Rough Surrender (6 page)

Chapter 5

Give him my key?
There was an undercurrent to that request that made her hesitate. Leonhardt had his hand out, waiting. Not a request–an order. This was some sort of test and, if she failed, he was going to walk away.

The steel key lay on her palm, cold and heavy, attached to a pretty cloisonné-enameled medallion. She extended her arm and tilted her palm so the key slipped, clinking, into his hand. Why did she feel as though she’d just handed him a piece of her soul?

“Thank you.” He nodded.
Was that a triumphant glint in his eyes?
“Ladies first.”

It wasn’t too late–not yet. Nothing compelled her to go with him to her room. Leonhardt had said nothing to encourage her, hadn’t put a hand on her or smiled–as if he meant her to understand this was her decision and not his.

She took the first step, and another, then, with his hands behind his back, he matched her stride as she threaded between the tables.

Together, they walked to her door, the Oriental carpet underfoot muffling the sound of shoe on floor. Number three hundred and twelve. Mr. Meisner unlocked the door then pushed it open. Not daring to look at him, Faith drew a smooth yet deep breath, and went in.

The little entryway held a slim cabinet and a silver vase with swans for the handles. Art Nouveau, as was the bedroom beyond. Everything flowed with curves and the shapes of animals and plants. In the center of the wide floor sat the double bed with a shimmering peacock-and-lily quilt that fairly begged one to sprawl upon it. The outline of lilies showed in the cast iron bedhead and curled up the four corners of a chest of drawers. Gold curtains to her right covered a set of French doors that must lead to a balcony.

The room sang with honeyed hues and electric blue vibrancy. Bracing herself, she turned to find Mr. Meisner had discovered a chaise lounge and sat upon it–one ankle atop the other knee, his trousers sliding up to reveal his sock.

“Come here, Faith. Please. Sit.” He patted the lounge.

“I don’t usually invite men... I mean I’ve never...”
Oh, Lord
. Now she had him in her room, she really wasn’t sure she wanted to get close.

“I know. Sit here.” He sighed and uncrossed his leg. “I won’t bite. We need to talk.”

“I think perhaps–” She made as if to sit on the bed.

“Faith,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Either you come over here and we talk, or I come over there and ravish you on the bed.”

“Ah.” Only minutes ago, being ravished had seemed a great idea.
Admit it. I don’t know what I want
.

Trying to act unaffected by his threat, she went over and sat on the very edge of the lounge. Casually, he wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her in close to his side.

“Mr. Meisner!” She stiffened.

“Stay. And it’s Leonhardt. You wanted me here. In thirty minutes, Mawson will be back and you can order me out if you so wish. Meanwhile, you sit here and keep me warm. That’s my due payment for having to listen to what is going through your pretty head, because this is not my idea.”

Pretty head!
“What? You’re the one who kissed me!” She wriggled but couldn’t get loose, not easily. Besides with his arm around her, tucking her against him...it was so comfortable and this
was
what she’d wanted, in a way.

“A kiss?” He nuzzled her ear with his mouth and she heard him inhale. “You smell so nice, sweetheart. I kissed you before because you wanted me to. I’m here for the same reason. Another man would have you on your back on that bed squealing by now.”

At those words, she froze. His tongue lapped out, circled her earlobe, licked. Wet. Soft, and so surely finding a spot that sent a spark of electricity zipping straight down below.
Nice. Too nice.
She angled her neck in the hope he’d do more of the same elsewhere.

He chuckled, kissed once below her ear. “I’ll bet you’ve not even had sex.”

A blatant, raw question but...no point in lying. “No. I haven’t.”

“Then why do you want me here? Why the sudden loose morals? Didn’t your mother tell you not to invite strange men to your room?”

Oh, what a dismal thing to say. Something within her evaporated.

For a man who’d warned her off and said he had different tastes, Leonhardt was being awfully nice–almost as
nice
as Jeremy, her pot-of-custard man. Face it. For whatever reason, he was treating her, almost, like a little sister. She wanted...what she’d seen, felt, at the workshop–a man with fire in him, who had excited her like no other.

She sighed and muttered, “Pot of custard.”

“What?”

“Never mind. This isn’t what I thought it would be. The way you...” She shook her head. “Never mind.” Yet, when she tried to rise, he held her still. “Mr. Meisner, let go.”

“Leonhardt. What did you say first?”

Anger filled her. “Oh! I said
pot of custard
! You’re just like Jeremy and every other man I ever met. Bland as custard. All right? Now. Let me go.” Exasperated, she turned her head, looked at him, and the room dropped a foot.

The hardness was back in his eyes. His hand tightened on her waist.

She flinched.

“You don’t know what you ask.”

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, stared at the floor. “But, I didn’t ask for anything.”

“Oh. You did. You did.” This time he sighed and she dared to glance at him again. At her waist, his arm had relaxed and his fingers stroked her through the dress. “You’re...like a feast laid out before me, Faith. I’d love to eat you all up, though I shouldn’t.”

The air sizzled. Every breath she took woke another part of her until she thought nothing about him could possibly escape her knowledge. Her eyes drank in the world. Ever so quietly, she moved her hand to rest on his broad thigh.

“Very well.” He played with a tendril of her hair above her ear. “Thirty minutes. I will show you what I like. You will let me do what I wish. No complaints. No comments from you except,
yes, sir
or,
no, sir
. If you tell me to stop, I will, and then we’re done. I’ll leave. Your answer is
yes, sir
.”

“Um.”
What is this?

Her thoughts took a moment to catch up. He would show her what he liked–his dangerous-sounding unnatural tastes? If his
tastes
came from the same place that first kiss came from, she wanted this. Though, on the other hand, giving control to a man seemed wrong and independence was the backbone of her life.

