Point of Submission

by Remy Landon

  Carlo was standing beside his car, his arms crossed in front of him. The motion-sensored light on the barn roof had been triggered and shone down directly on him, almost like a spotlight. His choice of a blue plaid, button-down shirt (unbuttoned to expose the deep V of his smooth chest), distressed jeans and light brown boat shoes made him look as comfortable in this setting as he was in the office. His shirt sleeves were pushed up over his elbows, and as she continued to stare, she realized her mouth was slightly open. Carlo seemed to realize this, too, because he was grinning at her. She quickly closed it in embarrassment and gave a defiant little head toss.

  “Surprised?” His voice was warm and rich.

  “A little. Why did you want to come here?”

  “Because it's one of your favorite places. And because a horse stable at night has to be one of the most peaceful spots in the world.”

  He recognized this? “I would agree with that.” Cassandra turned to open her car door.

  “Leaving so soon?”

  “I'm getting the key to the barn. It's a good thing I have it on my keychain.”

  Reaching in his pants pocket, he held up a key. “Already taken care of. I got one from Ingrid.”

  She paused, her hand still on the door handle. “You think of everything, don't you?”

  “I try. Especially when it's of importance to me.” Carlo flashed a broad smile, and she felt something inside her crumble. “So...shall we?” He held out an arm, gesturing toward the barn door.

  She nodded, following a few steps behind him as he unlocked the door. There was the sound of a horse pawing the stall floor—Rafsi, undoubtedly, who was simultaneously glad to see you and pissed you were taking so long to give her a treat.

  Cassandra went to the light switches and flipped one of them on, reluctant to disturb the tranquility of the dark stable. The horses blinked as the fluorescent bulbs slowly brightened. She unlocked the door to the office and opened the cabinet where she kept her belongings, including a tub of Rounders horse snacks and an opened bag of peppermints. Normal things, like giving treats to horses, would help to keep her feeling calm. And right now, she needed calm.

  Brownie bobbed his head at her, and she went to him, smiling, running her hand down his white blaze. He lipped at her hand and gave her a gentle push with his nose.

  Carlo came to stand beside her. “I'm going to take a wild guess and say that he's your favorite.”

  “Sshhh,” she replied, in mock admonition. “The others are listening. They are all my favorites.” She lowered her voice. “But yes, he's extra special.”

  “He clearly feels the same way about you.”

  “I'd like to think so, but it's probably the peppermints.”

  “Do you ride him a lot?”

  “God, no—Ingrid definitely wouldn't allow that. I'm just a lowly stablehand. I've only ridden him a few times, mainly to get him warmed up for the trainer on the days she comes.”

  “And how is he?”

  “Like a dream. He moves so fluidly. I could sit his canter all day.” She picked a flake of shavings from his forelock and fed him a peppermint. “He's such a good boy.”

  Rafsi laid her ears back and stomped impatiently in the next stall, and Cassandra spoke to her sternly, although she couldn't help but smile. “Mind your manners. You'll get one.” She unwrapped the mint and held it out to Carlo. “Want to give it to her?”

  “I'd be honored.” He held the peppermint flat on his hand, and Rafsi took it eagerly, crunching and tossing her head. “She's quite animated.”

  “Yes. She has a big personality. Temperamental at times, but then again, she's a mare.”

  “That sounds a bit sexist.”

  Cassandra shrugged. “It's true. The saying goes: geldings you tell, stallions you ask, and mares...you discuss.”

  “Women always want to talk things over.” Carlo grinned.

  “You're generalizing.”

  “I'm speaking from vast experience.” Carlo held out his hand so Rafsi could nuzzle it. Her eyes softened and her ears pricked forward with interest. The mare didn't like many people, but apparently, Carlo Leone was one of them. Cassandra wondered what he had meant by “vast experience,” but she'd let it go—for now.

