The Beauty of Surrender (11 page)

Her mind finally reconnected with the earth as though she was waking from a dream, with the sensation of Desmond holding her body firmly against his as he began to release her from the ropes.

It was a slow and sensual process, as everything had been with him, and then she was in his arms. He took her to one of the small sofas, laid her across his lap. She leaned into him, her head on his shoulder, loving the solid strength of him, his hands in her hair, on her cheeks. There was something quietly lovely about the way he was touching her, talking to her in hushed tones. She didn’t know what he was saying to her. It didn’t matter. What mattered was
being there with him like this, the connection she felt between them.

Was she only imagining it? She couldn’t figure it out now. She was too limp, too loose. And still buzzing with desire.

She squirmed in his lap, the hard ridge of his erection pushing against the soft flesh of her buttocks. Oh, she wanted him.

He stroked her cheek, his hand falling lower to caress her breast. Her nipples went hard as she pressed into his hand, moaning softly.

His voice was low, rough with desire. “I need you, Ava. Need to be inside you.”

“Yes, please …”

He lifted her, carrying her in his arms to a small curtained alcove, one of several that surrounded the playrooms at the club. He laid her down on the high, iron four-poster bed, and she held perfectly still as she watched him strip his shirt off. His shoulders were broad, his skin pale but beautifully so. And his nipples were dark against the light sprinkling of hair across his chest. She wanted to reach out, touch them, take them one by one into her mouth. But she couldn’t move.

His slacks came next, and in moments he stood naked over her, his cock erect, beautiful.

He was watching her, his gaze intent on hers, as he spread her thighs. He sheathed himself in a condom pulled from a small shelf next to the bed, and as the latex rolled down the length of his shaft she could see how rock-hard he was. Then he moved between her legs, slipped his hands under her buttocks, and in one smooth thrust he was inside her.

She cried out, her body taking him in, trembling with pleasure. And his green gaze never left hers.

When he began to move, his hands hard on her flesh, possessing her, she could barely breathe. Pleasure, intense, sharp, knifing into her body with every hard thrust of his hips, his cock driving into her.

“Desmond!”

“Yes …”

He was panting now, and she could see it all in his eyes. They were blazing, seeming to reach inside her. To
see
her in some new way.

“I need you, Desmond …”

What was she trying to tell him? She didn’t quite know herself. All she knew was that sense of desperation for him to know her yearning.

“I have you, Ava.” He plunged deeper, his cock moving inside her as his hand went into her hair, gripping hard. “Yes. Have me … yes …”

One arm slid around her waist as he held her tighter. “You’re mine, Ava. Mine.”

Those dark green eyes, gleaming in the dim light. Beautiful. And his rigid, plunging cock, his hands on her, making her body burn.

Desire was peaking again, her sex pulsing, hot, tightening around his solid shaft. He drove deeper, and now she could hear his panting breath, could feel it warm and sweet on her face. And still his gaze never left hers, his face an expression of exquisite need, the same need she felt herself.

“You are mine, Ava,” he said again, thrusting savagely, filling her, owning her.

Her ears were roaring with a pure, white heat, and when her climax hit her, it was like a wall coming down on her: heavy, overpowering. And she was drowning again, in pleasure, in the green fire of Desmond’s eyes, in his groans of pleasure as he came inside her.

“Ava!”

His hips ground into hers, hurting her. But all she wanted was to be as close to him as possible, her body still shuddering, clenching.

She could feel his cock still pulsing inside her, a steady beat of
pleasure, when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tight, burying his face in her hair.

Her heart was beating wildly, driven by some emotion she didn’t understand. How could she feel so much with this man she’d just met? She hardly knew him.

But that was a lie. They knew each other in some deep and inexplicable way. Impossible. But true. Where he had taken her tonight, what he had given her, had shown her that.

Desmond was opening her up already. And it was beautiful and terrifying.

Her eyes welled, and she bit her lip.

Don’t do it
.

But she couldn’t help it, the tears spilled, slid down her cheeks.

