Terms of Surrender (11 page)

Yep, that about summed up Nick. "What kind of clubs?" Slany asked.

"Gay clubs. What kind did you think?"

Now, Slany shrugged.

Peyton grinned. "I'm not ready for those other clubs just yet. Maybe if I met the right woman, and we went there together…"

"You don't seem too surprised by my news."

"Hey, it's your funeral."

"See, this is why—"

"I'm kidding, Slany." Peyton caught her shoulders. "Listen, kid, don't let what anyone thinks stop you from getting with this guy if he's what you want."

That was just it—she wasn't sure she wanted him.

She wanted his body. She wanted so badly for him to fuck her, she could taste him, smell his spicy aftershave when she closed her eyes at night. She remembered the way he tilted his head when he was working at his computer, remembered the way he fiddled with the gold hoop in his ear when he was concentrating.

But beyond all this, what did wanting him mean to her mental health? How dangerous was this attraction to her hard-won self-esteem and independence? Could she maintain any sense of herself dealing with such an imposing force? Could she maintain her sanity?

53

Gracie C. McKeever

The idea of giving herself over to him, body and soul, of relinquishing control equally thrilled and scared the hell out of her.

Slany had only just started dipping her feet into the culture's waters, her experience with Dominant/submissive relationships like a chapter in one of the many erotic romances she had been reading of late: unexpected and satisfying, but ultimately left her curious and wanting more.

Much more.

She always loved romances, especially the kind that left the bedroom door open. But in the last year, she had become addicted to the erotic, obtaining her fixes from various electronic publishers (thank God for the Internet!) that catered to all sorts of tastes and fetishes, had herself discovered a particular affinity for BDSM.

However, reading it and living it were two different things, especially since she had a feeling with Nick she wouldn't only be living it, but breathing, eating, and sleeping
him
. A man like him would brook no less.

And that's probably what scared her most, that she couldn't meet his demands, and she desperately wanted to, knew she would have to if she wanted to be with him.

…
you have to do what I say, when I say it, no questions asked.

She shivered at the thought, wondered exactly what he had in mind when he said that, wondered how many other women he had said it to.

Her heart shuddered with jealousy at that last thought.

"Slany, do you trust him?"

She jerked her eyes up to Peyton's. "I barely know him."

"He seems to know you—at least, well enough to have made a proposition that makes you quake in your abstinent pumps, ready to turn tail and run for cover."

"For someone who's only met a few Doms, you seem to know a lot about the behavior, how they operate with their subs."

"No more than you. No more than what I've read."

"Nick's talking about the real thing, Peyton. Not books, but actual field experience.

Compared to him, Ron was just a joke, a fling." Slany shook her head. "I don't think I can do it."

"You haven't even given yourself a chance yet. You haven't given him a chance yet."

A chance to do what? Succeed where Ron had failed and totally crush her spirit?

"A true Dom would never hurt you, Slany. That's not what they're about," Peyton said, as if reading her mind.

"But he wants to take control of—"

"Only what you give him. And you have to give it willingly."

She knew all this in theory, had read and thoroughly enjoyed all the literature. But she never thought she'd be faced with the real-world possibility of living out her fantasies, for the simple fact that they were fantasies, wild and orgasmic, but safe within the bounds of her books, nothing she'd ever really do.

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Terms of Surrender

Peyton peered at her and repeated, "Slany, do you trust him?"

She trusted him with her body, that he would do things to her that had never been done before, that he would give her a mind-blowing experience to remember for the rest of her life.

But she wasn't sure she trusted him with her heart. The idea that she was considering his proposal and was willing to be with him, despite this, frightened her as much as the idea that she trusted him to do what he wanted with her body. "I…I don't know," she murmured.

Her friend squeezed her shoulders, then gently rubbed Slany's arms in a comforting circular motion before she sat back on the sofa and threw her feet up on the coffee table. "Better strap in for a rough ride, then. Because before you start anything with him, he'll demand it. And I have a feeling you want to surrender it all to him as much as he wants to accept it, despite your uncertainty."

Slany had a feeling she already had surrendered it all—she just hadn't gotten the memo admitting it yet.

55

Gracie C. McKeever

The weekend had done precious little to curb Nick's desire for her. Not even his customary Saturday softball game and burying himself in his favorite hobby, woodworking and making Tansu, had curtailed his carnal imaginings and wet dreams.

He'd known being away from her would only intensify his want—out of sight, but not out of mind, in this instance. More like absence made his dick grow harder, instead of his heart fonder.

It was too early in the game to start involving the heart. He was having a hard enough time involving Slany's body and mind, especially since he hadn't been trying very hard these last several days.

Nick did not think he had ever had the limits of his self-control tested as thoroughly as they had been this week. Not only by himself, but by Slany Breeze, who was doing her best to avoid him. Add to this the dozen or so pitch meetings and presentations they'd conducted with several clients, separately and together, that made it easier for her to bury herself in her work and act like Nick didn't exist.

He let her avoid him, his strategy to give her enough freedom to think that she was getting away with something, like a predator that keeps his prey well in sight while deciding when and how best to bring her down.

He'd initially taken her evasion in stride when it was clear that
he
had made the decision to avoid
her
. But now, seven days into his "avoidance," it was becoming clear he was not the one controlling the situation—had let it, in fact, get away from him.

He was out of practice, and this had to change.

Slany was too used to being in control of situations and people. He could see this in the way she moved, the way she spoke to each and every staffer, male or female, always confident, to the point, get it done. Like him. Too much like him.

His mission was all too apparent. He had to make her lose control.

56

Terms of Surrender

Today was the day. Nick refused to wait any longer, hated that Slany had his patience on such a short leash. Hated that she had him near the end of his rope.

