Surrender: Guilty Pleasures #1 (BBW Erotic Romance) (6 page)

He arched his back as he leaned
forward, his exposed cock coming closer and closer to touching the apex my
thighs. As he pulled away, he rolled his hips forward, slowly thrusting his
cock upward, exhaling through his mouth, the sound changing from a sigh to a
softly drawn out groan.

My hips were still moving on
their own, rolling slowly up and back in time to Jake’s shifting movement over
my body and it brought us in contact, the head of his cock grazing my lower
stomach. Jake hesitated briefly, his eyes closing as he slid his cock along my
stomach. He slowly pulled back, resting his hands on the rug beside my arms,
his body again held above me.

Jake stopped, his cock resting
just above the tops of my thighs. Slowly he began thrusting forward, the oil
between us coating his cock, the head rubbing against my skin. I watched his
face, his eyes closed, his lips parted.

The head of his cock slipped
lower, catching on my body, sliding against my clit. I jerked involuntarily, a
small cry escaping my lips.

Jake opened his eyes, looking
down at me. Wordlessly he straightened, his fingers undoing the finally buttons
of his jeans, pushing them down his narrow hips.

And then he was between my legs,
his elbows resting on the rug, my face in his hands. I spread my legs further,
sliding them up his waist, feeling weightless, my skin slick with the oil, its
fragrance filling the air.

“Now, please, Jake.” My voice was
low but startlingly clear in the quiet room.

Wordlessly he shifted, the head
of his cock sliding between my legs, brushing against my clit again and then
sliding into me. I exhaled, a long sigh of release, of relief, rolling my hips
up to meet his initial thrust.

Jake held himself inside me,
looking down into my eyes. I held his gaze, the firelight dancing over his
chiseled features, my hands on his chest.

“Abby…” His voice was a low
whisper, my name more a sigh of breath than a word. He began moving, slowly,
pulling his cock back, sliding it back inside me with more force each time, his
eyes locked with mine, so very blue and so very intense, but at the moment
almost unreadable.

We stayed with this dance for a
long time, slowly savoring the intense heat that had built during the massage,
staying on that plateau of pleasure for what seemed an eternity.

But our bodies wanted more and
gradually Jake began thrusting with more purpose. More noises were added to
each thrust, low grunts and moans from Jake, higher pitched sounds from me.

We reached the point of no return
fairly quickly then, each of us now intent on the impending release of our
climax. I was there first, my body arching beneath Jake, closing my eyes as I
threw my head back, my sharp cries growing louder as my body shook with the
force of my orgasm. Muscles contracted all over my body, my hips flexing,
rising off the rug, grinding up against his body.

I could feel myself squeezing Jake’s
cock, my body molding to the contours of him inside me. Everything else
diminished except for the powerful sensation of him thrusting hard into me, and
my body’s reply, waves washing through me.

I let myself come back, to focus
again on Jake. I opened my eyes, watching his face as his own orgasm swelled
and peaked.

His breath was ragged in his
throat, his eyes closed. The steady thrusting of his cock into me was replaced
by a series of jabs, erratic and sharp, short spaces of time where he held
himself deep inside, completely still. Time seemed suspended and I realized I
was holding my breath in anticipation.

With an explosive thrust and a
loud hoarse cry, Jake came, every muscle taut. I was instantly filled with an
amazing heat, his cock moving in a series of jerks and shudders that I knew Jake
had no control over. I spread my legs as far as I could, rolling my hips up,
allowing him to flex his hips, to force himself as far as he could into my
body.

With one last grunt and fierce
thrust into me, Jake began to relax, slowly, limb by limb. He rested his head
on my shoulder, breathing very hard against my neck. I ran my hands over his
shoulders and back, the slickness of his sweat now mingled with the oil from my
bodies.

Without lifting his head, he
shifted his hips, pulling his cock out of me, letting it rest on the inside of
my thigh. I cradled his head against my shoulder as he brought one hand up to
gently stroke the round fullness of one breast.

After a long time he rose on one
elbow, looking down at me, tracing a forefinger along my cheek.

