Read an Excerpt
Copyright © Sierra Cartwright 2014. All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Totally Bound Publishing.
Damien Lowell always got what he wanted. Granted, sometimes the challenge was greater than he anticipated. But that didn’t matter. The more difficult the task, the more he relished it. Working hard for something flexed his mental muscles, sharpened his senses and fed his creative energy.
Right now he was standing with his arms folded across his chest, his focus on the gorgeous dark-haired Domme on the other side of the room.
Tonight she’d used kohl liner and false eyelashes to add drama and depth to her startling green eyes. Her hair hung over her shoulders and cascaded down her back in a shining mahogany waterfall. She wore thigh-high black boots with heels so tall he was amazed she could walk in them. Fishnet stockings were attached to a garter belt, and her tiny black skirt barely covered her buttocks. She’d topped the breath-taking outfit with a leather corset that he itched to unlace.
As if sensing his perusal, she glanced over and raised her glass in salute. He inclined his head in acknowledgement.
As she sipped, she continued to regard him.
This was a bit of an unusual circumstance for him at the Den. He’d bought the massive mountain estate years before, and he’d turned it into a private and exclusive BDSM club. While female dominants were welcomed and accorded the respect due their position, less than two dozen had applied for membership.
Most of the women he associated with here were subs. They didn’t meet and hold his gaze like Mistress Catrina was doing.
After several seconds, she severed the contact and returned her attention to her submissive. She snagged a canapé and offered it to the bare-chested man kneeling before her. Since he sported spikey blond hair, the pair presented a striking contrast.
The man, on a leash and wearing nothing other than tight, gold-coloured shorts, looked up at her adoringly. She smiled and brushed a hand across his forehead. She drew him in closer, then popped the treat into his mouth.
All the while, Damien pictured the Domme on her knees, affixed to his leash, fully understanding what it meant to submit.
He’d known her for several years and he knew she was an excellent Mistress. Recently she’d attended a private event he’d hosted. That evening, he’d witnessed a deeper, more contemplative side of her. At one point, she’d stood in front of a window, gazing into the distance. When he’d joined her, she’d faced him. For a moment, before she’d schooled it away, he’d seen a groove between her sculpted eyebrows. When he’d asked how she was enjoying the evening, she’d responded with politeness. But she’d excused herself and left soon after.
Damien didn’t often allow his thoughts to be consumed by women, especially dominant ones. But since that night, he hadn’t been able to get thoughts of Mistress Catrina out of his mind.
“How’s it going, Boss?”
Damien turned his attention to the Den’s second-in-command, Gregorio. Hiring the man had been one of the smartest business decisions Damien had ever made. Gregorio lived onsite in a caretaker cottage. He ensured the safety of their guests, and he oversaw the estate when it was open for a production company’s use. Additionally, he managed the calendar, the employees, the accounting and maintenance. Since he could top or bottom, he was even more valuable to the house.
Gregorio folded his arms across his chest. Tonight he had on a black T-shirt beneath a leather vest. With his silver earring and motorcycle boots, he looked suitably intimidating. “Your demonstration starts in fifteen minutes, Boss.” He hooked a thumb and pointed over his shoulder. “Good turnout.”
They’d had plenty of reservations for the annual open house extravaganza. “There are a lot of new faces,” Damien agreed.
“And buttocks,” Gregorio added with a grin.
Despite a widespread snowstorm, guests had arrived from all over the region, including parts of Wyoming, Kansas, even Montana. Gregorio had planned ahead, reserving a block of hotel rooms in the nearby ski town of Winter Park. Skilled staff shuttled people back and forth in four-wheel-drive vehicles.
“Susan went to the ladies’ locker room to prepare. She’ll meet you in the entranceway. Your items are laid out on the mantel as requested.”
Damien nodded. “Great job, as always.”
“All in a day’s work,” Gregorio said. “I’ll be assisting you onstage.” With a nod, he excused himself.
Mistress Catrina was no longer in sight, and Damien wondered if she’d taken her submissive downstairs to one of the private rooms.
Demonstrations typically drew a number of neophytes and people curious about joining the club. During presentations, long-time members often took advantage of the uncrowded conditions in the dungeon to connect and scene.
He went upstairs to his private suite and flicked on the fireplace to banish the winter chill. The blinds were open and snow drifted past the massive windows. Another stunning Colorado night, cold and windy, perfect for sleep—or other things—in his custom-built bed.
In the backyard area, the fire pit blazed and a few well-dressed, hearty souls stood around it.
After changing into black leather pants and a short-sleeved T-shirt, he clipped a whip to his side and went back down the stairs in time to see Mistress Catrina while she was still in the public area. He tried not to show how ridiculously pleased he was. “Milady,” he said by way of greeting.