Submit and Surrender (9 page)

There was a pause.

“Oh,” Olivia said quietly.

“That’s when he leads her over to the bench,” Ford said, walking Adra the short distance to one of Volare’s own spanking benches.

When he let her go, she missed him. Felt adrift. Staring at the bench, thinking about what it meant. About who was behind her.

About how he had taken control of this situation without consulting her, without asking. About how she had no idea what this meant, if it meant anything at all. And about how she wanted it to go on so much that she didn’t even care.

She had her safeword, after all.

“He would make her look at the bench,” Ford went on. “He’d make sure she knew what it meant, what it was for. This is when she’s confronted with that choice—submit, or safeword out.”

Adra felt Ford’s hand on her shoulder, pushing her one step forward, just in front of the bench. She couldn’t do this. If she did this, she’d be betraying their friendship. They both would. But Adra would fall so much harder. If she did this, she didn’t know if she could stop. She didn’t know if she could come back from it. She didn’t know if she’d want to.

“Her mind would be in conflict,” Ford said behind her. “The tension between every social convention, every emotional defense mechanism, telling her not to do this, to run away from what she feels, versus the overwhelming urge to obey. To let go, give in, and be free.”

Adra closed her eyes. How far would he take this?

“And then he would give the order,” Ford said.

His hand pushed on her shoulder.

“Bend over,” he commanded.

Adra obeyed.

She did it reflexively, automatically. She bent at the waist, her ass up in the air, her hands reaching out for the handles, fingers spread wide as she savored the way it felt to wrap her hands around the contoured rubber. She turned her head, resting her cheek on the bench. And she gave in.

“She surrenders,” Ford said.

His voice beat with a rhythm she could feel between her legs. Her body hummed with the timbre of his voice.

“Her entire body is like a primed instrument,” Ford said, his hand moving to her hip. “She can feel everything. She can feel me breathe. She is pulled tight, waiting for it. The slightest touch, the slightest impact…”

Would he do it?

Jesus, would he do it?

She’d let him.

“Do you know anything about impact play?” Ford said.

Olivia didn’t answer him.

No one answered him.

Adra waited.

And then she heard the door and Santos’s hurried steps, and the spell was broken. Ford’s hand slid off her hip, and his other hand came up under her arm, lifting her up gently, his fingers soft. His voice murmuring something in her ear, something calm. Something caring.

Santos pulling at his hair, yelling. Derrick staring angrily, Olivia just staring.

“What’s going on?” Adra finally asked.

“I need you two downstairs to shoot scene 3A right fucking now,” Santos was shouting. “Now, now, now! We can’t secure the grounds, so we have to set up inside, and we can’t lose a damn day to this leak!”

Adra watched this renowned creative genius pull at his hair while Derrick and Olivia scrambled to get ready for a different scene, and couldn’t feel anything but detached. It was like everybody else was shouting underwater. The only person she was aware of was Ford.

Ford, standing next to her, watching her.

They stood like that until they were alone, watching each other. Adra could feel her mind begin to churn, begin to wake up, to scream at her about what the hell had just happened. What about him? Did he feel that? Did he have that uncertainty, that doubt, fringed by this dark desire that threatened to overrun everything? Or was he just calm, and collected, and so goddamn Dom-y it was infuriating. Unperturbed, unbothered. Certain.

He knew what he was. He knew what she was. He knew what he’d just done.

“Goddammit, Ford,” Adra whispered.

“Talk to me,” he said.

She shook her head. Now that reality was rushing in felt like she was drowning. You can’t talk about drowning until you’re safe. Until you’re on dry land.

“I need time,” she said. “Go deal with the security issue. Go make it safe here.”

Ford frowned, his eyes sad, but he didn’t move. “Adra,” he said.

“Please,” she said. “Please, Ford? This isn’t my first time.”

Ford smiled a kind of haunted smile.

“No, it isn’t.”

“I know what I need,” Adra said. “I need you to go make the club safe. I need…”

“You’ll need to talk to me,” Ford said. “Eventually. But I’ll deal with this now. I’ll do you anything you want.”

He had walked half way to the door before he turned around.

“You know that, right?” he said.

“You’ll do anything I want,” Adra said.

Ford grinned. “Within the rules.”

And then he was gone.

Adra spent the rest of the morning into the afternoon by herself. She didn’t know if she truly wasn’t needed on set or if Ford had told everybody to leave her alone, but she was grateful for the respite either way. She needed it.

After Ford and that scene, she
really
needed it. A lifetime might not be long enough to calm down from that. Adra was grateful for whatever she could get.

Besides, the Volare gardens were somehow peaceful, even if all hell was breaking loose outside. The police still hadn’t managed to get the crowds totally under control, the photographers kept trying to climb trees or whatever else they could find, and that stupid stoplight still wasn’t working, adding traffic to all the confusion.

Too bad Adra felt anything but peaceful.

He had absolutely
wrecked
her. She spent the first hour at least just dipping her toes in the koi pond, playing chicken with those huge, hungry fish, waiting for her heart rate to go down. Part of her was angry with him, though she knew he wasn’t at fault—he’d checked the safeword; she’d consented. She wasn’t angry with him for what he’d done; she was angry with him for what he’d revealed.

What he’d revealed about her.

About them.

She wasn’t going to be able to run from this. From what she felt. The physical need she felt for Ford Colson was so strong it had become a deafening chorus, drowning out all other rational thoughts, making it impossible to tell what she actual wanted, thought, felt. It all got subsumed to this
want
. It reduced her to nothing more than a physical need she knew she couldn’t meet.

