Terms of Surrender (17 page)

A true Dominant would never hurt you.

She swallowed hard, nodding her head, needing to believe that as she opened the door and Peyton pushed her out. A good thing, since her legs had ceased to function.

She listened as the door closed and locked behind her, turned in a panic to see Peyton peeking at her through the lace curtains, mouthing "Go, go!" and pantomiming for her to get moving, frantically waving her hands in a shooing motion.

She felt totally abandoned, a sacrifice left to the mercy of a demanding and merciless deity as she watched Nick rise from the wooden shellacked bench to her left and approach.

He possessively hooked an arm around her and drew her close for a kiss, dipping in his tongue to tangle with hers, his free hand roaming the length of her body from the outside curve of her right breast to her thigh. He paused at the hem of her dress, and Slany squeezed her legs together to staunch the flow of her desire, couldn't afford to let go so soon in the evening, couldn't afford to let go at all in her panty-less state. She feared she wouldn't have anything left for later and knew that she'd need all her wits, all her energy to deal with Nick.

God, didn't the man realize what he was doing to her?

She pulled back her head slightly to stare at him, saw the voracious look in his honey eyes, felt like she
was
dinner and not on her way
to
dinner.

"You look nice."

"Just nice?"

"There's nice," he smiled, easing his hand further beneath her slip dress, "and then there's nice."

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Terms of Surrender

She smiled at his bawdy tone. "I take it I fall into the latter category?"

"You don't strike me as the type to fish for compliments, Slany. Ah, here we are."

Slany gasped, squirmed beneath his touch, vaginal muscles automatically clenching as he swept his fingers up her slit, just barely brushing her clit and vulva in his path.

"I thought maybe earlier had been too much for you, and you'd back down tonight."

"Not a chance."

He leaned in to bite her bottom lip. "That's my girl."

She almost said she wasn't his girl and didn't belong to him, but realized the very nature of their relationship said otherwise. She needed to get a hold of herself and grasp the concept.

"You do realize we're standing on the front steps of my house in view of the public."

"Nosy neighbors, I take it?"

"They can be."

"And you're worried about what they'll think?"

She shrugged, barely able to think about her neighbors or what anyone else would think when his fingers were so blatantly teasing her already weeping vagina.

He bent his head, nibbled her right earlobe. "Do you really think I'd do anything to hurt or embarrass you?"

She shook her head and remembered his earlier words about protecting her, how he'd instinctively, instantly come between her and Knowles, like an animal who knows his mate is being threatened.

"C'mon." Nick took her by a hand and led her to his blue Lexus parked at the curb. He opened the passenger side door for her, then went around front to the driver's side.

Slany barely had a moment to settle into her seat and buckle her belt before Nick got in the car beside her and leaned in for a kiss.

He caressed one thigh, then slid his hand between her legs and inched under her dress toward her sex, as if his hand were a heat-seeking missile. He brushed her already moist curls, briefly rolled her swollen nub with his thumb, mercilessly teasing her for several seconds before pulling back.

He raised his head only enough to stare at her, caressing her mouth with a finger. "It's hard for me to keep my hands off of you."

"I noticed." She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, as if she was under water and sinking fast, wanted to act on her impulses as much as he did and touch him. He was so damn irresistible and sexy sitting there in his tailored designer suit, she wondered how she'd been able to restrain herself thus far. She must have been more sold on the concept of his domination than she knew.

Slany turned to face him, opened her mouth to pull in his finger. His deep groan knotted her stomach as she explored the length of the finger and the skin in between with her tongue, taking the reins for the first time in their physical relationship and liking the momentary shift of control.

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Gracie C. McKeever

She took a step further, reached out a hand to place against his chest, had an instant to fondle the hard muscles beneath her palm, feel his heart pounding—a hint that he wasn't totally unaffected by the turmoil he caused her—before Nick caught her hand and held it.

"Can't I touch you?" she asked only as a joke, but saw the serious expression on his face and instantly knew what his answer would be before he said it.

"Only if I give you permission."

Slany balked, about to argue, but saw the immutable look in his eyes. It brooked no debate or protracted questions and answers.

She couldn't imagine not being able to just reach out and touch him at will, enjoy the feel of his skin as he enjoyed her. "I have to ask first?"

"Is that going to be a problem?"

Yes, damn it!
To him, she said, "Not yet."

He hadn't done anything to her, with her, that she hadn't wanted him to do, that she hadn't liked. She was so thoroughly besotted by him, what would she do if she did have a problem with something he commanded? Would she have the strength to say no or walk away?

* * * *

emotionally and mentally, knew how vulnerable and naked she was beneath that sexy-ass dress.

He put a hand under her elbow when she exited his car, hung back as she headed up the ramp towards the parking garage's exit. He admired her sleek, firm calf muscles as she walked, the hypnotizing way her gorgeous, round ass swished back and forth beneath that slinky black slip dress and swallowed hard.

Keeping his hands to himself through a titillating multi-course meal was going to be a serious test of his restraint.

It wasn't like he could turn back now. He was in it now, totally committed to this, to the idea of having her tonight. The only way nothing would happen was if Slany said no.

He didn't think she would deny him or herself. He thought she had what it took to see what they'd started to its logical conclusion, thought her curiosity wouldn't let her stop until she got what she wanted out of this from him.

Slany paused at the mouth of the garage and turned back. Nick glanced up guiltily, wondered if he were visibly drooling when she put a fist on her hip and backtracked until she was standing in front of him.

Damn, she would never know how much he wanted her, how hard it was for him not to just drag her back to the car and take her in the backseat like a horny teenaged boy.

"Where exactly is this place you're taking me?"

"Sapa." For the first time since he'd decided on the particular spot, Nick was beginning to doubt his choice.

