Rough Surrender (7 page)

“And this.” Deliberately, while his gaze still locked with hers, he let one hand leave her breast, trail down her stomach, across the triangle of hair...

No. He wouldn’t
. She tugged at the ropes around her wrists but nothing gave. Her helplessness fed into the heaviness curling tight and low in her stomach. The nub of flesh inches from his fingers peaked and hardened. She tensed then arched into his hold, and still he watched.

His hand slid between her legs and paused there. “You’ve no hair on your lips down here, Faith.” His eyebrows rose a smidgeon.

He wanted her to speak?
Just being there, still, his finger confused her, kept her thoughts centered on the minute details of what he did. “I...I remove it. A friend in Paris showed me. For cleanliness and all...um.” Her explanation trailed away, swallowed by the sensations bubbling up.

“Hmm, I like the result.” His gentle baritone hum...the spot his finger touched...her nakedness and the power this man had over her, and, oh, the way he watched, it all roiled deliciously around inside her.

She gulped then held her breath as...his finger followed the line of her slit, where wetness collected, and slow as a tongue licking the edge of an ice cream, nudged aside her lips, and dipped inside her.
There. Oh. Yes.
A coil of simmering energy seemed to squeeze down into the tightest ball, and quiver to be released. His thumb found her nub and pressed down firmly. Over and over and over.

Her heart stopped. The room shattered. Her breath came out in a choking squeak from her gaping mouth. Nothing existed except the storm of pleasure bursting upward from where he probed and pressed. Unable to stop herself, she jerked and moaned through each wave of the storm until her body was wrung dry of the very last shudder.

When the room centered and she raised her eyelids, Mr. Meisner held her in his arms, snuggled to his chest. He rubbed her back, just like he had on the boat. “There you go, sweetheart. Lord. Never seen any woman orgasm that easily. You do like this. Do you understand? You like being tied up.”

She guessed she did. Strange, but true. She turned her head away from the roughness of his coat to better catch her breath. “What is an orgasm, Mr. Meisner?”

His chest jolted as he laughed silently, and she turned her face again to hide.
Why did he laugh?
He kissed the top of her head.

“I’m not mocking you, but I can see I have a lot to teach you.” His next words were spoken so quietly she had to strain to hear them. “And you’re so gorgeous... I’m not sure how I’ll ever let you go.”

Though her hands were still tied, she was sure he didn’t mean that. Besides, right then, no one and nothing could have pried her from his arms, because she certainly wasn’t letting him go either.

Chapter 6

She’d settled in his arms and lay with her head nestling in the angle between his arm and chest, breathing quietly like a small animal caught in a trap, hoping if it stayed still no one would notice. Leonhardt smiled as he undid the curtain cords that tied her hands.

“An orgasm is what just happened to you, dear.”

“I know.” She sighed.” I figured it out. I’m not stupid. I just wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Not surprising if that was your first orgasm.” He patted her for a while longer, letting his hand run the length of her hair and down her naked back to just above her bottom.

The room around them was beautifully decorated but, eyes unfocused, he saw nothing except a blur. Should he see if she wanted to take this further? Despite his vow, he wouldn’t...couldn’t walk away unless she told him so.

He’d never found a woman he didn’t have to pay who showed a true inclination for what he craved. Yet here was Faith, a wholesome, normal woman who’d liked being dominated. Unorthodox, lovely and one of the most intriguing ladies he’d ever met. She wasn’t afraid to break the rules and, if she hadn’t done so earlier, he’d not be here, in her bedroom with this soft arousing bundle of femininity in his arms.

Maybe, after all, there wasn’t anything wrong with him and his desires? He looked down at her. With one hand on her head and the other cradling her rounded bottom, emotions churned to the surface inside him–both an overwhelming tenderness and a powerful need to spread her out on the bed and do everything to her body he could imagine.

“Faith?”

“Yes?” Her voice was muffled by his coat.

