Committed

by Sidney Bristol

  She heard a tiny whoosh before a single point stung so hard on her ass that she jerked upright. Her arms bent in half and she grasped the collar with both hands.

  “Ow, fuck.” Again she wiggled in place, as warmth spread to the pit of her stomach.

  “Let’s see how this one looks. Actually, we don’t need these panties at all.” Damien slipped the lace off and left them where they landed.

  But … those were her pretty panties. She bit her lip to stay silent, knowing the protest would sound silly spoken aloud.

  “Ah, you’ve got a perfect heart right here.” He poked at the mark he’d just made. “You need another one to match.”

  She tensed her muscles and gripped the collar to keep from jerking herself off-balance again.

  Thump.

  She squeezed her thighs together and sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.

  “You’ve got two hearts on your ass.” Damien palmed the abused flesh and she relaxed, luxuriating in his touch.

  Slap.

  “Oww.” She laughed through the unexpected spanking as endorphins finally did their thing, flooding her system with feel-good joy.

  “You’re so cute when you laugh at my spankings.” He followed it up with another hard blow to her bottom.

  Damien pressed his body against hers, his hands roving over her chest. He plucked at her nipples and slid his scruff against her cheek.

  “Elbows up. Hold very still,” he whispered.

  Poppy did as he asked, still holding the collar with both hands. It gave him better access to her chest, which might not be a good thing. He caressed her stomach and ribs with the heart. Damien held the evil stick to the top of her left breast, pulled the end back and let it go. It popped against her and she hissed.

  “Look at that.” He rubbed his fingers over the spot as it turned an angry shade of red. “Let’s keep you symmetrical.”

  “Oh, shit,” she muttered, and rested her head on his shoulder.

  He brought the heart to bear on her other breast, and she squirmed in place.

  “You aren’t good at this staying-still thing.”

  Damien swatted her back with the stick and she jumped. It wasn’t as intense, but the evil stick still lit her on fire, inside and out. He poked her sides and she shuffled as far away from him as the rope would let her, laughing.

  “So you’re ticklish, too?” The evil glint in his eye did not bode well for her.

  “No, no tickling!”

  “You aren’t in charge.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Poppy yelped as Damien grabbed her arm, pulled her to the center of the bed, and ran his fingertips over her sides.

  She wiggled and giggled in place, but there was nowhere for her to go. Damien had her pressed up against the foot of the bed. Between his body and the rope, she was in a predicament. Every so often he would smack her with the evil stick and she would jump, clutching the collar as hard as she could. Her cheeks and sides hurt from laughing too hard, while her body was hot, mostly on the inside.

  Damien planted his hand between her shoulders and pushed her forward. She grasped the foot of the bed as he bent her over.

  “Hmm, your skin turns such a lovely shade of pink.” His hands coasted over her ass, kneading the flesh.

  Slap.

  He delivered a skin-warming blow to one cheek, then the other. She moaned and dropped her head forward until it rested on the mattress.

  Damien slid his fingers through her folds and a moan escaped her lips. She was beyond holding back now.

  “You’re wet. I think you like your evil stick.” Gentler than he had used it anywhere else, he plopped the heart against her inner thigh, then the other. The marks weren’t deep, but she felt them in the pit of her stomach.

  Poppy pushed back, wanting more.

  “I’m going to fuck you now. It’s going to be hard. Do you want that?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said without hesitation.

  Damien grabbed her hair and twisted her face to the side. “Say it again.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do not come until I give you permission.”

  He released her and she heard the clank of his belt, the bite of the zipper, and the rustling of jeans as he stripped from his clothes. He dug through his bag before she heard the sweet sound of foil ripping.

  Poppy spread her legs a bit farther while her insides quaked. She wanted this, but could she handle him? Would he consume her?

  Damien grasped her hip with one hand. She felt the brush of his fingers and then he thrust into her so fast there was no warning. She rocked forward, gasping at the intrusion. Her sore muscles protested, but stretched for him, eased by her arousal. He dug a hand into her hair, pulling just enough to bend her head back a bit.

  He withdrew and thrust again, sinking deep. He didn’t give her time to catch her breath. He set a hard and heavy pace, pushing her to a frenzied height of desire. She panted and clung to the footboard.

  Poppy yelped as he smacked her ass, rocking her forward against the bar. Her internal muscles spasmed. Her body was a spring, compressed tightly, maybe too tight. She curled her toes as he tugged on her hair.

  “Sir, I’m going to come.”

  “Don’t. Not yet.”

  Her body hovered on the edge. Part of her wanted to disobey, but she clawed her way back, holding tight while he thrust in and out of her body like a piston.

  “Don’t come, not yet,” he said again.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, her body screaming for release.

  He thrust once, twice, so hard she felt the bar bite into her thighs.

  “Come. Now,” he roared.

  Her body reacted, shooting her so high she felt as if she were soaring all over again. He stroked in and out, his motions jerky, and yet her orgasm rolled on, an unstoppable wave. Her muscles tensed and her channel spasmed. She opened her mouth to scream and Damien clapped his hand over her face. She screamed anyway, but the sound was muted.

