Master 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 otherwise unobtainable 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 thick hair hung over her shoulders and cascaded down her back in a shining mahogany wave.

She wore thigh-high black boots with heels so tall he was amazed she could walk in them.

Her alluring fishnet stockings were attached to a garter belt, and her tiny black skirt barely covered her buttocks.

She’d topped the breathtaking outfit with a leather corset that he itched to unlace.

As if sensing his lazy perusal, she glanced over and raised her glass in salute.

The meeting of their gazes punched him in the solar plexus.

Fuck.

He inclined his head, acknowledging her.

In return, she offered a soft, seductive smile.

Are you noticing the way I’m behaving like a besotted idiot, Mistress Catrina?

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.

Of course female Dominants were welcomed and granted the respect due their position, yet less than a 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.

Disappointment arced through him when she severed the contact and returned her attention to her submissive.

After snagging a canapé, she offered it to the bare-chested man kneeling before her. Since he sported spiky blond hair, the pair presented a striking contrast.

The man, on a leash and wearing nothing other than tight, gold-colored shorts, looked up at her adoringly.

Smiling, she brushed a gentle hand across his forehead.

Then, capturing his chin between her fingertips, she drew him in closer before popping 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 Catrina Davidson for several years.

From everything he’d observed—and he missed nothing that happened at the Den—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 turned to face him.

For a moment, before she’d schooled it away, he’d seen a groove furrowed between her sculpted eyebrows.

When he’d asked how she was enjoying the evening, she’d responded with her customary politeness and thanked him for his hospitality.

Almost immediately, she’d excused herself.

Soon after, she’d left the premises entirely.

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.

And now, his interest was renewed.

Renewed?

Hell.

Captivated was more like it.

“How’s it going, Boss?”

Dragged from his musings, 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 and ensured the safety of their guests, as well as overseeing 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.” Gregorio hooked a thumb and pointed over his shoulder. “Good turnout.”

They’d had plenty of reservations for the open house extravaganza.

Pleased, but knowing they needed to be more vigilant than ever due to the number of brand-new visitors, Damien nodded. “There are a lot of new faces.”

“And buttocks,” Gregorio added with a grin.

Despite a widespread snowstorm across the Colorado mountains, 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. They’d hired a bus company with skilled drivers to safely shuttle people back and forth.

“Susan is in the ladies’ locker room to prepare.”

Since Brandy—one of the house submissives who used to participate in demonstrations—was no longer working at the Den, Susan had volunteered to fill in.

They’d practiced once, when she arrived for the evening, but this was the first time they’d put on a demo together for the rest of the members.

“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, Boss.” Gregorio gave a sharp nod. “I’ll be assisting you onstage.” With that, 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 most of the neophytes and people curious about joining the Den. So that meant that during presentations, long-time members often took advantage of uncrowded conditions in the dungeon to connect and scene—of course with House Monitors ensuring rules were followed.

After surveying the happenings at the front desk, he went upstairs to his private third-floor suite and flicked on the fireplace to banish the winter chill.

The blinds were open so he could see the snow that had already drifted into huge piles.

A worker was attempting to keep the patio clear of the persistent flakes.

Several hardy souls in various states of undress stood around the firepit with its tall, dancing flames. Nearby, numerous gas heaters offered a respite from the cold.

Another stunning Colorado night, cold and windy, perfect for sleep—or other things—in his custom-built bed.

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 a corner, Mistress Catrina appeared to wait for the show to begin.

Which meant she hadn’t vanished to the basement after all.

Schooling his face in order not to reveal how ridiculously pleased he was, he strode over to her. “Milady,” he said by way of greeting.

“Damien,” she returned, glancing at him through her gorgeous long, enhanced lashes.

He wondered what she looked like natural, naked, on her knees, her lips trembling as she waited for him.

Ruthlessly, he shoved the thought away, refusing to allow his imagination free rein.

He’d enjoyed success in business because he was pragmatic, not fanciful. “Enjoying the evening?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll take that as a polite lie.”

She scowled. “Your events are always fabulous.”

“So why aren’t you having a good time?”

“You’re the one who said I’m not,” she countered.

Her scent was as exotic as she was…musk and vanilla, layered with a pervasive sexual need.

Could he possibly be the only one who noticed the pheromones she was radiating?

“Where’s your boy?”

“Outside having a smoke. Bad habit.” She shuddered. “But who am I to judge?”

