Give In To Me

by Lacey Alexander

  Just when she felt the pressure inside her beginning to fade, the phone chimed and she glanced down.

  DON’T FIGHT ME, GINGER. BE A GOOD GIRL AND COME TO ME.

  This time when she drew in her breath it was with a combination of rebellion and . . . temptation. Just a little. Because something in the demand did thrill her. Her body did pulse for him—there was no longer any denying their electrical chemistry.

  And she couldn’t help wondering, just for a few seconds, what it would be like if she went. The same as last time? Or different in some way.

  But then she got hold of herself and typed in: NO.

  And again his answer was slow in coming, and she’d begun to think he’d given up—when his reply arrived. WE BOTH KNOW YOU WILL. NO SHAME IN THAT. NO SHAME IN WANTING ME TO FUCK YOU. NO SHAME IN WANTING ME TO TAKE CARE OF YOU WHILE WE MAKE EACH OTHER FEEL GOOD.

  God. He made it sound so . . . almost innocent. So . . . not kinky. Well, except for the bossiness. Which both grated on her and . . . aroused her, damn it.

  She kept walking, putting one foot in front of the other on the packed, wet sand, considering her reply. Or maybe her reply would be no reply. That would show him a thing or two. Like who was in charge here. At least who was in charge of her.

  Of course, her heart beat like a drum in her chest. And her whole body seemed to pulse with that strange hunger he inspired in her. A hunger only he could feed. Her pussy felt like the biggest part of her body, aching for him to fill it. To fill all of her. Every naughty, lusty crack and crevice.

  She stopped walking, inexorably torn, and glanced back at the display on her phone. WE BOTH KNOW YOU WILL.

  Was she truly that weak? That predictable?

  No, she wasn’t. She wouldn’t be.

  Go back to your car. Now. Go home. Prove him wrong. Prove. Him. Wrong.

  And she had every intention of doing just that, heading back toward where she’d parked. She even turned around, facing northward on the beach again, the lights of tall hotels in the distance coming into view.

  But she stayed in place, her feet sinking into the sand. In the spot where she stood, it was a bit softer, giving way beneath her. Or maybe she’d just been moving too fast before to notice that if she stayed in one place for a moment, the earth beneath her became more yielding.

  Glancing across the beach toward the modern mishmash of condos and apartment buildings just beyond the sand, she wondered exactly how close she was to Rogan. Her heart beat harder still with the idea that he was very near. God, he’s like a magnet to me. And . . . had he somehow sensed her nearness, too? Is that what had made him text her right now, of all times?

  She shook her head. Quit being silly.

  But then she glanced at the nearby buildings again. And, like the lawyer she was, she began to turn everything over in her mind once more, but this time she was able to twist it, to think outside the box, to see it all in a brand new way.

  She’d just told herself she was in charge of herself. And if that was true . . . and if she wanted to answer him, wanted to be with him . . . if she wanted to give herself over to him the same way she had before, understanding the compulsion better now . . . well, then maybe to do so was . . . actually more of a strength than a weakness? Maybe trying to run away from her desires—even the kinky ones—was actually the weaker move here. Maybe the true way to show herself exactly how strong she could be was to . . . face what she wanted. Boldly. To stop resisting it.

  Ironically, maybe sometimes the strong thing to do was to . . . surrender.

  Her breath trembled at the realization, at the . . . acceptance.

  That she was going to surrender. Willingly this time. Because it was what she wanted. That simple.

  Her fingers quivered while she texted him back. I LIED. I’M AT THE BEACH, WALKING. She didn’t even pause before hitting Send.

  He answered right away. WHERE EXACTLY? And her chest constricted.

  Looking around, she tried to figure out how to describe a bunch of buildings that weren’t particularly unique: pastel stucco, stark, modern. But then she realized there were a couple of obvious landmarks. THERE’S A PARK UP AHEAD, OFF THE BEACH. LOTS OF TREES. AND A LIFEGUARD STATION. STRIPED. South Beach was sprinkled with more than a dozen colorful lifeguard huts, each unique in design and color.

