Chapter 9: Lydia

I jump slightly and turn. Damian's dimples flash, causing me to inhale sharply. The man, who can instantly make my panties wet is wearing black sweatpants, running shoes, and nothing else. He is holding a bottle of water. A fine sheen of sweat coats his amazing chest. Damian isn't bulked muscle like his driver. His muscle is defined and lean, the plains and valleys showing off his six-pack abs to perfection. I want to lick each trail of sweat and bite his nipples. If only he were submissive, I could arrange a scene and get his body out of my mind by spending time on each square inch. He did this to me on purpose and his all-knowing smirk proves it. To top it off, I remember I forgot to pack my damn vibrator.

"Is the club here in the hotel?" I ask desperately so I don't just stand here and stare like an idiot.

He strides a few feet closer, causing my heartrate to accelerate. "So eager to begin working?" he asks in that slow, panty-melting drawl he's perfected.

I don't know what to do with my hands. I grab the wall with one and tuck the other into my side hoping Damian doesn't notice the trembling in my fingers. "Yes, the sooner I start, the sooner I can leave," I reply in my strict Domme voice.

He covers his heart with one hand. "You wound me, Mistress Lydia." He doesn't look wounded in the least. He's confident and oh so Domly.

Two can play this game. "Do you want me for your Mistress? I would love to use a bullwhip on your damp skin." I rub my palm against my skirt to show my anticipation.

His low and sexy laugh sizzles across my skin. My panties drench and he suddenly stops laughing as his eyes literally drip steam. This man plays havoc with my libido. "No," he says confidently. "My fantasy is you tied to my bed, legs spread, and your moans filling the room while my cock slides in and out of your delectable pussy."

His words throw a bucket of cold water on my elevated temperature. "That will remain your fantasy," I say with finality. "For a quarter of a million dollars, you might have talked me into whoring myself." My anger leaks through loud and clear. I have no idea why I allow him to get to me. He pulls my chain and I react. I need to reign myself in and give him a taste of his own medicine. That ability seems to leave the minute he's within ten feet of me.

"Tsk, tsk, Lydia." His eyes rake over my body with an intensity that makes me fidget like a newbie sub. "It isn't the money. I don't plan on paying for the use of your body when I know you'll willingly give it."

Damian obviously saw the lust I tried to hide and it only makes my resolve to keep him at arm's length that much stronger. "A good Dom respects a Domme and they don't feel the need to control everyone. You aren't the first Dom," I say the word "Dom" like it tastes bad, "to think he can flick a magical switch and make me into something I'm not."

"Is that what you think?" His dark eyes caress my body again. "I guarantee every man who watches you wield a whip wants you chained and screaming-Dom or sub it matters not." His gaze meets mine and heat swells between us. His voice lowers even further. "The difference is... I'm not intimidated by you and I go after what I want."

I gulp like a fool. "My body is not part of the deal." Even I don't believe my words. "You're making this job impossible for me and I haven't even started. I'm dominant and I won't sub for anyone."

He takes a step closer and like a fool, I step back.

He watches me closely. "You know if you use your little flip trick again I'll go over the wall, right?"

Finally, a chink in his armor. "That really got to you, didn't it?"

"Much more than you know and I still owe you a punishment, but not yet. I'll let you worry about it for a while longer. The anticipation should make you wetter."

I'm not going to lie. He knows women cream when he flashes those dimples, so I change the subject. "When do I start work?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Then I need my sleep." I want him out of here so I can pull myself together and come up with a game plan for dealing with him.

"A late night snack will be here in a moment." His damn eyes burn and he makes the mention of a snack sound sexy.

Samson heard the word snack and he comes running. He walks up to Mr. Wet Panty Advertisement and sniffs the hand Damian extends. He licks it once and then a second time.

I smile because Samson always calms me. "He likes the salt on your skin."

Damian gives me a side look and another slight grin. "I'd like you to lick the salt from my skin, but it's not my hand that's the saltiest."

Shivers run over every inch of skin on my body. "Does that line work on your other Dommes?"

"I don't want to fuck the other Dommes, and I'm afraid I never mix work with pleasure. When it comes to you I seem to bend all my rules."

"Poor me," I purr. "As the saying goes... get used to disappointment."

His eyes flare. "I don't usually care for ball gags, but I might make an exception with you."

"Is that a threat?" God, I hate him but I can't get the picture of licking his salty cock from my head.

He laughs again and doesn't bother answering. There's a soft chime from inside and Damian turns and walks back the way he came. Samson and I follow him around the outside of the apartment to the doors I entered when we first arrived.

Our waiter places the meal on a side table. After a short bow, he disappears. Damian pours wine like a pro. I look at the chair across from him and try to decide if holding onto my anger is worth missing out on the delicious smell coming from the tray. He cocks his eyebrows and patiently waits for me to make my decision. He uncovers a plate and slides it to my side of the table. Hell. I'm not made of steel. I take a bite while standing and I know immediately the cheese quesadilla was made in heaven. With a slight huff, I grudgingly take the offered chair.

"Room service and anything else you need is available using the house phone. Just press zero. Your phone is programmed to call my suite too." His dimples flash. "Just press 666."

I can't stop my return grin. The man is a marketing genius. Maybe I can learn something and make my forced thirty days working for him have meaning. "You take this entire devil thing very seriously."

He takes a drink of wine and nudges my glass. "It's my trademark and it's earned me a lot of money."

I lift my glass and sip. "I understand why you want me working at your club." I take another sip because it's damned good. "It's wanting me in your bed that I don't understand." The husky sound of my voice may have betrayed me.

Damian's expression turns serious. "I went to the Mediterranean already knowing what you looked like and how good you are as a Domme. I arrived just in time to see the tail end of your scene. I didn't expect my cock to respond. In this business, you become jaded. Watching a simple scene doesn't usually do it for me. On the contrary, I need to be vested in my own scene for my body to respond. There was something about seeing you work-your concentration and complete understanding of what your job truly is. It threw me for a loop and I haven't yet recovered. Even dressed as you are now in your loose flowing hippie clothes, I'm hard. I kept these sweatpants on because I knew I would be uncomfortable if I slipped on jeans." He rests his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands, which brings him closer to me. "Actually," he shakes his head, "I'm not sure what it is. You aren't the most beautiful woman I've met. You don't have the body I'm normally attracted to. But fuck, you're sexy as hell and I can't get you out of my head. I want your braid wrapped around my hand and your mouth on my cock. I want red stripes across your ass and thighs. Then I want to kiss each one with my fingers buried deep in your pussy. When you come, my mouth will be licking every bit of juice from between your thighs." The brown in his eyes goes darker the longer he talks.

I release a long sigh. Why did I ask such a stupid question? My ringing cell phone saves me. Fumbling with the phone, I finally manage to answer. "Umm, hello?" I take my eyes off Damian so I can think clearly.

The phone disappears from my hand. "She'll call you back in a few minutes." He disconnects the call with a flip of my archaic phone. Damian rises quickly from his chair. He doesn't touch me but bends his head and soft warm air blows past my ear when he speaks. "Your shift starts tomorrow night at nine. You have a newly filled closet of appropriate clothes. Carl will show you the way to the club. Be on time."

He steps back, leaves my phone on the table, and walks out the front door of the suite without looking back.