“Your choice. We can stop now and I’ll go home to my house. Or–”

He felt her fingers beneath his armpit clench slowly into a fist and warmth as she expelled a breath. Whatever decision she’d made wasn’t coming easy.

“Stay, Mr. Meisner.”

“Ah.” Tenderness boiled away in the face of incandescent lust.
Control, man. Simmer down
.

Maybe, a little anticipation, a little preparation, would do them both good. “When are you going to call me Leonhardt? I thought I’d made it clear?”

She peered up at him with those pale-as-mist gray eyes–intelligent with a flare of boldness. “I like you as Mr. Meisner.”

He wrapped his fingers in her hair and tugged. “If I’m staying, I need you to ask nicely.”

“What?” Her expression cleared. “Oh. You want me to say, sir? What? Always?” The last word came out in a squeak.

Oh yes, he thought, always when we’re like this–alone and you’re naked and fairly begging me to take you. He untangled his hand, stepped back a pace and said softly. “Get down on your knees, Faith.”

“You don’t–Um. The sureness in her voice trailed away and she searched his face for something he made sure was no longer there.

He narrowed his eyes, set his mouth to a line and willed her to kneel.

Slowly she bent her knees, got down on the floor and knelt. Her breasts swayed. Her luscious smooth aureole darkened and shrank. That betraying tongue licked out and swept across her lips.

Excited and wanting–
needing
him to do more.

The awakening inside her made him desire her so much his dick ached. He gave her a moment longer.

“Ask me.”

She looked down a second before rolling her eyes and rattling out, “Please, sir, may I call you Mr. Meisner?”

Biting back a guffaw took all his determination. He growled. “You may. That was a little fast. We’ll work on that later. I’m going downstairs to wait for Mawson. Leaving a message at the desk would be indiscreet. People would talk, perhaps. Have a bath while I’m gone.”

He walked to her and leaned over, caught her chin to tilt her head and murmur in her ear. “When you’re done having a bath, I want you to get on the bed and lie on your back. No clothes. Naked as the day you were born. I want you to touch yourself, down here.” He released her chin, found her hand and bent farther to guide it between her legs, noting with satisfaction how her breaths came faster, more ragged, and let her fingers swirl around the swelling nub. “Is that nice?”

“Yes. But–”

“Do not have an orgasm, Faith. Just play with yourself, here. This is your clitoris. What did you want to add?”

Tiny lines creased her brow. “Why am I doing this and, I don’t know, this seems wrong. Dirty.”

He put his forefinger on the tip of her nose, tapped it once. “Sex isn’t dirty, Faith. It’s glorious and fun and what our bodies are made to do. This is my order. You will acquaint yourself with your body if you want me to stay. I’m not going to have sex with you, not tonight–I don’t have protection with me, but I am going to enjoy taking you to orgasm as many times as I possibly can before sunrise.”

That made her eyes widen so much he could have almost fallen into them and swum around. What a delightful, stunned woman and, right now, tonight, she was all his.

With his hands, holding her in place, at nape and chin, he leaned in and kissed her deep and hard, and made sure that, beyond any doubt, she knew he owned every inch of her body.

On the way down in the elevator, he took the time to adjust his very uncomfortable trousers then put his hands in his pockets and thought about Faith.

Was he right to do this? No matter how much she’d asked him, even almost begged him, was he right to show her this path? Especially when, in spite of what he’d said, he wasn’t totally certain this wasn’t in some way sinful and wrong. He’d prayed so many times to know, to really know, but still he remained unsure.

When the elevator reached the bottom and the doors opened, he remained sure of only one thing–nothing would drag him away from Faith this night. Sin be damned.

Chapter 7

The bathroom was as meticulously decorated as the bedroom. An oversize bathtub with four golden claw feet sat in the middle of the tiled floor. On the stained glass of the window a woman with flowing tresses poured water from a shell. Fresh towels beckoned in a pile on a Persian blue upholstered chair.