“Abby…that was more intense than
I could have imagined.” He leaned down, slowly brushing my lips with his.

I looked up at him in the fading
light of the fire. “Do you need aftercare?”

He laughed, a rich sound. “I
should think so, but aftercare would only get us back to this…” He looked down
at our intertwined bodies.

He held my gaze for a moment.
“You know, this is not how it’s always going to be.” His voice was serious even
though his lips carried a hint of a smile.

“This wasn’t a session, in the
sense of what I want to explore.” He rolled onto his back, resting his hands on
his chest, not touching me.

“This can’t become a romantic
relationship. We’ve agreed. And this may have crossed a line.” He turned on his
side, looking at me, that unreadable look in his eyes.

“We’re clear on this, aren’t we, Abby?”

I turned to face him. “Yes, Jake.
I’m clear on this. We agreed and that’s what I want as well.”

“Good.” He rolled onto his back
again and was quiet for a long time. I thought he’d fallen asleep. When he
spoke his voice was almost a whisper. “It’s important that you remember that.”

I frowned. I wasn’t sure exactly
who he was talking to. Me. Or himself.

***

After I’d gotten
dressed—and after taking Jake’s generous offer of a shower in the
luxurious guest bathroom—I met him back in across the hall.

“What exactly is this room?” He’d
poured me a glass of Chardonnay and I was curled up on the sofa, bare feet
tucked beneath me, enjoying the fire, which Jake had brought back to life. He’d
changed into a soft gray sweater and black jeans, apparently having had a
shower of his own. His dark hair was still damp, curling just a bit around the
nape of his neck.

He looked relaxed and calm…and
incredibly sexy…holding a cut glass tumbler of bourbon, sitting next to me on
the couch. Turning to me, he draped one arm across the back, his fingers idly
brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. I felt a tingle where his fingers
touched my skin and as much as I liked the feeling, I drew back, reaching for
my Chardonnay, settling back against the cushions, just out of his reach.

Jake was looking around the room.
“It was originally a library for this wing. There’s a guest room with an
en-suite bathroom; the bath across the hall and then this room. It’s meant to
be a self-contained long-term guest suite. But I had the bookshelves removed. I
use it now as place to enjoy the evenings, with a good book and a glass of
bourbon. But I keep my books in the main library.”

He looked at me, tilting his
head. “Would you like to see more? I can give you the grand tour.” He set his
glass on the table in front of the couch, holding out a hand to me. I took it
and let him lead me out of the library.

The house was massive, stretching
off in all directions from a central core of open rooms that included main
entrance, a formal dining room, the aforementioned library and a grand sweeping
wrought iron stairway that curved along one wall to a second floor.

Jake took me up the stairs, our
bare feet making pleasant noises on the cool marble, down several halls with
twists and turns, to a massive dark wood door set into what looked like a
gothic arch. I felt like I was heading toward the dungeon of some mythical
creature. Or the attic room where Mrs. Rothschild had been kept, in
Wuthering
Heights
.

Jake pushed the door open,
revealing a large space, with windows on all sides. There were heavy drapes,
currently pushed to the side of each window. Otherwise, the room was relatively
bare, save a scattering of Oriental rugs on the hardwood floor, and the odd
small table or chair.

I turned to Jake. “And this is?”
I had a suspicion, but I wanted to hear him say the words.

“This is a room above the garage
wing and part of another guest apartment. Here, look.” He pulled me toward one
of the full length windows. I looked down on the portico roof below, the nose of
my car just visible. I looked across to the rest of the house, dark against the
starlit sky, only the lights from the front of the house visible and a
smattering of lights in the back yard.

“It’s reachable from either the
house or the guest apartment.” Jake turned to me, a thoughtful look on his
face.

“I’m considering using this for
our sessions.” He looked around. “It’s large, offers privacy, it’s separate
from the main house…” His voice trailed off.

“I guess I wanted your opinion,
if you liked the space.”

I walked around the room. “I’m
not really sure what a space like this should be like.” I turned to face him.
“For some reason I thought this would all happen in your bedroom.”

