Authors: Julia Devlin
PrideandSurrender (10 page)
My breath came fast as panic beat at my chest.
His hand squeezed my ass. “Go.”
I went. I didn’t have any other option. The rational part of
my brain knew I could walk away. Logic told me all I had to do was say no. But
somehow that didn’t seem possible. To walk away and admit defeat was
unthinkable. I couldn’t fail. Not at this. Not when I was close to something I
couldn’t name that hovered right out of my grasp.
With a press of a button, music filled the room. I closed my
eyes and listened. The song was slow and melodious, completely wrong. There was
nothing sexy about it, nothing to lose myself in.
My lids snapped open. I was about to make a complete fool of
myself. Embarrass myself. What the hell did it matter what kind of song it was?
I didn’t have the nerves to flip through my iPod looking for
songs that might be good to dance to, so I flipped to satellite radio, turning
the dial until I came to eclectic station. I jacked up the volume until I could
feel the bass pounding in rhythm with my heart, feel the beat vibrate in my
body.
It was too loud. I didn’t care. Unless the music drowned out
everything, I’d never be able to get through this. And that’s when I realized I
was going to do this—I was going to do this for Christos. I was going to be
brave.
I was sure I’d make a fool of myself. Sure I’d trip or fall
and look like an idiot. Sure nothing about my performance would be sexy. But I
was going to do it anyway, because he’d asked and I loved him.
If I’d had a shot of whiskey sitting in front of me, I would
have downed it, but I didn’t, so I settled for a deep breath and turned back to
Christos.
He watched me, arm resting on the back of the chair as he
twisted to see what I was doing. The look he gave me smoldered. Dark and
dangerous, he was pure carnal sin. The devil himself.
The song changed and the cords to
Fever
strummed
their low sexy beat. Not perfect but slow enough I wouldn’t stumble and fall on
my ass.
He smiled then with all the cocky arrogance of a man who
knows he’s in the gods’ favor. He had to be, there was no other reason why
everything always worked in his favor.
The beat of the drum and snap of fingers pulsed through the
air in time with my desire. If ever there was a song meant to strut through the
room, it was this one. With the words
Never know how much I love you
I
took my first step, swinging out my hip in perfect time to the music.
His expression darkened, eyes flashing.
Another slow, sensual stride.
His fingers tightened on the chair.
That power came flooding back as I walked with an
exaggerated sway of my hips. By the time I’d reached him, his knuckles were
white. I ran my fingers over them as I moved to stand in front of him.
His gaze raked over my body, taking in every inch of me.
Those damn nerves started again as self-consciousness reared its ugly head. I
didn’t want it. I wanted to give in and lose myself in the moment. Be brave.
Christos shifted, pulling off his shirt in one fluid motion
before undoing the buckle of his pants. He unbuttoned and unzipped them,
leaving them to hang open in a triangle. Long legs stretched out, he rested one
hand on the edge of the bed.
My mouth watered.
“Give me that show,” he said, in a harsh rasp. “I want
wanton slut.”
The words inflamed me to the point my knees actually went a
bit weak, but they surprised me too. Last night, even when we were at our most
primal, he’d never said anything like that.
Something must have shown in my eyes because he nodded.
“Yes, I’m exactly that way.” His gaze flicked over me. “And so are you.”
Heart beating a mile a minute, denial sat perched on my
lips, but I pushed it back where it belonged. Denial had no place here in this
room with us.
I stepped forward, raising my hand to trace his mouth with
my finger. “I guess I am.” I leaned down and brushed a kiss over his lips.
“With you.”
And then I began to dance.
My hips moved, tentatively at first, before finding the
rhythm of music. I closed my eyes, trying to capture that feeling of being
alone as I swayed. I recalled every sexy dance scene I’d ever seen in movies,
every swish of arms and legs, and let the song, this moment and Christos carry
me away.
Something happened with the music pounding through the room,
my eyes closed, I transformed. My nerves melted away and my inner temptress
took over. I teased. I gave him the best wanton slut I had to offer.
Later, I’d critique my performance and rule it a disaster.
But now I was brave.
I opened my eyes and met his. I’d never seen anything like
the expression on his face or that look in his eyes, but I was sure of one
thing—he wanted me. As I swung my hips, my arms over my head, hair wild around
my face, I could feel his hunger. Feel the strength of his lust. His entire
body taut, his gaze raked over me with such absolute possession and passion
heat flooded my cunt.
My nipples were tight, my body straining with my movement
and my desire. I wanted to fuck. I wanted to climb on top of him and ride him,
but that wasn’t the way this was supposed to go so I settled for the next best
thing. I ran my hands down my body, over my breasts, gasping at the pleasure.
