m not.”

  “Well, hell. What if I told you to pick something out so I could buy it for you? Think you could find something?”

  “Are you kidding?” It was her turn to toss her head back and laugh. She poked his ribs with her free hand. “You’re offering an addict their drug of choice.”

  He captured her finger with his other hand and squeezed. His gaze narrowed, as if daring her to poke the dom one more time. It was tempting, but she knew she’d lose.

  “What are you going to pick?” He released her naughty finger.

  “I don’t know. Do I get to pick anything?” Her to-be-read shelves were crammed full, but she could always find room somewhere for another book.

  “Hmm.” He seemed to consider her question for a moment. He slanted his gaze toward her, eyes narrowed. “Pick a title that tells something you want me to do to you.”

  Poppy’s breath caught in her throat, and just like that, arousal coursed through her veins. She tore her gaze from his and searched for her favorite section. The romance sign had an arrow pointing upstairs by the escalator.

  As they got on, she couldn’t resist asking, “Is it something you’ll do tonight?” Then again, she wasn’t so sure she could handle another play session with him this soon.

  “Do you want me to?”

  She bit her lip.

  Damien patted her hip as they reached the second floor. “Pick a book.”

  Poppy headed toward the back of the store, where several aisles of romance books took over a corner. He followed behind as she began to rummage through the shelves, but there wasn’t anything that spoke to her.

  About to give up hope, Poppy turned down another aisle and there on the end was a display of books with the perfect title.

  Dangerously Bound.

  The cover was simple, a textured black background with a single piece of knotted rope across the cover. It was beautiful, and completely perfect.

  It reminded her of when Damien had used the rope to restrain her. The marks he’d left were beautiful. That was what she wanted from him, to experience rope in play.

  Poppy picked up the trade paperback and turned toward Damien, displaying the title.

  His gaze flicked over the title but his face revealed none of what he thought.

  “I’d like more rope,” she said, without hyperventilating. Her heart raced at the idea of going another round with him.

  Damien took the book from her and pressed the plastic bag into her hands.

  “Here is your other present. Don’t peek. Go into the bathroom while I check out, and meet me by the doors. You’ll figure out what to do.” His tone was stern, brooking no arguments or protest.

  Poppy shivered and clutched the plastic bag.

  What is it? Wait. Why am I doing exactly what he wants?

  “Why do you automatically get to give orders?” Her body screamed at her to obey, while her head couldn’t go down that path. Not blindly. She wouldn’t lose her identity to his more-assertive personality.

  He shrugged. “Because I’m the dominant?”

  She rolled her eyes. “And I’m a switch, which means I don’t always want to follow orders. What if I say no?”

  “Then I’ll buy your book for you, we’ll have dinner, and you can go home.” He brushed his fingers across her cheek, invading her space. “If you decide to play along, I promise you won’t forget tonight.”

  Her breath hitched and she swayed toward him. There was no turning back, not now. She couldn’t say no to Damien.

  He wrapped his arm around her and tugged on her hair. To any onlooker, he was simply a man toying with her locks, but to her, he was a dominant demanding a response.

  She tipped her head back, lips parted, and he swooped in, accepting the offer of her mouth. He invaded her, nipping her lip, leaving his mark and further branding himself on her soul. The kiss left her breathless and clutching the front of his shirt. This kind of stuff happened in stories, not her life, and yet here they were.

  “What do you say?” he whispered into her ear.

  Poppy took a deep breath to try to calm herself. She was a switch, not a submissive, and most certainly not h
is. She didn’t belong to him. She tipped her chin up and met his gaze. “I think you’ve got it coming. Remember”—she leaned in close, her lips coasting over his cheek—“you agreed to switch with me.”

  The muscle in his jaw twitched. He tilted his head away from her and peered down. “I did. And I will.”

  She let out a breath. Part of her hadn’t known if he’d stick to their original agreement, but she’d hoped he would. She grinned at him, not sure whether she was giddier about tonight or the promise of the future. Either way, she was in. It might be stupid and reckless, but she’d pick herself up off the floor later.

