Moonlit Surrender

by Kitty Wilder

  “You want to be a bad girl?” his deep voice broke her from her thoughts. If it was smoky before, there was fire and brimstone in it now. His hand tightened around her neck.

  She did not answer, but instead struggled. Fear kept her from fighting in earnest, unsure just how violently he might give it back. This was all new for her, uncharted. What if she tried to rip herself away from him and his wrath was too much?

  Her hands flew up to his wrist and she did her best to pry it away, but it was like trying to bend a statue, and for every time she tried to tug her hair out of his grip, he tugged back harder. She attempted to rise off of her knees to try leverage to escape, huffing and puffing and working up a sweat as her attempts escalated, but the man was truly immovable.

  She could see the whispers of a smirk tugging at his thin lips. He was obviously enjoying the act too and calmly watched her wiggle and flail about in his grip. “Are you about finished yet, little girl?”

  A wave of tingles tickled through her, this new dark place in her responding to his authority. How was he finding all these places in her she never even knew were there? The fight in her was not subdued, though. Pride pricked her and she found she genuinely wanted to break free, just to prove she could. She clawed at his arm and grunted as she managed to rise up into a squat and tried to outmaneuver him. And all the while scolding herself, “He’s a fucking vampire, you idiot. Stop fighting. What are you even doing?”

  His eyes widened a little as he watched her battle him with all she had, as if impressed she had dared to give him her all. She felt the muscles in his forearm move and thought for the briefest of moments she had gained some purchase but realized all too quickly she was being moved. He lifted her up and forcefully threw her onto her back on the bed beside him as he followed her and flipped himself on top of her, pressing her into the mattress beneath his full weight.

  “Put those claws away, dear,” he threatened gruffly in her ear. “I’ve had enough.”

  His hand still tight around her throat and gripping ever tighter, he pushed her knees wide open and this time did not hesitate to plunge himself into her.

  The room was filled with the harmony of their mingled moans as he pushed his way inside and nestled himself in her dewy warmth.

  Trapped beneath his weight and the strength of his hand, she felt the urge to struggle dissolve away into peace. He did not budge, holding her prisoner between his lithe body and the soft duvet beneath them and for the first time in her life she felt tethered to the earth and right where she belonged.

  She felt a strange clarity in her defeat, realizing her pride outside of this moment had never been founded in a desire to be independent, but the ache to find someone she could trust to lead her. Was it possible she was simply unable to trust Ben to care for her? How did John so effortlessly create that safe space for her to willingly give in to someone else’s control? The pleasure quickly pushed these thoughts away and her mind became only able to focus on the man holding her prisoner beneath his dark delights.

  A sigh of delight left her lips and he was right there to feel every sensation as he withdrew and pushed himself back into her. His thrusts were hard, but slow and controlled. She felt him splitting her open and claiming her, not just physically but psychologically, and that peace melted into desire, making her wonder if it was an endless cycle he had brought her into.

  He felt her arousal and heard the change in her sounds and commanded, “Touch yourself.”

  “Yes, sir.” Her hand fluttered down her tummy to where their bodies were merged and she slipped her finger between her spread lips to rub her clit as he dove in and out of her. His grip was tight and the lightheadedness hit her again and she felt like she was floating. He thrust and moaned and groaned above her and all she could think was how his delight in her was better than she could have possibly imagined. His arousal, his pleasure as he forced himself as deep into her as he could go, his throaty moans in the air around her filled her with an unmatched pride. She had never heard these sounds from a man before. She had never felt so wanted as she did now with his strong hand choking her and holding her captive.

  She shivered and let out a hoarse whine that died in a breathy squeak as she came again for him. As if that was his cue, he let himself follow her. He let go of her throat and his careful pace and obeyed the rhythm his body set. He dove into her faster and then shuddered and thrust slowly two more times as he spilled himself inside her with a hum that sounded somewhere between agony and relief.

