Knocked Up by the Dom: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance Page 8

  I take in a deep breath, feeling my stomach flutter with nerves. Damian brought me something to wear, and I’m already feeling self-conscious in it even though there is hardly anybody nearby to see me. The dress fits loosely, but the material is thin enough I could see my underwear and the outline of my body with relative ease. When I tried telling him there was no way I could go out in public like this, he assured me I’d feel even more out of place if I went in there dressed conservatively.

  I’m just glad Dean was already asleep when I left. I could never let him see me in something like this, even if he’s still too young to understand. As much as all of this is exciting me, the sneaking around after Dean goes to bed has me reexamining everything. Isn’t that exactly the kind of thing I was afraid Damian would bring? I don’t want to feel like I have to hide my life from my son. Yes, it may be my sex life, but should my sex life really be such a big part of my life that I have to go out of the way to hide it from him?

  “There are a few rules once we go inside,” he says, turning to face me. He looks mouth-watering, as usual. His suit is black--fitting him snug in the right places so that it emphasizes his masculine frame perfectly. He wears a white collared shirt beneath and a black tie, making the simple colors somehow look striking. Even with a body like his, it’s his eyes that always demand my attention. They carry so much weight it’s like they have a gravity of their own, drawing my eyes up and up until I’m locked into those blazing blue eyes that always seem to be full of heat.

  “Rules?” I ask. “Like the club’s rules?”

  “Some of them. Some of them are my rules for you,” he says with a very serious tone and expression that makes me gulp down my response. “The club rules are based on what type of jewelry you wear. The more jewelry, the more off-limits you are. A necklace means you have a dom,” he says, pulling a necklace from his jacket pocket and putting it around my neck.”

  I grin a little, feeling my cheeks burn. I have a dom. I’m his. But my dom doesn’t know we have a son together. The thought sends a guilty stab of panic through me. Somewhere along the way it started to feel like he deserved to know. Hell, he always deserved to know, but I was being overly cautious. I knew if he knew the full truth about Dean, he’d stop at nothing to be part of his life. And if I didn’t want to be part of Damian’s life, there’s no question about whether he has the financial means to take Dean from me. Not that I think he’d do that, it’s just… Now that I’m getting to know him more, I know I should’ve told him the moment he first saw him. I should tell him now.

  Except now I’m afraid of what might happen. What if he walks away? What if withholding the truth makes him so angry with me that he doesn’t want to be with me anymore? Worse, what if he decides to take Dean from me? Using an expensive army of lawyers to teach me a lesson?

  He wouldn’t do that. I’m only thinking those kinds of things because they make it easier for me to avoid doing what I need to do. I’ll tell him. Tonight. I don’t know when, but I’ll tell him.

  “Bracelets mean your dom isn’t willing to share. One bracelet,” he says, sliding a diamond studded bracelet onto my wrist, “means your dom doesn’t want another man to touch you. Two,” he says, sliding on another. “Means your dom doesn’t want another man to speak to you. And three,” he says with no hint of a smile, “means your dom doesn’t want any men to make eye contact with you.”

  I look up at him seriously. “What if I accidentally look at someone?”

  He grips my chin, tilting my eyes up to his. “Then I’ll have to punish you.”

  A chill runs through me, but it’s not entirely cold. This is another side of him. I’ve seen him with his guard down. I’ve seen that he can be sweet, considerate, and thoughtful. He’s good with Dean, too. But this side of him? It reminds me of what he was like in that conference room. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. The truth is I still feel the same thrill and freedom from being commanded, from being dominated.

  He takes out a pair of diamond earrings and puts them in my ears.

  “What do these mean?” I ask, wondering what other possible restrictions there could be.

  “They mean your dom bought you earrings and wanted to see you in them.”

  I laugh.