  He grunted and let out a long groan, his body frozen, joined with hers. They didn’t move for long moments.

  Poppy slumped against the bed, utterly boneless and spent. She could feel deep bruises on her thighs, and the kiss of rope burn on her shoulder, where the collar had twisted around. She didn’t care. She’d do it all again and marvel at the raw power of it.

  Damien took several moments longer. He kissed her back and squeezed her to him with one arm. Maybe it was her imagination, but he seemed almost sorry to leave when he withdrew from her. Her body trembled at the loss of his heat, the severing of that physical connection binding them together.

  “Give me a second,” Poppy panted out.

  “You sure?” He smoothed a hand down her back.

  “Yeah.” She laid her cheek against the mattress, completely unconcerned about her bare ass sticking up in the air.

  “Okay.”

  Damien padded out of the bedroom, gloriously naked.

  She picked her head up off the mattress and blinked.

  Mario and Yoshi lay amidst the pillows, their feline gazes wide, staring at her with something that seemed a lot like concern. It wasn’t every day she made these noises.

  Poppy chuckled. “I’m okay.”

  Yoshi rose and trotted across the bed to butt her in the forehead and rub against her. Mario meowed, voicing his concern instead of moving from the warm nest.

  Poppy shook her head and spat out fur that stuck to her lips.

  “Damien, Yoshi’s trying to smother me.”

  “What?” His footsteps thudded back into the room and he laughed. “Come on, man, you’re not helping.”

  Yoshi was deposited on the floor and Damien turned his attention to her.

  He removed the rope and restraints, rubbing her wrists and neck, frowning at the burn on her shoulder before picking her up and depositing her in bed. He shooed the cats away, or at least to the foot of the bed, and snuggled her under the sheet.

  She sighed and re
sted against his chest, the sensations of her orgasm echoing in her consciousness.

  He’d commanded her to come. She’d never given that right to anyone else.

  Poppy came out of the kitchen to find Damien bent over what she’d identified as his work phone. He had two of them, one a thin, sleek smart phone, while the other seemed the size of a brick. He tapped away at the screen, seemingly oblivious to her presence.

  “You’re kind of a workaholic, from what I can tell.” He was dedicated to his cause, to what he did. It was admirable, even if a part of herself grumbled against it. His job was the most important thing to him, and any woman would come second or third, or even lower in priority.

  “I am not.” He frowned.

  “Mkay.” She shrugged. She didn’t need to prove her point to know she was right. The evidence would speak for itself.

  “I am not,” he said again.

  “Okay. Who messaged you last?”

  “A contact. I’m not a workaholic. I admit I’m pretty fixed on catching Emilio, but that’s because he’s a danger to people. I bet you Emilio has supplied drugs that have come in direct contact with at least sixty percent of the kids in your school. I bet there’s a few of them who have lost a family member because of Emilio. Maybe not directly, but he’s never been one to shy away from killing someone to make a point.”

  Poppy blinked at him. “He sounds horrible.”

  “The worst.” He blew out a breath.

  Damien scooted closer until their legs were pressed against each other, from hip to knee, and he began to talk. At first his story seemed to wander from person to person, but she soon realized he was setting the stage for a much larger drama. Every person he mentioned either died or wound up in the hospital. Her throat went dry at moments, and she clutched his hand when he stared at nothing, his face so hard it hurt her to watch him share the story.

  She got it.

  Emilio was a bad guy and he needed to be stopped.

  But the world was full of people who needed to be stopped. When Emilio was gone, who would be next? Damien was a good man, but even good men had flaws.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Poppy said when he stopped talking. “I know it doesn’t bring back the agents he killed, but I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. I just want him locked up so I can sleep in peace again.”

  “You slept pretty soundly last night.” She smiled at him and was rewarded by a softening of his features and a flash of white teeth.

  “I’m pretty sure you never moved.”

  “I was out.”

  “But no, you’re right, I did sleep last night and it felt good. I needed that.”

  Poppy rested her head against his shoulder. Where was this going? She knew this couldn’t end well for her, and yet here she was, spending a whole day with this man who made her body sing. And he had the nerve to be witty, intelligent, and fun to be with.

  “Okay, so explain the princess thing to me,” Damien said without warning.

  Poppy groaned. She usually tried to break her obsession to people gently, or not at all.

  “Come on, it’s kind of cute. A little weird, but cute.”

  “I just like princesses and happily ever after.”

  “A romantic.”

  “Okay, yes.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that.” He wrapped his arm around her and cradled her to his side.

  How could she explain this to him?

  “I collect princesses, mostly the cartoon variety. Well, I guess it’s more like the female heroine archetype, because there’s a few who weren’t exactly princesses. Anyways, I don’t know. They just inspire you to believe in the magic of love and there’s a sense of wild wonder about them. Nothing is impossible. I know there are feminists out there who say that princesses like Aurora from Sleeping Beauty do nothing for us, and I admit, she just lies around a lot, but it’s more than what she is. It’s what can happen if you believe in it. There’s something big and wonderful out there and you can be part of it. I’m talking crazy, aren’t I?”

