Obsessive Surrender

by Bobbi Cole Meyer

  His child would never feel unwanted; never be ignored or be made to feel he or she is second best, or worse, a hindrance.

  Andrea stirred restlessly in his arms. He ran his hand ever so lightly over her breasts and down over her stomach, smiling as he thought about how he would awaken her in the morning.

  Unable to sleep because of the desire that pounded the blood through his veins, Ivan quietly freed himself and slipped out of the bed.

  He went to the bathroom to hand-stroke his swollen, demanding cock in order to relieve the mounting sexual pressure. When he finally ejaculated, he stood realizing how unsatisfying it was, especially with Andrea’s hot, sucking channel so close and inviting.

  Finishing his toilet ablutions, Ivan settled back down beside her and once again Andrea automatically snuggled against him. He settled her within his arms, his mind reeling from the unmitigated truth.

  I set out to conquer and possess Andrea, but it was she who has conquered me!

  Chapter 15

  Chasm of Doubt

  Andrea was the first to open her eyes. Yawning and stretching, she turned her head to see Ivan sleeping soundly beside her.

  In sleep he looked younger, gentler, and even boyish with his tousled black hair falling across his forehead. She was tempted to tickle his chest, and then surprise him with a bold, sucking kiss to his brown nipples. She was even tempted to slide down to tease his flaccid penis to life.

  Instead, she lay watching his inhaled breaths expand his wide chest, thinking, you are so very handsome, Ivan. It’s hard for me to believe you’re my husband. Only in sleep do I feel anywhere near equal to you. You seem touchable, even vulnerable in sleep.

  Though he gave no evidence of the fact, Ivan, sensitive to Andrea’s every movement now, had awakened at her touch and felt her watching him. When her hand brushed back his hair affectionately and her fingers lightly caressed his face, he opened his eyes, startling her.

  “Ooh!”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you, Andrea. Seems I’m always doing that. Talk to me, my pet. Tell me what crosses that mind of yours in the early morning.”

  To hide her frustration Andrea said the first thing that came to mind and it sounded cold and indifferent to Ivan, as though she did not want him there.

  “It’s not like you to sleep in. I didn’t expect to find you beside me this morning.”

  “I had several phone conferences that lasted most of the night. Guess the lack of sleep is finally catching up to me.”

  Propping on an elbow, he studied her. “You amaze me, Andrea. You’re the only woman I’ve ever known who looks as beautiful in the early morning light as she does by candlelight.”

  Andrea stared at him, taking his first true compliment to heart.

  “Kiss me, Andrea, like you mean it.”

  She leaned forward, obediently offering a hungry kiss. Ivan enfolded her in his arms.

  “You’re a tantalizing little witch, you know that?”

  With her heart pounding, she dared to ask, “Does that mean I have in some way bewitched you?”

  Smiling, Ivan nodded. “You could say that. Does knowing that please you?”

  “Yes, it does. It makes me almost believe that in time I might even compare to—to your more experienced, sexier ladies.”

  “My experienced, sexier ladies? That’s an odd choice of words since I do not have other ladies. But aside from that truth, tell me why would you want to compare with them?”

  “To measure up.”

  “I take it that you don’t think you measure up as you are, right?”

  “No.”

  “Then you don’t know yourself very well because you far exceed those non-existent ladies already, Andrea.”

  His words of flattery increased her heart rate. It was almost too much to believe, that he would offer her two such compliments in the same morning.

  Ivan’s hands slid over her appreciatively. Her breasts responded instantly, the nipples pebbling as his fingers rolled each. He leaned to suckle first one, then the other as Andrea tangled her hands in his mop of hair.

  Her escaped breath caught in her throat as she laid her face against his head and drank in his manly smell. Desire welled up inside of her; searing desire that Ivan accurately read as he lifted his eyes to meet hers.

  “Do you want me, Andrea?”

  She answered without hesitation. “Very much.”

  “Show me.”