Faith padded across, turned on the taps and sat on the edge of the chair. The water, splashing and gurgling, calmed her yet also seemed unreal. Everything, even the cold tiles underfoot, seemed unreal. She hadn’t put her clothes back on, nor touched the bathrobe hanging in the closet–just as he’d told her. She wasn’t sure why she obeyed. Why she wanted to.

“I’m mad, utterly mad,” she muttered.

When Mr. Meisner had left the room and the door clicked shut, the bedroom had seemed empty, like the eerie silence after the passing of a storm. She rolled the sound of his first name around in her head. He wanted her to call him that but she couldn’t, not out loud, too...too something. Familiar? Maybe in time, but tonight he was Mr. Meisner.

Was she crazy? She’d let a lion into her world, hadn’t the faintest idea how to put him back in the cage, and would probably bite anyone who asked her to drive Leonhardt away.

She smiled, shut her eyes and shivered as hot-cold slivers threaded along every nerve. He wanted her to play with herself, down there, where he’d touched her. Pretending it was Mr. Meisner, she moved her hand down through her hair to the place where her clitoris dwelled. One finger on top of it was enough to make her smile again. She let her head go back as her neck arched in some instinctive response.
So nice.

Her body was the last bastion where she’d still obeyed society’s rules. Women’s bodies and sex were for marriage and procreation. She smirked then let her concentration return to what her finger evoked. Tonight it seemed as if she had permission to do the naughtiest things. She’d always learned fast. Maybe she would surprise Mr. Meisner.

Surprise him?
Memories coalesced–when he’d held her neck and threatened to spank her if she answered the wrong way; when he’d asked her to turn and look at him while her hands were tied at her back and she was naked. Her clitoris swelled. No, she’d not shock or surprise Leonhardt tonight, and she didn’t want to...not at all.

The bath water was inches from the top and the seat upholstery between her thighs wet with her moisture before she came to her senses and turned off the taps. She’d not had an orgasm, but heavens, if she had to do this much longer some part of her would surely explode. Why had she never done this before?

* * * *

Her skin damp and flushed pink from the soaking, her hair unclipped from its loose bun, she walked out into the bedroom and up to the bed. The quilt was cool to touch. Coiled at the bottom was the cord with which he’d tied her. Innocuous looking, innocent, except now it invoked strange, wicked images.

She crawled onto the quilt and found the middle. Though the room was empty, she felt like the center of attention somehow. As if someone might enter and see her. It was...intimidating.

She lay back and put her hand to the spot that was becoming gloriously familiar, let her eyes half-close. Mr. Meisner. That was who she imagined might enter, and see her doing this. Already her flesh down there was swollen and wet. She squeezed her hand between her thighs. Funny, but here, outside the cozy intimacy of the bathroom, she felt inhibited.

Nevertheless, she tried, experimenting with all manner of methods–fingertip, finger and thumb, rubbing hard, rubbing softly. Nothing brought her the edge like she’d found in the bathroom, or like Mr. Meisner.

When she heard footsteps approach her door and the key scrape in the lock, she grabbed a pillow from behind her head and covered herself. He walked in, came to a yard from the bed end, and simply
loomed
.

She gripped the pillow tighter, feeling her hard nipples butt into the cool fabric, aware that underneath, she was bare.

Those eyes of his, my goodness, he should patent them as a weapon. Like the twin headlights of his car, they seemed to shine into every corner of her being.

“Hello,” she said, trying not to squeak, and almost succeeding.

“Put the pillow aside, Faith. I want to see you.” He stayed where he was. Clothed, masculine, someone who seemed her natural master. Why, she hadn’t quite figured out. Her lion had returned.

Flying was never going to hold the same excitement again. Not when a man could scare the blood from her veins and thrill her all in the same moment. Riveted by his gaze, she sneaked away the pillow and tucked it under her arm. No good. He stayed where he was and raised his eyebrow.