  Poppy buzzed his cheek with a kiss.

  “Meet you downstairs.” She took a few steps away before spinning, looking for the ladies’ lounge to do as he’d ordered.

  Fortunately, the bathroom was empty. Whatever surprises Damien had in store for her would not be the vanilla sort.

  For the sake of privacy, she went into a stall and closed the door before opening the bag.

  “Oh, shit,” she said, and blew out a breath.

  A brand-new, remote-controlled vibrator, complete with the plastic packaging. The remote had been cut out, and she had no doubt where it was.

  They would be in public, people all around them, while he controlled the stimulation. Her cheeks heated at the thought of standing in a crowd with the vibe on high. She could picture it in her mind—her limbs locked in place, her eyes and mouth open wide as a climax hit her swiftly—and all the while, everyone around her would be completely clueless.

  Could she do it?

  Damien squeezed the remote as he handed over money to the attendant in the Bombay Wraps truck. Poppy’s intake of breath sliced through the din of street traffic and pedestrian noise. He grinned and accepted the Indian-style street food without a comment.

  “Can you get the drinks?” he asked Poppy.

  She was panting, her cheeks flushed and lips damp. Her arms rose slowly, her whole body tense, but she managed to take the two bottled drinks without too much trouble.

  He released the remote and she sighed, sending a glare his way.

  “Thanks, man.” Damien nodded at the attendant and turned down the sidewalk.

  “I cannot believe I let you talk me into this.” Poppy fell in step with him.

  “It’s just dinner.” He paused at a crosswalk and grinned down at her.

  “That is not what I mean and you know it.”

  “You’re adorable when you’re trying to be angry.” Then he bent and said for her ears alone, “But you’re fucking gorgeous when you come.”

  The walk sign flickered on and he strode out across the street. Poppy scampered to catch up with him. He liked knocking her off-balance. It was her own fault. She made it too easy.

  “You’re doing this on purpose.”

  “Yup.”

  They stepped onto the sidewalk.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “There’s a performance in the amphitheater tonight. Thought we could watch that while we eat.” He glanced at her upturned face. Her hair was loose, blowing gently in the breeze.

  “Oh, that sounds like fun.” She’d wrapped a long cloth scarf around her shoulders to protect herself from the evening chill.

  Damien pressed the remote and she stumbled into him. He laughed and offered her his arm, but she didn’t take it. She was a stubborn little thing, which he liked. There wasn’t a whole lot about her he wasn’t enamored with, but he still didn’t give her any relief.

  “You are a jerk,” she said between clenched teeth.

  “Come on, walk it out.” He urged her to continue with a hand against her lower back, since she wouldn’t accept his arm. She wiggled as she walked, squirming as her cheeks grew pinker, whether from arousal or embarrassment, he didn’t know. It was one of a long list of things he wanted to be able to know about her from a single glance.

  As they reached the edges of the amphitheater, he eased off the remote. He didn’t miss the pursed lips and glare she sent his way.

  They picked a spot away from other people out to enjoy the show, and settled on the grass.

  “I should have brought a blanket. Sorry about this. My grand plan is ruined.” He sighed and set the bag with her book down, and handed over her wrap.

  “It’s fine.” She gave him his drink and folded back the paper wrapped around her meal.

  For a few moments they ate in silence, soaking in the delicate performance of a string quartet. It was pretty, but his attention turned after a few moments to thoughts of Poppy. How well had the vibrator worked? Were her panties wet? Was she even wearing any? A blanket would have been the perfect addition to the evening. The things he could have done to her out in the open, with people all around them.

  Next time he would remember the blanket.

  “How did you get to be DEA?” Poppy asked.

  He blinked for a moment, his mind jumping tracks. Too bad she couldn’t be in his head, too. “I was actually a cop first. I got put into narcotics because they needed a young, black officer for undercover work, and I wound up working with some DEA agents on a few cases. I moved to working for both Chicago PD and the DEA for a year before I switched.”

  “They stole you.”

