Reluctant Surrender

by Riley Murphy

  “Yes. There’s erotic, corrective or disciplinary.”

  Her fingers started scooping again. “Which one is the least painful?”

  He grinned. “Why are you asking? Do you think when the time comes you’ll get to choose?”

  “Maybe.” She used her index finger and traced the outline of his ear.

  “Colin, you can sheath your come-hither look and teasy little touches because you don’t get to choose.” He was glad when she didn’t stop, but took his earlobe between her index finger and thumb and rubbed. “How painful one is as opposed to another is irrelevant because it’s how much can be endured that’s the issue.”

  “Do you like causing pain?”

  “Yes.”

  She hissed in a breath, dropped her hand and would have stepped back if he didn’t have hold of her. “That’s not nice.”

  “Is that what you want, Colin? A nice guy?” He held on to her, even while she tried to step away from his hands. Slowly but firmly he moved his palms up the back of her thighs. One inch above that crease. Two inches. “I’m not nice, Colin. I’ll make you do things. Want things and admit things that you’ve kept secret and guarded in the deepest part of your soul. By the time I’ve opened up that part of you, you’ll be happy to become the naughty and dirty girl I know you want to be.”

  “No…”

  He inched his hands up higher and higher still. When he reached her bottom he cupped her cheeks and squeezed.

  “Oh.” She swayed and barely managed to grab hold of his shoulders again.

  “I want you to try really hard to be my naughty girl.” He shoved his hands up and hooked his fingers around the waistband of her panties. Without breaking eye contact with her he drew them down. “I want you dirty. I want you to watch porn and think about me paddling your ass until it’s warm and pink from the smacks.”

  When he reached her knees he let the panties go and they slid all the way to the floor. “Step out of them.” When she did he clicked his tongue and let her go. “I didn’t tell you to kick them aside. Pick them up and give them to me.”

  “Stop. Here,” he instructed, helping her to her knees, “reach over. On your hands and knees. That’s right. Like that. Bottom up, Colin, and shoulders dipped toward the floor.”

  He caressed the curve of her ass, feeling each mound through the straining fabric of her skirt. Upward he moved, over the base of her spine, and let his hand slide down in the direction of her sexy dip. “You’ll hold a beautiful position when I teach it to you.”

  Once she had the panties she got up on her knees and turned back into the spread of his lap. Seeing her in that position made his cock pound hard with a violent need to get into her. And watching as she folded those panties and held them out to him reminded him that getting into her today was not on the agenda. He shouldn’t have pushed this as far as he had, but with her watching porn and being a brat about it, he couldn’t help the little sidetrack they’d taken. But it was enough for now.

  Accepting the silk, he stuffed it into his back pocket. Then he offered her his hand and helped her up. He almost changed his mind about going slow with her when he spied the stunning flush to her cheeks and her glassy eyes. Damn, the urge to fuck her was nearly overwhelming. Exactly why he needed to back off. “I think it’s time we have some lunch and then our game of chess.”

  She gave a shaky nod, but when her gaze dropped to the floor as he stood, he had to hold back the urge to put her over his desk. She was the perfect measure of shy meets tiger and the intoxicating combination made him want to strip her bare and put some stripes on her ass. Before he was tempted he stepped around her and asked, “Are you coming? You can have first move of the game.”

  * * * * *

  Colin had just finished brushing her teeth after lunch when her phone rang. She stepped into the bedroom and picked it up.

  “Hi, Jo.”

  “So, how’s it going? Are you still there or have you come to your senses?”

  She sat on the bed, stretched out her bare legs and crossed one ankle over the other. “He caught me watching internet porn.”

  Silence.

  “Jo?”

  “I gotta say, Collie, I’m liking this guy more and more. He’s a positive influence on you. Porn? Kewl.”

  “I was mortified.”

  “Why? Don’t tell me he made a big deal of it.”

  “Yes. No.”

  “What do you mean by yes and no?”

  “He asked me if I’d been a naughty girl—”

  “Ooh, delicious.”

  “And when I refused to answer him because I thought the question was demeaning he called me on each of the sites I viewed. It was awful.”

  “It sounds dreamy to me, but it does make me wonder. Why were you watching internet porn this morning?”

  Colin figured it was time to come clean with her friend. If she was hoping to get any support from her, Jo needed to know the truth. “I’ve agreed to let him draw out my natural submissive tendencies.”

  “Hot damn, he’s good. Wrong about you, but good. Have fun with it.”

  Colin closed her eyes and admitted the truth to Jo for the first time. “He’s not wrong about me. I’ve been curious about the lifestyle for a long time now. I was just too scared to admit it.”

  There was a long pause before, as usual, Jo digested the facts and accepted them without judgment. “You couldn’t have picked a better guy to help you out with that. Are you sure, though? You’re one bad-ass bitch when provoked. I thought submissive women were doormats.”

  She smiled and opened her eyes. It felt good to speak the truth. “I’m pretty sure I am. We’ll see. And from what I’ve researched about the concept of submission, it’s all about strength, not weakness.”

  “Does this mean you’re going to fuck Mr. GQ at some point?”