  He held himself inside her until he softened and slipped out and then rested his stubbly cheek between her glistening breasts. His hands followed the soft curve of her sides and rested on her hips. “Good girl,” he sighed.

  She tried to understand why the ‘good girl’ praise made her feel so good, but her mind was slow from pleasure and the exhaustion settling in her. She gave up trying to understand what it was about the way he treated her that felt so right and just accepted there was no other person in the world she wanted to hear those two words from, no one she would rather please, no man or woman who could make her heart thunder the way it did from him calling her sweetheart.

  He lifted off of her slowly and leaned back on his knees as he beheld her disheveled and sweaty state and placed a possessive open palm on her soft tummy.

  She could feel it on her face, but couldn’t stop it. She could feel the adoring way she was looking up at him right now. He had cracked her open tonight. Whatever walls had been up to protect or distance herself had crumbled effortlessly with the way he had disarmed her and taken command. Did he know it?

  He smiled warmly back at her. “I believe a bath is in order now. Would you like that?”

  Lucy grinned, feeling a strange sort of pride in the mess he had made of her. She glowed in her little puddle in the crimson bedding, satisfied in a way she had never felt and in awe of the man that had brought it out of her. She nodded with a soft, “Yes, sir,” and watched him leave the bed.

  John’s naked form disappeared through the dark doorway to the master bathroom and a flicker of more candlelight caught her eye. Lucy heard the rushing of water and smelled the faint scent of vanilla waft into the bedroom. Enticed, she tiptoed in after him.

  He was setting a couple fluffy white towels next to the claw foot tub at the farthest end of the room as it filled up quickly with steaming water and scented bubbles. He twisted the copper faucet handles off when it was full enough and then offered his hand to help her into it.

  Carefully she dipped one foot into the hot water followed by the other and then slowly lowered herself in. Goosebumps washed over her skin as she adjusted to the heat, but they wouldn’t go away when she felt him slide in behind her.

  She relaxed back into him, soothed by the gentle scent of the bath and the soft light around them with only the sloshing of the water occasionally breaking the quiet.

  His hands moved the water over her body, massaging her upper arms, shoulders, and neck as he did. Her long hair took a little while before he could soak it thoroughly, but once he did, she welcomed his fingers combing through it and kneading her scalp as he lathered it up in floral scented shampoo. He worked slowly, and neither of them uttered a word, the intimacy between them so heavy it drowned out everything else in the world. She never imagined anything like this would happen with him. She thought it would be good, but not this good.

  Once her hair was rinsed and she was cleaned of all the sweat from her skin, his hands caressed her soft arms and then ran over her thighs, before slowly returning back up her tummy and even slower over her breasts, taking his time to fill his palms with her curves and leave light pinches on her blushing nipples. His hands climbed up over her collarbones, following their soft wings, until his fingers slid up her neck and back into her wet hair. He massaged her scalp a little more, then turned her around in the tub to face him on her knees. Without words, he handed her a pouf and soap.

  She wasn’t sure why she felt so bashful all of a sudden. She
had been with Ben for many years, was experienced in sex, had just finished seeing John naked and had touched him all over and been touched all over by him. It was something about the closeness of the action, of the whole night. How intimate it had been to surrender to him in the bedroom, and now here she was surrendering again in a way, through this personal act of servitude. Those walls of hers he had torn down in his bed were still in smoldering ruins. She was raw and open to him and even after the orgasms were completed, here he was still caring for her. He made her feel so impossibly safe.

  Lucy dipped her hands in the water and dripped them over John’s shoulders and down his chest and abdomen, savoring his soft skin under her palms and the way his silky, crisp whorls of hair felt between her fingers. She grabbed the pouf and lathered it up and spread the soap down his body, slowly scrubbing him at the same patient pace he had bathed her, caring for him now in return.

