Sweet Surrender

by Rebel Wild

  “Shit,” I say, going back and getting the photo. I place it in my briefcase and slam it closed.

  What the hell is she doing to me?

  After getting my brain eaten three times, I give up playing the zombie attack game I accidentally downloaded when I was supposed to be preparing for my morning meeting and turn off my phone. Some commotion outside has me looking out the window. Two cars vying for the last parking space in front of the building catches my attention. The drivers are out of their cars pushing and shoving each other in the middle of traffic and there’s a symphony of horns trying to get them to move. I sense someone approaching so I turn my head wondering who’s interrupting me already. They could at least have the decency to wait until I’ve been here for more than an hour.

  Fuck me, it’s her. I was so caught up in the fight outside I didn’t even hear her come in. Her face fills with apprehension and I can see that I’ve scared her again when she takes a step back. She’s too far to read my lips so I move toward her before she can run, but I’m a second too late and she takes off.

  “Miss Montgomery, wait. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I call out to her in vain, knowing that she can’t hear me. I catch her right before she goes out. My momentum almost runs her over before I catch myself with the door. She’s frantic. I know she’s having a panic attack, I used to have them as a kid. I spin her around to look at her. She drops the envelope and the phone she was carrying clatters on the marble floor. Grabbing her wrists, I pin them to the wall to stop her nails from trying to claw through my shirt. I try to get her to look at me, to see I’m not angry with her. I realize too late the position we’re in and that it might be saying the opposite to her, especially when she can’t hear my words.

  What the fuck do I do now? I should let her leave but I know once I do, I’ll never see her again, as scared as she is. Her fear is sending me right into predatory mode and fuck if my Dom doesn’t show up soon after. This battle of wills is turning me on and pissing me off at the same damn time. I press my lips to hers in a last-ditch effort to subdue her and she freezes. Her whole body becomes rigid with the exception of her mouth. Her lips are moving with mine. Fuck, she’s kissing me back. I can’t help but moan at the softness of her lips. She pulls back a little to catch her breath before leaning in again kissing me this time. Jesus, she’s into it, and I fucking like that.

  Remembering that she’s not my sub but a damn employee who can now very well sue me for sexual harassment, I take a step back and let her go. She stands completely still with her hands right where I left them. Her obedience is pushing all the right Dom buttons. It takes everything in me not to rush her again. I need her to stop being so submissive before I take her over to my desk and fuck the hell out of her. I gesture for her to lower her arms and watch as they move down to rest at her sides. She doesn’t do anything else. Fuck, is she waiting for me to instruct her? No, no, no, I need her to move. She’s still afraid of me, that’s all this is. She’s not a submissive. I need to think of something else to do to turn this shit around.

  In-between me jacking off to her last night, I did manage to look up a few words to sign, and now that I’ve got her attention, I try to communicate with her. I make a letter A with my fist and circle the center of my chest to say I’m sorry. I’ve never been the type to apologize, but I don’t mind signing it if it’ll stop her from being so damn responsive to me.

  Her body relaxes and she smiles at me as she comes alive. She starts to sign to me, but her hands are moving too quickly. My two-hour YouTube tutorial on American Sign Language didn’t show them signing this fast. There’s no way I can figure out what she’s telling me.

  Shit.

  “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to freak out on you. Thank you for apologizing but clearly, I interrupted you,” I sign to him.

  My lips are still warm from his kiss. What a nice way to stop someone from freaking out. I wonder if he learned that from being on Bay-Hot. I need to remember it if I ever see a hot guy in the midst of a panic attack. Thank God, he can sign. Otherwise, this would’ve been really awkward. Maybe that’s why he started this outreach program. Maybe he was deaf once or couldn’t speak. Why else would he know how to sign? He lifts his hand to stop me. I can tell by his expression that he has no clue what I just said.

  “Please tell me you can read lips,” he says and I nod.

  The relieved look on his face makes me want to laugh. I guess he doesn’t know sign after all. Did he learn that just to talk to me? I banish the thought. I’m not the only deaf person he’s had in the program. I’m sure he learned it just to be polite to us. Still, it’s commendable. I want to tell him so, but I have no clue what happened to my phone.

  I spot it on the floor along with Mr. Dixon’s envelope and before I can pick them up, he bends down and retrieves them for me. I take the phone and inspect it. Thank God, it’s not broken. I begin to type to him what I’d said previously. He listens to it but frowns all the while. Most people have that reaction when they first hear it. My brother says it sounds like the computer from Star Trek, but the more realistic sounding programs are so expensive.

  “I was merely distracted,” he says. He takes the envelope and the form he’s supposed to sign that’s attached to it and sets it down on his desk before turning back to me. I’m about to make a hasty retreat, but he stops me. “Have a seat, Miss Montgomery.”

  Damn, I’m so fired.

  I point to the seat closest to her and she takes it. I’m not letting this chance to get to know her go to waste. I sit down next to her, watching as she meekly adjusts the skirt she’s wearing to hide more of her thighs. Shit, she’s so fucking perfect.