  She thought about Ethan. How he’d devoured her with his gaze as he’d taken down her undies. How his voice sent chills zipping through her and she sighed. “I sure hope so.”

  “Make it happen, Collie. Don’t push him away. Lighten up and whatever you do, don’t fall for him. It would never work between you guys. You want a one-woman man and he’s…well, The Hypnotist.”

  “You heard about that?”

  “Sure. Is it true?”

  “Yes.”

  Jo let out a breath and said, “Then you have to be careful.”

  Colin quickly changed the subject because there was no way she was going to tell Jo that being careful was the furthest thing from her mind. She’d been careful most of her life and where had that gotten her? Screwed over at the altar. Nope, best not share the plan she was going with because Jo would freak out.

  * * * * *

  Ethan set up the chess board, waiting for Colin to finish freshening up after lunch, when his phone rang.

  “Hi, Ted.”

  “Hey, I didn’t expect you to answer. I just got to the cabin. How’s it going?”

  “Interesting.”

  “In a good or bad way?”

  Ethan thought about Colin watching porn and smiled. “All good.”

  “Ah, so The Iron Lady’s not so tough.”

  “I didn’t say that. Believe me she’s tough, stubborn and bratty. Right now she’s swinging, but I’ll get her pinned down and focused soon enough.”

  “I don’t care what she looks like. Sounds like a challenge. You lucky bastard.”

  “Don’t I know it? Is there any of my brandy there?”

  “Let me…yep.”

  “Good. I may stop by later tonight to pick it up.”

  “When do you start with her?”

  “Tomorrow. Tonight I’m looking for some insight. She’s complicated and wary.”

  “You like her.”

  Ethan sighed, relieved that Ted had brought the subject up. “Very much.”

  “You told me to ask, so, in more than a mentor way?”

  “Yes, I’m not going to lie.”

  “Then be careful, buddy. She’s
new to all this. She doesn’t know what to expect so she won’t be questioning your methods. You’re on your own figuring out how deep to go in training her.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “You fucking lucky bastard! Maybe I need to troll the vanilla scene and see if I can find an Iron Lady to melt.”

  * * * * *

  A few hours later Colin sat on a kitchen stool, watching Ethan work. She’d given up being miffed over how quickly he’d beaten her at chess, taking small comfort in the fact that he hadn’t skunked her. She did get more than three of his men before he announced checkmate. Now he was firing fifty questions at her and she was trying to keep up with the randomness of the topics.

  “In your blog post articles, how much of what you write is true as opposed to embellished or outright fiction?”

  Random all right. His last question to her was about her cat. “My blog is a personal account of the events I attend and the people I meet. I tell it as I see it. I like to be authentic.”

  “Yet you hide behind a made-up persona?”

  “I like my privacy.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “I’m better at being Riling Rita than I am at being me.”

  The silence that followed that statement was deafening. What a sad and pathetic thing to say. Time to do some damage control. “Er, um…that is to say, sometimes.”

  The knife he held stopped mid-chop and God love him, he changed the subject. “So, you find my dreamy green eyes melt worthy and my physique? What did you say about my physique, I can’t recall?”

  Those dreamy green orbs set her on fire as he stared at her. This subject wasn’t much better. “You read that post too?”

  “I’ve read all your posts. I have them on rss feed.”

  “All?” Her voice squeaked as her palms slapped the granite.

  He nodded.

  She needed to get hold of herself. There was nothing wrong with him reading her ramblings. Although when she wrote them as Riling Rita she was a stranger broadcasting to strangers and that somehow was liberating. Him knowing who she was personally and that those were her gripes about life on her blog made her feel claustrophobic. “Your physique? I, ah, don’t recall.”

  “I think it’s coming back to me. I recall the word stunning…”

  Her index finger started tapping the counter of its own accord and she eyed it as she worked out how best to answer. “Oh. That was fiction.”

  He took up chopping the vegetables again, thank heavens, but then he asked, “Did John have a to-die-for physique too?”

  “God no! He—” She was just about to say he’d been too skinny for his height when she realized he was baiting her. “Very funny.”

  “I thought we’d have an early dinner and take the boat into town for a drink.”

  When he put aside the vegetables and pulled out a pair of black gloves from a drawer, she asked, “A drink? Sure, but I don’t really drink.”

  “That’s good because tonight is the only night you’ll be allowed to. I wouldn’t recommend you drinking too much though, given your nerves.”

  He put on the gloves and she swallowed, trying to stay focused. She’d never seen black gloves before other than in the movies just before the heroine died. But those were leather and these were… What the heck were they? Latex? She was straining to confirm this as fact when he snapped the second one on and she deflated. Yep, latex.

  “I’m finished with dinner prep. I have one item to see to and then I’ll start the fish.” He withdrew a small paper bag out of another drawer. “While I’m doing this I want you to go to your en suite bath and paint your finger and toenails with the polish I’ve picked out for you.”

  He held out the bag, but as fixated on the gloves as she was, it took her a few seconds to react. The moment she accepted the bag he went on.

  “You’ll find everything you need. Polish remover, cotton balls and a nice matte cherry-chocolate paint.”

