Page 24 of The Keeper

Before she could respond, he reclaimed her mouth, and every erotic synapse in her body switched into the full on-position. This was all kinds of wrong, and she knew it. The problem was, she no longer cared.

CHAPTER9

DAMON

Kissing Miley was a revelation—as a famous movie character had once said, she was a woman who needed kissing and by a man who knew how. Initially she had made a small protest, but when he’d pressed her, she had given over. He felt it the second she did. He’d given her time to catch her breath and use her safeword, but instead of saying ‘red,’ she’d said his name with a sigh and just the slightest hint of a plea.

As if a thundercloud had clapped over his head, Damon understood that Miley, more than anyone he’d ever known, carried a burden that didn’t allow her to let go. She needed someone to force that from her—thus her need to submit, but her fear in doing so. They could work on that. They had years to work on that.

It should have been more of a shock to him than it was that he was thinking not just in terms of spending time with her long after the op was completed, but in terms of forever—as in marriage and their own happily ever after. He’d have to have Marcel start looking for the perfect red diamond to be turned into a ring for her.

Damon had never so much as collared a woman and now he not only had her collared, but he was also planning on finding her a ring to match. This washiswoman. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. He had no idea why this stubborn, proud brat did it for him, but she did. Fitz was not going to be happy with him, and he didn’t care. Damon meant to do whatever it took to keep Miley at his side.

The elevator stopped on the second floor and Damon backed her out of the elevator without lifting his head. He continued kissing and maneuvering her to his office, stopping only long enough to open the door before sweeping her up in his arms, entering his private sanctum, and kicking the door closed behind him. Not since he’d purchased the Carriage House and renovated it into the most respected lifestyle club in the region had he ever wanted to be able to play in his office. What he wouldn’t give now for an elaborate St. Andrew’s Cross, a hook in the ceiling, a spanking horse, and a whole array of tools to use on her.

None of that had ever occurred to him, but it did now. Lust was raging through his system, allowing his inner beast to come forward and roar—only this time he didn’t intend to rein him back. No; this time, he would have Miley until she was spent, sore, and regretting the time they had lost when she’d run from him in London.

Setting her down, he swept everything off his desk. He’d never truly enjoyed kissing a woman before, but he felt he could kiss Miley for hours. He was a good kisser, but for him it had always been just a means to an end—something to check off the list before he got to bury himself inside a woman and feel her pussy contract around his cock, but not with Miley. No, with her it was an end unto itself.

Heat and passion surged through his system; he’d never been more aroused in his entire life. The closest he’d ever come to this feeling was in London with her. It was as if everything that had happened in the past eighteen months had led them to this moment. The fire in his blood raced through his system, awakening feelings—both physical and emotional—he’d never felt before.

He rucked up the skirt of her evening gown before placing her on the desk. His fingers brushed her bare pussy. Her naked skin quivered wherever he touched it. His hand traveled up her thigh, gently parting her labia. She was wet—so very wet.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “No panties and your pussy is ready for me, isn’t it?”

“You told me no panties was non-negotiable, and I ache. I’ve missed you. I didn’t even know how much.”

More than the physical surrender, more than her blatant response to his kisses and fondling, hearing her say she’d missed him sent his dominance and masculine ego soaring into the stratosphere. He moved his body between her legs, forcing them apart as his cock strained against his fly.

He eased his hand back up her thigh and kissed her again as he plunged first one and then a second finger up into her, making her body arc and his name echo against his lips. Removing his hand, he brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked her juices from them. God, she tasted like some kind of wild honey created only for him.

“Please, Damon. I need you.”

“I need you too, Miley—more than I ever needed anything or anyone.”

His hand moved to his pants, unbuttoning the top and dragging the zipper down, allowing his cock to jut out. He guided it to her entrance.

“Don’t say things like that to me. I need you right now because you got me all hot and bothered. This doesn’t mean anything. It’s just part of the D/s contract. I don’t want you to get any romantic notions. All of this is make-believe.”

It felt as if she’d thrown a bucket of cold water all over him. It hadn’t felt like make-believe to him. Damon pulled back, tucking his cock back into his pants, pulling the zipper back up into place.

“It sure as fuck didn’t feel like ‘make-believe’ to me. It felt pretty fucking real,” he said angrily.

Miley leaned back on her elbows and regarded him coolly. “Well, it isn’t. I can’t seem to make you understand that.”

“Because it isn’t true, and you know it. Something started between us in London. You got scared and ran.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Knox. I’m not afraid of anything or anyone, except maybe Ferris wheels. I fucking hate Ferris wheels.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“I don’t know what you expect from me. We’re not in a real relationship. We have a D/s contract that I thought gave you everything you wanted.”

Damon was trying to rein in his anger, resentment, and hurt. She was right. She had told him all along it was just for the duration, but he didn’t believe he was capable of that. He wanted more from her. He wanted it all, and he wanted it forever.

“We may need to think about just sceneing in public and letting people think that we go upstairs or home to have sex.”

“Don’t you want me?” The hurt in her voice was palpable, and it made his heart ache for her.

---