The Beauty of Surrender (20 page)

She smelled like chocolate and spices. Good enough to eat.

He had to stop thinking of her that way. As though he could throw off the ropes and ravish her. But he could hardly think of anything else.

“James, I’m going to bind you very tightly. It’s what you need.”

“Yes.”

It was. He couldn’t do this any other way. Couldn’t be taken over. And he
had
to be.

“Please just do it, Marina.”

Was he begging this woman? But his need was knife-sharp; the need to empty all the shit from his mind. Need made more intense by his need to touch her. To fuck her. By the idea that he would be denied that. It didn’t make sense to him. But it didn’t matter.

He felt the fall of rope soft against his skin, then she really began to work, the ropes crossing over his arms, back and forth, binding them to the table so that they were entirely immobilized.

Yes, this was what he needed.

She worked quickly, efficiently, and soon she was laying the rope over his back, binding him tightly to the table. Then down over his buttocks, his legs, until most of the surface of his skin was covered in rope. There was just enough room to breathe, to twitch a muscle the tiniest bit. And no matter how strong he was, how badly he might panic, he could not move.

Comforting. Terrifying.

His body pulsed with lust, with nerves. And he felt a small, smooth opening sensation in his brain as he let go just a little. It was fucking going to work, with her.

Oh, yes, he was losing his mind already, and all she’d done was tie him down.

But it was Marina. This incredible, beautiful creature whose scent made him wild with need. Who emanated a strength he’d never encountered before in a woman. And he was really going to do it. To begin to give himself over to her.

It was really happening. Finally.

Chapter Four

M
ARINA FELT
his breath quicken, felt his body relax just the slightest bit, a small loosening of muscle so subtle she would never have caught it had she not been pressed so close against him. A small victory, but still, it was a start.

She let him just be in the ropes, kept up the breathing, lulling herself a little in the process. It lasted only a few minutes; then she felt a small, sharp jerk of his bound body beneath her.

He was fighting it again. Thinking too much.

“
Shh
, James. Let it go. Let it happen.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You’re choosing not to.”

“Maybe.”

He took a deep breath, and she could feel him making the effort to relax. It didn’t work. His skin grew hot as a small sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

“Marina. Fuck …”

“I think this is all you can do tonight,” she said quietly.

He didn’t say a word, unable to give himself over enough to
admit defeat. The muscles in his back were growing tighter and tighter, his breath quickening.

“I’m letting you out, James.”

“Okay. Yes. I can’t … please just do it.”

She pulled at the knots, slipping the ropes through her hands, but he only seemed to grow more tense. He was panicking; she knew the signs.

“It’s okay, James. We can try it again. Almost done.”

He was silent, trying to be stoic. But his breath was a raspy pant, his back absolutely rigid.

When she’d removed the last of the ropes he held still for a moment, as though he was challenging himself. Then he sat up.

His face was flushed, his eyes dark and glittering. Dangerous. His cock was still iron-hard. He was almost too beautiful to look at.

He stood suddenly, startling her, his eyes flashing. She took an unconscious step backward. Then he was advancing on her, backing her into the wall. She didn’t have time to think about it; all she knew was the heat coming off his naked body, the menace in his eyes that was pure sex. Power. The scent of him male and musky and making her wet, damn it. Then he had her against the wall, one hand on either side of her waist, pinning her there as thoroughly as his burning stare. He moved in, a harsh growl coming from somewhere deep in his throat. Her knees went liquid. She was absolutely soaking. In shock. In need.

There wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

He leaned in, lowered his head until she could feel his breath warm on her face. She could almost feel his lips … almost …

“God damn it, Marina,” he whispered. “I’m going to touch you.”

“Yes …”

She tilted her chin, parted her lips. She needed to taste him, to feel his flesh on hers. She couldn’t think of anything else.

He moved his head, and she felt the lightest brush of his lips. Oh, yes, too good, making her melt, making her sigh against his mouth.