  She ran her hand down Brownie's sleek, arched neck. He was in prime shape, his muscles rippling under his polished coat. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Carlo watching her.

  “You look like a little girl who's fallen in love for the first time.”

  She smiled. “Horses were my first crush.”

  “So this stable is much more than just a workplace.”

  “Way more. I love being around horses—they have to be the most beautiful creatures on the planet. The way they move...the power and grace. I've always thought it's almost an honor that they allow you to ride them. It's like, I don't know...it's humbling, somehow. They can stand still and be just as breathtaking—their eyes are so expressive, how they can be burning mad one minute and totally serene the next. And I love the contrast between the strength of their jaw and the softness of their nose.” She glanced up at him sheepishly. “I'm rambling. Sorry.”

  The warmth in his eyes caused a thrill to skate up her spine. “Don't apologize. I like to listen to you talk. But I have to take issue with something you said.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “You mentioned the horse as being the most beautiful creature on the planet. I have to disagree. As far as I'm concerned, I'm looking at it.”

  Blushing furiously, Cassandra struggled to think of a response as Carlo moved closer.

  He bent down to kiss her cheek, her neck, her bare shoulder. The sandpapery stubble on his face increased the sensation. She could feel his breath in her ear as he spoke softly. “I like seeing your skin. Kissing it.”

  “I can't stay long,” she said, weakly. “I have to be here early tomorrow.”

  “Then let's not waste any more time.” He gathered her into his arms, and she felt herself melting, melding into him. Because she was wearing flats, her head came just under his chin. She felt small, and wasn't entirely sure if she should feel protected or intimidated.

  Carlo's lips brushed her hair as his hands slid up her back. Her fingers were splayed against his broad chest, and she tipped back her head to look up at him. He took her face in his hands and bent down, his mouth hovering over hers. “There are so many things I want to do with you, and to you.”

  A small sigh escaped her just before their lips met. He kissed her deeply, roughly, his tongue probing and insistent. Oh, God...the taste of this man.

  She began to return his kiss, tentatively at first, and then she was aware of something inside her just letting go. It was easier this time, knowing him better now, knowing the cadence of his kiss.

  Feeling her eagerness, Carlo's breathing quickened. One of his hands came up to the base of her ponytail, gripping it hard, while the other slid up her blouse and inside her bra to grope her breast. His fingers felt cool and gentle on her skin, and she sighed once more against his mouth.

  He broke their kiss to whisper to her. “Lounge or hayloft?”

  With the way Cassandra was feeling, Carlo could have laid her right down on the concrete. “Hayloft,” she responded. No one ever used the lounge; it was dusty and musty and quite frankly, it creeped her out. The hayloft would be comfortably warm and sweet-smelling, like perpetual summer.

  “Wait right here,” she told him. “I'm going to get something for us to lay on.”

  “Don't make me wait long, Cassandra.” He was looking at her hungrily, the tone of his voice quiet and firm.

  Like I want to wait. She headed for the tack room and pushed the door open. The rich, pungent scent of leather and saddle soap filled the air. There were clean horse blankets hanging up on one wall, nylon rain sheets and heavy winter turnouts. She scanned the row quickly and spied a fleece cooler. Perfect. It was extra-large and would be soft and comfortable with no hard buckles to worry about.

  Cass
andra came out of the tack room with the cooler, and Carlo followed her to the hayloft stairs. This whole scene was so different than last time at his house; maybe it was because this was her happy place, her “turf,” and she felt more secure (which may have been the real reason Carlo had decided to come here). Or maybe it was because she'd had a taste of him and now wanted more. Either way, she found herself climbing the creaky loft stairs with more excitement than apprehension.

  The hayloft ran a close second to the main floor of the stable as Cassandra's favorite place. The loft roof was high and airy, with delicate strands of old cobwebs and long-abandoned swallows' nests in the rafters that had launched many a baby bird. The large windows at both ends remained open all summer so that fresh air could circulate around the new hay, and the outside air kept the hayloft temperature tolerable, as it was tonight.

