Rough Surrender (10 page)

“Yes, damn you! Sir.” Heat rippled deep into her stomach, making everywhere ache and her nipples poke up like little turrets.
Put your mouth back. God!

“Then we shall see each other for the next ten days? And you won’t reject the idea of discussing marriage, out of hand?”

“Yes!”

He put his head down and sucked the burgeoning nub up against his tongue. Wet heat. Soft, lazy strokes. Heaven. She groaned, muscles tightening like a sprinter about to bolt. She wanted to claw at his hair, at his shoulders but her hands were roped to her ankles, her body angled like a launching ramp straight to his glorious, licking mouth. One more lick. One more. Impossible, but she tensed even tighter, harder. Her thighs had found his body where he knelt between her legs, crushing him so much he’d likely have marks.

Another moist lick sent her hurtling into an orgasm. “
Umnhh
!” She rode out the crashing shudders and jerks with her neck and body arching into the bonds, her nails digging into the flesh of ankles. The cries seemed to come from the throat of another, distant woman. More spasms wracked her, before the ceiling rematerialized in her dazed sight.

Maybe she wouldn’t be able to ever move again. Ecstasy had found her, left an indelible mark on her soul and had liquefied her very bones. Leonhardt could have poured her into a jar and bottled her if he’d been so inclined.

When he pulled away the pillows and rolled her over so she was on her front, with her bottom now upward, she only bothered to turn her head to one side to breathe. A languor possessed her whole body. Maybe she
had
gone to heaven?

“I have decided, Faith,” said Mr. Meisner, matter-of-factly. “That I shall send my servant, Helen, to you and that you will stay here instead of the Orient for the next few days.” Something hard and tiny pressed then lightly scratched on the skin of her bottom.

“What?” The words came out slurred. She blinked. With one ear to the bedspread, she must have misheard. What was he doing back there? Her mind awoke and she blurted, “What? No! I am staying at the Orient, sir. You cannot order me about.”

“Here is better, and I can visit you without people like Mrs. Willoughby talking. I’m a methodical man, so I thought it best to put our ten-day agreement in writing, so you couldn’t deny it.”

He was writing on her bottom? She squeaked and attempted to throw herself to one side. His hands held her in place, with her bottom tilted up. “Give it a minute to dry, woman.” He swatted her bottom, stinging her. The slap reverberated into her swollen pussy.

“Uh.” Even that had been nice. Goodness, was she turning into a loose woman? He wasn’t letting her go. Resigned, she gave up, slumped into the bed’s softness. What had the jerk written?

A few minutes later he picked her up bodily, untied her and set her on her feet, with her bottom facing the tall mirror. Since her arms and legs refused to work properly, he hugged her to him, squashing her breasts against his hard pectorals. The length of his stiff cock nestled along her stomach.

She put her arms around his chest and screwed her mouth up.

“Do I have to see this?”

He smiled down at her then kissed the tip of her nose. “You feel nice.” With a slow roll of his hips he pushed his cock even harder against her.

The forbidden lure of what he might want to do with
that
sent her mind scurrying for cover.

She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and herded her thoughts back to what he’d done to her bottom, to her own darned
skin
. Without asking. As much as everything that had gone on before, all the glorious things he’d made her body do, writing on her just because he wanted to seemed a big signpost to Mr. Meisner’s character. He didn’t just like control, he plain
took it
on occasion.

“You’re going to show me what you wrote, aren’t you?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to hit you, you know. Sir.”

“A threat? Bad girl.” With that, he reached behind him, captured both her wrists in his hands then tugged them to the small of her back, where he easily gripped them with one hand. Too strong–she couldn’t budge him. He chuckled. “Maybe I should smack you again? Now look.”

Dreading what she’d see, Faith craned her neck to look over her shoulder. Reading backward was an art she’d mastered long ago after childhood games with her brothers and sister. On one cheek of her ass, in neat yet creative calligraphy, was inscribed,
Property of Mr. Meisner
.