I moved closer, straddling him, placing my palms on his bare
shoulders, the muscles twitched under my fingers. A low, guttural sound escaped
his throat, and he gripped the arms of the chair. I skimmed my nails over his
chest, dragging my thumbs over his nipples. He tried to grab me, but I pushed
his hands back down and he let out a frustrated growl.
Another song flipped over, something I’d never heard before,
with a bluesy soulful beat. I changed the rhythm of my hips to match the
vibrating thump in the room.
Leaned down and licked the salt off his skin, pausing to
scrape my teeth over one of his nipples. He reached for me again, and this time
I let him slide his hands over my back, down my hips before pushing him away.
I worked my body in ways I hadn’t known possible. Gyrated my
hips in small circles. Swung my breasts close to his face, let my nipples graze
his lips before pulling back. I ground my cunt just over his hard cock but
refused us both contact. Sweat beaded my back as I worked muscles I didn’t know
I had.
I was so turned-on, so unbelievably hot I forgot to care
about how I looked. Forgot to care if he liked my performance.
His gaze was glued my oscillating hips, the strain of my
thighs, my silk-covered pussy moving relentlessly. Under my fingers, his skin
was hot, his chest a rapid rise and fall, his breath fast and harsh.
The song ended and he let out a hiss. His hands came to grip
my waist, stilling me. I met his gaze and gave him that wicked smile I’d
learned from him. “Did I give you what you wanted, Christos?”
He growled, his fingers tightening on my hipbones so hard I
wouldn’t be surprised if he left a handprint. “Get on the bed.”
I’ve never moved so fast. I was on the bed, spread out on my
red velvet pillows before he even moved from the chair. He stood—lids
half-closed, nostrils flared as he pursued my body. “Bra. Off.”
I did as I was told, flicking it open and peeling the cups
over my breasts before tossing it to the floor.
“Panties.”
My belly tightened and I hooked my thumb in the waistband
and stripped them from my legs. He didn’t take his eyes off me as he rid
himself of shoes and socks, standing up straight to slowly pull his black belt from
his unzipped pants.
“Arms.” He pointed to the headboard and motioned for me put
them over my head.
My heart leapt in my throat as wetness coated my thighs at
his hard commands. I didn’t know why I liked this so much—maybe it was because
no man I’d ever met would have dared—but what we were doing thrilled something
deep inside me.
“Spread them.” He trailed a finger over my calf.
Clad in nothing but high-heeled white sandals I spread my
legs open wide. He traced a path over my knee, making me jerk when he touched a
sensitive spot. He moved up, pausing to stroke over my inner thigh, saying
nothing at the moisture he found there.
Arousal, hot and heady, weighed me down so all I could do
was pant for breath. His fingers sank between my thighs, and he rubbed my clit
in a slow, maddening circle, featherlight and oh so frustrating. Pleasure
pulsed through me, and shockingly, I began to crest. Only he pulled back,
denying me the orgasm with a raised a brow.
I groaned, arching my hips up in silent offering.
He leaned down and licked my clit, and I bowed off the bed,
sharp points of my heels digging into the mattress. His tongue danced over my
hot, swollen flesh, once again building me up the very pinnacle of climax only
to pull away.
I let out a frustrated scream.
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and with a quickness that
startled me, he pounced, covering me, his hard thighs straddling me. He grasped
my wrists and pulled them tight against the iron bar.
He worked his belt around my wrists, wrapping and twisting
so I was bound tight, the iron pressing into the soft skin of my inner wrists.
It didn’t hurt. Instead the soft rasp of metal on my skin
when I moved made me throb with hot need. My thighs started to tremble with the
force of my desire, working up to my belly. I pressed my legs together, unable
to stop the rush of sensations flooding over me, rotating my hips so my clit
received pressure. Impossible as it was, an orgasm welled and I threw my head
back, a loud moan escaping the depths of my throat.
Christos’ attention snapped to me, surprise flickered over
his expression before he twisted around and pulled my legs apart so once again
the climax faded to something just beyond my reach. He slid off the bed and
shook his head at me. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”
I forced myself to meet his gaze. I knew how I looked,
spread open, bound, body flushed, chest heaving. I’d never experienced arousal
like this, where every touch made me sure I’d tip over the edge, where my body
tingled on the very pinnacle of orgasm, where I no longer cared about how I
looked or sounded like.
I’ve never had my need so great I prayed for it to stop. Or
my pleasure so intense I prayed it never would.
