Surrender to You (6 page)

One week into working at the Goodfellow Tower Hotel, and I didn't have much to shout about in terms of finding my birth mother. My list had
nineteen
women named Patricia Hall, who, over the past twenty years, had lived in the Boston area. Apparently, Patricia Hall was a very common name. The run-down house was the only record I found for Frank Hall, too.

If that wasn't enough fun for me, I felt lost every time I ventured onto the twenty-second floor. Every couple was a reminder of my relationship that I kept behind closed doors.

Most mornings, when my shift began, I toured the floor to take care of any customer needs, but the sheer vastness of this place left me at a disadvantage.

And then there were the clients.

From corner to corner, I encountered the most fascinating people. I kept seeing one particular guest every time I delivered white orchids to a Japanese couple who ate their breakfast naked. He seemed to prefer the table across from them.

This particular day, after I placed the massive bouquet on their table, the man called out to me, “Hey, Jason.”

I stopped in mid-step.
“Excuse me?”

“It's Jason, right?”

I held back a laugh. My name badge read
CARLIE JASON
. I didn't remember Jason being first. I walked up to him. Now that I was up close, I could appreciate how pretty he was. Not that pretty was bad—but it wasn't my type. As I approached him, I took in the smooth perfection of his light brown skin and his high cheekbones. Bluish-gray eyes focused on my face instead of my legs. Which was rather refreshing. His lips were full, practically made for kissing. Compared to most of the other men in business suits, this guest wore blue jeans that were torn in the knees and a red flannel shirt. Yep, the dude was rocking flannel on a hotel floor where rooms cost over a grand per night.

“How about
Ms.
Jason?” I asked.

He feigned displeasure. “I like the way Jason sounds. Calling someone
Ms.
feels pretentious, doesn't it?”

“Not necessarily. Can I get you anything?” I didn't have time to get hit on by someone who had been scoping me out for a while.

“Isn't the customer always right?”

“No.”

He laughed.

I was smiling now, too. He relaxed against his seat and picked up a glass with a green slush-like juice.

“Can I get you a fresh”—I took a closer look—”whatever that is…?”

“It's fresh kale, spinach, and cucumbers. And a bunch of other veggies I can't identify.” He picked up the half-empty glass. “Want some?”

I'd probably digest that drink better than most of the gluten-filled garbage I used to eat. “I'll pass. How come you haven't finished it?”

“I'd rather have a stack of waffles and a side of lard-covered bacon.”

He had good taste. “You and me both.”

“Have a seat then, Jason. Take a load off for a little while.”

“Thanks for the offer, but by the time I prop up my feet, someone will set something on fire or I'll have another mishap to deal with.”

He nodded and took a sip of his water instead. The juiced veggies were probably lukewarm by now.

We watched Mr. Frasier lead Millicent on a leash to one of the tables. It was just like any other day on vacation for them. Millicent curled up her long legs under the table.

The man spoke first. “I will admit, Jason, you look like you don't belong here.” He wasn't looking at me anymore, even when I glanced at him.

“And what does someone who works in the service industry look like?” I gestured to a waiter who was fetching a drink for Mr. Frasier. “How do you know she isn't a medical student who wants to be a neurosurgeon?”

“That's Belle,” the man said. “She's a physics student at MIT.”

“I stand corrected.”

He quirked a smile and my stomach warmed at how gorgeous he was. He probably had no trouble finding a partner on this floor to play with.

I continued. “If there's nothing I can do for you, then have a good day,
Mister…
?”

“My name is Carver.”

Now that was an unusual first name. “Have a good day,
Mr.
Carver.”

He rolled his eyes. “Murphy is my last name—and nobody calls me Mr. Murphy except Roland.”

I migrated throughout the room, and not once did Carver move from his spot. His green drink continued to sit in the same spot.

I ordered him a fresh one before I left the floor.

As far as I could tell, most of the folks who stayed on this floor seemed to live here.

Over my day I ventured into all the rooms, except for one. I'd yet to explore the Darkness Suite.

You may assist customers in every room except for the Darkness Suite,
Mr. Butts had instructed me a week ago.

As far as I could tell, only so many people crossed the threshold. There were two signs outside the door. The first sign was ornate and burgundy-colored. The script was whimsical as if written by hand:
YOU HAVE COME TO A PLACE MUTE OF ALL LIGHT, WHERE THE WIND BELLOWS AS THE SEA DOES IN A TEMPEST. THIS IS THE REALM WHERE THE LUSTFUL SPEND ETERNITY
.

