PrideandSurrender (5 page)

I nipped. My teeth sinking into the plump flesh as I ran my
palms over his chest, loving the way he flexed like a panther ready to pounce.
Unable to help myself any longer, I brushed my mouth over his and whispered, “I
want something.”

“Anything,” he said in a hoarse voice.

I lifted my head and met his gaze, wanting him to understand
this wasn’t a joke. “I want what you described from your conference room
fantasy.”

The late-afternoon sun poured over his hair so it gleamed
blue-black and his eyes flashed. “Tell me.”

“Fuck me.” I brushed my lips against his. “Possess me. Fill
me up.”

Dark lashes closed as he breathed in deep, and moments
stretched between us. When he looked at me again, my stomach clenched. The
predator was out, unleashed, ready to play. And I wanted him more than I wanted
air.

Long fingers gripped my chin. “If I do, you’ll be mine. And
I’ll never let you run again.”

It was exactly what I wanted, what I needed—not to be
allowed to run, but I didn’t say any of this. Instead, I met his gaze and said
simply, “I know.”

Neither of us spoke. I stared out the window of the cab, my
fingers pressed to my lips, watching the endless parade of buildings and
people. A car honked in the distance accompanied by the screech of tires
against asphalt. The sounds of the city a low buzz in my ears. All the while,
my concentration was fixated on the press of Christos’ solid frame against
mine, the heat of his body warming my skin, the feel of his attention focused
on me.

His large palm came to rest on my bare leg and I about
jumped out of my skin at the contact. He squeezed, shifting closer, his fingers
brushing the inside of my knee. He stroked. Toyed. Dallied in a spot I’d never
thought was sensitive until every brush of his fingers against my skin made my
cunt clench. My nipples beaded so tight, the sensation almost painful it was so
keen.

I felt like Michelle Pfeiffer in
The Age of Innocence
,
in the back of that carriage as Daniel Day-Lewis slowly unbuttoned the catch of
her white glove and stroked over the pulse in her wrist.

One innocent touch capable of creating so much havoc.

I was sure Christos could hear the pounding of my heart,
which beat so hard and so fast, I could feel it between my legs. Pulsing and
throbbing for attention. Need so acute I didn’t know how to handle it strummed
through me.

It was pure agony.

A tiny gasp escaped my throat and he seemed to understand,
because his gentle playing stilled. Heat seared me as he dropped his lips to
the shell of my ear. “Shh, it’s okay, I’ll take care of you.”

A couple of weeks ago, that statement would have been met
with claws, but instead I dug my nails into the purse clutched tightly in my
lap and didn’t say a word.

His fingers moved higher. My skirt slid up my bare thigh. I
glanced nervously into the rearview mirror, expecting to see the eyes of the
cabbie on us, but to my surprise, he seemed not to be paying us any attention
as his hands strummed against the steering wheel in time to the beat of the
music I’d never heard before.

It was odd to be in so much turmoil, wrapped in so much lust
and have it be oblivious to the stranger in the front seat.

“Don’t worry about him.” Christos nipped at the lobe of the
ear. “Open for me.”

In response, my legs clamped tightly together and he
chuckled—a low, wicked sound that sent another surge of wetness between my
legs.

“Look at me,” he said in a tone so soft and yet so
commanding I had no choice but to obey.

Slowly I turned to meet his eyes, almost frightened by what
I’d see. His gaze was hot, filled with passion.

“Open.”

I did. My thighs parted and his fingers stroked up my skin.
I gasped when he touched the soft, plump curve of my inner thigh, but instead
of moving higher as I expected, he started that relentless playing again.

Our gazes locked together as he circled his fingers over my
flesh over and over.
Again and again and again
. My pulse beat wild and
erratic in my throat, matching the squeezing pull of my pussy that wanted his
hard cock, his fingers, his mouth. Anything he would give me. I was desperate
with greed. Sweat beaded at my temples as I clenched my teeth, my hands clasped
so tight on my purse I was sure I’d gouge the leather.

His breath had also quickened, and I could sense the strain
in his body as he kept up his playing. Out of nowhere a sharp stab of pleasure
made me bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. Shocked, my eyes
widened as I realized I was close to orgasm. My mind rejected the idea as
impossible, but it didn’t change the fact that it was true. I was coiled so
tight, my cunt throbbing, need spiraling higher and higher until I was on the
verge of exploding, and all he’d done was touch my leg while he stared into my
eyes.

The intensity frightened me and I started to move back.
Suddenly he had a vise grip on my leg.

“No.” The word a hard, harsh sound on his lips. “I want it
all, Juliet. You will not hide from me.”