“Who, indeed?”

“If he were mine, I’d attempt to do something about that.”

Her revelation took him aback. “That collar isn’t yours?”

“No. I’ve never formally collared anyone. Bradley, however, belongs to Master Lawrence. He’s on a business trip and was afraid his boy was lonely. Which he was, so he asked me to help out. We’re hoping he makes it up here tonight.” She shrugged, her creamy shoulders rising and falling before settling into a tantalizing, gentle slope. “But with the weather…”

A sudden urge to wrap his fingers around her upper arms and drag her to her toes slammed into him.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Acting on his sudden, primal instincts would violate personal as well as house rules.

He owed her the same respect accorded to all Dominants.

In all his years of being a Dom, he’d never had the urge to drive a Domme to her knees.

Until now.

Until her.

“Are you planning to attend my demo?”

“No,” she responded quickly.

When he’d first met her, he’d ascertained she was blunt. Over time, he’d learned to appreciate her honesty. “Perhaps you should.”

She tilted her head. “You think you can teach me something?”

“A lot of things,” he confirmed.

“That’s more than a bit arrogant, Damien.”

He longed to hear the word ‘Sir’ on her lips. “Is it?” he challenged. “We can all benefit from continuing education.”

“Including you?” she fired back.

At her direct hit, he inclined his head.

“Setting the scene and an intro to flogging is meant for newcomers, is it not?”

Since she was one hundred percent correct, Damien didn’t respond.

“Have you heard complaints from my subs?” The words were tight, as if her breath were constricted.

“Not at all,” he reassured her.

“Seen egregious lapses in good judgment from me?”

He scowled. “Of course not.”

“Then why the invitation?” She studied him. “And insistence? Do you have a personal reason for asking, perhaps?”

Too fucking close to the truth.

He wanted her with an intensity that twisted his insides. “Seeing others in action can enhance a Dominant’s skill.”

“And of course, you make it a point to continue your own education every week?”

Touché. Rather than responding directly, he kept his tone neutral. “I have many opportunities to observe others.”

“So does every Dom who attends your events or play parties.” With keen interest in her eyes, she observed his reactions. “Or even views videos.”

“Have you ever tried submission?”

She blinked with shock, his question evidently catching her off guard.

He pressed his point forward. “Some of the most skilled Dominants have embraced or at least tried submission.”

“Including you?”

“Actually, yes. I want to be the best at what I do.”

Her mouth parted for a moment before she pursed her lips. “More arrogance, Damien. Doesn’t pride come before a fall?”

Tipping his head to one side, he acknowledged her barb. “If you’re ever interested, Catrina, I’d be delighted to master you.”

“If you ever crave a beating, Damien, I’d be happy to put the smack down on your ass,” she returned. “But you’ll have to ask in a very pretty way, like a good boy.”

He resisted the nearly overwhelming impulse to toss her over his shoulder and paddle her sweet ass until she begged for an orgasm.

Bradley, her sub, entered through the kitchen door, and when Catrina noticed him, she smiled indulgently.

What would it be like to see that same expression directed at him?

The man shook snow off his gold boots before walking toward them.

Eyes only for her, he knelt then placed his forehead on the floor in front of Catrina.

“Good boy.” Crouching beside him, she rubbed his head.

Damien took Catrina’s arm to help her up.

Her skin was warm, inviting.

Tempting.

Electricity jolted through him.

If she experienced the same sensation, she hid it well.

Against her ear, so no one else could eavesdrop, he said, “With your hair framing your face, you’d look stunning in that position.”

She drew her dramatic eyebrows together as she scowled.

Without a word, she extracted herself from his grip.

Just then, Master Lawrence arrived, nodding at Damien and kissing Catrina on the cheek.

“You’re here, Master!” Bradley exclaimed.

Damien could and maybe should excuse himself, but he didn’t.

At Lawrence’s urging, the boy thanked Catrina.

“Always a pleasure,” she reassured them both.

After standing, the young blond man followed his master down the stairs at an enthusiastic trot.

Susan walked into the room and sought his gaze.

After giving her a nod of acknowledgment, he addressed Catrina. “Should you change your mind, my offer always stands.”

“When hell freezes over.”

He couldn’t help his grin. “With the snow and cold, anything is possible.” With that, he excused himself.

His trap had been laid.

And soon, Mistress Catrina would be his.

All mine.

And I’ll never share you…