  “I want to apologize for my behavior just now. It wasn’t my intention to scare you,” I tell her. “My behavior yesterday was also inexcusable. You just caught me at a bad moment.”

  Hell, I’m on a roll with this apology bullshit. May as well keep going. She looks down at her phone to type.

  “I just overreacted,” her phone tells me what she’s wanting to say. The damn thing sounds awful. It does nothing to convey how sweet I’m sure she would sound if she could speak. I study her as she types again. She’s breathtaking. I could already tell that from her picture. Usually, those damn things are unflattering, but her beauty still managed to shine through. As good as the picture looks, it’s an insult to the real thing. I can’t help but stare at her. “I should get back to work,” that awful computerized drone says for her. I smirk at her squirming in her seat in reaction to my gaze. “And I know you are a very busy man.”

  Shit, I need to think of something to keep her.

  “Miss Montgomery, about me kissing you. It was very inappropriate of me—”

  “Mr. Dixon, your brother’s waiting for you at the shipyard,” Sharon comes in to let me know. “He says your phone’s off.”

  Can I do anything around here without someone interrupting?

  Reagan’s head swings to her when she sees me looking in the direction of the door and then turns back to me. She gets up to leave. I’m tempted to stop her, but I don’t want to make her any more uncomfortable than I already have. I get up and sign for the envelope.

  “Have a very pleasant day, Miss Montgomery, and please don’t hesitate to enter my office. You’re always welcomed.”

  She nods and takes hold of the form I’m offering her. She’s been looking at my mouth the whole time, but her eyes never meet mine. I hold on to the form, forcing her to look me in the eyes to see what the matter is. A flash of hazel looks up at me, then instinctively down to the floor. I’d be fucked if that move didn’t just kill me. My dick is doing backflips in my pants.

  Sharon’s still at the door with her mouth open. Never in all the years she’s worked for me have I extended this personal invitation. Lyle doesn’t even have that privilege, not that it’s ever stopped his ass from barging in.

  �
�Let him know I’ll be there in ten,” I tell Sharon. She nods and follows Reagan out the door.

  “What happened in there?” Sharon says, cornering me near her desk. I shrug unsure of her meaning. “Oh, come on, give it up,” she says. “He’s practically eating out of the palm of your hand. ‘Please don’t hesitate to enter my office. You’re always welcomed.’ What did you do to him? He’s never that nice.”

  “Who’s never that nice? The boss?” Lyle comes up to us.

  “He was human,” Sharon says. “I think she broke him.”

  “He nearly shit himself when she ran out of his office yesterday,” Lyle tells her.

  I grin at the two of them getting all worked up over nothing. I feel like I really shouldn’t be a part of this conversation.

  “Find better ways to occupy your time, guys,” I type out and walk away. I see their reflections laughing at my playful jab as I call for the elevator.

  I can’t help but laugh at those two as I head back down to shipping and receiving. Mr. Dixon was just being nice. I’m sure he just felt bad for scaring me, but he can scare me any day if it means him kissing me the way he did to calm me down. I’ve never been kissed like that. I couldn’t even think straight and the way he looked at me when he kept hold of the form I needed him to sign gave me goosebumps. I can’t wait to find a man that will kiss me like that all the time. The song Somewhere Out There my parents used to sing starts playing in my head and I know it’s going to be on repeat all day.

  Damn you and your lies, you sappy love song.

  Two Weeks Later

  It’s been fourteen whole days since I kissed Reagan and I still can’t get it out of my mind, or her out of my system for that matter. I don’t understand it. I’ve kissed women before— hundreds of women. As an actor, it’s one of the perks of the job, but I’ve never been so wrecked by a kiss.

  Every time my office door opens, I’m half hoping it’s her and completely disappointed when it’s not. I’m tempted to reroute all office mail to come to me, thus guaranteeing that I see her. That reminds me, my latest toy order came in last night. It’s a flogger from Madagascar. I imagined using it on Reagan. Its straps are soft with a sharp bite at the end. I would love to make her squirm with it the way she did when I was watching her.

  First thing first, how to go about getting her attention? I can’t just demand she submits to me. Well, I could, but I’m not sure how well that would go over. I need advice and I know just where to get it.

  “Lyle, in my office, now,” I yell to him from where he stands talking to Sharon. More like gossiping, knowing the two of them.

  “You bellowed,” he says as he comes in and sits down.

  “I need some advice. How do you let someone of the opposite sex know you’re interested in getting to know them?”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Quit with the gay shit, Lyle.”

  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. So, who is this special lady?”

  “As if you don’t already know. I wouldn’t be surprised if you sent her in here to trap me the other day.”

  “I’m offended. Do you really think I’d do something like that? How was I to know you’d like her? You don’t like anybody.”

  “And I don’t like her.”

  “No, of course, you don’t.”

  “I don’t. I only want to get to know her. She… intrigues me.”

  “Sure.”

  “I just want to get my foot in the door. My usual MO would scare the shit out of her.”

  “You’re right about that. You need to tone it way down.”

  “I’m open to suggestions.”

  “Well, you can try asking her out.”

  “Asking her out?”

  “Yep.”