Oh God, if she let it go… if she let herself want him…
need
him…

That would be the end. She was so, so scared that that would be the end of her. It felt like letting herself fall into the gravitational pull into the sun: inevitable, and ending in fiery death. Everyone would get burned.

Hours of lying out in the sun, breathing, meditating, stretching—nothing worked. She was a goddamn mess no matter what she did. So she was more than just relieved when her brother Charlie finally called her back. She was grateful.

“You’re a jerk, Charlie, but I am so glad to hear from you,” she said.

“Well, I love you, too,” he said.

Adra sighed, and dipped her toe back in the koi pond. There was one fish that seemed really, really hungry for some toe, and she just could not leave well enough alone.

“Charlie, what are you doing?” she asked.

He was silent until he sighed.

“I don’t know, exactly.”

“I don’t need to tell you what it does to Nicole.”

“No.”

“So what… Charlie, just why?”

“I wasn’t actually gone that long, you know. I was just out late. I came back right after she talked to you.”

“Yeah, I know, she texted me,” Adra said, getting annoyed. “And you know that’s not the goddamn point.”

“I just needed some time to think, Adra,” Charlie said. “I know how shitty that sounds, but you don’t know what it’s like. I get so overwhelmed, with the kids and everything, and I just need like…I need to get it out of my system. Like a safety valve, you know?”

Adra could feel herself starting to freak out, could feel the tears welling up inside her, and willed it away. That was her own reaction, not Charlie’s, and she wasn’t going to put it on him.

She would, however, tell him the truth.

“You sound like Dad, Charlie.”

“I’m not like Dad,” he said vehemently. “I’m sober, Adra. And I come home. I’ve always come home. You know, you have no idea what it’s like, having a family that depends on you for everything. You have
no
idea.”

“No, I don’t,” she admitted.

“Everyone needs a safety valve,” Charlie went on. “It’s not just me. I’m just… I just suck at it, that’s all.”

Adra thought about her own situation, and how wonderful it would be to have a freaking safety valve. And then she laughed. “You really, really do suck at it, big brother.”

“I know.”

“I mean, disappearing like that?”

“I know.”

“Is this sustainable, Charlie?” Adra asked softly. She didn’t really want to hear the answer. She already knew the answer. Of course it wasn’t sustainable; the only question was how it would end, and whether Charlie could find a way to make it work before he flamed out.

They both knew how it had ended for their father.

“I don’t just mean for Nicole, Charlie. I mean for the boys, you know? They know something’s up. You know what it does to them.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he said finally.

“You know I’ll help however I can,” Adra said. “I can pay for a nanny, or—”

“I’m not taking any more money from my little sister,” Charlie said.

Adra cursed.

“Of all the stupid, macho—”

“That’s not it, Adra. It’s just…” Charlie sounded tired, all of a sudden. Very tired. “That’s not sustainable, either. You can’t fix my problems.”

Adra felt little tears pricking at her eyes. She hated it whenever anyone said that, because there was nothing she could say back. No matter how hard she worked, no matter how much of herself she gave, it remained true: she couldn’t fix their problems. It always put another crack in her heart.

“So what are you going to do?” she said softly.

She knew she didn’t quite hide the sound of those tears fighting to come to the surface, and she cursed again, this time silently, knowing it would kill Charlie.

“I don’t know, Adra,” Charlie said. “But I promise you I’m going to figure it out. Ok? I promise you.”

“Just find a safety valve, will you?” Adra said.

“I will,” Charlie said. “I have to. Don’t stress, ok? Please?”

“Ok,” Adra lied.

“Maybe find your own safety valve in the meantime,” Charlie said, only half-joking. “Love you.”

Adra laughed it off.

But when she got off the phone, she was somehow even more of a mess than she had been before. Charlie turning into their father, or some milder incarnation of him, running away from his family over and over again, was one of Adra’s worst nightmares. She knew that wasn’t fair, and she knew it was kind of screwed up, how invested she was in Charlie’s family, but, well, it was all she had. Charlie had managed to make a go of it, even after their disastrous childhood, watching both parents blow in and out of their lives. Adra hadn’t even made it that far. And she couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t. She’d learned that the hard way.

But she so badly wanted Charlie to make it.

And yet it was something else he said that kept rattling around inside her brain while she sat back down by the koi pond. Something else that wouldn’t let her go.

Find your own safety valve.

Yeah, that would be freaking fantastic. A safety valve. That was exactly what she needed, before she did something irreversibly stupid.

Well, it was possible she already had done something stupid.

Adra leaned back in the sun and took her jacket off. Thinking about Ford made her feel too feverish, too restless.

And powerless. Absolutely powerless to prevent the worst from happening.

And maybe that was because she was fighting it.

Adra sat bolt upright. She almost laughed out loud. She’d run from Ford after the one night they had because she didn’t think she could handle a physical relationship with him without falling hopelessly in love, and then it had turned out
he’d
wanted more anyway, and so she’d had to stay away. But things were different now, now that they’d talked about it. Now that they both knew the score.

Weren’t they?

At least for Ford?

And for Adra…who the hell knew. But maybe if they gave in, if they had rules, maybe it would all be manageable. Maybe it would make sense. Maybe she wouldn’t feel constantly on the edge of delirium, one touch, one thought away from losing herself in this need for someone else.