“But—” I said, only to be cut off by a brutal kiss that was
over too quickly.

With the hand not stroking over my quivering inner thigh, he
pried my fingers off my purse and pressed my palm to his cock. He was hard, his
erection like steel though his jeans. “This is how it is with us. There’s
nothing we can do about it but give in.”

I wrapped my hand around his shaft as best I could, and he
pressed his forehead into mine and muttered a low, “Jesus.”

All I wanted was to feel that satin-smooth skin on my hand.
Bare. Naked. No barrier. I circled the head of his cock like he circled my
inner thigh, and his eyes closed. “It’s hard to make a point here with you
doing that.”

And with that, my fear ebbed away. It was exactly what I
needed. This
thing
between us that I refused to name, it was okay as
long as he was there with me. In this moment, I believed he was.

The car swayed to a stop, throwing both of us off balance. I
blinked, glanced out the window, almost surprised to find us in front of my
red-bricked townhome.

From the front seat the driver said, “Twelve fifty.”

Christos shifted to lean back on the black vinyl seat,
cracked from age and overuse, and I huddled against the door. He lifted his
hips to withdraw a folded stack of bills. As he rifled through the money,
nerves kicked in.

He pulled me from the taxi, his grip sure and strong,
comforting in my sudden distress. Before I could gain solid footing, he was
yanking me up the stairs, practically running. I fumbled after him, my head
swimming with lust and fear.

A heel caught on a crack and I stumbled, using the concrete
banister to catch myself. Breathless, I yelled, “Christos.”

He froze, looking back at me over one shoulder, a frown on
his lips. Suddenly, he shook his head as though clearing it from a daze and
jerked his hand through his hair.

“Fuck.” He walked back down the two steps and held out his
palm. “Give me your keys.”

“I’ve got it.” I started to rummage through my purse, finding
them shoved in the way bottom corner.

Before I could speak he plucked the set from my fingers and
splayed the keys out like a deck of cards. “Which one?”

I pointed to the middle one.

With a nod, he took a deep breath that filled his chest and
slowly exhaled before he cupped my chin. Slowly, he dipped his head and brushed
my mouth with his.

It was as if a kindle burst into flames.

I think he’d meant it to be a gentle, calming kiss, although
I couldn’t be sure. One second his lips were soft against mine and the next our
mouths were crushed together. A hard, brutal bruising of lips and tongue and
teeth that had me clutching at his shirt and his fingers digging into my hips.

Right out on my front stairs, we went at each other as if we
were victims of starvation who’d been presented with a feast. Hot, primal
noises escaped our throats to mingle in the air as we fought our way up the
steps while refusing to break contact.

I arched into him, and when my skirt became in the way of
what I wanted most, I beat my fists on his chest. He wrapped his arms around
me, so tight I couldn’t breathe, as he lifted me up another step, our mouths
still frantic.

Hard. Demanding. Consuming. I couldn’t stop.

We made it to the landing. I have no conscious idea of how
he managed to unlock my door and push me inside, but he did.

My foyer swung around me as he pushed me up against the
first available wall. Buttons flew everywhere at he ripped my blouse as if it
were a piece of flimsy paper. My fingers found the buckle of his belt and I fumbled
on the clasp, my hands shaking with need. I finally got it undone and slid down
the zipper as he yanked my skirt up over my hips. He pushed my hand away as I
reached for his cock, instead shifting his knees to rock his erection between
my legs. My cunt spasmed and I gripped his shoulders for support.

All the while we never broke the kiss. We groaned into each
other’s mouths at the contact. At the friction. My fantasies didn’t come close
to the passion between us. The raw hunger. The pounding desire. The brutal
lust. Hands flew. Bodies strained and twisted. Mouths and tongues met and
twined. Fused together and refused to part.

He hooked my knee on his hip and fumbled into his pockets.

The crinkle of foil sounded on the air as he ripped open the
condom. I dropped my knee, twisting to move out of his way. His knuckles
brushed over my wet panties, and I jerked as the pleasure spiked.

Yes. Jesus, his touch. It was so good. So right. I wanted
more. Now.

I’d thought I’d been wild with lust before, but something
broke inside me and I went mad. I tried to climb up him. In him. Passion
consuming me with a heady haze so I forgot everything. I forgot to be scared,
to be nervous. Forgot to think about how I looked or if my stomach looked big,
or even about what he thought. I forgot to hold back.

Everything spiraled out of control until we were almost
fighting each other in an effort to get closer. I yanked at his shirt. Our
mouths ceased contact for a fraction of a second as he helped me pull it off
before his lips were back on mine.