  STAY WHERE YOU ARE, he texted.

  She drew in her breath once more. WHY?

  And trembled anew when his reply came. JUST BE MY GOOD GIRL AND STAY.

  She wanted to. Be his good girl. Just accept it. Just give in and let it be.

  So even though the text didn’t really require an answer, and even though there was something difficult—and final—about sending her simple response, she did anyway: OKAY.

  And in fact, she didn’t move an inch. She kept her feet rooted where they were, gradually sinking deeper and deeper into the soft, wet sand. It felt almost as if taking even one step in any direction might just unhinge her, send her running away still—and she didn’t want to run away. She wanted to stay. Be his good girl. See how amazing he would make her feel this time.

  She wasn’t sure exactly what direction he’d be coming from, but it was less than five minutes later when she spotted the dark figure crossing the beach toward her, coming from the direction of the park. This part of the beach was empty—she hadn’t passed anyone in a while, whether due to the hour growing later or the locale, she didn’t know. But she knew even before she could really see him that the man headed her way was her big bad wolf. Whom she wanted to please right now in a way that went beyond reason.

  Neither said a word as he approached, and she tried to tell herself the way her skin tingled was simply because of the sea breeze—but she knew it was his nearness; it was the wild anticipation in every nerve ending in her body.

  Stepping up close to her, he lifted his hand to her cheek—his touch warm and sure—and bent to kiss her. Firm, solid, but not lengthy kisses. Warm and delicious. The crux of her thighs flared with delight as the sensation spread through her.

  Then he lifted his other hand to her face so that he was cupping it between them, and he said, low and deep, “You’re going to behave and do what I tell you tonight, right?”

  And the moment felt surreal to her even as she nodded.

  And then he said, “Good girl. Now get on your knees. And suck my cock.”

  Chapter 12

  Even now, April wanted desperately to be offended. To just pull back her arm and slap him. But she didn’t. Because she was beginning to understand—this was how the game worked. And it was only a game. Only a game. And one she’d decided she wanted to play, right?

  Still, though, she looked past him, up the moonlit beach, to make sure they were alone.

  “Don’t look around,” he said quietly. “Just do what I said.”

  She bit her lip, caught off guard by that. By the idea that his commands over her—if she was going to continue this arrangement—usurped even her normal sense of caution, the ability to make sure no one would see her in a sexual act. The reality that, if she was giving herself up to him, it had to go that far.

  But she still wanted him. And she wanted—unaccountably badly—to do what he’d just demanded.

  So without being fully sure this was private, she tossed her belongings a few feet away in the sand and dropped softly to her knees.

  She’d never felt so keenly aware of every sensual detail. Her bare knees sank moistly into the wet sand, digging in slightly. Her eyes landed squarely on the bulge in front of her, hidden by denim but clearly large and hard. Her breasts ached with desire as a salt-scented breeze lifted her hair, cooling the skin on her neck.

  Her hands shook a bit as she reached to undo his belt, then his jeans, but she didn’t let it slow or embarrass her. He surely knew her well enough by now to expect her to be a little nervous.

  When, after she’d lowered his zipper, his erection practically sprang from the confines of his underwear, her heart lurched. The sight of hi
s rigid shaft jutting from black boxer briefs that apparently couldn’t hold him lacked elegance—and yet she’d never been hungrier in her life.

  Heart beating hard, breath ragged, she didn’t hesitate. Because she knew if she did, she might stop. And she wanted to fling herself headlong into this now. She wanted this adventure, this experience—all of it. Using one hand to pull his underwear the rest of the way down, she wrapped the other fully around his long, hard cock and drew it toward her. Taking one last shaky breath, she peered down at the drop of pre-come on the tip, then boldly licked it off, like licking an ice-cream cone.

  A soft, low moan echoed from the man above her and seemed to sink down into her soul, like praise, like a pat on the head. It spurred her on, made her even hungrier.