“Sweet Jesus,” she muttered. “You oaf!”

But she couldn’t help seeing what else was in the mirror: her presented naked, hands held at her back, a willing captive of the bald man towering over her. She felt where his cock lay along her belly and she imagined it inside her, inserted where his fingers had been. Her knees weakened.

“Mrs. Willoughby’s maid would have a fit if she saw that,” she said in a voice that came out rough. Gossip would be awful.

“I know.”

Part of his plan then? To keep her in his sights? Now, she had to accept the servant he would send her. That didn’t bother her as much as she thought at first. Almost a boyish prank, this. Underneath his commanding manner lurked some youthful, fun qualities. She liked that. She leaned in and snuggled to his bare chest, inhaling Mr. Meisner’s dark, sweat-laden smell tinged with a hint of old soap.

“You need a bath,” she whispered, closing her eyes and absorbing just
being there
, next to him. Yet still she couldn’t stop recalling the muted triumph in Mr. Meisner’s eyes as he stood over her in the mirror. Even more than the writing on her skin, his eyes had said,
you are mine
.

What he’d proposed was surely half a joke. Marriage after ten days? It was laughable. No matter how much marriage was touted as the be-all and end-all of a woman’s life, she’d managed to avoid being pigeonholed. She was independently rich from the proceeds of her mother’s will. Utterly ridiculous for her to consider being Mr. Meisner’s wife...and plaything. Or was it?

With his chest rising and falling softly and the steady beat of his heart under her cheek, with his firm arms holding her snug, she was tempted. The last time she’d been in this good a hug, it had been her teddy bear. Mr. Meisner was a tad more alarming than a teddy bear. Still, she let out a long breath, allowing all her worries drain away, for right now, she was in nirvana.

Chapter 10

“You said I needed a bath?” Standing there, being cuddled, seemed something she would keep doing for ages.

“Mmm. Soon,” she said softly, as if unwilling to move just yet.

Leonhardt released one of her wrists and took a step toward the bathroom, drawing her with him. “I think it’s time for us both have one. Come.”

He gestured ahead, letting his gaze dwell on the sweet roundness of her breasts and newly inked bottom. Getting her all soaped up could be an interesting affair, though some ink might wash away. It would be prudent to check the writing afterward.

She eyed him suspiciously, one eyebrow twitching up. “Both of us? At once?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Pink flushed across her cheekbones and, for the tiniest moment, she flicked her gaze downward, toward his cock. Her blush deepened.

Obviously, she was intrigued.
Nice
. He brushed the back of his finger across her parted lips then her cheek and opened his hand to cup the side of her head. Those glossy black waves fell cool across his skin.

At the instinctive tilt of her head into his hand a novel emotion transfixed him–the same one that had made him talk about marriage on the spur of the moment. The one urging him to both hold her close and safe...and pin her on her back on the bed and fuck her silly, until she capitulated and said,
Yes, I’ll marry you
.

He wasn’t sure he wanted marriage yet himself, but planting the idea in her head had made her so damn cutely annoyed it had been worth it. Not that he’d lied. She’d hooked him in some way. Because her tastes so far coincided with his own? Maybe. Maybe not. There was a lot about Faith he didn’t know, and he planned to rectify that.

One thing he was sure of, if he had wanted marriage for certain, Faith wouldn’t have given in to him at the snap of his fingers, no matter that he had her nicely in hand, right now, in this bedroom. Adventurous, foolhardy, independent, whatever the word was that fitted her it meant he had to woo her, as well as fuck her senseless. He was going to enjoy the next ten days.

“Go.” When she seemed reluctant to walk ahead of him, he gave her a firm smack with his open hand across the buttock on which he’d not drawn. The squeal and jump made him grin. He’d not enjoyed life this much for ages, months if the truth be told. The bright red hand print coming out on her white backside looked enchanting.

As he strode after the now scampering Faith, he pondered how to get her into a spanking position in a way that wouldn’t scare the bejesus out of her. Some problems needed all his brainpower, and that was one of them. The handprint looked even redder. He breathed out slowly through his teeth, as his balls tightened.

