The carnal tone of his voice made me all the hotter. “Only one.” My words were breathy.
“I’ll have to be gentle, careful, then.”
“Not too gentle,” I blurted.
Another sexy laugh. “Gentle at first, until you stretch for me.”
I watched him drop his pants and boxer briefs to his ankles. A massive, veiny cock slapped against the bottom of his shirt. The head was plump and dark pink. It glistened from a sheen of pre-cum. He watched me as he put the condom on, taking his time rolling the sheathe down his long, meaty shaft. I licked my lips and moaned at the torture.
Finally he nudged his thick glans into my seeping pussy. I let out a long groan of release as he did so. He clutched at my hair, yanking my head back as he slowly filled me with every inch of his shaft. My cunt walls constricted around his thrusts, milking his cock of every bit of pleasure it could give.
“So unbelievably tight,” he growled as his thrusts picked up pace.
I stretched to accommodate him. My snug pussy squished as he fucked me harder and I grew wetter and wetter. His cock was curved, so the head easily found my g-spot and pounded, stroked, until a sublime pressure built.
I closed my eyes, lost in the throes of bliss while he played with my clit and made carnal love to me. But they flew open, and I gasped, when he slapped my ass sharply once more. The sting was both pleasant and unpleasant, and it made my sex throb stronger still.
Now he gripped my hair with one hand and the makeup counter with the other. His cock slammed me faster and faster, like he was a great beast lost to his heat now. The intense pressure building deep inside me burst. It felt like I would pee myself, and I let out a shrill shriek as the most intense orgasm I had ever had exploded inside of me, showering me with ecstasy.
He pulled out and went to his knees once more to lick me clean. I shivered and shook and cried, still sensitive from three orgasms. My swollen sex could barely take this further stimulation, and it was so intense I had a fourth orgasm in no time.
He helped me up from the counter and gathered me in his arms. I sat on his lap in the makeup chair, and he reached beside us to grab a box out of a massive, shiny gift bag. He handed me the gift, wrapped in gleaming foil embossed with hearts.
“What’s this?” I beamed.
“Open it and find out.” He winked.
I tore the paper away carefully, like my step mom had taught me. We could never rip into Christmas gifts because she always saved the wrapping for next year. But Chris told me to “tear into it,” so, with a gleeful grin, I did.
I lost my breath when I saw what lay inside. It was an elegant glass slipper with a diamond studded bow at the back. Inside of it was a slip of paper. I pulled it out and opened it.
“My cell and home phone numbers,” he said. “Now you have no excuse to dump me ever again.”
I blushed and grinned, then I kissed him soundly.
***
If you enjoyed these BDSM fairy tales, check out our other bdsm paranormal romances in Fifty Shades of Fairy Tales Omnibus. Or if you’re a fan of all types of BDSM romance, be sure to pick up our various volumes of the Surrender Series: Surrender Forever, Surrender Ever After, Surrender To His Command, Surrender To His Game, Surrender To His Proposition, Surrender To His Demands, and Surrender To His Pleasure. Or you can get all these books in one with the Surrender Series Boxed Set.
Surrender To His Pleasure
(Surrender Series Volume 7. A Surrender Novella.)
By Anita Lawless
“And then she said ‘Your dress is too short, honey,” the little blonde at his side chirped. “Can you believe it? Who is she to tell me whether my dress is too short or not…”
Her words melted into the blur of voices surrounding him. At one time, Nash would’ve already sweet talked her phone number out of her. She was cute, even if she was a chronic chirper. Instead he just let the woman yammer on about whatever and gave a noncommittal “Ummhmm,” when he thought he should. His mind wasn’t on getting laid tonight. Hadn’t been on it in a while. Not since Fiona walked out of his life six months ago.
Sure, there had been women. There had been sex. But every partner he took to his bed wore her face. His ex-wife was determined to haunt him to his grave.
His brother Thomas appeared in the crowd and moved swiftly toward him. Just as the little blonde wrapped a hand around his bicep, Thomas stopped in front of him.
“You busy?” Thomas’ gaze darted from Nash to the blonde.
