Maya Banks - Sweet Persuasion

She heard her name. Soft and mellow. From a distance.

“Serena mine.”

Loving. Tender and approving.

A dreamy smile tugged at her lips, and it was then she realized that Damon had slipped from her mouth. Micah’s hands had left her hair. Gentle hands were tugging her upward as fingers pulled at the bonds at her ankles.

Her legs shook, and she wobbled precariously, but she was caught against a hard chest. Whispered words melted over her ears. Damon’s face came into focus. She blinked. Once and then twice.

“Go and kneel by my chair,” Damon said in a low voice. “You’ll remain there until our guests have taken their leave. I’ll bring you food and drink once everyone else has been served.”

Numbly, she stepped forward. Though Damon let her walk alone, he followed close behind, and she knew he wouldn’t let her fall.

As she sank to her knees on the soft pallet by his chair, a soft moan escaped before she could call it back. The warm, heady flow of pleasure faded and was replaced by a pulsating ache across her throbbing back and buttocks.

Awareness of her surroundings flooded back as she watched the activity in the room return to normal. She was largely ignored save for the occasional curious glance thrown her way.

She held herself rigid, determined not to disappoint Damon further in front of his friends. Her jaw ached from being set so hard, but she’d allow no sound of discomfort to escape her.

How could she have gone from such indecision just hours earlier to complete and utter acceptance of Damon’s demands? Did distance change her perspective? Did proximity blind her to all reason?

What had possessed her to goad Damon as she had done? At the time she’d been angry, lashing out, more over her own indecision and frustration than anything Damon had done. Now she just felt foolish.

And she still had one more punishment to suffer.

Her shoulders sagged, not in fear, but in regret.

Across the room, Damon stood with Micah and one other man. They conversed in low tones, occasionally stopping as others joined. Damon was comfortable with these people. He smiled easily and gestured with his hands.

A flush crawled over her cheeks when, at one point, she obviously became the conversation piece because they all turned to glance at her. One man gestured toward her and smiled broadly at Damon. Damon’s expression changed rapidly, becoming dark.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what the man had wanted.

She lowered her head, refusing to look at those observing her any longer.

“Your shame becomes his.”

Serena’s head came up to see Robbie standing a foot away holding a drink as he looked over at Damon.

“Hold your head up so that he can hold his up. Give him pride.”

She resisted the idea of this man telling her anything, but neither did she want to cause Damon any more embarrassment than she already had.

Her gaze slid coolly over Robbie’s face before she nodded briefly in acceptance of his dictate.

Evidently satisfied, he walked away to join a beautiful woman across the room. Was she his slave? His touch was possessive as he slid his hand up her back and then around her waist. She smiled welcomingly at him, and he bent down to nuzzle at her ear. There was clear affection between them even if her posture was submissive.

The next hour was a test of her staying power. Her back ached, her legs ached from kneeling. Her spine was stiff from her position, and she wanted nothing more than to lie down and curl into a ball.

Damon had largely ignored her, sparing her only an occasional glance before he returned to his guests. There was laughter and conversation, and for the most part, Serena ceased to exist.

Then the call for dinner was given, and if Serena thought being on display in front of everyone had been difficult, the sudden quiet of the empty living room was worse. The guests filed into the dining room, and she could only hear them in the distance.

She could get up and walk out. Nothing was keeping her here. She could go to the bedroom and crawl into bed or she could simply walk out, get into her car and go home. To her apartment, back to her life. Fulfilling other people’s fantasies. Selling them lies and half-truths. Shades of gray, pocket dreams and a day in the sun.

But still she knelt there, determination driving her relentlessly. It was no longer about her and her fantasy. If she left, if she walked away, her failure became Damon’s. He didn’t deserve it when he’d only given her what she wanted.

Is this what you want?

It came to her as a whisper, a soft ribbon threading its way through her consciousness. It was a question she couldn’t answer. Or maybe she didn’t want to answer it.

She lost track of time and was startled when the guests began to trickle back into the living room. Damon approached, holding a plate. Without saying anything, he settled into the chair beside her. With a gentle hand, he directed her head until she rested on his lap.

A sigh of contentment, of weariness and relief, expelled from the innermost part of her body.

He fed her, small bites, coaxing them past her lips. Occasionally he stopped to offer her a drink from the glass at his side.

There was a calmness and intimacy to his movements. He didn’t just feed her mechanically. He touched her frequently, short little brushes across her cheek, or he’d smooth a strand of hair from her face. When wine gathered at the corner of her mouth, he wiped it away with his thumb and then licked at the pad.

She closed her eyes as her cheek rested against his leg. He didn’t make any further attempt to feed her more. Instead, he simply stroked her cheek. As he spoke to those around him, his fingers slid into her hair and to her nape where he gently massaged.

She was very nearly asleep when she heard Damon say good-bye. Her eyes opened sluggishly, and Damon carefully pushed her head away as he rose. She wobbled and then steadied herself as she watched him see his friends out.