He flicked open the front clasp of my bra, ripping away the
cups to free me. His thumb brushed over my nipple for one second before he
crushed his chest so my breasts flattened against his solid strength. I hissed
at the contact. My nipples scraped along the fine hairs.

I scratched at his back with my nails.

He tore my panties clear from my body.

I reached between us and wrapped my fingers around his cock,
which actually seemed to swell even harder beneath my touch. I guided him to
the wet, slippery folds and he slammed into me. With the shock of his entry, I
cried out, the sound becoming lost in my throat. The orgasm ripped through me
as my muscles contracted around him, eliciting a growl.

He pulled out and plunged back in. Powerful waves of
pleasure stormed through me as he pounded into my body. He didn’t let up. He
drove into me harder and harder. Faster and faster. Over and over. Allowing me
no recovery from the orgasm still rocking through me. The pulsing contractions
never stopped, only coiled tighter until I came again, convulsing so hard
around his cock it was almost painful.

My second climax triggered his own. The force of it slammed
through me as if I were connected to him on some visceral level. My mouth
caught his shout of release and he rode me until he was deeper inside me than
anyone had ever been before.

Strangely, I was reminded of the storm in the photograph in
my office. That whipping of wind, the pelting of rain, the release of all that
thunder and lightning in the sky, and I wished there was a way to capture this
feeling, but how could I? It was indescribable and absolutely beautiful in its
violence.

We slumped against each other. He held me up, bracing me
against the wall as our breathing calmed and the kiss gentled.

He’d given me what I’d wanted, what I’d asked for.

He’d fucked me. Possessed me. Filled me up.

And his mouth had never left mine.

The kiss transformed from hot and frantic to a slow and
erotic. A drugging melding that almost had a dreamlike quality. Strong fingers
stroked my hair, my temples, cupped the back of my head while he had his way
with my mouth.

I surrendered. Completely. Relaxing into him in a way I
never had with another person. Almost limp, my arms draped over his shoulders,
his cock inside me, our bodies locked together.

Time stood still. It could have been a single minute or
hours later, but we finally came up for air. He brushed a lock of hair from my
cheek and his eyes met mine. “I knew I was in trouble that first time we’d
kissed in the bathroom.”

A heated flush climbed up my neck and over my face. In the
light of what happened between us, I have no idea why but shyness overtook me
all the same.

He brushed a finger over my cheek, looking slightly amused.
“I meant what I said, kissing you is better than sex.”

I had no idea what to say, my emotions lodged in my throat,
strangling me. Both fighting to get out and fighting to remain tucked safely
inside. Once again I blushed like a schoolgirl.

“That was, until now.” As if to demonstrate, he licked my
bottom lip and whispered, “I didn’t mean for this to happen. It wasn’t supposed
to be this way.”

“W-what—” I cleared my throat of all its breathless
hoarseness. “What was it supposed to be like?” I wanted to look away, but I
forced myself to stare into his green eyes as though somehow that would ensure
I’d be told the truth.

He smiled. Grinned actually, all white flashing teeth and
boyish charm, and my heart just melted into a big puddle of goo.

I couldn’t help myself.

His thumb stroked over my lower lip and I didn’t need a
mirror to know it was swollen and red. “I’d promised myself I’d go slowly.
Seduce you. Take my time. Give you what you deserved.”

What I deserved? How was that possible? It had been
earth-shattering. But I didn’t say any of this. Instead I remained mute,
blinking at him like a deer in the headlights while I tried to figure out a way
to get the use of my limbs back.

“I wanted to lay you out on the bed and make you crave me as
much as I crave you.”

Was he crazy? How could I crave him any more than I already
did?

His palms ran down my arms and over my hips before resting
on my legs. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

Reality snapped back and I stiffened. Vehement in my
rejection of that idea, I shook my head.

“Yes, Juliet.”

It was odd—the way he spoke—he didn’t raise his voice or
turn arrogant or smug. Instead, his tone was a matter-of-fact
obey me
.
And somehow, I wanted to listen.

I let him lift me off the floor, and the next thing I knew,
my ankles were locked at his waist. I muttered, “If you get a hernia, it’s your
own fault.”

“Duly noted,” he said with a chuckle. “Where’s your
bedroom?”

“Upstairs, second door on the right.”

He carried me, bounding up the stairs as though I weighed
nothing.

When we got to the bedroom, he laid me out on top of my
crimson comforter as though I were fine, breakable china. As if I were his most
precious, most cherished possession. He kissed me, soft and sweet, before
sitting on the edge of the bed. “I knew it.”

Confused, I asked, “Knew what?”