“Nah, what do you need?” Nash stood up and the little blonde pouted. He murmured, “Sorry, honey,” to the tiny chirper and then focused on his brother/boss.
“Got a situation in one of the private rooms.” He pointed a thumb toward the balcony that wrapped around the second floor of the club. “I need some muscle to back me up.”
Nash called to Bernie, who was deep in conversation with a curvy brunette near the bar. “Take over for me.”
Bernie nodded and left the lady to take up Nash’s post. The little blonde brightened when the tall, well muscled Scandinavian took the stool Nash just vacated. She reached up and rubbed Bernie’s bald head and snuggled close.
Nash followed his brother through the crowd toward the wrought iron, spiral staircase that led to the private rooms. He’d worked as a bouncer at Claim Me, a Surrender Inc. BDSM club, for a few months now. His brother bought the place to add to his list of investments. Thomas mainly earned his money in casinos—something Nash teased him about, saying this made him a walking cliché: an aboriginal who acquired his wealth through a string of gambling joints. But now he was moving into the domination and submission trade with this place. Then main floor was a night club, complete with a bar, dance floor, booming hip hop, and bodies writhing. Scattered through it were faux rooms with glass walls through which patrons could watch BDSM scenes. A femdom flogging her submissive. A towering dom spanking his mistress. Whatever your pleasure, Claim Me had it. But the real action happened in the private rooms upstairs.
Thomas led him to Room 9 and stopped before he turned the knob. “The woman’s got a gun. She’s holding one of my best switches and her client hostage. We have to be careful.”
Nash frowned. “I thought you said you screened everyone thoroughly. How the hell did this shit get in?”
Thomas sighed. “The guy lied. Told us his divorce was final. Said his wife wasn’t cool with spanking him, so he had to get it elsewhere. Everything checked out. Anyway… See for yourself.”
Thomas opened the door and the screeching started.
“Get out! This is between me and them.” A pretty woman in tight jeans and a leather jacket whirled toward them, pointing a pistol right at Nash’s waist. At six foot seven, the woman would have to look up and aim higher to get his chest.
“Ma’am, put the gun down.” Thomas took another step into the room. “We can all talk about this in my office.”
When Nash’s gaze swept to the pair she was holding hostage, his stomach tightened and his heart squeezed in his chest, but he didn’t show it. Instead he stared at his ex-wife, Fiona, and she stared back with a riding crop poised just above the bare ass of her balding client.
“Rebecca!” the prone man shouted at his distraught wife. “Put the gun down and get out of here now. I won’t press charges if you just walk away.”
“You promised we’d try and work things out.” The lady with blonde chunks running through her black hair sobbed.
“Sweetie, there is nothing left to work out,” her husband continued. “We both tried. But we’re from different worlds. I need this.” With his head, he motioned to the riding crop Fiona had ready to strike. “You can’t do it. Opposites attract, sure, but they don’t always make it for the long haul.”
While the husband tried to talk her down, and Rebecca’s focus was solely on the man, Nash managed to slip around behind her slowly. For a big man, he was stealthy. He remembered when he and Fiona lived together he could often sneak up behind her without his wi
fe realizing. She used to say he was too light on his feet for her own good.
“Put the gun down, ma’am.” Nash wrapped a big hand around Rebecca’s and forced her to point the weapon at the ground before she could react.
A shot went off, booming through the room and piercing the hardwood beneath them.
“Fuck!” Thomas shouted. “Get that gun away from this crazy bitch.” Then he ran out of the room to see if anyone was wounded below, leaving Nash to deal with his ex and the mess alone.
Rebecca was reduced to tears and easily gave up the pistol as Nash led her to a spanking bench and sat her down.
Fiona helped her client out of his straps and he quickly dressed then came over to his wife. He glanced warily at Nash as he spoke, “I’m so sorry. I’ll get her out of here.”
Thomas reappeared just as the man was leading his wife toward the door. He glared down at the guy. “Consider your membership cancelled. I better never see your face in here again.”
The guy nodded and mumbled something before he and his crying wife disappeared.