The bathtub proved large enough for both of them. While the tub filled, Faith pinned up her hair into a feathery bun then, with her toes pointed daintily, she slid into the warm sudsy water. The scent of lemons pervaded the room. Careful not to step on her legs, Leonhardt eased himself down into the tub at the opposite end with his legs running along the outside of her thighs and his feet touching her bottom.

She bent her knees up as if to keep a little distance. The water lapped invitingly just under her breasts.

“I’m not acquainted with the etiquette of bathing with a man, Mr. Meisner.”

“Neither am I.” Delivered deadpan, he could see it riled her when she shot a fleeting grimace his way.

“Oh. Um. Well then...”

He studied her, trying to reconcile this wonderfully wet and naked woman with the Faith Evard who liked to teeter on the edge of danger.

“I still don’t understand why you have to fly. Isn’t, all this.” He gestured widely. “The world on the ground, enough for you?”

She chuckled and her breasts jiggled. Laughing had unexpected benefits. “I like the ground but flying is one of the most freeing experiences I have ever come across, sir. You are up there with the birds, above all the troubles of the world. The wind tussling your hair. It is simply glorious!”

She reached over and picked up a flannel, wet it in the water and swept it along her arm.

“I will have to take your word for that.” Though there was another flannel available, he decided to wait and use the one Faith had. Getting it off her might be fun. “Don’t you feel fear at the possibility of crashing?” An image flashed to him of Faith a crumpled, bloodied mess in the midst of a shattered airplane. His jaw muscle flexed. In that instant, her death seemed both possible and terrible. His chest ached.

“Life is short. I’d rather live an exciting full life than a dull empty one. If I wasn’t a little...well, a
lot
, adventurous, you and I wouldn’t be here in um...” Her brow creased then she waved the flannel, as if trying to distract him from where her words had led. “Don’t you have your own...excitements?” With that she resumed gliding the flannel over her face and arms then her chest.

He smiled. “I find many small things in life exciting. Waking up on a new day and drawing up the plans for some new machinery. Inventing. Climbing the pyramids. Learning history. Helping friends. Seeing the intricacies of the latest automobile. There’s plenty of excitement here on the ground. Like you.”

The water made her skin shine in the light from the electric lamp that curled out over the bathroom mirror and cabinet. As he watched with unconcealed admiration, her nipples stood out hard, her movements slowed, until finally she halted.

“Do you have to watch me so closely?”

He rubbed his chin while contemplating his tired-looking woman. Stubble rasped under his fingers. “Come here.” He swirled his fingers in the water. “In my lap.”

Would she deny him? From the way she hesitated, he had hopes. Spanking time? He cocked an eyebrow. Cautious as a dog that’s done wrong returning to its master, she shifted along and turned. He set his hands on her waist and hauled her in. Put her, just right, between his legs. Snug and sexy.

Oh yes
. The presence of her female flesh gave his cock ideas and it twitched where it pressed on the crack of her cute behind under the water.
Not yet.

“You feel so wonderful, nestled there on me, Faith.”

“I do?
Hmph
. It feels...nice for me too.” Then she wriggled enough to set water sloshing and make his cock poke up high and excruciatingly hard.

Something had to be done for the poor thing. He’d think of something. First, though–“Here, give me that flannel. I’m going to wash you.”

As he slid the soft cloth over Faith’s shoulders, she made little movements, shifting her bottom, splashing the water with her fingers, rolling her neck. The dripping water rippled out musical notes. “Relax, darling. Enjoy this. I like washing you.”
What red-blooded man wouldn’t?

With the flannel, he followed the line of her back down, underwater, to the crevice, then up and along each arm. Slender muscles there, but muscles. Next her hands, where he made sure to turn over the palms and do each finger one by one. Her breathing slowed and she snuggled into his chest. Back along the arm and across the top of her breasts...down between them then softly around, letting the cloth slip across her erect nipples. Now her breathing quickened.