  His eyes never closed or looked away. They stayed firmly fixed on her, not on her movements or even her body, just her blue eyes watching him back. With no makeup and no clothing to hide behind, she had never felt so vulnerable or exposed, but the way he looked at her made her feel more desirable than she ever had in her life.

  Lucy was just finishing rinsing the last of the soap off of him when she saw his cock begin to rise out of the water, stiff and so welcoming as she remembered how good it felt to have him moving inside her. She was acutely aware of how Ben would have cracked a joke at this point, but John acted as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t need to utter a single syllable for her to climb on top of him and sink down onto his lap.

  The room was filled with the loud sound of the sloshing water and his soft moan echoed off the tiled wall. His hands encircled her waist and followed their rise and fall as she began to move him in and out of her. Her own moans and panting began to mix with his, and she heard from his silent chest that faint heartbeat she had heard earlier, something in him coming back to life under her touch.

  John didn’t move, letting her take control this time, but for his clever thumb slipping down between them, sliding in between her soft lips to flick over her clit with each thrust she made. She wrapped her arms around his neck and maintained his intense eye contact, both of them watching every sign of pleasure across the other’s face as they melded together again.

  Lucy was surprised at how quickly she came again. Usually it was a one and done affair with her fiancé, but not tonight. John just kept unlocking her pleasure, again and again, and now again. She shuddered and cried out, digging her nails into his broad shoulders as she squeezed him between her thighs and quivered in his lap. John watched every movement of hers, took in every groan and whine, every breath and contraction around his cock, and moaned as he arched up into her and allowed his own release with her.

  She couldn’t speak for a minute, a delightful languor settling in her bones, and she collapsed onto him in exhaustion and ecstasy. He cradled her against him and smoothed back her damp hair. They lingered a moment like that, taking in each other, holding one another, before he kissed her forehead, set her aside to step out of the water, and lifted her out too, so they could both dry themselves and get redressed.

  She moved slowly, not truly wanting to leave yet. She could stay in this dream with him forever if he allowed it. Some unnamed hunger she had been carrying around with her for years had suddenly been fed and she found herself willing to give up anything to stay here and keep it sated. How quickly she was willing to abandon anything and everything if it meant living in this dream for a little while longer.

  He smiled sweetly at her, and she realized now that he too was open to her, his own walls down, and his vulnerability was beautiful. His smile warmed her. There was softness and tenderness in the way he put her back together after the intensity in his bed, and it struck her that perhaps she too was helping put him back together.

  He looked her over in her tank top and shorts she had arrived in and shook his head silently. He moved for another door in the bedroom and opened his closet. It was small and cramped, to her surprise. She thought for sure it would be just as grand as the bedroom. He pulled a sweater off one of the packed hangers and brought it back to her, slipping it over her head and helping her arms through each sleeve. He pulled her hair out and pushed it back from her neck and carefully fastened the three small buttons at the neck. He paused, holding onto the collar, staring down into the longing in her eyes and knowing full well what he had awoken.

  “I don’t want to go,” she confessed softly. A wave of sadness washed over her. She felt suddenly twelve again, leaving summer camp, filled with the same sadness she had felt then on the drive home when she realized she would not see her friends she had made for at least another year, if ever at all. Long nights of giggles and secrets, hikes through beautiful scenery, cannonballs in the lake, and secret crushes on the boys in the adjacent cabin had come to an end. The high of summer was passing.

  He reached his hand up to swipe away a tear she did not know had squeezed out. He pulled her into his embrace with a soft kiss in the top of her hair. “I enjoyed our time tonight as well. You did very well. We will see each other again.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you regretted tonight,” she whispered into the wrinkled dress shirt covering his chest, so low she wasn’t even sure if he would hear it. Her thoughts started to intrude on the moment. I have a fiancé to go home to, a whole other life and path I’m set on. And he’s a fucking vampire. There’s no future here. This is just a dream because it can’t last. It’s so obvious this is a one-time thing.