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Slany had excellent taste in clothes and makeup, a great sense of style, but whether or not that translated to her palate, Nick wasn't sure. He wondered if the decidedly un-American fare might be a little over the top for her.

Nick took her hand, twined his fingers with hers as they headed out of the garage together, and glanced down at her high-heeled sandals. "It's a few blocks from here. Can you walk it?"

She grinned. "I'll survive."

Yeah, but would he?

Deprived of her very delectable rear view, Nick immersed himself in the feel of her hand in his, instead, her soft vanilla musk wafting up. His nostrils flared, and his cock hardened with recognition and desire.

They arrived several minutes later, Slany easily keeping up with his long-legged gait. The restaurant was an upscale eatery in the Flatiron District, where Nick had once wined and dined some clients. He'd immediately fallen in love with the non-traditional space.

The location included exposed rafters and an open, almost warehouse feel that invited customers to mellow out and shed the restrictive climate of the workday.

Nick made reservations well in advance, so the delay in the sleek wood, marble, and metal waiting area was minimal, the couple shown to a dimly lit table adjacent a long wall within a minute of arriving.

Slany ran a hand over the polished dark wood of the tabletop as Nick pulled out her chair, and she took her seat. She glanced at him with an appreciative, but unsurprised gleam in her eyes when he sat down across from her. "Where did you find this place?"

"I could tell you, but then, I'd have to kill you."

She grinned. "Will I like the food?"

"It's difficult to go wrong with the menu here. Of course, it'd help if you like Vietnamese and French dishes."

"Unless you count French fries and croissants, I've never had either." Slany’s sensual, green-eyed gaze made his cock twitch in his pants. "But I'm willing to try."

He reached across the table to take her hand. "I knew there was something I liked about you," he said, and meant it. He didn't think she'd be half as receptive to his demands if she weren't as daring or open-minded as he surmised she was. "Did you save up all day for this?" he asked, half-suspecting that she had.

He hadn't seen her eat lunch, and Slany had what some might call a very unladylike appetite. She could be found munching on all sorts of goodies—from health-conscious fruit to decadent chocolate and forbidden chips—throughout the day at the office. He loved that she enjoyed eating, that she usually made no pretense when it came to her cravings. That he hadn't seen her doing her customary munching today told him just how nervous she was.

"I'm hungry, if that's what you're asking."

"I could take that a couple of ways."

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Gracie C. McKeever

"And you'd be right either way." She gave him another lascivious look before opening and turning her attention to the menu.

He stared at the laminated barrier in front of her face, dick twitching in response to her words. He'd have a raging erection by the end of dinner, at this rate.

To get his mind back on eating something else besides her, he said, "The sweet potato and pumpkin seed soup should not be missed."

"In coconut milk?" Slany arched her brows over the menu. "Sounds…interesting."

He grinned at the uncertainty in her tone. "It's delicious. You have to try it."

"Is that an order?"

"Everything I say to you isn't an order, Slany. Sometimes, it's just a suggestion."

She lowered her menu, her expression earnest and innocent as she looked at him. "How am I supposed to know the difference?"

With her auburn hair falling around her face in rich silken waves, emerald eyes shining bright, she looked like a little girl searching for guidance from a respected mentor. That she had chosen him to be that very mentor filled his chest with an indescribable feeling of honor and lust.

"You'll know. Just follow your instincts, and trust me."

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Terms of Surrender

Communication between the sexes was usually no piece of

cake, rife with miscues and misunderstandings on the norm. But

Slany felt like a total tyro around Nick, unsure of what was acceptable

behavior for a submissive, unsure what her reaction should be to any

given comment at any given time.

Keep it simple
.
Just follow his lead.

Not an easy task for someone who used to leading, rather than following.

"How do you like it?"

Slany glanced up from her poached pear dessert plate. Made with a pear that had been soaked in red wine for four days, its core replaced with a generous portion of sweet cream cheese, it was completely sinful, richer than anything she'd ever eaten. "I've been deprived." She dug her spoon into the drizzle of caramel and white chocolate, scooped out a generous spoonful, and slid it into her mouth, closing her eyes at the intoxicating flavor. She moaned.

"I take it you like?"

She nodded without opening her eyes, still savoring the sweet delicacy as it glided over her taste buds and down her throat.

Nick leaned across the table and murmured, "You're making me very horny."

She opened her eyes at the bold comment, stared at him. "I should hope so," she said around a mouthful of dessert and winked.

"Behave yourself."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then I'll have to punish you."

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Gracie C. McKeever

His low, smoky tone sent shudders down her spine, imagination running wild with what his idea of punishment meant, hot hunger spiraling down from her stomach to her pussy in warm, engulfing ripples.

"Is that a promise?"

"It's a promise." Nick slid his chair around the table so that he was sitting beside her. He dipped a finger into her plate, scooped out some cream cheese, and smeared it across her throat before leaning in to lick it off.

Slany arched her neck, eyes drifting shut as he went to work on her throat, alternately sucking, licking, and biting her into heightened awareness.

By the time he pulled back a few minutes later, she was gasping, every nerve ending in her body tingling with anticipation.

"That is tasty."

"You're not going to make me feel guilty about getting the last one."

"I would never think of doing something so underhanded." He reached beneath the table, slid a hand between her thighs. "Spread your legs for me."

Without thinking, she did, the elegant black satin material of her slip dress riding up her thighs in soft, sensuous increments. "Is this the punishment you were talking about?"

"Nowhere close."

"Nick…" She gasped, eyes scanning patrons at the other tables. There was no cloth over the table, the wood just as bare and vulnerable above as she felt beneath. There was nothing to hinder a voyeur's view except the dim lighting and Nick's broad shoulders blocking anyone's view from her left.