  Clutching the fleece cooler to her chest, she watched, immobilized, to see Carlo dismantling part of the haystack and arranging eight of the bales into a one-level, bed-sized square.

  He looked up at her and grinned. “Instant mattress.”

  She managed to smile in return, her heart pounding wildly. Jesus...We're. Going. To. Do. This.

  “We could use some mood lighting. Luckily, I've brought it along.” His eyes were dancing as he brought forth his cell phone. After a few swipes of his finger across the screen, he turned the phone around to reveal a single flickering candle.

  A candlelight app? Seriously, this man. She shook her head, blushing and smiling.

  Carlo took the cooler from her hands and spread it out over the bales. Just watching him move was a total turn-on—the flexing of his arms, the way his ass looked when he bent over.

  The lighting in the loft was dim and enhanced the almost surreal feeling of the scene. Carlo walked toward her and without thinking, Cassandra took a step back.

  He laughed softly. “Playing shy, are we?” He moved closer until he was standing a foot away from her.

  She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “No, it's just that—”

  “It's just that you're being a tease. Two can play that game, sweetheart. In fact,” he said, reaching out and running his index finger from the base of her throat to the top of her cleavage, “it would be my immense pleasure to tease you.”

  Cassandra felt the space between her legs throb and dampen. She opened her mouth to speak, and Carlo crushed it with his own. She was trying not to moan, trying like hell not to make a sound, but the very nearness of him made her feel like whimpering.

  He broke their kiss, took her hand and led her to stand beside their improvised bed. His eyes held hers with fierce desire, more intense than she'd ever seen them.

  “Your hair.”

  She knew what he meant. Without even thinking she dropped her gaze and began to slide the elastic from her ponytail.

  He was quick to redirect her, putting his hand beneath her chin. “No. Look at me when you do it.”

  This was disconcerting, but she was aching for him so badly that she quickly complied. She had never really been comfortable with eye contact, and looking into the eyes of someone like Carlo instilled in her both fear and longing. But she would do it.

  Staring steadily into his smoke-colored eyes, she willed herself not to tremble. She could see his chest rise and fall as he watched her shake out her hair.

  “Good girl,” he said huskily, and remembering how he had said this before sent a fresh thrill coursing through her.

  “Unbutton my shirt.”

  Okay, so this sounded serious—almost cold. Cassandra felt herself sink into doubt. “You're not asking very nicely.”

  “I'm not asking.” He paused for a few seconds, staring down at her, and his face softened just enough for her to get a glimpse of the kinder, gentler Carlo.

  Tension somewhat abated, Cassandra brought her hands to his shirt and began to hesitantly unbutton, her fingers fumbling and awkward. Carlo stood absolutely still, breathing slowly and evenly. The scent of him was making her weak.

  “Take off my shirt, Cassandra.”

  Why was he doing this? She had only been with a few men, but no one who would give her commands like this. The others had found ways to manipulate her. Carlo, at least, was straightforward in his requests. Correction: his orders.

  She was aching to touch his skin. She slid her hands under his open shirt and pushed it off his shoulders so that his upper body was exposed. He was making no move to help her with his shirt, so she continued sliding it rather awkwardly off his arms with a series of jerky tugs, until it fell to the floor.

  Christ, his outlined pecs and chiseled abs...she marveled again at the shape he was in. To stand here inches from his partially-nude body was close to torture. And imagining what was below his waist was virtually unbearable. She had an almost insatiable urge to start unbuckling his belt, but it had become crystal clear that Carlo Leone was in charge here. So she found herself looking up at him, waiting for further instructions from a man who simultaneously scared and aroused her, hoping like hell that he would let her touch him soon.

  chapter twenty-two ~ Carlo

  It was glaringly obvious to Carlo that he had once again underestimated the effect Cassandra could have on him. She was looking up at him so plaintively, those beautiful seaglass-colored eyes practically pleading him to take her, that Carlo had to mentally coach himself through his weak moment. God, how he wanted to fuck her. He wanted to show her right now, right here, how it would feel to be taken by him, a man who knew how to enhance pleasure with dashes of pain. A man who knew how to go agonizingly slowly, bringing a woman to the brink and then backing off until she begged—and even then, taking his sweet time so that her orgasm was on his terms: he would say when, and how.

