Terms of Surrender (25 page)

He picked her up in his arms and headed for the bed.

"Where do you think you're taking me?"

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Gracie C. McKeever

Nick didn't answer her, just paused at the foot of the bed before tossing her onto the middle of it.

"You seem to have taken my Neanderthal designation seriously."

He put a finger against her lips. "Don't speak, unless you want to leave right now."

Slany stared at him for several long seconds, holding her breath, holding in God-only-knew what comeback. In the end, she must have decided he meant business, as she said nothing.

Nick flipped her onto her stomach, slid an arm around her waist, and lifted her until her luscious, round ass pointed at the ceiling. He wrapped the sleeves of his shirt around her wrists a few times before she could resist and tied a tight knot. Then, he pulled a pillow down from the headboard and placed it beneath her head.

He knew she was full to bursting, could only imagine the venom she wanted to spew at his high-handed treatment. And she could just wait until he decided to give her permission.

"You're wondering what I'm going to do to you." He slid a hand between her legs, eased his finger into her hot depths, thoroughly soaked two fingers with her juices, then slid his hand back to her ass and teased her rosette.

She flinched at the slight intrusion. He caught her around the waist with one arm and smacked a cheek soundly with his other hand.

Slany gasped.

Nick waited for her to curse or say something, anything. After several long moments, no response was forthcoming, except her pushing her ass back towards him until she was rubbing it against his painfully erect cock.

He put both hands on her ass, gently caressing and squeezing before spreading her cheeks and sliding a finger into her hole.

She was tight, and he knew she'd never been fucked here before, more a virgin in this than in D/s. Nick shuddered with the idea of taking her in the ass, being the first, being the
only
one.

But he didn't want to rush her. He was already skating on the thin ice of her forbearance, and he knew it. He didn't want to risk scaring her completely away, alienating her altogether.

That would do neither of them any good.

Take it slow.

She'd come a long way since that first time in his office, since dinner earlier in the evening, and she had a long way to go. They both did.

He caressed her rosette once more, moistening it with her own juices, making her wonder at his intentions, felt her stomach tense beneath his palm, her body trembling each time he brought his fingers close to her back hole.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Slany," he demanded.

"I…I don't know."

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He smacked her other cheek, watched it redden, her ass sporting the twin rosy glow of his handprint. "You do know, baby. And I want you to speak your mind. I'm giving you your opportunity. You should take it while I'm being generous and you have a chance."

"I don't—"

He smacked her again, and she whimpered, jerked away. He quickly pulled her back against him. "You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, Master," she said.

He reached between her legs, her cunt dripping hot, sweet juices into his palm, confirming her admission. He rubbed his fingers up and down her slit several times, caressing her labia, pausing to torture her clit for several agonizing seconds before she tried to tug away from him again.

He stopped her with a sharp smack to the ass. "Don't run away from me, Slany. Don't run away from yourself."

"I'm not."

"You want me to fuck your ass?"

"P-please…"

And he wanted to, so badly he hurt, so intensely he could feel her relinquishing to him, opening up to allow full access, could feel her trusting him—with her safety, her self-respect.

His responsibilities mounted by the second, and Nick wondered if he could handle them, if he wanted to. Or would he ultimately disappoint her, as he had his father so many times, so many years ago?

He sensed Slany's trust and affection tottering on the edge, poised over the precipice—

like his self-confidence, like life and death, just out of his reach. He could reel her in, save her and himself, or let her go and watch them both crash and burn.

Sex had never been this momentous to him before. He'd never needed it to be. Or maybe, he had been in denial because it was too much accountability, and he didn't want a woman to have to count on him for her happiness, her life, the way he had once counted on his father.

Nick caressed the spots that he had smacked, felt Slany's skin, flushed, soft and warm, as she shuddered beneath his hand. "Are you sure you're ready for this, Slany?" He leaned in to kiss each cheek with the utmost care and waited to hear her answer, his sanity hanging in the balance.

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"I'm ready, Master." Slany slid back against him, her pussy oozing cream down her thighs, vaginal muscles clenching and unclenching, preparing for his penetration.

She'd never been so turned on before, so hot and eager to be taken—so eager to come.

God, she needed him! She needed this more than she had ever wanted or needed anything in her life. She wanted just to feel, to tune into the pleasure-pain and nothing else.

She almost resented Nick's questions, didn't want to talk, didn't want to think about what she was doing, what she was feeling, or how she'd feel later about everything they were doing.

She didn't care, not now. She just wanted to
feel.

Slany didn't know when the tides had turned, when it had become so important for her to fade away and disappear, while her body took center stage and Nick manipulated it and brought it to climax again and again. Maybe it had been that first touch of his palm to her ass, and an alien shiver of excitement had washed over her. Or maybe it had been the threat in his voice when he'd basically told her to shut up or leave.

Slany no longer knew why she stayed, why she pleaded and obeyed, but she knew this was what she and Nick had been gearing for since that first kiss in his office. She knew this moment was what she'd been looking for all her life, since her mother's death, since her father's retreat, since Ron. Wings on her shoulders weren't enough to signify her freedom, only emphasized her slavery to a perfect set of ideals that didn't belong to her, would never belong to her.

"What did you say?"

"I said, I'm ready. I want this. I want you, Nick. I want you to…fuck my ass." She shamelessly rubbed herself against his hard cock, muscles quivering with anticipation, waiting for his invasion—hard, fast, however he wanted to take her.

For a moment, she thought she should be humiliated with a big red "A" for ashamed emblazoned across her breast. But she felt neither humiliation nor shame. She just needed, wanted, mindlessly hungered.

