The Beauty of Surrender (12 page)

Screw it. She was going to call him. D/s protocol be damned. Grabbing her cell phone from the counter, she yanked the charger cord out, began to scroll for his number. When the phone rang, the familiar chiming notes startled her and she fumbled, nearly dropping the phone.

Desmond’s name on the caller ID on the small screen.

Her heart fluttered, tumbled in her chest.

She took a breath, held it, blew it out, before answering.

“Hello?”

“Ava. You’re there.”

“Yes.”

God, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. She was absolutely flooded with relief. And a little resentment, which surprised her.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Okay.”

“Ava? You sound … distant.”

“You’re the one who’s been gone, Desmond.”

Was that really her own voice, so bitter?

“Are you angry with me, Ava?” he asked quietly. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”

“Desmond …”

How could she tell him all she was feeling when she could barely figure it out herself? But yes, she was angry. She could deal with that part, at least.

“Desmond,” she tried again, “I don’t understand what’s happening here. The other night was so … amazing. Am I the only one who thought so?”

“It was amazing. Incredible.”

“Then why haven’t I heard from you? I know, you said you had business to attend to, but not even a phone call in the evening? An e-mail?”

“I’m calling you now.”

“It’s been a week, Desmond.”

“I know. I … I made sure you were okay before I took you home that night. That you’d recovered from your crash.”

“I haven’t recovered from it yet,” she said, understanding only then it was true.

“Christ, Ava. I’m sorry. Are you alright? I should have been there. Fuck.”

Real alarm in his voice. Real concern. She melted a little, as much as she wanted to stay angry with him. It seemed so much easier than this need to feel his arms around her. This need to cry.

“Ava, I’m sorry. I am. This was … irresponsible of me. As a dominant, I should have—”

“Are you kidding? This is what it’s all about for you? Being responsible?”

“It’s my job, my duty.”

“Yes. But is that really all it is to you? Because if it is, I need to know now, before we go any further. If you even want to. If that was why you were calling me.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall.

“I don’t know why I called. I don’t know why I haven’t. Damn it, Ava.”

“You don’t know why you called me.” She shook her head, her fingers gripping the phone in her hand until it hurt. “God, Desmond. I can’t … I can’t do this. I have to go.”

She flipped her cell phone shut, her body going numb.

How had she been so foolish as to think the man had any real feelings for her? It was Michael all over again: her thinking she was in love, and him loving only being in command of her.

God, is that what she’d been thinking all week?

Impossible. It was too soon, too fast.

But it was the truth.

Don’t think about it
.

Yes, what was the point now? She wouldn’t see him again. She knew it was for the best. After Michael, she’d promised
never to set herself up for that kind of hurt ever again. And she’d done that, protected her heart, all these years. She wasn’t going to let that all go now.

Yet the tears welled, slipped down her cheeks, surprising her. She reached up, felt her damp cheek with her fingertips.

Maybe she was every bit as foolish as Michael had said. As her mother always said.

But she had to stop feeling sorry for herself. She’d done the right thing, hadn’t she? She wouldn’t see him again, talk to him. She would be strong. She
was
strong. Stronger than ever after that last night with Desmond, ironically enough.

Why, then, did she feel so awful?

The damn tears were still coming. She wiped them away roughly.

She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of chardonnay, poured herself a glass, went to stand at the window once more. Wicked jumped up onto the sill, bumped Ava’s hand to be petted, and she stroked his soft fur absently.

The city was dark now, the streetlamps illuminating the sidewalks in amber. It looked more empty to her out there than ever. Cold. Lonely. She sipped the wine, and it was smooth and cool on her throat, but it warmed her inside after a few moments. She sipped again.

She drank the glass down fast, then a second more slowly, and was pouring another when a knock on the door made her jump. The glass slipped in her hand, crashing into the sink. Wicked took off, darting into the hallway.

She knew it was him before she even opened the door. And when she did he seemed to loom there, all dark, hard, male beauty, and something like rage in his eyes.

She realized instantly that her cheeks were still wet with tears.