“Ava?” Desmond lifted her head, brushed her hair from her face.

“I’m sorry,” she told him. She was desperate to stop crying. He sat up, taking her with him, holding her close. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

“No. I’m fine. I just … I don’t know.”

“You’re crashing.”

“Yes.”

He was right; that’s all it was. That feeling of being lost and scared, too vulnerable, that many submissives experienced after they played. Most often it was hard pain play that caused it. But for her it was being given exactly what she’d wanted, what she’d asked for. It was overwhelming, nearly unbelievable. And she was so full of gratitude and longing and some strange sort of guilt she could barely comprehend.

Stop it!

But she couldn’t. The tears kept coming. Desmond held her tighter.

“It’ll be alright, Ava. Come on, now. You’re okay. I’m right here. I’m here with you.”

Yes, he was there with her. But for how long?

She buried her face in his shoulder, willed the tears to stop. She took a breath, held it, steeling herself, and finally the tears did stop. But her heart was still flailing in her chest. She was still in a panic.

Don’t get too close. Don’t do it
.

But it was too damn late. She’d let him in, and he’d gone deep. Deeper than he’d been inside her body. To that soft and tender place she thought she’d locked safely away a long time ago.

“Ava, stay with me.”

“What? I’m here.”

“No, you’re not. You’re closing yourself off. I can feel it.” He pulled back, looking into her eyes once more. And she couldn’t escape him, not with him looking at her, right inside her. “Ava … God damn it, girl.”

“Desmond?” A sob escaped her. “Are you … you’re not happy with me?”

“No, that’s not it. Christ, no. You’re too damn perfect. Fuck.”

“I’m not. I’m not.”

She didn’t know what to think. But he bent his head, kissing her before she could try to make sense of what was happening. And his mouth was soft and tender on hers, giving her exactly what she needed once more. But
this
… this was something she hadn’t even known she needed. Until now.

Desmond buried his hands in her hair. So damn soft, just like the rest of her. And her sweet mouth on his. He couldn’t get enough of her: her taste, her scent, her flesh beneath his hands.

Just kiss her. Don’t think
.

No, he’d been thinking far too much all night, about the way she affected him.
Had
to think or he’d lose all control.
This girl …

But she was kissing him back, her soft tongue like silk in his mouth, and her quiet sighs and moans were making him hard again already.

Had to have her, one more time. Had to know her body.

Her mind.

Yes, talk to her. But later
. Now she was all soft female flesh in his hands, melting under him, and he couldn’t wait. Didn’t make one damn bit of difference that he’d come only minutes before. Nothing mattered but her.

Ava
.

He was in trouble with this girl.
Fuck it
. He didn’t care.

He pulled back and watched her face. Her blue eyes were sleepy but alive and gleaming with fire beneath the half-closed lids. Her mouth was pink, swollen from kissing. Fucking beautiful.

His chest ached.

Just have her. Do it. Have to …

He laid her body down, held her with one hand splayed on her stomach while he pulled another condom from the shelf. Then he rolled it over his swelling cock, keeping his gaze on her face.

She was watching him, biting her lip. He could see her breasts rise and fall as her breathing sped up. Ah, she was as eager as he was. When he slipped his hand between her thighs and found her soaking wet, he smiled. Yes, she was ready, wanting as much as he was. And her blue doll eyes were big and round, fringed in dark lashes. That innocent face. And some expression there … he didn’t know what it was exactly. Intensity. Emotion. Almost too much.

But he had to have her.

“Ava, turn over.”

He helped her shift until she was on her knees, her head bowed, resting on her outstretched arms. She was too beautiful like this. Submissive. And when he slipped his cock inside her, she was his. He felt it, that giving over, her body softening all over. Yielding to him completely.

He began to move, one hand tight on her hip, the other on her back, pressing her down. Pleasure was like some living entity, snaking its way up his cock, into his belly, his limbs. He pressed harder into her loose and willing body, every pale curve like some sort of art to him. Her quiet, whimpering cries were making him crazy, driving him on.