  But that wasn't what tonight was about. Tonight would be more than last time, but less than either of them wanted.

  Carlo put his hands at the stretchy waistband of her blouse and pulled it up over her head. She made no move to stop him. The simple white satin bra she was wearing contrasted with her tanned skin. As illogical as it was, he couldn't help but feel as though this was her first time. He supposed that in many ways, it was—her reactions had proven she'd never had this type of experience, and he suspected that the others she had been with were more boys than men.

  Carlo slid a finger inside the cup of her bra, stroking in a swirling motion around her nipple which became erect in seconds. Unhooking her bra, he eased the straps over her shoulders. Cassandra was breathing harder and had closed her eyes.

  He needed to correct her. Eye contact for some could prove problematic, but it was an indicator of trust and intimacy. He'd stop touching her for now and give a gentle reminder, since this was all unfamiliar territory for her. “Cassandra, I need you to look at me. Look at me while I touch you.”

  “I don't think I can.” Her voice was almost a whisper. She was still looking down, her lashes dark and full against the creamy hue of her skin. “Eye contact isn't something I do.”

  “You need to try.” His tone was a bit more authoritative this time. “If you want me to touch you, then I want you looking at me.”

  After a few seconds of hesitation, Cassandra fixed her gaze on him. There was a hint of defiance in her eyes which he would accept for now because she was doing as he asked, despite it being uncomfortable for her.

  “And now, your reward.” He began to stroke and tweak her other nipple until it was fully erect, pleased that she was maintaining the eye contact.

  “That's a very good girl. Keep looking at me, and I'll keep touching you.” He trailed his index finger slowly, slowly down the front of her in a long, curving line, down to her flat stomach, circling her navel, and then tracing a horizontal line just above the waistband of her jeans. She was still looking into his eyes, so he dipped his fingers just inside her panties. His cock swelled almost painfully as he felt her heat. She gasped and closed her eyes for a split second, and Carlo removed his hand. Blinking and breathing hard, she fixed her
eyes on his once again.

  “That's a good girl,” he praised her softly. “You're learning. The eye contact will get easier; I promise you.” He deftly unbuttoned her jeans and resumed touching her, his fingers sliding down a bit more. He could feel the smooth, velvety folds of her labia and stroked them with a feather-soft touch as he stared deep into her eyes.

  “I'm going to see how you feel inside, Cassandra. Are you wet for me?”

  She was trembling, her cheeks flushed with arousal.

  “Answer my question. Are you wet for me?”

  Her voice was barely audible. “Yes.”

  Satisfied with her response, Carlo broke their eye contact by leaning down to kiss her, nibbling on her lips and filling her mouth with his tongue. She returned his kiss hungrily and gasped as his hand crept lower, two of his fingers sliding smoothly inside her. He had to steel himself not to groan out loud when he felt how wet she was. It was always challenging to think with the right head in steamy situations, but this time, with Cassandra...he knew he needed release now, or he wouldn't be able to stop himself. He would take care of her afterwards, which was in keeping with his plan.

  Without saying a word, he put his hands on her bare shoulders and guided her to sit down on the hay bales. He placed a hand at the back of her head, eased her down and lay beside her, his cock straining against the fabric of his jeans. She was now looking at him for direction—a very good sign. He pulled her next to him and kissed her forehead, cheeks and parted her lips with his tongue. Moving his mouth to her ear, he gave her another command. “Unzip my pants.”