“Scarves?” he asked in an almost guttural tone.
My gaze flicked to my closet. He took a step then turned
back, leaning down to my ear to whisper, “Keep those legs open.”
I nodded, my pussy so wet now I could feel liquid trickle
down my thigh.
He palmed my breast, circling my nipple so I keened at the
sharp ache. “This wasn’t the plan.” He rolled the hard bud between his thumb
and forefinger.
“What?” I managed to gasp.
“I’m down to monosyllables, and if I squeezed your nipples
just so, you’d come.”
As if to prove his point, he took one nipple in his mouth
and bit down while pinching the other, the climax swelled and threatened to
carry me away. He was right. One more touch and I’d be over the edge, thrown
head-first into the abyss. But of course he moved away.
I moaned, rolling my head on the pillow.
He shook his head. “Fucking unbelievable.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I took it as a
compliment. He turned on his heel, pushing the off button on the stereo before
disappearing into the closet to rummage through my things.
The heat of my skin. The pull of muscle in my arms. The cool
air on my wet nipple in contrast to the sting of the other. The metal rasping
my skin. The desire in my belly. The quiver in my thighs. The way my cunt
practically wept. The pounding of my pulse. The swell of my clit. The scent of
my arousal.
Never had I been so hyperaware. I rolled my hips, unable to
stop myself. It was intoxicating, even with my legs spread open. I did it
again. And again. Moaning. Twisting. Rocking.
Lost in my need and desire, I was completely wanton.
And that was how he found me.
My eyes flew open and met his stunned gaze. I flushed,
embarrassed by my display but unable to quell my moving body. “I, um—” I
stuttered, licking my dry mouth.
“I have never,” he said, in a strained voice, “seen you look
more gorgeous.”
He kissed the tip of each breast before he straightened,
taking one foot and wrapping a silk scarf around my ankle before fastening me
to the bed. In silence, he walked around to the other side and repeated his
actions.
I was completely helpless now. Tied. Bound. At his mercy.
And I loved it.
He walked to the center of the footboard and stared at me,
face dark with lust.
I raised my hips and offered myself to him.
He pulled his cock free from his boxer briefs. He dripped
with pre-come. He stroked, and my mouth watered. I moaned. Straining against my
bonds. His shaft disappeared into his fist. “I want to keep you like this for
hours.” The head of his cock appeared again through the circle of his fingers.
“But that’s not possible.”
He walked around the bed, grabbed a condom and stripped off
his briefs. I kept my eyes glued to his erection, watching as he slid the latex
ring down his erection. He climbed onto the bed and kneeled between my legs.
Bending over, he licked my cunt. Featherlight. Over and
over. His tongue circled my clit and I cried out. He exerted hardly any
pressure, but it didn’t matter, my body was on a mission. Desperate to come.
Bright and sharp, the climax began to roll through me only for him to pull back
once again.
I twisted, lifting my hips, blowing out a frustrated,
“Christos.”
“I had plans.” He stared at me with hooded lids. “But I
can’t help it, Juliet. I have to fuck you.”
“Yes please,” I hissed, raising my hips as best I could.
The head of his cock pressed against my wet, swollen cunt.
“You make me crazy,” he said in a strangled voice and drove deep within in one
strong, fluid thrust, pushing me into the mattress.
I came. Hot rushes of screeching pleasure crashed in on me.
“Oh god, yes!” I yelled so loud I was sure my neighbors
would hear me and I’d have to move.
Over and over, he fucked me, his cock stroking my pussy. Our
hips slamming together. Another wave of vicious contractions rolled over me,
just when the last ones were fading out and I screamed as it threatened to
consume me, burn me up until there was nothing left but ash.
He was right behind me, roaring as he pounded into me with
such a force I was surprised we didn’t break my bed. There was no finesse. No
choreographed tenderness. It was a hard, fast, furious fuck. It was the brutal
mating of two people who’d been pushed over the edge of passion.
I panted for breath as he collapsed on top of me. Into the
crook of my neck, he mumbled, “Jesus Christ.”
I laughed, and he said, “This isn’t funny, Juliet.”
He reached over my head and worked me free of his belt,
stopping as soon as my hands were loose enough to slip free. They tingled as
blood rushed back to my hands, and I wrapped my arms around him.
He raised his head and kissed me, pushing my sweat-damp hair
off my cheek. He grunted and moved to untie me, slipping off my shoes and
tossing them with a thump onto the floor before rolling next to me and pulling
me close. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
My cheeks grew hot. That knee-jerk part of me, so used to
self-preservation at any cost, thought I should be mortified by my behavior.