  And so she lowered her mouth onto him, taking in first the head, then more, more. She filled her mouth with as much of his cock as she could take in and let herself simply feel the pleasant fullness, the dirty thrill of it. And then she began to move her mouth up and down, delighting in the slick glide. The breeze, the smell of the air, the sound of the tide—all reminded her that she was out in the open, giving a man a blow job, and that somehow made it more exciting, increasing the pinpricks of exhilaration moving up her arms.

  Above her, Rogan released still more low sounds of pleasure, telling her, “That’s right, babe, that’s right—suck my cock. Suck it good. That’s so, so good.”

  God help her, she loved his adulations, and it made her work harder, want more desperately to pleasure him.

  At some point, she felt the cool rush of water around her knees, toes. Not much—the tide had just washed in a bit harder this time, making it slightly higher onto the beach—but it turned out going into the water a little wasn’t so horrible, after all. And it somehow made her feel all the more fully immersed in the moment.

  “Look at me, my face,” he told her. “I want to see you going down on me.”

  She leaned back slightly, raised her eyes in the darkness.

  He groaned in response. And then he began to take a little more control over the situation, with slow, soft plunges into her mouth.

  His thrusts were slightly deeper than she’d taken him on her own, and more than once she feared gagging, but at the same time she concentrated on relaxing, accepting, pleasing—and it never happened. Each time he drove toward her throat, she focused on how much she wanted him there, how strangely easy it was to submit to him, let him take over. The rhythmic sound of gentle waves washing in, out, in, out, lulled her, along with the slightly faster rhythm he took on with his strokes between her lips.

  Rogan didn’t know how long he’d been fucking her mouth—he was too lost in it. Or maybe the part he was lost in was . . . her amazing acquiescence. The way she peered up at him now, so docile and sweet and obedient. The way she’d come back to him when they were texting, telling him she’d lied because she wanted him, too. The way she was finally, finally, giving in to him, totally and completely.

  It fueled the hottest, darkest fires within him. And it made him want to push her. Maybe that was cruel in a way—maybe he should let tonight be easier for her—but his instincts told him no, that what they both needed was to take advantage of this situation, to show her just how submissive she could really be. That, he understood with startling clarity, was what this was going to be about: pushing her boundaries and bringing them both more and more pleasure.

  Soon he feared he would come in her mouth—and as inviting as that sounded, he wasn’t even close to done here yet, so even though it wasn’t easy, he placed his hands on her head and eased her back, off his cock. It stood wet and hard between them, and he thought she’d never looked lovelier to him, her lips slightly swollen and her eyes wanting. He could make out the blue tint even in the moonlight.

  What pleased him even more was the realization that she was simply waiting to see what came next, what he next wanted from her. She really had become his good girl, and he liked that. A lot.

  “Pick up your stuff and come with me,” he told her, giving her just enough time to grab her purse and shoes before holding down a hand to help her up.

  Without bothering to zip his pants or allowing her the additional few seconds it would take to brush the wet sand off her knees, he led her up the beach toward the park she’d mentioned in her text. His apartment was a stone’s throw from the beach park—a well-manicured rectangle of land sporting a large playground, restrooms, and a walking path. He didn’t have a particular plan but just felt the urge to get out of the sand, which he knew could be gritty when fucking. And he definitely intended to fuck her.

  The truth was, he experienced the urge to tie her up, hold her down, just like last time. He’d not gone into this relationship with that in mind, but now that things had evolved that way, the kinky desire remained, his dick growing even harder at the very thought. But this wasn’t the time or place for that, nor did he have anything to tie her with—and he knew, as he’d just learned on the beach, that there were other ways to force her submissive side out into the open where they could both enjoy it.

  He led her past towering palm trees to the playground, where an elaborate array of tubes and slides resided beneath the shade of a large, brightly colored sail. Once there, he took the things she carried from her and wordlessly tossed them in the grass.

  “Take off your clothes,” he told her.

  Then watched as she gasped. “Here?” she asked in little more than a whisper. “What if . . . ?”

  “Just do it, April,” he said. Not too harshly. But with enough authority in his voice that he knew she’d heard it. And that she would obey.

