Sweet Submission: Jenny and Max Complete Series Plus Bonus Short Story (9 page)

“Look over there,” Max said, pointing out at the horizon.

“What?” I scooted closer to him, trying to see what he was talking about. “I don’t see anything-“ Max grabbed me around the waist and picked me up. I squealed and laughed. There wasn’t anything there. It was just an excuse to get me closer to him. He held me in both arms high across his chest. I loved having such a strong man who could lift me as easily as he could a feather.

“We’ve had a lot of big changes,” Max said. “And I want to thank you for being so strong.”

“Strong?” I said. “Just last night you had to spank me for getting angry at your agent.”

Max lightly tickled my sides. I squirmed in his arms. “No, seriously,” he said. “If it wasn’t for you, I think I’d go completely insane.”

“Ditto.” I slung my arms around his neck.

“I never could’ve written that post without you. You helped me put what I feel into words,” Max said.

I laid my hand against Max’s chest. “You have a beautiful heart. It surprises me everyday. The best decision I ever made was to submit to you.”

Max smiled slyly. He sat down on a the bench at the back of the boat with me straddling his lap. Reaching behind my neck, he untied my bikini strap. The top fell down, exposing my breasts.

“Alone at last,” Max said, bending forward to take my nipple in his mouth. His arms were tight around my waist as he suckled my breasts. I closed my eyes and parted my lips, letting my moans float away on the ocean breeze.

I felt Max’s cock growing hard between my legs. I shifted my hips forward, and Max groaned. He clasped his hands around my bottom, lifted me up, and laid me down on my back. He pulled my bikini top down further until it was around my waist. He pulled the elastic string, and it snapped back against my belly button. The sharp sting sent blood pumping to between my legs.

Max slipped his finger under the waistband of my bikini bottoms, and pulled them down to my knees. I cupped my hand to his face. He kissed my fingertips as he pressed his thumb into my clitoris. The waterproof cushions squeaked underneath me as I squirmed. He pressed harder, sending hot pulses down my inner thighs. I lifted my hips and spread my legs apart wider.

With his thumb still on my clitoris, Max took his other hand and inserted two fingers inside of me. He brought his fingers forward and massaged my g-spot. The pleasure was overwhelming and incredible. Both hands worked in rhythmic cooperation, massaging and rubbing until I was lifted to climax. My moans floated out across the sea.

When the orgasm subsiding, I smiled at Max, panting to catch my breath. There was a glint in his eyes when he flipped me over, then pulled me up onto my knees. He positioned himself behind me, and I felt the tip of his hard cock against my soft flesh.

I was surprised when I felt his hand swat hard against one side of my bottom, and then the other. With my skin still stinging, he plunged his cock into me. My limbs trembled from the rush of sensations. Max drummed his fingers against my waist, then got a firm grasp. I let him control me, rocking my body back and forth, up and down over his cock. I grabbed at the slippery cushions beneath me, trying to keep my balance. He reached his arm around me and pinched my nipple. He started pounding, harder and harder.

I screamed out my pleasure across the blue abyss. My muscles were weakened from ecstasy, so I lowered down on my elbows. This position allowed Max to go deeper. He rose up higher on his knees, then thrust relentlessly into me. The orgasms came one after another, often overlapping. Max grabbed my hair at the nape of my neck, plunged deeply inside, and groaned up to the clear sky.

*

When we got back to the mansion, I felt refreshed and relaxed. A day out on the ocean, out of the crushing smog of the city, was just what we needed. We were laughing, our arms flung around each other as we entered the house. Max went off to take a shower. I wanted to text Lily, so I found my phone on the kitchen table. I never got cell reception on boats, so I hadn’t bothered to take it with me.

As soon as I turned the phone on, it lit up and started dinging with texts, notifications, alerts, and missed calls. My eyes widened as I watched the flurry of activity on the screen. I read through them, and found out that Max’s post had been picked up and circulated by a prominent secularist news organization. Max was being called all manner of insults including close-minded and a bigot. He was accused of ‘shoving religion down peoples’ throats.’ I wondered how on earth people had gotten that from his beautiful, well thought out post.

But for as many petitions there were to ban him from fighting, there were just as many that supported him. My heart lit up with happiness when I read an article that championed him for living openly in his faith.

Max’s phone buzzed on the counter. I picked it up and saw it was Mark calling. I knew he wouldn’t be happy. He called, over and over again, until Max emerged from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Is that my phone ringing?” Max said.

“Yep,” I said with a tight smile.

“Who is it?” Max asked suspiciously.

“It’s Mark,” I said. I showed him my phone, letting him see the articles written about him. “It looks like your post stirred up quite a controversy.”

Max covered his mouth with his hand as he scrolled down my screen. His phone rang again, and Max answered.

“What was that?” Mark said over speakerphone. “This wasn’t what we talked about. Why didn’t you send me a draft first?”

“I was just trying to be honest,” Max explained, calmly. “And I didn’t know you wanted to see a draft.”

“Everything goes through me. Everything,” Mark said.

“I’m sorry, Mark. I didn’t think it would be so controversial.”

Mark exhaled deeply into the receiver. “What’s done is done. Now, we have to figure out how to fix this. I can hire a ghostwriter to write another post for you-“

“No, no, that’s ridiculous,” Max said. “I meant everything I said in that post, whether people like it or not.”

“Just a quick little apology saying ‘sorry if I offended anybody,’” Mark said.

“No, because I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry for speaking the truth. Just let it alone, and people will move on to something else. I have a fight next week I have to prepare for.” Max clicked off the phone and slammed it onto the counter.

I’d been watching the entire exchange, and was immensely impressed with how my husband handled himself. He wasn't the type of man to play this silly game of political correctness.