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Nick moved close behind her, wrapped an arm tight around her waist, and stroked her ass with deliberate coolness before he smacked it again.

The sound reverberated through the room, as arousing as the concentrated sting of his palm, causing another gush of juices to dribble out of her cunt. The smack, her responsive wetness, let her know she was alive, still alive and well and able to feel—anguish, enjoyment, torment, joy—anything but numbness and mediocrity, anything but what her father had withdrawn to after Mom's death.

Slany almost felt disloyal at the thought, but when Nick lowered his drawstring pants and put the head of his cock between her cheeks, moistening her rosette with the pre-come from its tip, making her shiver, she could only moan with longing, not regret.

"You're tight, Slany." He reached across her for the nightstand, opened the top drawer.

"This could hurt, even with lubricant."

"I want it to." She listened with disbelief and utter liberation to the words that came out of her mouth. She didn't care what he thought of her, only cared that he'd fulfill his promise, give her what she wanted and needed. She only cared that he release her.

She felt something cool dribble onto her butt. Nick rubbed fragrant oil on her ass, in and around her hole.

He entered her with one finger, then two, thrusting as deep as he could and holding her against him so that she couldn't escape.

Not that she wanted to, not that she would try. She bore down on his fingers, wanted more, wanted him to fill her, to supply what was missing. Wanted him to complete her.

She glanced at him over a shoulder, almost forgot her hands were tied until she made a move to reach for him and came against the bounds of his shirt.

She watched him put the lubricant on his penis, thoroughly coating his hard, erect organ before sliding his hands up to her shoulders and massaging her for several long moments.

Slany closed her eyes as he kissed each shoulder, stroked his tongue across the wing tattoos before easing her down onto her stomach, encompassing her body with his, and straddling her hips.

She felt him pressing at her puckered opening, her nipples sensitized, hard points painfully pushing against the cool sheets beneath her in response. Then, she felt pressure, the stinging heat of intrusion as Nick thrust the head of his cock past her rosette.

She whimpered, and Nick reached beneath her with one hand, seeking and finding her clit.

"Relax, baby, or this is never going to work," he murmured, fingering the swollen kernel of flesh gently at first, then pinching and rolling it between a thumb and forefinger, before penetrating her with two fingers in the front and his hard cock from behind.

"Oh, God! Nick..."

The pain was exquisite, immediately bringing tears to her eyes. But the reward, the sensation of being thoroughly filled, thoroughly owned and connected to a warm body through more than one orifice at the same time, far outweighed the agony.

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"Mine," he growled in her ear as he circled his hips and drove into her, deep and hard.

"Yes."

He pulled back ever so slightly, then pushed into her with concentrated, unhurried strokes that brushed every nerve ending on the way in and out as he started a steady pumping rhythm.

Slany moaned, writhing beneath him as she tried to meet his rough thrusts, automatically struggling against her bonds.

Nick leaned in to suck her right earlobe into his mouth, gently nipping it.

Slany groaned and came on a sudden flow of warm moisture, her cream filling Nick's hand as she collapsed against the mattress beneath his weight.

Nick released a hoarse shout. He shuddered above her, moving his mouth down to the skin between her shoulder and neck, licking and sucking before firmly sinking in his teeth again.

His climax quickly followed Slany's.

After a long moment, he pushed off of her, then caught her around the shoulders and pulled her to rest across his chest as he lay on his back, catching his breath.

Slany raised her head to stare at him, vulnerable power scudding through her as she saw how his long lashes brushed his sculpted cheekbones, perspiration coating his face and chest.

She leaned in to lick a drop of the salty liquid from his face, and he caught her face with one hand, cupping her chin.

"I suppose I should untie you so we can go get that shower and some breakfast."

"I suppose," she said, right before snuggling against his chest and falling asleep.

* * * *

He imagined Vega's unnecessary fear for Kate and Slany slowly growing in the stud's chest until it had a life all its own and wondered if Vega had started connecting the dots between Lorraine Lennox's disappearance and Kate's.

He was certain his rival had figured things out—Vega was a smart boy, after all—and chuckled as he unlocked the basement door and started down the steps to the inevitable sounds of struggling.

He had to admit, that last statement had been a little over the top, something out of a bad murder/suspense mystery—and he was so much better than that—but he hadn't been able to help himself. He had been itching to get back at someone, anyone, for the travesty of justice otherwise known as a "date" between Vega and Slany.

The call would put his rival on guard now, no doubt, perhaps force him to make another trip to the police. It would be to no avail, of course. What could he tell them? That he'd received a threatening phone call? That he thought something bad had happened to his friend?

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No, there would be no backlash, because he knew how the system worked, knew how to work it to his advantage, and he had been careful not to leave any evidence of foul play—no witnesses, no one to connect him to Kate, and no trail leading back to him.

Sweet.

The sour taste in his mouth came not from any fuck-up on his part, came not from his handling of Kate's training and disposal. No, his dissatisfaction and bitterness were caused by one person and one person alone: Nick Vega.

He'd stolen Slany from him. He’d taken his chance to make an honest submissive of Slany, to break her in righteously.

He hadn't thought Slany would be gullible enough to completely fall for the man's charms, had been hoping she'd wake up from the erotic fog Vega wove around her to see that Vega was all polish and no substance, a facsimile of what a Dominant should be. So much less than what she deserved.

He was undeniably angry with her, but he still wanted her. Still needed to show her what she had forfeited to take up with Vega. Still needed to prove to her he was the right man for her.

The only man. Her world.

She would see, soon. He would show her he was the best choice for her, that he cared about her emotional and physical wellbeing and would do anything to see her satisfied.