  Andrea captured his face between her hands and kissed him soundly. Then she went down on him, kissing and sucking his rising penis to a hard erection. She took his balls, one and then the other into her mouth, gently rolling, caressing them with her tongue.

  Feeling emboldened, she moved up, trailing hot kisses over every inch of his skin before rising to straddle him, to take him into the center of her body. Sitting astride him, she arched her back as Ivan lifted to thrust deeper, soliciting her declarations of, ‘Ummmm yes, I love that. We fit so good together, don’t we, Ivan?”

  “We do,” he admitted huskily. “Explain what you’re feeling,” he prompted.

  “I love you rock hard and filling me so completely. Yes, that’s what I love,” she rasped, lifting herself and plunging back down on him.

  “Not half as much as I do,” he admitted. “Ride me, baby,” he urged fervently. “That cock is all yours. Ride it hard.”

  Ivan thrilled at her uninhibited undulations as she obliged him in deliberate exaggerations, lifting up almost to the point of disconnecting before coming down on him in a mock bronc ride that quickly escalated to frantic bucking the minute he began spanking her butt and legs. Her channel convulsed around his penis, pulling and squeezing with each slap he administered.

  At the moment of release, Ivan rolled her to the side without uncoupling, firm hands on her buttocks, leaning back to get maximum impulsion as he saw her climaxing.

  When she was at the end of emotion, weak and breathing hard, Ivan was still hard and erect. He had been concentrating so hard on pleasuring her that he had not satisfied himself. He relished soaking in her steaming pussy.

  “I want you to come again, Andrea.”

  “I—I don’t know if I can. That was so—so wonderful and complete.”

  “Yes, you can. Think about it. Think about my cock in that hot pussy. Think about me hitting that hard little G-spot as my cock slides in and out of your slick channel. Think about an exploding orgasm, Andrea. Mentally relive that tingling feeling rushing to your brain,” he urged.

  He continued to stroke, feeding her lustful thoughts, watching the changes taking place on her face. He kissed her, and then leaned back, not missing a stroke, sliding in, almost out, back in while his hands kneaded her breasts. He felt it the moment she began quivering at his touch. He knew she was caught up once again on the flowing tide of rising desire, which she confirmed with a hissed, “Yes. I—I can. I want it again.”

  Ivan laughed. “And so you shall have it!”

  He began thrusting, taking himself over that edge as Andrea experienced her second climax.

  She raked her nails down his arm, trembling with the fierce release while Ivan held her firmly against him, giving her and himself time to savor the overwhelming satisfaction.

  When they finally disengaged, when Andrea attempted to rise, Ivan commanded, “Uh uh. Just lie there. Tuck one of the pillows beneath your butt for elevation. Lie still for a few moments, Andrea. I know odds are you can’t get pregnant immediately after stopping the pills, but just in case, I’ve read the seed will implant better that way. That kind of serious fucking just might have beaten those odds and gotten you pregnant. My son could be beginning this very moment inside your womb,” he said proudly, with a pat to her stomach.

  Andrea did as he bid her to do, but she grew noticeably quiet. Then she surprised Ivan by finally admitting what had been plaguing her so long.

  “I—I suppose you’ll not want to be with me or make love to me, when I’m swollen and ugly with your baby, will y
ou, Ivan?”

  He propped on an elbow to study her worried expression.

  “Is that what you think? Is that why you seem reluctant to have a baby, Andrea? Well, you’re wrong. For as long as I can, until the doctor tells me I can’t because it might harm the baby, I promise you I’ll fuck your brains out. Of course I know I’ll have to be gentler and I will be,” he said chuckling.

  “The spankings will have to cease, but the fucking won’t stop. Put that from your mind. My cock couldn’t be denied that sweet snatch for long, I assure you. And when that pretty belly is too large, I’ll turn you sideways to claim your ass. And again, I promise, I’ll never let you go unsatisfied.”

  He smoothed back her hair.