  “Kind of, but I was a lot happier working cases on a bigger scale.”

  “Have you worked anywhere besides Chicago?”

  “As support, but never for more than a few weeks at a time. My family is here. I couldn’t be away for too long. The women wouldn’t know what to do without me around.” He winked at her.

  “Your grandmother, aunt, and mother?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do they still live together?”

  “A few blocks from me.” They were a trio of trouble, but he loved seeing their smiling faces.

  “I live maybe fifty yards from The House, but I rarely see my mom,” Poppy offered.

  “Yeah? She still wants you to live there?”

  “She does. If she had any idea I didn’t just work in a library and hoard books …” Poppy rolled her eyes.

  “She doesn’t like your job?”

  “She doesn’t like me living on my own, she didn’t like me going to college, and if she had any idea I was on a date right now, she’d probably have a fit.”

  Damien paused and studied her. There were several reasons he could think of. “Why’s that?”

  “Because dating in The House is really controlled. A guy can’t just ask a girl on a date, he has to ask the head of his family, who then asks the head of her family. If the families all think it’s a good idea, they’ll tell the girl, and then she’s allowed to make the choice. But even once they agree to see each other, they’re never alone.”

  “What the fuck?” He stared at her, completely taken aback by such an antiquated form of dating. He’d been ready for some comment about his skin color being an issue, but this was another level of weird.

  “Yeah, try growing up that way.” She picked a few blades of grass and laid them on her knee.

  “What does she think about your tattoo?” He brushed her arm. They both watched his finger glide over her skin. One of the leaves seemed to be staring at him. Hadn’t he had that feeling before, when they were playing?

  “She doesn’t care. Most of the people who live there have way more tattoos and piercings than me.”

  “Where are you pierced?” He could think of some interesting places, but he hadn’t noticed anything on her when they’d played.

  “Just my ears. Nothing exciting.”

  “Okay. When did you go on your first date?”

  “In high school. I told my mom I was going out with friends, and I went out with a guy who worked at a movie store down the street.” She grinned and nibbled on her food.

  “Bad girl.”

  “I was, but not as much as my sister. She taught me how to sneak around the rules. I didn’t have much faith in my Prince Charming coming to me. I figured I’d have to get out there and kiss a few
frogs.”

  “And how many frogs have you kissed?”

  “I don’t kiss and tell.” Poppy simply smiled.

  Deep down, he didn’t want to know who she’d been with before. Maybe it would have been better if she’d stayed in her tower until he had found his way to her and corrupted her.

  “Kiss me,” he said.

  She tilted her head to the side, as if she were amused by his demand. Would she do as he wished? She leaned toward him and barely touched her lips to his. The tiniest of pecks. And yet it stirred more in his chest than he had words to describe.

  This little pixie of a woman, with her mischievous smiles and layers of personality, could have him wrapped around her little finger. He’d never meet another woman like her. She drew him, enticing creature that she was.

  “Why a librarian?” he asked.

  “Princesses weren’t in high demand, so I opted for the next best thing.” She shrugged and folded the wrapper from her meal. “Books were my window into the outside world. I learned about people and events through them. When I was a teen, I realized that my options for getting out were very limited. The House paid for me to go to community college for a certain amount of time. After that I was on my own, so I made it happen.”

  “The job was your way out?”

  “School was my way into the world.”

  “And kink?”

  She pushed the blades of grass around on her knee, her cheeks slightly pinker. “I was used to rules and structure. My first few relationships suffered because of my emotional immaturity.”

  “I’m not sure you missed out on a lot. I can’t really say my first couple of relationships were all that great.” He leaned back onto the grass, content to watch her.

  “I think I did. We learn how to interact with people early on, and I had no basis for relating to a father figure or romantic interest until I was almost an adult. I found out about all kinds of relationships in the books I read and on the Internet. Then I found kink. It gave me the structure I needed to learn how to handle a boyfriend, and the expectation of being able to say what I wanted up front.”

  “Were these books like the vampire-werewolf-spanking book I read?”