  He watches me approvingly. He doesn’t smile, but there’s a slight change in his eyes that shows his amusement. I brace myself for tonight. Yesterday, I enjoyed the lighter side of Damian, he was almost playful. I could see myself falling head over heels for that Damian. At the same time, this serious, almost scary side of him is incredibly sexy. I don’t know if the effect he has on me will fade with time, but right now, I know I’m helpless when he’s this way.

  It’s the same sense of power that made me do something so crazy I never would’ve even dreamed it three years ago, and I can already feel that I’m at his mercy as completely as I was that day.

  “Now for my rules,” he says.

  More rules? What more could there be? Don’t look at, talk to, or touch any other guy in this place. What other trouble could I possibly get into?

  “Inside, you’ll call me Sir. You’ll stay within arm’s reach of me at all times. You will treat my word like law. If I say it, you will do it. And the most important rule is to use the safe words. Yellow means you’re nearing your limit, and red means stop.”

  “You won’t be angry with me?” I ask.

  “Kitten,” he says, stroking my cheek with his thumb and pulling me to him. “My only goal is your pleasure. My job as your dom is to challenge you, to bring you to your limit, to find thrills you never would on your own, and to give you the most mind-shatteringly perfect orgasms you’ve ever had. A relationship between a dom and his submissive requires more trust than a normal relationship. Much more. If I’m going to bring you to the edge of your comfort, I need to trust that you’ll tell me if it goes too far. And you need to trust that I won’t be angry if you stop me. Is that clear?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, Sir,” he corrects. “The next one will cost you.”

  “Cost me what?” I ask.

  “You’ll be punished, and my punishments can get creative.”

  “But I’m supposed to enjoy the punishment, right? What if I just disobeyed you because I wanted to be punished?”

  He shows me the first sign of his more relaxed self and grins. “Then I’d find ways to make sure my kitten didn’t behave so mischievously. The relationship between dominants and submissives isn’t just about sex. Honestly, the sex is secondary. The true reward is the bond. There’s no stronger bond on earth than the bond we could form if we put our trust in each other completely.”

  I nearly tell him about Dean right then, but listening to him talk about the club already has me itching to go inside. I want what he’s promising. I want it so badly it hurts. If my biggest worry about him is that I can’t trust him to be in our son’s life, then what better way to learn if I can trust him than this? I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’m also so turned on right now I don’t think I could make myself get the words out. I want him too badly. I want to be his again, even if it’s just one last time.

  “I want to try,” I say.

  He bends his neck to kiss me softly on the lips.

  I lean into it, savoring the taste and the way his powerful arms encircle me, making me feel small and safe at the same time. He pulls back with what I think is more than a hint of reluctance. For a second, it looks like he might push me back into the car and take me there, but he must overcome the desire, because he puts his hand on my lower back instead.

  “This way, Kitten.”

  The two men standing outside the door who look more like secret service than bouncers nod to him and open the door.

  The club interior appears to be lit entirely by candlelight and it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. We walk directly into what seems to be a main gathering area that branches off into several smaller sections and hallways. The walls are paneled in deep, rich woods and lined with al
coves that hold candles. Chandeliers holding dozens of lit candles hang beautifully from the ceiling as well. I scan the crowd, which is bigger than I thought it would be, but I’m careful not to make eye-contact with any of the men.

  Many wear masks, not unlike what I saw at the masquerade party I went to with Melina and Alec, but some don’t. The men all wear expensive suits, though none make theirs look nearly as good as Damian does, I notice with pride. Damian was right about my clothes. Compared to what many of the women are wearing, I still look prudish even with a see-through dress.

  One woman wears a leather bikini, the top has open holes for her nipples, which are pierced with three silver rods. Another wears a dress even more transparent than mine but she’s completely naked beneath. Her dom has a silver leash around her neck and he’s leading her to one of the darkened rooms in the back.

  “Am I allowed to make any rules?” I ask. “Like that you don’t get to look at any of these women?”