She could not do this. She couldn’t face his rage, whatever it was about. Her hanging up on him. She was too hurt.

She shook her head, found her voice.

“Desmond, I can’t talk to you. Please go away.”

“Ava.”

Command in his voice, but she would not yield to it.

“No. Just go.”

And as hard as it was to turn him away, she shut the door. And let the tears fall.

Chapter Nine

D
ESMOND POUNDED
on the door. “Ava, let me in!”

She leaned her back into the door, shaking her head mutely.

“Ava.” His voice was softer now. “You have to let me in. I have to apologize to you.”

“You … you’re here to apologize?”

“Don’t make me do it through the damn door.”

She turned and opened it. He was still there, but whatever she’d seen in his eyes had calmed. And as he stood, watching her, his face went soft, his brows drawing together.

“Christ, Ava, I’m sorry.”

Then he swept her into his arms, and she forgot for a moment to be mad, just letting him hold her, his arms tight around her, soothing her.

“God, Desmond.”

“I know. I’m an ass.”

“Yes, you are.”

He laughed a little at that, and her body went warm and loose all over.

“Can we begin again, Ava? I’ve been thinking. And all of this … this lovely ritual that I’ve spent years losing myself in is the perfect distraction from anything … more important.”

“Only because you let it be.”

“Yes.” He pulled back, his gaze on hers, his eyes a dark, glittering green. “But haven’t you done the same? I think that’s what your block is about.”

“I know what it’s about.” She was angry again, suddenly. “It’s about things that happened a long time ago. And I thought I’d let it go, but apparently not. This is … the bondage, the domination, is what I’ve sought to release me from all of that.”

“But you haven’t been completely released, even after what I saw happen with you the other night,” he said, his voice low. “That’s still to come for you. If you want to go there with me still.”

His face was all hard lines once more, his jaw absolutely rigid, but she could see emotion flickering in his eyes. Had some idea what it cost him to come to her like this. To say he was sorry. To ask if she would allow him to see her.

“You’re right. There was a big shift for me the other night, but there’s still something missing, something unresolved. I haven’t quite reached that point yet. And I want to. With you.”

He smiled then, his features relaxing. And she felt it, felt at that moment they were on exactly the same page.

His hands were in her hair, and although she still felt that sense of absolute command in his touch, there was more there. Tenderness. Emotion. And when he pulled her in and kissed her his mouth was soft and sweet, just kissing her lips over and over.

When he opened her mouth with his tongue and slipped inside, she moaned quietly, unable to contain it. There was so much happening to her all at once. Her body, her mind, was reeling with sensation.

Desmond pulled away and whispered against her mouth, “I want you, Ava.” His accent was heavy, his voice low, rough. “I
want you now, without all the ritual, the ropes, even. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you. Without the negotiations and the ropes and the formality. I just want
you
. But I need it to be hard. I still need you to take me over.”

“Ah, girl … have I already told you how perfect you are?”

Then he was stripping her jeans off, her panties, leaving her in nothing but her soft cotton T-shirt, and pushing her into the living room, bending her over the back of her old overstuffed sofa. He came up close behind her, his still-dressed body all hard muscle against her back. Wrapping an arm around her, his fingers brushed over her wet sex. She moaned, arched into his hand. And he slid his fingers inside her.

“Christ, you’re soaked. I need to be inside you.”

He slipped his fingers out of her, and she held still, waiting on shaking legs, listening to the soft slip of his zipper, the tearing of a foil packet.

“Spread your legs wider, Ava. Yes, that’s it.”

His hand on the back of her neck, then, forcing her down, and his other hand pulling her hips toward him. She spread for him, her sex hot and aching, desire pulsing through her like one small shock after another.

“Please, Desmond. I need you.”

She felt the tip of his latex-sheathed cock at her entrance, then he plunged inside. Pleasure drove into her, sharp and keen, making her clench around his rigid length. His hand was between her thighs again, his fingers teasing at her clit, rubbing, pinching, as he began to slide his cock in and out of her.