“Good job, baby,” I said, kissing his neck. His skin was still damp and warm from the shower.

Max poured himself into his training and ignored anything that was said about him in the media. I tried to ignore it too, but sometimes I couldn’t help but look. I wanted to yell at the people who criticized Max, to tell them that he wasn’t the man they thought he was. He wasn’t the villain they were trying to create.

By the night of the fight, the attention had died down some. A young pop star had been busted with drugs, and that sad story dominated most of the headlines. I accompanied Max as he walked into the arena. Another man appeared alongside of us. He was the other fighter, Max’s opponent.

“Hey, man, feeling good?” the fighter asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Max said, not looking at him.

The fighter sprinted in front of us. “Hope you said your prayers. You’re going to need them,” he said, then ran off towards the arena.

Max stiffened beside me. I rubbed the back of his shoulders.

“Don’t let him get to you,” I said.

Max took a deep breath, expanding his chest. “I want to him to get to me. Because I’m going to use it. It there.” He pointed towards the arena.

A delicious smile spread across my face. It wasn’t possible to love him any more.

Max was at the top of his game during the fight. He executed his moves perfectly, acting with focus and precision. He constantly outsmarted his opponent, and beat him easily. After the match, I waited in the backroom for Max. When he arrived, he walked over to me quickly with a determined look on his face. He scooped me into his arms, pressed me against his sweaty body, and kissed me deeply.

“That’s how you do it, baby,” I said, clutching to his muscular arms.

*

The headlines about Max had stopped being about the religious controversy, to being about his winnings. I felt that we’d won a small victory. Our beliefs were out in the open, and we’d managed to show how infallible we were through Christ. I found a free clinic to volunteer at, where I could put my medical skills to good use, and was starting to feel more at home in this new city.

One afternoon when I was leaving the clinic, I was approached by a woman around my age. She was very neatly dressed in a navy blue pantsuit, and her lush brown hair was pulled back into a bun.

“I’m Katherine Thomas with Women’s Home Magazine,” she said, showing me her press credentials and shaking my hand.

I was flummoxed, and smiled like an idiot. Issues of Women’s Home Magazine were currently stacked on my coffee table at home. I recognized Katherine’s name. She wrote in-depth profiles of successful women.

“I’m a big fan,” I gushed.

“Thank you very much,” Katherine said, as if the compliment had genuinely touched her. “I’m sorry to ambush you like this, Mrs. McCall, but I was wondering if you had the time to chat.”

“Sure, of course,” I said. “What’s this about?”

“The magazine,” Katherine said, like it was so obvious. “I want to do a profile on you.”

“Me?” I said, taken aback. “Are you sure? I’m not like the other women you interview. I just volunteer at a free clinic and have a famous husband.”

“Mrs. McCall, if you don’t mind me saying, you’re an amazing woman,” Katherine said. “You’re afforded a lavish lifestyle, but you use your time to help others.” She slipped her arm in mine. “There’s a cafe right over there. Come on, I’ll buy you a cappuccino.”

I sipped the foamy top of the cappuccino while Katherine set up. She opened a notepad in front of her and laid a pen beside it. I noticed something in her lap, something black and square shaped. Katherine leaned forward with a friendly smile.

“Let me explain how this is going to work,” she said. “Everything we discuss from here on out is, as we say, ‘on the record,’ and I’m free to use it in my article. If you want to say something ‘off the record,’ meaning I can’t use that information, just say ‘off the record.’”

I shrugged, smiling. “I have nothing to hide.”

Katherine beamed. “Good. Then let’s get right into it.” She clicked the thing in her lap. I heard a whirring sound and realized it was a tape recorder. “What drove you to become a nurse?”

I cleared my throat. “I think it was my desire to help people, to heal.”

Katherine nodded. “And when you say ‘heal,’ do you mean that in a religious sense?”

It seemed like an odd question, but I went along with it. “I guess it could mean that. There are many passages in the Bible about healing. Jesus, himself, was a healer, as you probably know.”

“I’m not familiar,” Katherine said. “You seem have a deep understanding of religion. How did you react to the recent controversy your husband caused?”

“Katherine,” I said, lowering my voice and leaning forward. “I thought this was about me.”

“It is,” Katherine said. “I just need a few background details. It probably won’t even make it into the final version.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, sitting back.

“Go on, tell me,” Katherine said like she was talking to a friend.

“It made me angry at first. Why is simply talking about your faith a criminal offense in this country? Max didn’t insult anyone.” I shook my head as the memories bubbled up inside of me. “But I followed Max’s lead and found peace in God.”

Katherine narrowed her eyes at me, and I felt some of her friendly warmth dissolve. “Follow his lead, huh?”

“Mmm-hmm,” I said, sipping the cappuccino.

“So, you’re a follower of the Bible, right? There are a couple of things I wanted to ask you about,” Katherine said. She flipped through her notepad to a page that had been scrawled with Bible verses. “According to the Bible, if you divorce and take another spouse, that’s considered adultery. Is it true that you were married before Max? And that you have a child with that man?”

“That’s true,” I said. My body temperature was heating up, and I was growing quite uncomfortable with these questions. I hadn't come here for the ambush. “Look, I’m not perfect. No one is, and no one has been since Jesus Christ. I follow the Bible as closely as I possibly can, and I strive to be more perfect in God’s eyes everyday.”

Katherine gave me a pursed look, then turned back to her notes. “Moving on,” she said, then read something she’d written down. “‘Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church.’” She looked back at me. “If you strive to follow the Bible closely, as you say, then you must follow this bit of advice.”

“Yes, I do,” I said, carefully.

“Meaning that Max rules over you. He tells you what to do and you listen?”

“No, that’s not what it means,” I said, defensively. “I submit to him-“