Touch to Surrender (5 page)
Bit by bit, I will learn to let go of my old ways of thinking, but one thing I know for sure already.
I've surrendered completely to both my Master and the man I hope to include in the relationship I have with my Lina.
We're different, she and I, which I didn’t see before. I thought we were the same, except maybe she's a little bolder and a lot more carefree.
But, regardless, Mark evokes new feelings in us—new desires. Lina wants more of the physical sting; she wants Mark to play with her body with a healthy dose of fear and pain involved. I want the head games; I want him to control my mind, push me down, and take care of me as if I'm not capable of doing it myself. For me, it's about letting go of everything.
It's liberating.
Soon, we even have different arrangements with Mark. While our girl wants set times for scening, I like it when the lines are blurrier. I say Master and he's Master. It goes for both of us, really. If he wants to play, I'm game. Plus, Lina loves it almost just as much when only he and I do a scene, because it means she gets to add to her video collection. We all create a balance that works for us, and Lina and I fall deeper when Mark admits that we make him happy—that we provide him with the challenge he's missed for years.
Whether we're Master and subs or lovers, partners, boyfriends, girlfriend…it looks like we're all surrendering in a way. I surrender to my
true tastes, Lina surrenders her body to temporary bruises and marks that send her into oblivion, and Mark surrenders to a new relationship that he one day states he wants us to keep building on as long as we move in together.
Eventually, I learn that surrender doesn’t
necessarily make you weak.
It
can make you whole.
*
Excerpt from Touch of Trouble (Touch Series, #4)
Kayla Brandon
When a waiter arrives at our cabana on the beach with breakfast, I stay quiet as Daddy takes care of everything. Instead I focus on tying the two ends of my white bikini around my neck, and then get my hair up in a high, messy bun at the top of my head. I do
not
want to get sunblock in my hair later. It gets all sticky. After a week in the sun, it's more red than brown, and a few golden highlights have appeared.
This is our last day in
Mexico, and Daddy's family flew home yesterday. It was fun to see them again, especially his sisters who've warmed up to me since last time. At first they were wary of our fourteen-year age gap, but it's all good now.
I've tried to make Daddy extend our stay, but he's set on
our flying to Oregon tomorrow. No matter how much I've bribed, whined, bitched, begged, and bargained, he stands firm. He wants us to get it out of the way so we can move on. Silly man. Why can't we move on without seeing my family? Ugh.
Especially that damn Amanda.
"Come here and eat your breakfast, Kayla," Daddy says. Scooting closer to the middle of the large, U-shaped couch that basically takes up the entire cabana, I end up next to him, and he's got everything set up on the small table in front of us. "Do you want me to cut off the crusts on your toast?"
I nod and lean my head on his shoulder. "Yes, please." It's pretty early, so I'm still tired. I intend to make the most of our last day, though, which was why I dragged Daddy down here before eight o'clock. But he didn’t protest; he just changed into his black board shorts, grabbed the book he's reading, and then we headed down to the lobby, got ourselves a cabana, and ordered breakfast.
"Something wrong, sweetheart?" he murmurs and kisses the top of my head.
I place a hand on my tummy and pout up at him. "Maybe I'm getting sick."
"Nice try." His mouth twists into a smirk. "Does that mean you're too sick to go swimming later?"
Dammit. I scowl and look at my plate, grabbing a triangle of toast with butter and jam. I adore swimming here, 'cause the water is so gorgeous. Crystal clear, turquoise, and the sand is almost completely white. Also, if I'm sick, we won't be able to scout for a location to have our wedding next spring.
"Some food might make me feel better." I backtrack and smile sweetly.
He chuckles and takes a sip from his coffee as he
unfolds the newspaper he ordered to be delivered with breakfast. "Somehow I'm not surprised you'd say that." He hums and flips a page, while I worry the pristinely white sofa's gonna be all smudgy from the paper.
"I love you," I say, maintaining my sweet smile.
He doesn’t turn my way, but I do see the edges of his mouth slanting up a little. "Mmhmm. Love you, too, baby girl."
I huff and cram some toast into my mouth, realizing he still won't budge.
Not only are we definitely going to Oregon tomorrow, but I'm evidently healthy as a horse.
There's just no playing Nicholas Ford.
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