Jake jerked back in surprise, but
quickly recovered. “Oh, well…no. I want to keep this part of my life separate
from…whatever happens in my bedroom.” He took a step toward me.

“It’s part of keeping this
relationship clear, not muddying the waters. I’d hate for you to get the wrong
impression, to feel this was going in a different direction.” He looked around
the space.

“Here, what happens here won’t
cross over into any other aspect of my life.” He looked back at me, his eyes
opaque and unreadable. “Or yours.”

I nodded my head. “That makes
sense. And I agree. Did you have any idea what to put in here? I’m not sure if
they’re called supplies or instruments or paraphernalia, but do you have any?”

He smiled. “Like I said, this is
my first real attempt at this. I have a small collection in the house. There
are some things I need moved in here from storage. To be honest, I really
wasn’t anticipating finding someone—finding you—quite so quickly.”

***

Jake had asked that I come back
on Sunday afternoon. He wanted a day to get the room ready. So I had Saturday
to myself, or so I thought.

Leslie called, looking for
details. I’d been purposely evasive about what had been planned with Jake, but
since the cat was out of the bag and she knew where I was going, there was no
way to keep anything a secret from her now.

We’d met for lunch at a little
sushi place close to my apartment. I was still feeling the after effects of my
evening with Jake. My body was relaxed, from both the massage and the sex. I’d
played the whole thing over in my mind endless times. There were things
happening that I didn’t really understand but I chalked that up to the
newness—and the unconventionality—of our relationship.

“So, can you tell me anything or
did he make you sign a blood oath of secrecy?” We’d just gotten seated and
given our order to the smiling waiter when Leslie started in with the
questions.

“No blood oath.” I held up my
wrists. “No knife cuts, no secret oaths under the dark of the moon.”

Leslie took a sip of her tea.
“Okay. Funny. So what did happen? Did he tie you up? Was it fun? Did it hurt?”

I realized I was going to have to
rein Leslie in pretty quickly. “Leslie, there’s not that much I’m going to tell
you, or can tell you. Sorry if that’s going to hurt your feelings, but this is
different…this relationship is different.” I took a drink of my own tea, pungent
and aromatic.

“There’s a lot of it I don’t
think I want to talk about, yet.” I saw the confusion…and hurt in her eyes.

“You don’t trust me not to tell
anyone?” Her voice was full of hurt.

I sighed…I’ve been doing that a
lot since I’d started this whole thing. I placed my hand on top of hers. “It’s
not that, Leslie. This is complicated and I can’t even explain half the stuff
I’m feeling. And it’s only been one evening…it’s only going to get more
complex, I think, rather than less.”

She nodded her head. “Okay. Fine.
Deny me the whole story.” She leaned close. “But can you give me some juicy
detail? Anything? It’s been a long time since I’ve had a date…I could use a
little bit excitement, even from someone else’s sex life, you know?”

I laughed. “Alright. Just the
parts where we fucked then.” I sat back, enjoying the momentary look of shock
on her face. Then she broke into giggles.

After lunch…after recounting what
I could of my evening with Jake, enough juicy details to make Leslie happy…I
went home, did domestic things, tried to read but my mind was distracted. I
wondered what Jake was doing, was he working on the room above portico? I tried
to imagine him in that huge house all alone. Did he have a housekeeper, a cook?
Staff?

Finally I just gave up.
This is how you get in trouble
with men…you obsess over them.
Jake was not someone I wanted to obsess
over, not someone I wanted to let occupy my thoughts when I wasn’t with him.

The phone rang late that
afternoon. It was Jake.

“Hello, Abby. How are you?”

My heart did that little flip-flop
thing; there was no denying his voice did things to me. I brushed it aside and
took a deep breath.

“I’m good, Jake. How are you?
How’s the room…or is it called something else?”

There was a soft laugh.
“Sometimes it’s called a dungeon, but I’m not really comfortable with that
word. Plus it’s on the second floor. It’s more of a tower than anything.”

The castle image flashed in my
mind again. “I think the tower is better than a dungeon. It sounds a little
less damp and dreary, more like princesses and knights in shining armor.”