  Damian looks down to me, taking my hands and making me face him. “There’s only one woman I want to look at. The one I spent the last three years of my life searching for, and the one I will do anything to keep from slipping away again. They are nothing, Kitten.”

  I bite my lip. I want to believe him. I really do, but my self-doubt nags at me, asking why a man like him would possibly choose to look at me when there are so many beautiful half-naked women around. I’ve done my best to keep in shape after having Dean, but my hips are definitely more full than they were before, and I even have a few stretch marks now that I’m sure none of these women have. “So if I can’t look at the men and you don’t look at the women, why do we come here?”

  “To show you off, for one,” he says. “Every man here would kill for a chance with you, but they won’t get it. You’re mine, and I want everyone to know it. There are also some unique experiences we can find here that would be difficult to find elsewhere.”

  I try and fail not to smile stupidly at the thought of being shown off. I’ve never thought of myself as the kind of woman a man would show off. I probably would’ve thought the idea was insulting if anyone else had suggested it, but like everything else with Damian, it feels different coming from him.

  “Come,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

  I follow him to a room lit by blue flames, which cast the two dozen or so people inside in a transfixing, icy glow. It’s only once we’re inside that I see what’s happening on stage. I instinctively take a step back, like I’ve just walked in on something private that I shouldn’t be seeing, but Damian’s reassuring hand on my back and the other people watching, tell me I’m not intruding.

  A woman on stage is lying face down on something that looks a little bit like a massage table, if it had been modified by a middle-age torturer. Her legs are splayed out, held by what look to be adjustable leg cushions and straps. Her arms are free, but another leather strap holds her down by the shoulders. A man with a black hood over his face from the nose up is kneeling between her legs, eating her out. Two more men stand on either side of her, completely naked except for black masks. She grips their cocks in her hands and masturbates them as her head slowly rolls from side to side with her moans.

  The jealous part of me is relieved that Damian can’t really see much of her naked body.

  “Back here,” says Damian, who leads me to the corner of the room, where I can still see what is happening on stage but we’re out of the immediate view of spectators. “You like to watch, don’t you? I saw the way your eyes were drawn to the stage.”

  I open my mouth to speak but snap it closed again, unable to decide what I should say.

  He shakes his head. “No, Kitten. You’re trying to figure out what I want to hear. Remember, there’s one thing and one thing alone I care about here. Your pleasure. If my Kitten likes to watch, she can.”

  “You said I couldn’t look into another man’s eyes.”

  “I did. Because that would tell other doms here that you were receptive to their advances.”

  “I don’t… I don’t think I like to watch,” I say. “I’d rather…”

  “You would rather?” he prompts, eyebrow raising.

  “I’d rather see you,” I say. “I mean, it’s hot to be here with you, while they…” I clear my throat.

  Damian smirks. “You don’t need to say anymore, I understand.”

  I relax a little, thinking it’s good that he understands, because even I don’t. It’s not that I want anything to do with the men on stage--or the woman, for that matter. It’s that being in such a sexually charged atmosphere is putting my own desires into overdrive. It feels dirty here, and not in a bad way.

  Damian leans so close I think he’s going to take me into his arms, but he puts his lips right next to my ear so I can hear the rasp of his whispered voice. “I’m going to make you cum right here, Kitten. Right in front of all these people.”

  A dirty thrill runs through me. A second later, my stomach turns over when the fear comes. What if someone turns around and sees us? What if they decide we’re the show they want to watch?

  Damian’s hand meanders from my hip to my thigh, where it reverses its downward direction and moves up, this time sliding under the hem of my dress. Everywhere his touch roams leaves a fiery trail of ecstasy. I’ve secretly dreamt of having his hands on me like this again for so long now. Whether I realized it or not, I knew something like this would happen when I agreed to come here with him. Honestly, I knew so long as I kept agreeing to see Damian and give him chances to prove I can trust him, it was only a matter of time before I’d end up sleeping with him again.