  “As for you getting swollen and ugly, Andrea, that’s not something you should worry about, my pet. Don’t you realize nothing makes a woman more beautiful or more desirable to a man than knowing she is carrying his child; the seed from his loins?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “But you have so many needs, Ivan. When I can no longer satisfy those needs, you’ll turn to someone like—like Cynthia. I just know you will.”

  Ivan smoothed back her hair and kissed her forehead, wishing he’d never brought Cynthia home as he said gently, “You and only you will always be the one I want to satisfy my needs. God, I wish I’d never brought Cynthia here. Please believe me when I say I did it strictly for you, Andrea. You are my wife and the only woman I desire.

  “Whether you believe it or not, I truly am old fashioned that way. Remember I told you before we married that I was? I’ve always wanted the kind of marriage that I believed could be, based on mutual understanding and respect between two people who are dedicated only to each other.

  “I promised myself that if and when I did marry it would be forever and I’d make it special. I take our wedding vows seriously. And I realize now that it was mistake to introduce Cynthia into the equation, but at the time, I just wanted to present you with the most erotic gift imaginable. Believe me when I tell you that I don’t want or need Cynthia or some other woman like her. Besides, only a bastard would turn to another woman when his wife is about to give him a son, or a daughter. And I hope you don’t see me in that way.”

  Ivan took a deep breath, fighting back a surge of anger as she remained silent and the realization dawned on him.

  “But I suppose that is how you think of me, isn’t it? That I’m a sorry bastard with little or no feeling?”

  Andrea bit her lip, wanting to say how much she loved him; needed him; longed to know that he truly loved her with all his heart the way she loved him, but those words stuck in her throat.

  As he had before, Ivan read her silence as a sign of her distrust and loathing for him. His mind replayed her saying she wanted to run away from him. Impotent fury contorted his face as he moved back from her.

  Struggling not to verbally lash out, Ivan was unaware of the murderous look he gave Andrea. He was unaware he had narrowed his eyes to stony gray slits and balled his fists; unaware that he was gritting his teeth with the image of her saying she wished to run away.

  Feeling she was about to receive the brunt of a burst of rage, and not understanding why, Andrea scampered off the bed and ran to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her before sinking down on the closed toilet lid shaking.

  Why didn’t I have the nerve to tell Ivan how I really feel, that I love him more than life and am so afraid he’ll turn away from me? Why can’t I just say how terrified I am of losing him?

  She stood and started a shower, ignoring Ivan as he tried the doorknob. She heard him knocking, demanding entrance, but before she could even turn to accommodate him, the doorjamb splintered from his kick and Ivan stormed in.

  Wide-eyed with fear Andrea watched him stride toward her, his gray eyes flashing lightning bolts of suppressed rage as he grabbed her shoulders, shaking her like a rag doll.

  “Don’t ever lock a door against me again, Andrea!” He gritted. “Do you understand me? You will never shut me out, no matter how much you hate me and wish to cut my throat. There will never be locked doors between us!”

  “I—I’m sorry, Ivan.” she stammered.

  Ivan calmed himself when he realized she was trembling in abject terror. Fighting to control his temper, ashamed that he had manhandled her, he stepped beneath the spray and pulled her inside with him. Without speaking, he lathered and bathed her gently. He even washed her hair. Then he handed her the sponge and turned so that she could soap his back.

  When they had rinsed, he turned the water off and began toweling her dry. When she automatically started to go down on her knees before him, he restrained her, meeting and holding her troubled gaze without speaking, trying to crawl inside those wide-set green eyes that lay so hotly on his, wondering what she was thinking.

  At that same moment, Andrea was wondering what he was thinking. She was perilously close to throwing herself in his strong arms and begging him to love her as she loved him.

  Both were unaware how closely the end of their thoughts coincided—that they would have been better off if they had never met, never fallen so deeply in love—Ivan because he felt certain she would never feel anything more than loathing and fear for him—Andrea because she was so sure Ivan would never love her like she needed to be loved, that he thought of her only as a vessel to carry his seed, to use and toss aside when the whim hit him.

  The two of them stood together, yet separated by the widening chasm of doubt.