He bent over her, wrapping his arm around her tiny waist, pulling her tightly into his body. His heart was a hammer in his chest, breaking him apart.

Why couldn’t he get close enough?

All he could do was push his cock into her, into that wet, silken flesh.

“Ava …” he whispered, not knowing what it was he wanted to say. Perhaps just her name. Crazy.

She made him crazy.

She was pushing back against him now, taking him in, her pussy like heated velvet around his cock. So damn good. And her breath was coming in short, sharp little pants.

He moved a hand down between her lovely thighs, pressing his fingers against her hard clit. And in moments she was crying out, shaking, her pussy clenching around him.

“Christ, Ava …”

Then he was coming, hot and furious, pumping into her small body.

When it was over he pulled his cock from her, rolled onto his side, taking her with him. He was shivering. So was she. And his mind was in chaos, his heart beating like thunder.

What was it about this girl?

This was more than sex. More than the power exchange. She was really getting to him.

No
.

But it was happening, whether he wanted it to or not. Even
now, with his mind a blur and his body exhausted, he couldn’t escape that fact.

Ava had reached inside him somehow, gotten in deep. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

S
EVEN DAYS
. Seven long days in which Ava thought she’d lose her mind. Why didn’t he call?

She paced her small kitchen, a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. It had been one of her favorite sources of comfort since she was a little girl, but it wasn’t helping tonight. She stared out the window, watched as a bus stopped at the corner, spilled people out onto the sidewalk. Watched them scatter, everyone going in a different direction, leaving the sidewalk empty once more.

Desmond had left a message the morning after their night together at Pinnacle, saying he’d be gone most of the week on business. She hadn’t heard from him since. Not a call, not a quick e-mail.

The days were hard enough, but at least she’d had work to distract her. But now, alone in her apartment, the sun going down and the sky turning a gloomy gray-tinted blue that grew darker and deeper, she could barely stand it. Could barely stand to be in her own head.

She hadn’t stopped thinking about that night. The bondage. The sex.
Him
. The way he’d opened her up inside, given that to her like some sort of amazing gift. The way he’d been so incredibly tender with her when she’d crashed. The way he made her body buzz with desire simply by standing next to her, talking to her. Touching her.

But it was more than desire, lust. It was a craving to be near him, to serve him. She was truly submissive enough to want that with him, always. But there was something deeper, more powerful, driving her need for him.

How was it possible to feel so much for a man she’d known only a few weeks? And how much of what she felt stemmed from the fact that Desmond gave her more of what she’d always needed than any other dominant ever had? Her feelings seemed to go much further than mere physical need. Had she imagined their connection? Those moments of pure intensity when he gazed into her eyes?

Maybe her mother was right. She was impulsive. Illogical.

She couldn’t figure it out. And now he’d disappeared. He couldn’t possibly want to be with her the way she wanted, yearned, to be with him, or he’d never be able to stay away this long. She felt … cut off. Lost.

She’d felt the same way with Michael so often. He had met her need for submission, but his command had been overly harsh, leaving her with a sense of emptiness.

Desmond filled her up. Until he’d gone away, leaving her alone to figure out what the hell was going on between them. And all of that with Michael had been so long ago. Why was she even thinking of him? Why couldn’t she seem to separate her feelings for Desmond, for what they had done together, from what had happened with Michael? And somehow her mother’s voice kept getting in there, telling her she wasn’t good enough.

She’d thought Desmond had taken her away from all of that. But maybe he was nothing more than a catalyst for those things she had to learn for herself, finally.

She wanted to. And even processing these thoughts was probably a move in the right direction. If only she could calm down enough to really think it through. If only he would call her!

She sipped at her cocoa, but it was too sweet on her tongue. She poured the rest into the sink, rinsed the mug, shoved her hair from her face, burying her fingers in the dense curls until it hurt.

She felt too alone with this. She wanted to talk to someone about it. She wanted to talk to him.