  “A little bit.”

  She sighed. “I’m well aware of my crazy.”

  He kissed her temple. “It’s cute.”

  “Great, the hot guy thinks I’m cute,” she groused. “You don’t really get it.”

  It was time to come clean. Totally honest about just how far her obsession ran. She turned to him, then changed her mind and straddled his lap. She turned to display her arm to him.

  “What do you see?” she asked.

  He rested his hands on her thighs and leaned back, brow drawn down into a line as he studied the tattoo. “Some birds, trees, a few butterflies, and bugs.”

  “What do you see here?” She tapped the top of the tattoo where it curved up onto her shoulder.

  He blinked and narrowed his gaze. “It looks like a face.”

  “It is a face. The cartoon images are all under copyright, so I couldn’t get them tattooed on me. So the artist put their faces into the tattoo. You have to know what you’re looking for to see it.”

  “I’ll be damned.” He turned her arm, his finger tracing over the grain of the tree that formed the face of Pocahontas. “I thought it was staring at me. That is seriously cool. I see five so far.”

  She felt a vibration in his pocket and inwardly groaned. He pulled his phone out and glanced at the screen. She was surprised when he laid the phone on the couch without replying.

  Damien glanced at her, his expression serious. “What if I asked you to reserve a week for me and we take a trip together?”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. Were they at that point?

  “Maybe not right now, but we will be when the time comes,” he replied.

  Had she asked that out loud? Poppy cringed while her heart fluttered. She went to slide out of his lap, but he captured her there, holding on to her hips.

  “What do you say?” He peered at her, his gaze warm. A whole week spent with him? It sounded like a dream come true.

  “I think … that sounds exciting. But it feels fast. A lot of this feels fast to me.” Her mind was not in a rational place. She needed to think, to figure out what was going on with her and this sudden submission.

  “Do you want to slow down?”

  “I don’t know what I want. I’m too giddy from all the play and I’m not thinking straight.”

  “Okay. Well, how about you keep that in the back of your mind?”

  “That I can do. But can you be away from work so long?”

  “After this Emilio case is finished, I have a lot of vacation time I mean to cash in. I fully intend to turn my work phone off, go somewhere no one can find me, and de-stress.”

  “But for now?”

  Beep, beep, beep.

  “Shit,” Damien muttered.

  He studied his phone again. A frown tugged on the corners of his mouth as he read whatever message he’d received. Poppy’s heart sank. She knew what that meant without ever having seen it happen before. It was just an innate knowledge that this was it. She got up, giving him space, and retreated into the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. There’s this other case we’ve been working on that was really overshadowed by Huck—I mean, Emilio’s case, and it looks like we’re going to move on it now.” Damien followed her, taking her hands in his. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “It’s okay. Go. Save the world.”

  He cupped her cheeks and kissed her. She could feel him smiling through the kiss and it kicked her heart a little.

  “Okay, I’ve got to go.” He stroked her face and hair for a moment before backing away.

  “Wait, what about your stuff?”

  “I’ll come back for it.” Damien tossed a dazzling smile over his shoulder and closed the door.

  Mario strolled into the kitchen, sat at her feet, and meowed at her. When she didn’t respond he pawed her leg.

  Poppy picked
up the big cat and retreated to the sofa, curling up with her head on the armrest. In a matter of moments, both cats were curled up on various parts of her anatomy, purring away, happily content to weigh her down.

  She was in love, and she didn’t know if she could handle it.

  Chapter Twenty

  Damien slanted his gaze toward Matías as he waited for the light to turn green. The streets were deserted this late at night, but the hour didn’t register to Damien. Adrenaline from the bust still had him amped up better than any coffee. “How are you still here?”

  “I requested to be temporarily moved here while my cover is refreshed.” Matías shook his head. “I’m getting too old for this stuff.”

  Damien laughed and accelerated through the intersection. “Man, you’re what? Thirty?”

  “Thirty-five. This undercover stuff changes you, though. I think it’s time I got out, which is why everyone’s happy to have me parked here while they figure out how to wrap up some cases I’ve been working on.”

  “I’ve done some, but not like what you have. How many years has it been?”

  “Since I was eighteen. I worked with border patrol at first, but DEA picked me up real fast. I was maybe twenty. Twenty-one when I did my first deep-cover mission. I pissed my pants every time someone even glanced my way, sure they would know I wasn’t real. Now, it’s weird to be me, and that’s not good. You lose a sense of who you are.”

  Damien rolled Matías’s words around in his head. Their job was all-consuming at times, but what Matías did was miles above the sacrifices Damien had made. And yet he still ate, slept, and breathed this life.

  “What about the sweet piece you were talking about the other day? What’s going on with her?” Matías asked.

  Damien shifted in his seat as he turned the car, driving back to the office mostly on autopilot. “She’s good.”

  “Oh come on, man.”

  “What? I don’t want to jinx nothing.”