  As they stepped over the splintered door, Ivan said, “I’ll not fix that door. It will be discarded.”

  Andrea already suspected that. Losing what little privacy that had been afforded her in toilet ablutions by that bathroom door didn’t bother her. What did bother her was the possibility that her dream of being Ivan’s only soul mate for the rest of their lives, still seemed out of reach. And she couldn’t help but think that in time he would discard her.

  She silently vowed, I will never admit how deeply I worship the ground Ivan walks on, because if I do, he will no longer see me as a challenge and the game will be over. I will be cast aside. And if that were to happen, I wouldn't want to live.

  They entered the bedroom in stoic silence, each lost in reflective doubt. Ivan went into the master bedroom and dressed for his day, while Andrea reclined upon the bed in the indoctrination room and pondered her volatile husband’s ever changing moods and the pain of loving a man who did not know how to give love back.

  She shook her head, wondering, will I ever know what shaped Ivan into the complex man he is today?

  When he had finished dressing and reentered the room, Ivan paused and studied Andrea, wishing he could crawl inside her head and hear her thoughts.

  Their eyes met and held in silence for a minute before he said, “Lydia returns today. She’ll be wondering where you are if you aren’t visible, because unlike Millie, she does have the run of the house.

  “So Andrea, get dressed and go downstairs if you like. Your indoctrination period is over, but be sure the curtain over the door here is closed so the room remains undetected. Watch TV, play your guitar or read. I’ll be going out to the casino today but I’ll be home fairly early.”

  Chapter 16

  Secret Weapon

  Carl Cothane stared at his image in the gilded mirror behind his desk, his mind conjuring up the man he once was before he had lost most of his hair. Studying his angular face, he remembered when it had been unlined and considered attractive, or so many showgirls had told him.

  His frown deepened as he suddenly saw the real image. He hated the hard lines around his mouth, on his forehead and between his eyes. And he hated the sag of his jaw, his receding hairline and the sallow complexion that evidenced his liver condition brought on, he knew, by hard living and excessive drinking.

  You’re a fucking mess, he silently chastised himself. Beyond middle aged at fifty-six.

  Frowning, he stood recalling his early days in Vegas. He had arrived with high hopes a
nd determined dreams, via Chicago, staked by some influential men of like disposition who believed in the former glory days of sin city, when the mighty ruled by fear and intimidation; back when the fleecing of the unsuspecting was the accepted rule of thumb.

  And dammit, I accomplished what I set out to do! It all paid off, until Littlefield came along to screw it up.

  Carl had always carried his dubiously earned reputation like a badge of honor, proud of the fact that, for the most part, he was definitely feared, if not respected.

  Respect I figure I can live without, so long as I keep the upper hand in any given situation.

  His face contorted in suppressed rage as he thought how things had changed. As he had many times, he wished he was living back in those true ‘glory days’ of Vegas.

  Snorting a laugh, he thought, but in a way, I am. I do what the hell I please and most people don’t dare cross me. Got my two casinos and I’m living the high life. If it wasn’t for Littlefield, I would have a club on the strip too, dammit!

  The thought of Ivan Littlefield, the bane of his existence, made Carl clench his jaw and grind his teeth.

  Damn, but I hate that cocky sonofabitch!

  He sat down in his chair, rocking back, emitting a string of expletives. As he chewed his cigar, he silently reevaluated the situation.

  How could he stop the Littlefield plague?

  How had Ivan beat him out on that Wayfore property?

  It’s obvious the bastard has inside info, no doubt spearheaded by that bitch of a mother of his.

  Having researched the Littlefield background over the internet, though the more intimate details he would have preferred knowing were unavailable, Carl had ascertained that Ivan, once CFO of Myerson Oil, was from the line of the Myerson/Littlefield clan; heir to the Myerson fortune.

  From there, it wasn’t a large leap to assume his mother, the infamous Claudia Myerson Littlefield, now CEO of Myerson and numerous subsidiaries, and constantly in the news with another new venture, was probably pulling the strings.