“God damn it.” His words were a heated whisper on her skin. Then he pulled back, ran a hand through his hair, turned away from her.

Jesus
. What the hell had just happened? What had she allowed to happen?

She was no longer in control of the situation, and they both knew it.

She still wanted him to kiss her. She didn’t give a damn who was in charge.

“James …”

“I’m sorry. Fuck. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have … I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

What if I want it to?

What the hell was wrong with her?

“No, it’s … okay.” She paused, drew in a breath, tried to calm her racing pulse, the damp heat gathering between her thighs. “Get dressed,” she told him.

Yes, back in charge of things, issuing orders.

Tell him to kiss you. To take you to bed. He’ll do it
.

She was really losing it.

But he had already pulled his boxer-briefs back on over his raging hard-on, was slipping into his shirt, his pants, every movement aggressive, jerky.

There was a heaviness in her chest as she watched him, something entirely separate from her desire for him.

Regret.

She wasn’t giving him what he’d come to her for. Wasn’t doing her job.

She could barely think, still. She would have to figure it out later, talk to him once she’d calmed down.

Hell!

He was fully dressed now, watching her warily from across the room. His shoulders were still heaving a bit with his shuddering breath. His face was completely shut down, except for the glittering eyes. They were all pupils, black as night.

“I have to go,” he said, his jaw clenched.

“You shouldn’t leave yet, James. I can’t let you drive like this.” He shook his head. “I need to go. Now.” She moved toward him, saw him flinch as he had when she’d laid her hand on his shoulder earlier. “You know better.”

“I’m fine. I never hit subspace. I’m fine.”

She was quiet a moment, searching his face. “You know that’s not true, James. Even if you only caught that first edge.”

“I’m not going to argue with you, Marina. But I am going to go.”

That danger was still in his expression. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to talk him into staying. Hated that there was nothing she could do, that she had let her control slip so drastically.

She nodded her head, and he turned and stalked out of the room. Every nerve in her body ached to follow him, to say something more. But dignity demanded she let him walk away—hers and his. And she didn’t think she could stand to watch him walk out the door.

She heard the skid of his shoes on the floor, the soft creak of the door, then the knock of wood against wood as he closed it behind him.

It was then that she let out her breath, her lungs burning.

She felt … lost.

How had she let things spiral so out of control?

Walking to the bench, she ran her palm over the surface. She swore she could still smell him in the room,
feel
him, as though something besides his scent lingered there.

She’d always believed people had a unique energy about them, a sort of signature. And his was pure power. Pure masculinity. She’d never come upon anything like it.

She’d never met anyone like James. Never met a man who made her burn the way she did now. Unbearable, this wanting. Desire like fire in her body: her breasts, her belly, her sex.

She slid a hand between her thighs, pressed there.

Need like a razor, cutting through all logical thought, through her need for control. Through everything.

Stalking across the hall and into her bedroom, she stripped off her clothes, yanked her most powerful vibrator from the drawer, took it into the bathroom. She stood before the mirror, naked, her skin flushed all over. Her nipples were two hard, red points of desire. Her sex was soaking wet.

Spreading her thighs, she reached down and pressed once more against her sex. It was slick, hot. Aching. Her eyes fluttered as she brushed her fingers over her swollen clit, then watched carefully as she parted her pussy lips, revealing that hard bud of flesh. She spread her thighs a little farther, turned the vibe on high, and lowered it, touched the tip of her clitoris, desire pulsing through her. She shuddered.

This was what she needed. All she needed. She didn’t need a man.

James …

No
.

She pressed harder, the buzzing working its way into her body, shivering through her sex. Spreading wider, she shoved the tip of the vibrator inside her, moaning, her body clenching.

Oh, yes …

She kept her eyes on her image in the mirror, moving the vibrating phallus in and out of her, pleasure building, cresting.

James
.

No, just herself and some good equipment. That’s all she needed.