Thomas heaved a sigh of relief and ran his fingers through his blue-black hair. Nash looked at him then at Fiona. She cleared her throat, glanced down at the riding crop she still held. His ex-wife was scorching hot in a tight black corset and leather pants that clung to her curves. Her red hair fell in a cloud of curls around her pale, freckled shoulders. He wanted her so bad in that moment.
And he hated his brother for not telling him Fiona was here.
Nash gave Thomas an accusatory glare.
Thomas smirked. “What? I figured you two would run into each other eventually.” Then he shoved his hands in the pockets of his expensive dress pants and walked out.
Nash stared at her. She stared back. As if willing him to be the first to look away, she held his gaze and refused to blink.
The last thing Fiona needed was a surprise like this. She hadn’t seen Nash Falcon in over six months, though she’d tried to get a hold of him after the accident. Damn, he was as gorgeous as she remembered—all towering muscles, brown skin, and hair and eyes as black as midnight. She hated herself for wanting him so badly. Her heart sped up at the sight of him and her lower belly tingled, but she refused to show it.
“What’re you doing here?” he snapped.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“My brother owns the place.”
She bit her bottom lip, as if physically chewing on her words. No way would she tell him why she was working in Thomas’ BDSM club. But she didn’t need to give him a reason anyway. She owed him nothing. Their relationship was over because he was a hypocrite and she was stubborn.
“How’ve you been?” she asked.
“Changing the subject.” Nash shook his head as he sat on the edge of the spanking bench. “Classic Fiona.”
Anger spiked in her belly. “You did a lot of subject changing during our marriage. Nice to know you’re still a hypocrite.”
This sent him flying to his feet. “I am not a hypocrite.”
She took a step closer. “But you do have double standards.”
Their argument referred to the situation that broke their marriage. Nash had been a player. Fiona knew that when she married him, so she’d insisted if they were going to have an open marriage it had to be open on both ends. Nash wouldn’t stand for that. He could sleep with other women, but Fiona was his and his alone. Fiona said to hell with that. If he could mess around with other females then she could take home other males. Nash went nuclear at the idea.
“You’re my wife!” he screamed one night, just before the divorce, as she was packing her things up in their two bedroom townhouse.
She’d whirled on him. “And you’re my husband! If you want a threesome, want to sleep with other people, then I should get the same fringe benefits. This marriage has to be equal. And since you can’t handle that, I’m leaving.”
Nash had broached the subject of a ménage a trios. Fiona and him with another woman. Fiona had agreed, just so long as Nash returned the favor. Nash said no way. And if her husband couldn’t treat her as an equal in all aspects of their relationship, Fiona wouldn’t stay with him.
“I loved you!” he shouted now, dragging her back to the present. “We could’ve worked things out if you had stayed.”
“We tried, Nash.” She sighed and placed a hand just below his chest. “You wouldn’t budge. Neither would I. And I got tired of catching you in bed with other women. We became oil and water.”
He sneered. “You could’ve at least called after the accident.”
She slapped him hard in the gut then. “I tried! You didn’t answer my calls. And how about when I came to the hospital, hmmm? You told them I wasn’t family so they wouldn’t let me in. The divorce wasn’t even final yet.”
He let out an ‘oof’ from her punch and his shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry.”
She rubbed the spot she’d hit. “So am I.”
He sat again on the bench, took her hand, and this time she joined him.
“How’s it going at Strength Inc.?” He couldn’t look at her when he asked.
Her throat tightened in time with her stomach. She couldn’t tell him the truth. “Good. I’m managing less fighters these days. So I came here. Wanted to try something different.”
Strength Inc. held a big place in their lives during their three year marriage. Nash and Fiona had met back when he was still working with the rez police on the reservation he’d grown up at. On weekends, he’d come to the matches a local wrestling circuit held. She was a promoter with the small time organization and she’d spotted the massive man not long after he attended his first event. She’d approached him, asked if he’d ever thought of getting in the ring? Nash had told her he’d carried a lifelong dream to be a fighter and she’d encouraged it, taking him all the way to the International Fighting World Championship. He’d been a mixed martial arts star in no time.