“One proviso.” Would this make him leave? “No actual, um, sex.”

After an eyeblink of time he said evenly, “Agreed.”

She moved her mouth experimentally, brow creasing, imagining saying what he wanted her to, and shrugged.

“Uh. Yes, sir?”

What would he do now? Kiss her again? She looked sideways at him, at that sloping nose and those firm wide lips. Being bald suited him–made him look like a man who’d finish any task he began.

“Stand up.”

She frowned.

“Now.” The growl in his voice made her jump. He meant this, didn’t he?

Untangling herself from his arm, she slid from the lounge to stand before him. The cool satin hem of the Poiret dress flicked at her ankles. When he stood and went behind her, she twisted one hand in the dress at her side.

“Don’t move, Faith.” The exhalation of his words ruffled her hair. “Put your hand down. Do I scare you?”

The same question, or near enough, as at the workshop door. She felt his fingers at her chignon, gently removing the long pins. Locks of her hair tumbled to her shoulders, unwinding farther down her back.

“Scared? I’ve flown a hundred feet up in the air where few men have been. No. I’m not scared.”

The
V
of his finger and thumb smoothed down to her nape and gently grasped her there. “The correct reply was,
no, sir
. Last chance. After this, every time you speak out of turn, I get to spank your bottom. And, I don’t believe you, so perhaps we’ll try a,
yes, sir
.”

She shuddered. “Yes, sir.”
What am I getting into here?

The threat, the large hand holding her neck, the presence of this man behind her–all combined to make her so aware of every inch of her body.

“Being scared about this is natural...but I’m not going to hurt you. If anything bothers you too much, tell me. Even spanking can be pleasurable if done by someone who knows the way.”

Spanking? Nice?
Then the vision of him bending her over and smacking her bottom came to her and, forgetting all about being scared, she leaned back into his grasp.

“That’s better. Relax, darling. You’re meant to enjoy this.” His hands moved, untangling and unrolling the last lengths of her hair, drifting lower, following the contours of her upper back to her waist and circling her there, pausing for a moment before leisurely curving across the mounds of her bottom.

What she was allowing this man to do stunned her.

“You have lovely hair, Faith, a beautiful body. I could touch you like this all night.” He kissed her neck, tickling her with small nibbles. “I’m taking your dress off now. Your answer, my dear?”

An answer? He wanted speech when her throat had seized up? “Yes. Sir.”

The wall behind the chaise lounge was cream...the lounge was timber and blue and her legs shook. Already.

From the sound, he’d knelt then his hands encompassed her ankles and ran a little way up beneath the dress. Cool air caressed her body as he took the garment up. “Raise your arms, Faith.”

She did so. The dress pooled on the lounge where he tossed it. She’d never stood before a man in her underwear before–in corset, drawers and stockings–and this was a man who knew how to control her with mere words. The longing to know what he meant to do made her breath come harsh to her ears. Her lips parted.

“I like a woman who obeys my commands.” He rested his hands on her shoulders.

Before she could stop herself a small noise escaped her lips.

“Do you have a question?” His hands moved on her muscles, massaging and spreading a delicious warmth that pooled in her breasts and groin.

“Yes. Uh, sir.”

“Ask then.”

“I don’t obey.” She let her head slowly drop forward as he continued the massage, and his body moved in to mold against her back. A hard length pressed along the crevice of her bottom. “I don’t. Not normally. Just you. And here. Uh. That’s all, so nice.”

He laughed a little, softly, near her ear. “I could tell you liked it, sweetheart. Obeying me here and now is all I want.” He stepped away, keeping a single finger in the center of her back. “I’m going to take off the rest of your clothes, Faith and bind you.”

Oh my God
.

“Now is when you should say, no, my dear. Then I’ll go.”

She licked her lips. Say, no? And miss what her body craved? He’d done what he had at the workshop–made her throb exquisitely in all her private places. She said nothing, wanting,
needing
, to see what else he could do.

“You want me to stay then.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” This time she heard roughness in his voice. “Good.”

He drew off her shoes, her drawers, her hose and corset until she waited there naked with the air caressing her skin. The man in her room was still clothed...and she was naked. Her heart thudded, fast and anxious.

“Put your wrists together, behind your back.” His voice softened as he moved away. Something knocked, then came muted noises. Mr. Meisner returned and stopped there, just behind her, within reach, where she couldn’t see, waiting.

She sucked in a breath, let it out slowly, and did as he ordered–put her arms at her back. He wrapped some sort of rope around her wrists, tightened the bindings until she could do no more than twist her hands one against the other.

“The curtain cords,” he murmured. “Being an engineer, I like to use chains and metal when I can, but this will do, for your first time. How does that feel, Faith?” He set his hands on her hips. His skin on her naked skin. She shuddered, feeling wetness seep between her legs. “Turn around and look at me. Now.”

Of a sudden, seeing him looking at her was scarier than staring at the wall and knowing he did things to her behind her back. She bowed her head, felt her hands again–roped together. The position made her breasts jut out and as she looked, her nipples puckered and poked out like fat buttons.

“Faith. Turn and face me.”

“Yes, sir.” She shuffled around and his hands stayed on her, sliding at her hips, just above
there
, where she ached. His big brown eyes were on her and she couldn’t help but look up into them and be caught, the sensation turning topsy-turvy, messing with every thought in her head. Mr. Meisner had her in his hands.

“There, love. I do believe you like this.” His eyes crinkled and his mouth moved in the most heartwarming smile she’d yet observed. “You don’t need to answer that. I can see. In this.” He put both hands on her breasts, cupping them then brushing each thumb once across her nipples.

“Oh.” She swayed and found her eyes half closing.