The words brought a smile to my face. This was Dante's description of hell's second circle. So far I'd been surrounded by light on this floor, and yet the room in front of me promised something much more than darkness.

The second sign was much more straightforward:
SPACE FOR SCENE PLAY IS AVAILABLE ON A FIRST-COME, FIRST-SERVED BASIS. ONLY TRAINED DOMS MAY ENTER AFTER A BACKGROUND CHECK.

Good policy. In the past, I'd never expected myself to fall into a BDSM lifestyle. Tomas had been my introduction over eight years ago. We were young then and foolish, but time passed, and one particular summer when everything seemed to fall apart for Sophie and me with a pending eviction notice, Tomas had been there for me.

In more ways than one.

Now there weren't many kinky pleasures I hadn't experienced. For me it was about finding the next thrill. My defiant nature had gotten me into trouble quite often. Meeting Tomas in hotel rooms made it hard for us to act out scenes.

So why hadn't we met here instead?

I approached the closed door. The sweet scent of vanilla lingered nearby. Why didn't Butts want me in here? Was the order from Tomas?

I glanced around. Seeing that I was alone, I opened the door and ventured inside. A quick peek wouldn't hurt.

Spotlights in the center of the space revealed the bondage tables, benches, and even a Saint Andrew's cross. Only blue lights along the floor illuminated the edges of the room. Shadows sucked in everything else. Unfamiliar faces dotted the corners. Five men and three women watched a scene unfold in the center of the room. A curvy brunette with short-cropped hair leaned over a sawhorse. Even from where I stood on the other side of the room, I could make out the dimples along flushed ass cheeks. The fresh welts, as well.

The need to see more pushed me forward.

One man lightly caressed her right ass cheek with a riding crop while the other two watched in silence.

No one said a thing while I lurked in my dark corner.

The stark sound of the crop striking her flesh made my lips part. I still distinctly remembered the night I'd lost my virginity to Tomas.

Get on my bed, Carlie,
he'd said to me that night. Every single word still sent my body in motion.

Instead of being tied to a sawhorse, I'd been tied to his bed. Just remembering the tension in my limbs left me heady.

The crop struck her flesh again, and she moaned.

I wanted to moan, too. Before I'd lain on his bed, he'd touched me until I was begging. His fingers fluttered over the sensitive skin of my stomach. He caressed my collarbone and nibbled the skin along the underside of my breasts. All the while, he avoided the throbbing place between my legs. When I was trembling uncontrollably, he ordered me to his bed.

There's something I've always wanted to do to you,
he whispered.
Ever since I met you, I've wanted to possess you. In both body and spirit.

I wanted to give him everything. All my secrets. All my passions. Surprisingly, all the guys I'd dated since Tomas had been pretty good, but none of them had come close to driving me crazy with want. It was as if he sat up on a pedestal no one else could reach.

The man approached the woman on the sawhorse and bent down to bring her nipple into his mouth. He sucked hard and my core clenched from the way his tongue curled over her flesh. He ran his hands down her hips, his caresses reverent and gentle. With deft fingers he parted her nether lips and slid his finger inside of her.

My knees buckled a bit, watching her reaction.

You should go, Carlie. There's a reason your supervisor didn't want you here.

But I couldn't move from my spot.

Time passed as she rocked back and forth on his hand. Ecstasy filled her features and I couldn't resist floating away with her. Her back arched, and every sensation she was feeling flooded my body with remembrance: Tomas inside of me. Tomas's mouth on me.

The man whispered encouragement to her until she sagged against her bonds, sated and pleased. He gently unstrapped her. Now that the scene had ended, the group shared a conversation or two before they left.

I slid deeper into the corner, making sure they didn't see me. Something bumped my leg. In the darkness, I couldn't see what I'd hit. I peered into the shadows and my mouth dropped to see armchairs along the wall. In the seat I bumped, a man sat cross-legged.

“What are you doing here, Ms. Jason?” Tomas whispered.

Hunger manifests itself in many ways. For me, one of them was lust. Every day the feeling consumed me until the need to sate my lust grew painful. I'd found the only way to quench my thirst without Carlie was to come to this room and watch.

On occasion, I brought other women here, too. I'd strapped them to the table and pleasured them until they panted under my eager hands. One day I brought an acquaintance here and left her squealing while I pinched her in places she didn't think could be used to make her come.

But none of them were Carlie.

Seeing her in the very spot that was my personal domain brought back the ache I'd managed to shove away. While the scene played out, she thought I hadn't seen her hiding there, but I had. My body ached with longing just watching the way she sagged against the wall.