Soon there was only her and Damon. He stood at the doorway of the living room, staring at her. In that moment, she wished she could read his thoughts, wished they were broadcast on his face, but he was expressionless.

Nervous apprehension fluttered deep in her stomach when she remembered that he’d promised her a private punishment after his guests had left.

She swallowed as he finally made his way over to her. He stopped a short distance away and simply held his hand down to her. She reached up and slid her fingers across his warm palm. He pulled her to her feet and then turned her in the direction of the bedroom.

They walked in silence, her dread growing with each step. The bedroom was dark as they entered, but Damon made no move to turn on the light.

“Do you need to use the bathroom before bed?” he asked, startling the silence with his deep voice.

“No,” she said quietly, not sure he’d see her head if she shook it.

He left her a few feet from the bed and went to pull back the covers. When he was finished, he turned and took her hand. Unsure of what he wanted or what he would do, she let him guide her to the mattress. But then he merely eased her into bed and pulled the covers up over her as her head settled onto the pillow.

Without a word or gesture, he simply turned around and walked out, leaving her there in the dark.

For a long time, she lay there, waiting, expecting. Fatigue settled into her limbs, but she fought the veil of sleep, waiting for Damon to return.

Loneliness ate at her. She wanted him there, even if it meant her punishment. She wanted him to return and settle it so they could go back to the easy companionship they’d enjoyed during the week she’d devoted solely to him. She wanted to tell him she was sorry.

She watched the clock, flinching as each minute passed. After an hour, desolation covered her like a fog. Where was he?

She curled into a ball, gathering the sheets around her in an attempt to comfort the coldness that invaded her. As tired as she was, as much as she fought the urge to sleep, it wasn’t right. He hadn’t bound her. He hadn’t come to bed.

As she huddled there in the dark, alone with longing that nagged insidiously at her, bleak realization came. This was her punishment, and it was worse than the lash of his belt.

Damon sat in the armchair that faced his bed, watching Serena sleep as dawn seeped through the window over his shoulder. He’d slept little, opting to work late into the night. He’d caught a few hours on the couch in his office before coming here so he could be with Serena when she woke.

Her face was turned to him, and he could see the evidence of old tears on her cheeks. The idea that he’d hurt her with his desertion didn’t make him feel better. The punishment was necessary. She was teetering between the two worlds, one of her making and one of her choosing. But it didn’t soothe him to know he’d caused her pain. Her pain was his pain. Her joy was his joy.

He . . . loved her.

He shook his head in denial though there was no one to see it. An intelligent man learned from his mistakes. He’d already loved a woman he couldn’t hold on to, only he hadn’t known it until too late. From the beginning he’d known he couldn’t have Serena, and it should have been easy to keep his emotions separate from their arrangement.

Should have been was just another way of saying he’d fucked up.

He dragged a hand through his hair and tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling. What the fuck was he going to do for the next three weeks? Continue living a lie while he gave a little more of himself away in the process?

He lowered his head until he once again found her soft outline nestled in his bed. His bed. His woman. What he wouldn’t give for it to be real.

Three weeks. He could take what she offered or he could have nothing at all. Were three weeks worth having knowing she’d walk away after they were over? She was close to walking now. He’d seen it in her eyes even as he hoped with everything he had that she’d stay.

All or nothing was bullshit. It never worked out that way. Life was all about taking what you could get when you could get it and surviving when it wasn’t enough.

Yeah, he’d take the three weeks, because when it was over, it would be all he’d have of her to hold on to. The memory of when, for a time, she was his.

Serena woke from a drugged sleep, her eyes heavy and swollen. For a moment she simply stared out the window, as she realized that she was still alone in bed. Then her gaze flickered to the chair next to the window, and she blinked when she saw Damon sitting there, angled to the side.

He was asleep.

She threw off the covers and her feet hit the floor as she hurried from the bed. Ignoring the soreness of her muscles and the tingling of her back, she flew across the floor.

She came to a halt in front of him, her hands outstretched to touch him. But she remained still as she simply drank in his appearance.

He looked tired, his hair rumpled and the shadow of stubble on his jaw. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn at the party the evening before. The same clothes, minus the belt he’d used on her back.

There was a vulnerable look to his face in sleep. An opportunity to see his expression unguarded. Slowly, she sank to her knees between his legs and laid her head against his thigh.

He stirred, and she took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. And then she brought his hand to her lips and kept it there.

“Serena,” he whispered.

Though it was hard, and she feared what she’d see in his eyes, she raised her head to meet his gaze. She didn’t like to think of how she appeared, so open and unguarded, her feelings and uncertainty so evident, but she owed him this.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice. “You didn’t deserve how I treated you yesterday. You’ve been so good to me, Damon.”

He raised his hand to cup her jaw, and he rubbed his thumb tenderly over her cheek.

“You sound as though you’re saying good-bye,” he said, and she was surprised to hear a note of sadness in his voice.

“I would think you’d want me to leave. I’m not proving to be a very good slave,” she said wryly.

He stroked her face, his fingers feathering over her cheekbone. “I want you to stay, Serena mine. I want it more than anything.”