But that was before the divorce, and the motorcycle accident that left him with major spinal cord trauma and a leg broken in eight places. The trauma was bad enough that, despite physical therapy, Nash would never be able to fight professionally again.
“Truce?” he said, holding out his hand.
She smiled. She wanted that. For them to at least be friends. “Sure.” But instead of taking his hand, she stretched her short arms around his massive torso and wrapped him in a hug.
He smelled so good—a mixture of something spicy with sandalwood underneath. His warm skin melted her. His touch brought comfort, felt like home.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and gazed up at him. For a moment, all the pain and betrayal were forgotten. Her fingers slid over his grizzled jaw, sweep up his high cheekbones, and she pulled him close for a kiss.
Their lips molded together perfectly. They anticipated each other’s movements as if they’d never been separated. She sucked on his bottom lip while his tongue flit inside her mouth then explored. His big hands roamed up her back and she pressed closer to him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders.
Someone near the door cleared their throat.
A burly man almost as tall as Nash stood just inside the threshold, leaning against the entrance with arms crossed over his brown, naked chest. His aquamarine eyes flashed fire in Nash’s direction. Light brown hair streaked blond fell to his shoulders. The guy looked part Hawaiian.
“Am I interrupting?” His gaze narrowed in on Fiona.
Nash didn’t like this, and he moved to confront the guy, but Fiona stopped him.
“It’s nothing, Eli.” She stood and walked toward the towering dom clad in leather pants. “He’s an old friend.”
“Old friend?” Nash snorted. “That’s rich.”
She whirled on him and angry fire had returned to her gaze. “Nash, this is Eli Watson. My boyfriend.”
Her words withered his hope, turning it to a sour ball that sat heavy in his stomach. Without a sound, he rose from the bench and made it to the guy
in two big strides. Then he punched him in the nose.
The big man returned the blow, landing an uppercut to Nash’s chin before he could avoid the jab. He grabbed the guy around the mid-section and took him down. They wrestled like that until Fiona shouted for them to “Stop! Jesus Christ!”
Breathless and bloodied, Nash and Eli stood and stared each other down, just as Thomas reappeared in the room.
“What the fuck?” Thomas got between his brother and the dom. “Eli, go get yourself cleaned up.” Thomas turned to Nash. “You, quit beating up my employees. I need your muscle to avoid this shit, not stir it up.”
“Why didn’t you tell me Fiona was here?” Nash raged at Thomas.
“I had no idea you were here either, Nash,” Fiona said.
Thomas let out a long exhale while he held his head. “Meet me in my office.” He looked between the two of them. “Separately. We’ve had enough trouble for one day.”
***
Ten minutes and one bandaged hand later, Nash sat in a leather chair opposite his brother, staring him down. “Why didn’t you tell me she was here?”
Thomas fisted his hands in front of his mouth, tented two fingers under his nose. Then after a deep breath, he moved his palms and spoke. “Surprises keep life interesting.” He shrugged.
“Fuck you, big brother,” Nash snarled. “There’s a reason you kept this from me.”
A conflicted expression passed briefly over his face, then Thomas was back to cool composure. “She’s only been here a week. I figured you’d bump into each other eventually.”
Thomas and Fiona had been good friends during the marriage, but then his brother knew how to charm most women. Not that anything intimate ever happened between the two of them. Thomas respected that Fiona was Nash’s wife, and he’d never do that to his little brother, no matter how much of a player he was. But they’d become fast friends and had a great rapport, sharing a natural talent for business. He’d just had no idea his big brother was still in contact with his ex.
“How’d she end up working here?” Nash wasn’t ready to let this go. He knew Thomas was holding something back from him. Fiona was a top notch promoter with Strength Inc. Fighters lined up to be repped by her. Sure, the club paid well, but she shouldn’t need the money. Mind you, he wasn’t working here cause he needed the money either. It had been a distraction. A place to go to keep his mind off his failed career and marriage. Could Fiona be here for a similar reason?
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