Images of my actions flashed through my head like a slide show so I was able to
point out every flaw in what I’d done.
But I was riding on some sort of euphoric high and I kicked
that bitch to the curb, slamming the door on her face and locking the deadbolt.
I knew she’d be back, after all she’d been with me for a long time, but for now
I wanted to be free and enjoy the peace and quiet.
I shivered as Christos’ fingers traced a path over my back,
kissing my temple. “You know, that was supposed to go much differently.”
I smiled, brushing my lips over his chest, marveling in my
ability to touch him as freely as I chose. A luxury I’d never dreamed I’d have.
“How was it supposed to go?”
“Well, for one thing,” he said, his voice ripe with
exasperation. “I was supposed to be cool and in control.”
“You did a pretty decent job.” I ran my nails over his
stomach and his muscles jumped in response.
He pinched my ass, making me yelp. “And I’d counted on being
able to speak full sentences.”
I clucked my tongue. “Poor baby.”
This time I received a smack that caused an interesting
thrill to race through me. I wasn’t surprised when his cock stirred.
“In my fantasies,” he continued, his tone disgruntled, “I
make you beg, keeping you on edge for hours as I make love to you.”
I shrugged. “I liked this way better.”
He laughed. “You liked a hard, fast three-minute fuck that
most teenage boys could top better?”
“I came,” I said simply.
“You did.”
“You’ll do better next time.”
Once again his palm swatted my ass, causing the most erotic
sensation I shamelessly wanted to explore. “God, you are such a brat.”
“But you like it.”
“That I do, my Juliet.” He squeezed me tight. “You know,
someday soon, I’m going to ask you to marry me, and when I do, you’re going to
say yes.”
A huge grin splayed over my lips, so big and wide it hurt my
cheeks. He wasn’t asking now because we both knew it was too soon, but he was
telling me what he wanted.
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe.”
That seemed enough of an answer for both of us right now,
and we fell silent. I snuggled in close, burrowing deep into the crook of his
arm, resting my head on his chest. I breathed in his scent, ran my hands over
his flat stomach and listened to the slow, steady beat of his heart. The entire
time, he just stroked my back in slow circles.
“I love you, Juliet,” he said in that low, sinful voice of
his.
“I love you too, Christos.”
The tears burst from out of nowhere, deep racking sobs that
shook me to my very core. Christos said nothing, kept rubbing, kissing my
temple and murmuring nonsense as tears poured down my cheeks and fell onto his
strong, capable chest.
I didn’t know why I was crying. Something released in me, a
dam had broken, and now everything was rushing out.
For a long time, I cried. Not pretty tears. Not gentle
weeping. No, I cried hard. My body shaking, my nose stuffed, I could feel my
eyes swelling with each new tear. All the while, Christos held me close and let
me cry it all out, never asking me any questions or tensing at the onslaught of
my tumultuous emotions.
At long last, I calmed, sniffling into his chest. The
invisible weight I’d been carrying for as long as I could remember was gone,
and I felt happy. Light. Free.
Somehow Christos had given me some secret part of myself and
I felt whole. At peace. Warm in all those places that had been cold.
I’d weathered the storm and survived. I’d taken the leap,
and he’d caught me. And in this moment I understood that loving Christos didn’t
make me weak, it didn’t strip me of who I was. Instead, loving him set me free
to be the person I truly am.
I started to laugh. A deep belly laugh that shook me as much
as the sobs had. Like the tears, I couldn’t stop, and finally Christos rolled
me over to stare into my sure-to-be-puffy face. “Would you care to tell me
what’s going on in that head of yours?”
“I’m happy,” I said, simply.
“Good.” He looked boyish and charming and rumpled. “I am one
lucky man.”
I tilted my head and smiled, no longer afraid of what I saw
in reflected in his expression. “Yeah, you are.”
His lids slit open and he glanced down at me.
“Yes,” he said, slowly.
I grinned, sitting up and straddling his hips. He was going
to have to do something about all this or I’d be forced to run a marathon. I
planted my hands on his chest. “Yeah? Me too.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Why do I have a bad
feeling about this?”
I scraped my nails down his chest and he rewarded me with a
quick intake of breath. I leaned down and kissed him, slow and long, the kiss
of dreams and hope, before raising my head to stare deep into his eyes.
“I have a feeling you’re about to see a decline in revenue.”
I slid down his body, licking the head of his hard cock, sucking him deep into
my mouth in one enthusiastic gulp.
He moaned, thrusting his fingers into my hair. “Sweet Jesus,
I created a monster.”