  “Why on earth would I regret tonight?” he said and chuckled gently. He tilted her head back so he could see her watery blue eyes and nodded as he understood. “Life is complicated. If there is one thing I have learned through my lifetimes, it’s that goodness should be seized wherever you can find it.”

  “Even if it’s wrong to?”

  He brushed a stray strand of silky black hair behind her ear. “The world is rarely so easily separated into black and white, into good and bad, dear. You’re not a bad person for enjoying tonight, or even for wanting more.”

  More. That’s what got me into this. I always want more. Why can’t I just be happy with my stupid life instead of always asking for more? her thoughts taunting her again.

  He could see the conflict spreading across her face. “I will never ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. You’ve been given a lot to think on tonight. Take your time with it. I’ll still be here. The sun will be up soon though. I need to take you home.”

  She nodded and followed him out, understanding now why their time together had never stretched into dawn.

  The car ride home felt so much faster than when he had stolen her away. It seemed like she blinked and suddenly they were outside her house. Lucy sank into John’s sweater and tried for a moment to hide away in its softness and the musky scent of him still on its collar, but she knew her time was up. She had to get out of this car and back into her life. She could still see the flicker of the television’s light in the living room window where Ben had probably fallen asleep, still totally unaware that she had ever left the house.

  “You can’t tell anyone,” John’s voice startled her from her thoughts.

  “Like I would,” she said and laughed.

  “About me being a vampire, dear.”

  “Oh,” she laughed again. “How is it that you being a vampire isn’t even the highlight of the evening?”

  He chuckled with her.

  “I won’t say anything, I promise.”

  “Good girl.”

  She did her best to hold in the sigh as she melted under his approval.

  His gaze softened as he looked her over, reaching out to touch a rebellious coil of damp hair. “I know you must have a thousand questions. I’m sorry for getting, um... distracted,” he chuckled.

  She smirked bashfully. “I started it.”

  “We’ll talk more again soon. I promise. I�
�ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  She shifted a little in the leather seat. It was shocking, to say the least, this new discovery of what he was, but she found herself more interested in whatever game it was they had played, this power exchange. She wanted to play it again more than she cared about vampires. “And the other stuff?” she asked. “We can do that again too?”

  Behind the calm gray of his eyes resting on her, she saw a fire coming to life, a spark at her request. Was he as excited to play again too? “Yes, of course, if that’s something you want to do.”

  She bit her lip and looked away with a shy nod.

  “I enjoyed our time together, Lucy,” he smiled. “Sleep well.”

  “I did too. You, too.” She slipped her hand through the door handle.

  He caught her other before she could leave and left a light kiss on the top of her palm as she smiled wide and made her way back out into the cold.

  She closed the car door and watched his black sedan hum away into the night as she stood there for a moment, hugging herself, and holding onto the moment just a little longer before making her way inside.

  Chapter 2

  A few weeks ago

  Lucy stumbled into the first class of Graphic Communications at the local community college with her barista apron still secured in a sloppy bow at the small of her back from her long shift at the coffee shop downtown. She cursed at her forgetfulness and struggled to untie it with her backpack slung over one shoulder, her purse strapped across her body, and her coffee in one hand. Her commotion caught the eye of a couple other students as she struggled awkwardly into the classroom with barely a minute to spare. She slid into the last available seat in the center front row just as the cheap analog clock above the whiteboard struck 9:00 p.m. She felt ants crawling up her spine, feeling as if she was on display seated at the front of the class, and she tried her best to disappear into the desk, but there was no hiding her presence. Her dark makeup and long black hair stuck out like a sore thumb in the sea of loafers, cardigans, and bottle blondes. Perhaps she could’ve given up her macabre ways and exchanged her fishnets for something more traditional to blend into her conservative little town better, but it would have always felt like an act to her. She would have always felt like she was wearing someone else’s skin. Maybe if she was able to get this degree in graphic design, she could get a job far away from their small minds and live around people more like her.