She backed into him, needing to feel the strength of him, loving even that he hadn’t undressed, that he shared this basic, primal need. And he drove harder and harder, her body going weak under his.

“Tell me, Ava,” he demanded, panting, “is this what you need?”

“Yes … to be under your hands.”

He pinched her clit, hard, and pain and pleasure merged as she moaned.

“Please, Desmond …”

“Please what?”

“Please … I need more.”

He thrust into her, burying deep.

“Yes … more …”

He pulled his cock out, his fingers stroking over her wet sex for a few moments before she felt the head of his cock there again. Then that lovely plunge as he thrust back into her.

“You are mine, Ava.”

“Yes, yours, Desmond.”

His wet fingers stroked between the cheeks of her ass, then lower, pressing at her anus. He rubbed there, his finger circling as his cock moved inside her. She backed into his hand, wanting, needing, to be filled in every way.

“Do you want it, Ava?”

“Yes!”

Then she felt the tip of his finger slip into that tight hole. Just the tip, but the sensation was exquisite, the feeling of being completely taken over carrying new currents of pleasure into her body.

“Oh …”

He moved his finger in and out, the merest motion, yet desire was a scalding heat, coming at her from every direction. “Come for me, Ava,” he told her.

He reached up and pushed her hair aside, and she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck for one lovely moment before he planted his mouth there. His tongue flickered over her skin, then he latched on, sucking her flesh. He pushed his finger deeper into her ass, his cock still moving inside her sex, and it was all too much: his cock, his commanding hands, his lovely, wet mouth on her skin. And the scent of him enveloping her as his body heated behind her.

Her climax came in sharp, stabbing surges, shafting into her body, his cock driving the sensation. Behind her eyes a million stars exploded, her mind losing itself in the glimmering light, then in the darkness, as she sank into the sensation, into him.

“Christ, Ava. You are fucking beautiful, my girl. I love to hear you come. To feel you come. I want you to come again.”

“Yes … anything …”

He pulled his hard cock from her, his finger still in her ass, and his other hand went around her body and in between her legs. She was soaking wet, her juices running down her thighs. He moved his hand between the lips of her sex, inside her, and she shuddered, her body giving one long squeeze, nearly coming again already. And he pressed his finger ever deeper into her ass.

“Does this hurt you, Ava?”

“No. It’s good … so good.”

He added a second finger, and it slid right in.

“I think you’re ready for me. You’re so damn wet.”

“Yes.”

He slipped his fingers out of her ass. “We need lube. Do you have any?”

“Yes.”

“Go get it.”

She nodded, made her way on shaking legs to her bedroom, pulled a bottle of lube from her nightstand, returned quickly to Desmond, who stood naked now and beautiful in the lamplight. His latex-sheathed erection was like some sort of homage to his desire, and hers.

He reached for her, taking the bottle from her hand, paused to kiss her mouth before turning her over the back of the sofa once more.

“Spread for me. Yes, just like that.”

Then his fingers at the entrance to her ass, spreading the cool lube on, his fingers dipping inside, pushing the cool gel into her
body. Then he pulled his hand away and it was the head of his cock there. She shivered.

“Breathe in, Ava. Relax.”

She did as she was told, and he slipped the tip inside. Pleasure ran hot and deep in her body. She was shaking.

“Again, Ava. Long, deep breath. Good girl.”

Another wave of pleasure at his words.

Good girl
.

Oh, yes, she wanted to be good for him. She wanted to do everything for him.

“I’m really going in now. Relax.”

He slid his cock in farther, and there was a small burning sensation. But she willed her body to go still, took him in deeper. And it was all good: his cock moving gently in her ass, his hand playing with her clit. Pleasure built, multiplied, until she couldn’t tell which direction it came from. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was what he made her feel: desire. Desired. As though she was his.

His
.

“You feel so damn good, Ava. So good …” His voice was a panting breath in her ears, his male scent all around her, his body hard and strong. And in moments she was coming once more in long, shimmering waves, just falling into sensation until she could barely breathe. Her body clenched, trembled. She called his name over and over as she shook with the power of it.