  She was going ask him if he was serious. He looked intent enough as he turned his attention to rummaging through another bag on the counter. Why he would want her to change the color she just had done two days ago at the salon was baffling. There wasn’t a chip or a smudge anywhere. “I just had a mani and pedi done.”

  “Yes, but I don’t like frosted polish on you. The effect is noncommittal.” He swung around. “What you’re wearing looks as if it’s a prelude.”

  “Prelude?” She curled her fingers over her palms and examined the shade of misty pink passion shining with bits of glitter. Prelude? She shook her head.

  “That non-statement color looks like something I’d prime my walls with before I did the real color.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she didn’t know what to say to that.

  “I was careful to pick a shade that will highlight your beautiful skin.”

  Snapping her jaw shut, she peeked in the bag and spying the purple-black in the bottle, she frowned. “I’ve never worn anything darker than coral and only then because it was the color the bride chose for us bridesmaids. Are you sure this won’t look Frankenstein-ish on me?”

  It was his turn to shake his head. “Do you have a monster fetish I should know about? First the mummy reference and now this?”

  She should really hate the fact that he remembered everything because when she was nervous, as she usually was around him, she said a lot of silly things. But she didn’t. Instead it made her feel important. As if what she had to say mattered. Silly or not. She loved that. Instead of answering him she changed the subject. “Is that ginger root?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you using that tonight?” She’d never had raw ginger with anything but sushi. As he examined the craggy root that looked like a small fist, she got a funny chill. Maybe it was the way he was handling it, or it could have been those gloves. Either way, she still squirmed. When he dropped it into a plastic baggie, sealed it up tight and put it in the vegetable crisper without cutting any off she figured it wasn’t ready to be used. “Not ripe enough?”

  “It will be by Thursday.”

  There was that look. The one that burned her from inside out and back again. Latching on to the distraction of him taking off gloves she blurted, “Do you always handle ginger with gloves on?”

  He stacked the pair and put them back in the drawer. “It’s a habit. You really only need the protection when you take the skin off it. It’s nasty stuff if you get the juice on your hands and don’t ask if it gets in your eyes. Have you handled raw ginger before?”

  “No. I’ve had shaved ginger with my sushi, but otherwise I use powered for recipes.”

  “If you like, I can show you another way to prepare it on Thursday.”

  It was hard not to agree. He made it sound as if the process was a privilege not many got the chance to share. “Sure. I’m always up for trying something different.”

  They stared at each other for a few seconds, neither speaking, but the silence was comfortable. Easy. Much like the whole afternoon. He was strange, there was no doubt about that. She’d accused him of being mysterious and nailed that about him without even realizing it. But there was something else too. When they’d had lunch and played chess there’d been a sense of calm. A no-stress zone around him that wore off on her and in a good way. Actually if she were going to describe the feeling in one of her blog’s posts? She’d say she felt as if she’d been on vacation.

  “Colin, be a good girl and go do your nails. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

  With those words her insides were back to being jelly. Before she made a complete ass of herself and said something stupid or worse, did what she wanted to do and went to him for a hug, she slid off the stool and nodded. When his eyes twinkled over that sexy grin of his, her knees wobbled and it took every ounce of strength she had not to fall on her face.

  “Colin?” She stopped but didn’t turn around. “Take off those panties before you return to me. I didn’t give you permission to replac
e the ones from this morning.”

  Now she spun around. “How did you know?”

  “I’m not a big fan of panty lines. They ruin my view.”

  Her hand instantly went to her backside as she brushed over the slight ridges her undergarment created.

  “In the future, sweetheart, when I take something from you, you’re not allowed to replace it or have it back until I say so. Is that clear?”

  It sure was and so was the concept of a woman needing to be a pillar of strength to be able to submit to a man. Because right now? She was using all her strength not to tell him to go to hell. That wouldn’t go over well, she was thinking. So, she pressed her lips together, bit the side of her cheek and nodded.

  Two seconds later she quickened her pace as his chuckle echoed behind her down the hall…the bugger.

  Chapter Eight

  Ethan put the plate down in front of her and waited. Sure enough…

  “What’s this?”

  “Kale.”

  She made such a disgusted face he had to work hard not to smile. This was a lesson, though, so there was no smiling allowed.

  “I ain’t eating this.” She picked up one chip and examined it with an eww-yuck expression. “Besides, you overdid it. It’s hard.” She tapped it against her plate a couple of times. When the food shattered, he sighed.

  “These are baked kale chips. They’re good for you.” Placing his hand over hers, the one that bashed the chip, he gently squeezed. “I only gave you a few. I want you to eat them. All of them.”

  “All right.” This was drawn out dramatically and sensing the attached “but”, he waited for her to finish. “I might puke though.”

  He stared down at the top of her head while she hunched over her plate and again wondered what it was about her that stroked him. So far he’d learned that she was a jittery, clumsy mess when she was nervous. A condition she was constantly in when around him. She had a penchant for porn. Her grammar and vocabulary took a nosedive when she was being obstinate and that fucking bun on her head was glued in the same location with no seeming variation and yet, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.

  Maybe he had a Professor Higgins complex.