Actually, he thought he'd been pretty damn patient the last several days without being able to get next to her the way he'd wanted. Watching from a distance and doing nothing except gritting his teeth while she flitted from one male staffer to the next all morning, all week. Like she knew he was watching her every move.

Slany was comfortable, too comfortable, almost cocky traipsing around the office in one of her famous pantsuits, this one red linen—her favorite color, next to green—flattering the shade of her eyes without clashing with her long, auburn waves.

Nick stood outside Remeni's cubicle for several minutes, watching her poised behind the programmer's desk, bending slightly to point at his screen and talk about the graphic there, her high caramel cheeks colored to an attractive burnished glow.

Was that blush for Remeni, or something she was looking at on the screen?

Nick swallowed hard, blood instantly superheated, remembering how she'd leaned over his shoulder the same way she was leaning over Remeni's. His balls tightened with a jealousy of which he didn't know himself capable. Possessiveness overrode subtlety, obliterating any plans he'd had of getting Remeni alone to ask him about his date with Kate, since playing detective was the last thing on his mind.

All he could think about now was getting Slany away from the young programmer.

"Breeze, I need to see you in my office."

Remeni started, guiltily glanced up, and Slany slowly stood to her full five-nine and glanced at Nick over Remeni's monitor.

"I'm in the middle of something."

"Now, Slany." He turned on his expensive Italian leather heels and marched away without giving her a chance to respond, fully expecting her to follow as he kicked himself for losing his temper, especially in front of a subordinate, especially in front of Remeni.

When the time came, and Slany accepted his terms, he didn't want there to be any reasons for gossip, any reason for her to doubt trusting him. He wanted to make her as comfortable and relaxed going into this and being with him as he could. Gaining Remeni's curiosity would not accomplish any of this.

Conducting an office romance with a, for all intents and purposes, subordinate was going to be difficult enough. And he'd gone over all the pros and cons this last week and a half trying to talk himself out of getting with Slany, to no avail.

Nick listened to her medium-heeled footsteps now stalking behind him on the hallway's buffed parquet floors before she reached his office, where her shoes noiselessly sank into the plush carpeting as she closed the door behind herself.

"How could you embarrass me like that?"

He turned to her and arched a brow. "In what way did I embarrass you?"

"I was in the middle of finalizing the Wink soft drink ad. You couldn't wait a few minutes?"

57

Gracie C. McKeever

"No." He could see that his brusque tone and response threw her when she frowned. "I needed to see you in here now."

"What is so damned important that it—"

He stepped to her, leaned in, and covered her mouth with his, effectively cutting off any further objections as he reached past her to lock his door.

He felt her brief struggle when he slid in his tongue, caressing hers as he buried a hand in the hair at her nape, then caught the long strands in one fist. He eased her closer, his grip gentle, but firm enough that she couldn't mistake his meaning.

Nick wedged a leg between her thighs, carefully steering her to the left of the door, pressing his knee against her sex as he imprisoned her against the wall.

She groaned into his mouth, further firing his blood.

He rolled his knee firmly over her slit, reached for both her wrists and raised them up over her head. He moved his mouth over her chin until he reached the wildly beating pulse in her neck and suckled.

She gasped, thrust her hips into his leg. "God, Nick, what are you
doing
to me?"

"Exactly what you want. Exactly what you've been asking for."

She froze in his grasp, and he felt her glare. He coolly met her emerald gaze head-on, knowing he was capable of throwing her across his desk that moment and taking her, regardless of what she said—and it scared him that she had him so out of control.

"So you think I want to be clubbed over the head and dragged off to your cave, Neanderthal Man?"

"I don't think, I know."

She pushed her hips against him, tried to snatch her wrists from his grip. "Damn, you don't even try to make a pretense at being civilized."

He silently shook his head, grinning as he leaned in again, lower this time, undoing several buttons of her blouse with one hand before gently nibbling a fully pebbled nipple through her lace bra.

She writhed beneath his mouth, moaned low in her throat. "Please…"

"We've been over this before, Slany. You know what you want, and you know what you need to do to get it." He transferred her wrists to his left hand, moved his right into the waistband of her pants. "Don't get so caught up on appearances and what you think you know about D/s."

"Don't, Nick."

"Are you sure?" he whispered against a breast.

"I'm…I'm not sure of anything when you touch me."

"Good. That's the way it should be. You don't need to be sure of anything except me and what I'll do to you. That I can make you come, make you come hard and fast without taking your clothes off."

"Oh, God. Oh, yes…"

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Terms of Surrender

Nick plunged one finger into her pussy, found her sopping, and added another before slowly, rhythmically thrusting both in and out. He lowered his head again, concentrating his efforts on her breasts, paying homage to each in turn, alternately sucking and biting tight nipples.

Slany threw her head back against the wall, eyes closed as she pushed her breasts further into his mouth, and in turn, thrust her hips forward, silently begging for more attention, deeper penetration, fiercer friction.

He obliged, plunging his fingers until he found her G-Spot. He knew it when she abruptly stopped moving. He smiled as he sped his thrusts and skillfully stroked inside her until she bucked, clamped her legs and muscles tight around his hand before coming violently and suddenly against his palm.

Nick lowered his free arm to hug her, pulled her close against his chest, reveled in the feel of her hard nipples and soft breasts pressing into his chest, absorbed the vibrations as she trembled in his grasp, her tears wetting his dress shirt.

He slid a finger under her chin, but she refused to lift her head. She averted her eyes, instead, pressing her face even closer against him.

"Let me go, Nick."

"I don't want you to be embarrassed by anything I do to you, anything we do together."

"I'm not embarrassed," she snapped.

He nodded. "You're upset that you came."

"You, you made me…"

"Lose control."

"No." She shook her head.