She pumped her hips, used her hand to rub her clitoris as she angled the vibe into her G-spot. Her breasts ached to be touched; her pussy ached.

When was the last time she was fucked by a man?

She thrust her hips harder, pressing the vibe deeper, pinched her clit hard.

James!

Pleasure arced through her like an electric current. Sharp. Lovely. Excruciating. And her body burst, her climax almost painful. And she was coming, coming, James’s dark eyes, his smooth golden skin, his beautiful cock in her mind.

When it was over she dropped the vibrator onto the bathroom counter. Her image in the mirror looked flushed: face, neck, breasts. Her eyes were enormous, absolutely gleaming. Her mouth looked as though he had kissed her, even though he hadn’t.

Even though you wanted him to
.

Yes, she’d have to admit that much. And more. She wanted James.
Wanted
him, as she had no one else for years.

Dangerous. Oh, yes, James was dangerous
.

Or was he? This had to be pure lust, nothing more. Why was she so concerned? She hadn’t allowed a man to touch her since she’d lost Nathan; perhaps it was time, as Desmond had said. She was, after all, a sexual being, just like anyone else. She’d denied herself long enough.

But was it fair of her to consider sex with James when it was her responsibility to feed his need for subspace, for peace within the ropes? Would taking things to that level be good for him? Or would it only confuse the issue? She couldn’t think clearly enough where he was concerned to be certain she was making a rational decision. And of course much would depend on whether or not he wanted her.

He did. That much she didn’t need to question. The lust raging in his eyes, his hard, beautiful cock, the way he’d broken the rules, taking over like that …

She wouldn’t have put up with it from anyone else. But James … she had a feeling she’d put up with almost anything from him, let him do anything …

Not very Domme-like. But James was no standard subbie boy, either. Far from it. And that was exactly why she was so damn attracted to him. Or part of it, anyway. That and his smoldering dark looks, the energy that emanated from him. The heat.

She moaned, pressed her hand to her sex once more, picked up the vibrator again. And told herself as she lowered the buzzing instrument between her thighs that another orgasm would cure her need for James, knowing full well it was a lie.

T
HE DRIVE HOME
seemed to take forever. The city was alive, as it was on any Saturday night, despite the late hour. Too many cars, too many people and lights, too much noise and confusion. James couldn’t seem to think, to lose himself in the buzz, as he once could.

He
needed
to lose himself.

He needed to get the near taste of Marina’s lips out of his mind. The feel of her hair brushing his skin. The scent of her.

His cock was still rock-hard, growing harder as he thought of her. He pressed a hand against the ridge rising beneath his jeans, willing it to go down. It didn’t help. Not that he really expected it to.

Nothing was going to help.

She was too fucking beautiful. Too hot. Too female. Too everything.

That sense of power, her absolute control, was a huge turn-on. And seeing her fall apart when he tried to kiss her … he’d thought he was going to lose his mind. Knew that if he’d let it go one step further, it would all have been over. He’d have pinned her against the wall, torn her clothes off, and fucked her, raw and primal, standing up, pushing her flesh into the hard wall behind her while he drove his cock into her sleek body …

Jesus
.

He was hard as iron now.

Just get home
.

Yes, get home, stroke himself until he came so he could stop thinking about her.

He groaned, forced himself to focus on the road, on the line of traffic moving down Van Ness. He swung a right onto Gough Street, then another right into the alley behind his building, parked in the small garage he’d been lucky to find in this old city. He slammed the car door behind him, made his way up the stairs to his apartment, fumbling with the keys at the door. Finally he was inside, and he made straight for the shower.

He reached in and turned the water on, yanked his shirt over his head, kicked his way out of his boots, his jeans, his boxer-briefs. His cock stood like a sentinel of lust between his legs, pulsing with need. Stepping into the shower, he turned the hot water up; he needed to feel the burn on his skin. Then he grabbed the bar of soap, lathered his cock, even the touch of his own rough hands making him pulse harder.