  It was odd to him—he didn’t know her very well at all, and yet he knew her well enough that a rough thrill surged through him from head to toe as she began to undress. Because this wasn’t anything she’d ever done before—not even close; he could feel that. Not just the dominant/submissive thing, but he knew in his bones that April Pediston had never been naked outside before. Let alone in an area so public. Yet the park was closed at night, so he was reasonably sure they’d have enough privacy. And the sail above the playground would keep anyone in surrounding buildings from glancing out a window and catching sight of the private party taking place down here. But even so, he couldn’t guarantee they’d be left alone the whole time. And it required guts for her to do this. And that made him like her all the more. And want her all the more.

  He never took his eyes off her as she removed her beaded tank top over her head, then let it drop to the ground next to her. She watched him, too, the connection of their gazes just as powerful as always, even if they were shrouded in more darkness than usual right now. But there were a few lights in the park, enough that he could see how inexplicably pretty she looked standing before him in simple khaki shorts and an aqua-colored bra with a lace bow between the cups.

  “Shorts now,” he whispered, watching as she reached down and began to undo them. A second later, a soft push sent them falling around her ankles and she stepped free of them, leaving her in bra and panties—the panties simple cotton, bikini style, bearing pink and aqua flowers.

  “I like your panties,” he told her, his voice coming out deep.

  She seemed barely able to draw a breath to answer, but managed, “Thank you.”

  “Now take them off,” he said.

  She hesitated for only a second, maybe two, but then pushed the underwear down. Her pubic hair was a slightly paler shade than the hair on her head.

  “Bra, too,” he told her—and she reached behind her, unhooking it, then gently let it fall from her shoulders and away.

  And hell—the sight of her almost stole his breath.

  “Damn, honey, you’re beautiful.”

  She stood before him looking truly stunned, and it was then that he realized maybe he’d never told her that before. And it seemed like a gross oversight on his part—since she should know.

  “You really are, Ginger. Fucking beautiful.”

  “T
hank you,” she whispered again, looking vulnerable and amazingly brave at the same time. Her nipples stood as pointed and erect as his dick, and this was actually one of the only times he’d had the opportunity to pause and really take in the sight of her full, pale breasts. “You have great tits,” he told her. “I want to slide my cock in between them.”

  A small sound of passion escaped her lips—unbidden, he thought. Maybe no other guy had fucked her tits before. Maybe she’d never even thought about it but instantly realized she liked the idea. And maybe he liked the idea of being the first.

  “Sit down on the end of the slide,” he said, pointing to the nearest one.

  She looked a little nervous, uneasy, but did as he told her. And he couldn’t help thinking she looked all the more lovely in her vulnerability, and he reveled in the knowledge that she was opening herself up, putting herself out there like this, for him.

  Had anyone ever done that before? Made themselves so vulnerable, so open, just for him, just to please him? Mira maybe, at certain moments in time. Maybe even the last time he’d seen her, at that cabin in Michigan where he’d made one last play for her love. And he knew the ways she’d let herself open to him then, the things they’d done together, had indeed been difficult for her—but this, with April, felt different. More extreme.

  Because April barely knew him—as she liked to keep reminding him. And April was a naturally much more constricted person than Mira—after all, his very first impression of her had been that she was buttoned-up, and that had been about a lot more than just her business suit.

  And yet, here she was, trusting him. Because when you came right down to it, that’s really what this was about. Control, yes. But also trust. An immense amount of it was required from her right now and he’d never truly realized that until he watched her taking a seat, completely naked, on the bottom of a silver slide. And somehow it aroused him all the more even as, deep inside, it also touched him in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

  “Now . . . spread your legs for me.” In a way, the command was difficult to make right now, because of the unexpected tenderness for her currently rushing through him. And yet the power she gave him came into play, too. Neither of them would be as satisfied if he went easy on her, even if she didn’t quite realize that. Giving him that power meant she wanted him to take it, use it, fully. “As wide as you can,” he added, to make sure she understood exactly what he was asking of her.