  “On a date?”

  “Yes.”

  “As in picking her up and taking her to some public place of entertainment?”

  “That’s usually how it works, Reed.”

  “What if she says no?”

  “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You’re all beach bodied up, you’ve got that thick black wavy hair with the superman curl going on, and abs that can crack a macadamia. I would date you and my standards are high.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t have the best track record with men.”

  “Guilty.”

  “I shouldn’t ask her. She’s my employee.”

  “It’s not against company policy and you’re not even her direct supervisor, like you don’t already know this. Just ask her to dinner.”

  “Can I fuck her after?”

  “Seriously?”

  “What? I like to fuck.”

  “And then duck.”

  “It’s what I do.”

  “How’s that working for you? Apparently, not too well or else you’d be out fucking and ducking right now instead of pining away over a college girl.”

  “Jesus Christ, you’re right. She’s a goddamn college girl. What is she, twenty?”

  “Oh, get over it and get over yourself while you’re at it. Even if she is only twenty, she’s woman enough to have gotten your attention. Otherwise, you’d be out fucking.”

  “Are you going to keep bringing that shit up?”

  “You started it.”

  “Now let’s end it.”

  “Fine, then ask her out.”

  “She’s inexperienced. Not my type.”

  “Maybe you’re bored with your type. Maybe you want more than just a one-night fuckathon in some Madame’s basement this time around.”

  “I prefer things not to get messy. I have a company to run. I don’t have the time or the patience for this romance and relationship shit. I don’t want to invest.”

  “Well, then you better not start with Reagan. If the way you’re acting now is any indication, I have a strong suspicion it’ll get messy.”

  I wave my hand and dismiss him. Fucking Lyle. He’s no help. Who the hell does he think I am? I’m not asking her out. There’s not a chance in hell of that ever happening. Never. Going. To. Happen.

  I spend the rest of the day humming that sappy love song and beating myself up about it. I feel my phone vibrate and I take it out of my pocket thinking it’s Dad reminding me to tell him when I leave. Cottage Grove is less than two hours away, but he insists I call so he can time me. I almost pass out when I see it’s Mr. Dixon.

  Reed Dixon: Are you free this afternoon?

  How does he even know my number?

  Reed Dixon: I got your number from your employee file. I’m sure you’re wondering.

  Reagan: Yes, I was wondering, thank you and I’m meeting my parents’ for dinner tonight.

  Reed Dixon: Tomorrow night then?

  Reagan: I was planning on staying the weekend with them. Do you need me to work?

  Reed Dixon: Not at all. Enjoy your weekend with your family.

  Reagan: Thank you and enjoy your weekend as well.

  I wait for any more from him, but nothing else comes. I wonder what that was all about. The mail isn’t backed up. Quite the opposite. Most of it goes directly to the shipyard. All we usually get are copies of invoices and junk mail. Now I’m left wondering what he needed me to help him out with. I wonder if it was a project. Maybe I should text him back that I’m available. I can always go home next weekend.

  On second thought, he might think I’m flaky. It’s bad enough I ran out of his office the first day I saw him, only to go back and have a panic attack on top of that. I guess no one can ever accuse me of not making an impression. Albeit, I leave people with the impression that I’m certifiable, I’m sure. I still wonder what he wanted, though. Maybe he knows I’m about to graduate with a degree in interior design and he wanted my opinion on something. I’d love to show my sketches. I have a lot of ideas for his yachts. But he has people to do all of t
hat already so that probably wasn’t it. Ugh, this is going to bug me all weekend.

  Chapter Four

  Getting closer to home, I finally leave my work day and Mr. Dixon behind. If you blink, you’ll miss Cottage Grove, but it was my whole world growing up. Mom and Dad used to move around a lot when he just started in the police department. When he moved up the ranks, they were able to settle down. Mom just had to pick the hickish town in California to call home.

  I feel like a little kid again when I turn on my street. Our little one-story, three-bedroom house is lit up on the inside like it always is this late in the day. The red and purple clouds covering the sun behind it make the house almost look like a painting. Just like I knew she would be, Mom’s standing in the front yard waiting for me to pull in. Dad’s still sitting on the porch swing with a big smile on his face. I hop out as soon as I can put my car in park.

  “Mom, hi,” I sign, pushing the door closed with my hip before I hug her.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” she signs back at me.

  She keeps her arm around me as we walk up to the porch.

  “Hey, baby girl.” Dad signs. “Come here, let your old man get a good look at you.” I rush to Dad and he holds me at arm’s length. “I swear you’re still growing. You’ve grown a foot since I saw you last and you’ve gotten twice as pretty.” I beam, showing him nothing but teeth for the compliment, even though he says it every time he sees me. He goes and gets my bag from the front seat. “Where’s the sticker that tells people you can’t hear?” He asks coming back up the porch.

  “I lost it,” I sign. “I’ll pick up another one.”

  I go inside before he can say anything more about it. He’s been after me to have safety features added to my car to help me, but I won’t let him. I already feel bad that he’s paying the note every month. He should be thinking about retiring, not spending a small fortune on my transportation.