“That behind the ice queen lurked a woman whose bedroom
looked like this.” He swept a hand over the decadent gothic headboard with its
intricate iron scrolls, the deep red velvet of my comforter, the
dark-chocolate-covered walls with an accent wall that matched my bed. It was a
cave. My sanctuary. A place that held all of my most secret desires. One very
few people had ever entered.

Of course Christos looked exactly right here—all dark and
sensual, a sensory delight. Befitting since he
was
my most secret
desire.

He pointed at a photo. A black-and-white garden filled to
overflowing with flowers as far as the eye could see. Only one flower was in
color, a close-up of a single, blood-red rose open in full bloom. Each delicate
petal velvet-soft, touched with morning dew. It was one of my favorites, and it
took up a huge expanse of one wall.

Indulgent, maybe, but here I could allow myself to be.

He smoothed his hand down my bare stomach. “Another of
yours, I see.”

Feeling exposed and vulnerable, I discreetly shifted to
cover my bare breasts with the tattered shreds of my blouse. He caught my
wrists and held them tight. “No. Don’t do that. I want to see you.”

He let me go and ran his fingers over the silk, pushing the
fabric away to reveal my naked body. I tried my best not to think about how I
looked, compare myself to those sure-to-be twenty-somethings in his past. I
should be proud—I looked like a real woman—but that’s the problem, I
am
still
a woman.

I worry about the sag of my breasts, the curve of my belly,
the spread of my hips, and like most women, concluded that the tautness of
youth was more desirable. My head rejected the notion as absurd and embraced
all the feminist war cries, but in my heart, I worry.

Despite my fears, I didn’t fidget as his gaze swept over my
thirty-five-year-old body. I cared what he thought, I saw how women looked at
him, knew he had his pick. Part of me was terrified, part of me expectant. Now
that I’d given him what he’d wanted, what if he no longer picked me?

He traced the lines of my collarbones, down between the
swells of my breasts, my nipples beading despite my trepidation. A surprised
giggle escaped my throat when he circled my bellybutton and his gaze met mine.
“Ticklish?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“You are beautiful, Juliet.” He shifted, stretching out next
to me.

That broad, bare chest beckoned. My fingers twitched and
tightened into fists. I was afraid to touch him. Afraid of what it would mean,
of what he’d think if I did. Missing nothing, he took my clenched hands and
pried them open, revealing the half-moon crescents I’d made in my palm. He
leaned down and kissed each one, my heart skipped a beat as the strands of his
hair shifted over the sensitive skin of my inner wrist.

He lifted his head and looked at me. Heat and desire
glimmering in his clear green eyes. “My heart stops just looking at you.”

I flushed all the way down to my toes and stammered, “I’d
never have taken you for a romantic.”

“I’m Greek,” he said with a smile, as though that explained
everything. “And it’s the truth.” He brushed his lips against my mouth. “I’m
crazy for you, Juliet.” Another brush. “Mad with desire.” His tongue licked.
“Hot with lust.” He met my eyes. “Completely devoted.”

I searched his expression, frantic in my almost desperate
hope to find the subterfuge, to spot the deception—and found nothing but
acceptance. Fear pricked at my skin, I wanted so badly to believe him, and I
was so sure I’d be wrong.

“Tell me, why do you have such a hard time believing?” He
stroked my jaw.

My throat closed over and I slammed my lids shut to keep the
tears in.

I could not cry. Would not cry.

He grasped my chin, his grip strong and sure. “I know it’s
hard for you, but I need you to let me in.”

“Why?” I asked on a strangled whisper.

“If you don’t, how can I prove that you can trust me?” He
released my chin, caressed the line of my jaw and down the cords of my neck
until I was no longer squeezing my eyes. “Open up, Juliet.”

My lashes fluttered open, and he gave me the most brilliant
smile. “It’s one of life’s little ironies.”

Mesmerized, I drank in the lines of his face, his straight
nose and full lips, those strong features combining to make him so captivating.
As if he’d been designed with me in mind—he possessed all my favorite traits,
appealed to all my tastes and senses. “What’s that?”

“You have to take the leap of faith in order to get the
proof. I can’t prove I won’t hurt you unless you allow yourself to be in the
position to be hurt. Unless you let me in, there’s no way to trust I won’t
leave.” He trailed a path over my belly, and I was thankful the light from the
day had dulled to a muted gray.

He was right of course, but I didn’t want to admit it. No
longer in danger of bursting into tears at the first syllable, I said, “I have
faith.”

One dark brow rose up his forehead. “Why do I have a bad
feeling?”

I shrugged. He wouldn’t like it, but in this I could tell
the truth.

“What do you have faith in, my lovely Juliet?”

“I have faith that you’ll get bored and leave.”