“What are you doing here?” I asked again.

Her mouth moved. In the darkness, I missed seeing the deep flush along her skin or the way she bit her bottom lip when she was turned on.

My hand snaked out and took her arm. She didn't fight me when I drew her into my lap. “I'll ask you one more time.”

“Working.” A mere whisper I strained to hear.

“This room doesn't need supervision. Didn't Roland tell you?” In my lap, her body molded to mine. My grip on her wrist tightened. Her pear scent enveloped me, urging me to never let her go.

“You were watching,” I said.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“You know damn well why.” She clammed up.

“It's amusing to have you speechless for once.”

She snorted.

I sighed. “I've missed you, Carlie. I want you to stay with me tonight.” The words were out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop myself.

She sat there, sucking in deep breaths as if she were considering what I'd said. I waited for her to get up, but she turned around and hiked up her skirt to straddle the seat. “You need to stop feeling that way…”

When I didn't answer, she reached up to run her palms down the sides of my face. She traced along my chin and drew a single fingertip over the bridge of my nose to my lips. I shuddered from the light touch. Instinctively, I opened my mouth to suck her finger in, but she pulled back with a pout.

“Don't tease me…” I grated out.

That damn mouth of hers would be the end of me. I did miss her. Day after day, even as I tried to distract myself with another construction project, she was on my mind. My hands moved of their own volition and did the same thing she'd done to me. Except I ran my thumb along the seam of her mouth. She sucked my thumb into her mouth and the velvety warmth of her tongue sent shocks of pleasure across my stomach.

Heat flared in her eyes. I'd seen this expression before. She was about to take what she wanted. Ever so slowly, she slid off my lap until she rested on her knees and her hands lingered on my cock, now straining against my pants.

There was no discussion as she freed my length.

Stop her before this goes too far.
But any thoughts of leaving the room faded as she drew the tip into her mouth. Heat surged up my shaft and I closed my eyes. I'd asked her not to tease me, and of course, she disobeyed. It was always about my pleasure, but on
her
terms.

Owing you anything is a burden I'm not too good at carrying,
she had said to me.

Stroke after stroke of her hand sent me spiraling deeper toward a place only she could take me. There was something about the way she looked up at me with worship in her gaze. I closed my eyes and imagined she was the old Carlie again.

I wanted to tell her how much she pleased me, how I couldn't get enough of her, but my mouth refused to open. This would be another scene between us, and like a fool, I'd admitted I missed her. As she brought me closer and closer to climax, I almost wanted to push her away, but she was relentless until I shuddered and my come coursed down her throat.

Then it was just the two of us in a silent room.

This wasn't a scene though, and Carlie was my employee.

She tried to add distance between us, but I grabbed her wrist. “Don't leave yet. We need to talk.”

“I have to go,” she whispered, blind to what I really wanted from her:
her love
. “Someone might come in here,” she added.

“Let them come. My name is on the door.”

She sighed and glared at me briefly. I refused to let go. “We can't keep doing this to each other. Every night I think about you and I wonder what would happen if we just had a normal night together.”

“What we have isn't normal, Tomas.”

“We could be if we tried.” Bitterness pooled in my stomach. I loved having her like this and I'd give her anything she wanted, but right now my need to possess her fought against my need to have more than just a quick fuck every now and then. “This isn't like that week in New York.”

Now that made her pause. Mentioning what happened to us eight years ago wasn't wise, but we were at this point for a reason.

“You know how the story ends,” she said. “What happened eight years ago will happen again: You'll walk away and leave me standing there trying to figure out what's left of myself.”

“Don't you think I might have felt the same when I had to go back to college?”

I felt like a recording playing on repeat. We'd had this conversation many times before.

“We've been fuck buddies for a long time,” she said, her voice tired.

“We're more than that.”

“Do you honestly believe we can change?” Her voice began to rise. “So far, your track record doesn't look too good, either. First, it was boarding school every summer—which I hated, but accepted. Then, after I fell in love with you when you were in college, you didn't bother to say goodbye after you jaunted off to Europe—”

“Don't—” I let go of her. My dad had just passed away, and at the time I didn't want to burden her with my anger. In hindsight, I knew I should've taken her back to Europe with me, but exposing her to the sharks swimming after my father's fortune wasn't something I'd
ever
let happen.

“Don't do what?” she said quietly. “Don't hold on to us? I've already figured out how to let you go.”

With that, I got up and left before I said something I'd regret. At least this time, I was the one leaving her behind.