  Being around Damian is like stepping into a river with a powerful current. I can only fight the current so long before I’m swept along with it. The only way to fight it is to get out of the water all together. And I’m starting to think I’d rather drown in it than get out.

  “Oh God,” I gasp.

  His hand finds my panties, which are embarrassingly soaked already.

  “You’re so wet, Kitten. Tell me, did the show get you wet? Or was it something else.”

  “It was you. Only you.”

  “Liar,” he says. His finger does something I can’t even begin to describe against me--something between a quick vibrating buzz and a wonderful circular motion.

  The sensation is so overwhelmingly pleasurable that a moan spills out before I can bite it back. It’s so loud I think someone must have heard. I scan the crowd Damian has his back to with nervous eyes. One woman has her head turned toward us now. She winks when I notice her before turning her chair to face us.

  “Someone is watching us,” I whisper.

  “Good. That was your punishment for lying to me. Displease me, and I’ll make sure you’re noisy enough to draw more eyes on us.”

  My heartbeat grows even more rapid. I expected to be mortified at the idea of someone watching, but knowing the woman is watching us makes me imagine everything from a new, even more exciting perspective. I picture how we must look with Damian pinning me to the wall, my dress hiked up and his hand stroking my soaked panties.

  He kisses my neck while his hand slips inside my panties, finding the bare skin of my pussy. He moves his hand expertly, touching me in places no man ever bothered to take the time to. His fingers move slowly down my mound, sending chills pulsing through me and making even more heat blossom in my core. His fingers eventually find my entrance and he’s able to slide one finger in with ease. Even the single digit feels absolutely amazing as he curls it back and puts breathtakingly wonderful pressure on a place inside me I thought for sure was a myth.

  My body bends forward involuntarily. I’m gasping into his chest now, fingers clawing into his back. “It feels so good,” I moan.

  “That’s your g-spott,” he says. “and I’m just getting started.”

  He somehow has the dexterity to use his thumb to circle my clit while he works a second finger into my entrance, still pumping into me and dragging his fingers along that spot
that’s making me delirious with pleasure. He seems to have a natural sense for how close I am to orgasm, because just when I near the edge he shifts his movements and attention just enough to keep me from climaxing.

  He works a third finger inside me, still using his thumb on my clit with unbelievable skill. He pumps his hand inside me now with some kind of twisting motion that feels incredible, and when he starts to splay his fingers out every time he pulls back, my legs shake and threaten to give out.

  “Oh fuck,” I gasp, surprising myself. I’m not normally much of a cusser, but I’m too far along the wave of pleasure to care about manners or appearances anymore. I’m moaning louder with every thrust of his hand and movement of his thumb. I know my voice must be drawing more eyes. Right now, the idea only turns me on more. I distantly know I’ll probably be mortified later, but I can’t make myself stop.

  I peek past Damian toward the crowd and see more than half of them are watching us with interest, and some of them are even kissing or touching each other as they watch.

  I don’t think Damian wanted me to cum yet, but the sight of so many people getting off on watching us combined with his fingers inside me is too much. I spasm, feeling my walls squeeze and contract around his fingers. “Oh God, Damian,” I gasp, squeezing onto him like he’s the only thing keeping me from being blasted away by the force of my orgasm.

  When the last tremors of my pleasure have passed, he bends to pull my panties back up, then takes me by the waist and leads me toward the exit of the room with a proud expression on his face. He looks toward the crowd and licks his fingers clean.

  I nearly have another orgasm just from the sight of it. He catches the look on my face and chuckles. “You were perfect, Kitten. Absolutely perfect.”

  “You weren’t so bad yourself,” I say.

  “Sir,” he corrects with surprising sternness.

  “Sir,” I say, lowering my head. Even though this is in many ways just a game--I don’t want to disappoint him. It doesn’t feel like a game when his hand is on my back and the pulsing music of this place hums in my chest. When I think I’m pleasing him, everything feels right.