Like a sudden summer thunderstorm, his face clouded over. He
pounced. Rolling over on top of me and straddling me in a way that made my
breath come fast. Before I could blink, he’d manacled my wrists above my head
and hovered over with me with such menace all I could do was melt under him.

The response shocked me. I wasn’t that type of woman, but
with his legs squeezing me tight, his fingers like a vise grip, I was ashamed
it thrilled me. Desire zinged along my nerve endings as heat pooled between my
thighs and my cunt started that incessant pulsing again.

Way deep down, I could admit this was one of the things I
loved about him. This ability of his to be gentle, romantic and brutal in equal
measure.

He put his face close to mine so we were mere inches apart.
“You know, you could be the one to leave.”

I scoffed. The sound escaping before I could bite it back.

“You don’t think so?”

The idea was absurd. Couldn’t he see I had no power to
resist him? But instead of revealing this, I asked a question of my own. “Why
would I fight this hard?”

“Exactly, Juliet.” And then his mouth claimed mine.

He stripped me of my clothes and of my defenses as he kissed
me with that possession I loved and desired.

He’s mine.
Mine, mine, mine
. My heart chanted the
words like the beating of some ancient drum.

I sank my fingers into his hair, in this, I could surrender.
Weeks ago, this too would have been impossible, but now he’d been inside me,
and my body welcomed him, craved him.

His lips swept down the line of my jaw, to the valley of my
throat, and I pushed all the questions and fears niggling around the edges of
my mind away.

In this moment, I chose him. In this minute, I’d savor him.

Lids drifting closed, I moaned when his teeth scraped over
the pulse pounding in my throat. He soothed the spot with his tongue then
sealed it with his lips before moving to my collarbone.

I let my fingers wander, stroking over his neck and
shoulders, marveling when the muscles bunched beneath my touch. I traced a path
over his biceps, across his chest. Thumb brushing over his flat, brown nipple,
I was rewarded with a harsh hiss of breath followed by a low growl so deep it
vibrated the cords of my throat.

“Juliet,” he said my name like a reverent prayer. “My
Juliet.”

The sound of his desire, his longing for me, so much like my
own desperation it resonated deep inside me. As his mouth brushed over the
curve of my breast, sweeping over the heated skin, I remembered what he’d said
to me in the bathroom—
We match
.

Two halves of the same whole, that’s how it felt. His touch,
his whispered voice, the care, the look in his eyes, the fast beat of his heart
under my palm forced the first pieces of belief to lock into place. Hope
bloomed inside me like the blood-red rose in the picture I took, exposing the
soft vulnerable center I’d always kept protected.

The fear rushed in. I didn’t want it, didn’t welcome it—but
I couldn’t stop it any more than I could stop any force of nature.

As though sensing the change, he lifted his head and his
gaze met mine. I expected frustration to shine there, but that wasn’t what I
saw at all. Instead I saw the soft glow of understanding. He expelled a long
breath of air, shifting up my body to stroke a long finger over the line of my
jaw. “It’s all right, Juliet.”

I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached, and let the
tightness in my throat ease before I spoke. “You’re too good to be true.”

“No, Juliet, I’m not. I’m flawed, just like you.”

“But…” To my horror my chin quivered.

“But nothing.” He kissed me, soft and tender and
heartbreaking. “I’ll tell you what, tomorrow night my family is having a
birthday party for my niece. Come with me, my mom and sisters will be happy to
give you a list of my shortcomings.”

I shook my head. No, that was too much, way too much. Too
fast, too soon. “No, I can’t intrude.”

“Are you kidding? They’ll be thrilled.” Amusement twinkled
in his eyes. “I suspect they were beginning to think I was gay.”

The idea was so preposterous, so crazy and absurd, I
laughed, and it edged the fear back where it belonged. “Why on earth would they
think that?”

The twinkle faded and his expression turned serious.
“Because I’m forty-one and never brought a woman home.”

“Oh.” My pulse fluttered and my belly dipped. “And you want
to bring me?”

“Yes, Juliet.” He kissed me again, his fingers playing over
the rapid beat in my throat. “Only you.”

“But why?”

“Because I want you
in
my life, a part of it, sharing
it with me.” He smiled. “I’m keeping you, it doesn’t matter if you believe,
I
have enough faith for the two of us.”

My heart galloped in my chest like a thoroughbred.

His grip tightened on my neck, and the sensation made my
nipples pull into tight buds. “You like that. My keeping you. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

Desire darkened his eyes to evergreen. “You like my hand on
your neck.”

I swallowed hard, feeling his fingers there. “Yes.”

“Why?” His cock pressed against my thigh, thick and
insistent. A reminder that he would be inside me soon.