Nameless Surrender

by Kristin Daniels

  When he stepped inside the room, her perfume assaulted his senses. The sweet aroma had become so ingrained in his psyche, it would be impossible for him to forget it. She lay on her stomach tied to the four posters of the bed. A sultry glow from candles scattered around the room illuminated her luscious curves, and the white of the satin sheets shimmered against the olive hue of her skin. He had to give Simon some kudos. He had followed Dean's instructions to the letter, brought to life the exact vision in his head. As Cee's trusted assistant, Simon was the only man Dean would allow near Zoe to set up their encounters. He'd have to kill anyone else who tried.

  As he moved farther into the room and his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he studied her more closely. The black lace of the blindfold cut a swath through the red tint in the curls that fanned her pillowcase. Below the mask, her mouth parted. Already she breathed hard.

  When she'd arrived at the club, she was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a white halter top. Now all that remained were a pale pink strapless bra and matching lace thong. The fabric of the barely-there panty disappeared, sinking between the gorgeous round globes of her ass. As if she knew he stared at that part of her, she lifted her hips and offered herself in a blatant invitation.

  All in good time, darlin'.

  Jesus, he wanted to say the words. But the time to speak hadn't yet come. Soon, though. Very, very soon.

  He stripped, desperate for a little skin-on-skin contact. His dick sprang free from the confines of his well-worn leather pants and he fisted himself, stroked slow as he decided how he wanted the night to go.

  Even though he knew she couldn't help it, he owed her a sexy punishment, some sort of retribution for leaving him in the lurch last night. But more than that, he wanted to be close to her. He grabbed a bottle of massage oil and condoms from the nightstand, tossed them on the bed beside her and knelt between her spread legs. He ran his hands up the silkiness of her thighs, caressed and soothed the taut muscles, and willed her to relax. She shuddered and moaned softly.

  Now that he'd learned a bit more about her, glimpsed into her soul and witnessed sadness there, a need to care and comfort her overwhelmed him. He had an urge to make love to her, not just offer up a hot, sweaty take-your-mind-off-things-for-an-hour fuck. How would she feel about that? Would she embrace it? Would she disregard it?

  He knew she craved the pain, and he'd always given her simple tastes of that. But pain could be subjective, with many levels that ranged from cruel to mind-numbing pleasurable. Tonight—he grinned to himself—he'd go with a more enjoyable form to give her what she needed. And at the same time, he'd be able to satisfy his own hunger.

  The oil seeped through his fingers when he rubbed his hands together to warm it. He started at her ankles and worked a deep massage up her legs. Her breaths slowed as she settled down, only to increase once again the higher he traveled. A fine line ran between relaxation and stimulation, and soon he had her on the verge of crossing over into the realm of pure arousal.

  He palmed her ass and kneaded, then pulled her sweet round cheeks apart. The pale pink of her thong darkened to rose in the center. He blew on her soaked pussy and she tried to lift into him, but he held her firmly against the bed. The scent from her excitement drove him crazy and he had to take a lick. Working his thumbs closer, he latched onto the fabric, pulled it aside, and ran his tongue through her slickness. She tasted sweet, so damn sweet. Like honey and woman.

  Zoe groaned and he pulled away. Not yet. No, he intended to make this last. Take her on a journey through a night of sweet pleasure/pain-filled erotic torture.

  He grasped the back of her panties and lifted, forced the fabric deeper, rasped it along her sensitive flesh, then released. She whimpered. He knew she expected him to rip them off her. And he would, but in his own sweet time.

  He unhooked her bra to continue up her body with more oil. After a few caresses along her back and over her shoulders, he moved down again. The plump edges of her breasts enticed him as he skimmed their edges. He kneaded lower, stroked the dip of her waist and came back to the center. He pushed his thumbs hard along the ridges of her spine, into her neck. The deep groan she released made his masculine pride roar. Far be it for him to claim the title of masseur, but he sure as hell knew how to give a killer sensual massage.

  He sat back on his heels and leaned to the side to undo the right ankle cuff, repeated the action with the left, and crept over her body to unfasten her wrist restraints. Balanced on hands and knees above her, close enough to touch—but withholding that particular pleasure—he kissed her shoulder and made his way to her ear. He stopped for a second when the words ‘turn over, baby’ dangled at the tip of his tongue. He bit back the phrase and cursed inside his head. Instead, he moved her, lifting and pushing on her shoulder until she rolled onto her back.

  Her lean legs cradled his hips and her arms began to lower to wrap around his shoulders. Before she could, though, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. She gasped at the force, but he couldn't let her come near his shoulder. He'd graduated to a much smaller bandage earlier in the day, but if she touched him there, she might put two and two together and make the connection to his identity. And as much as he wanted to end this charade, the timing wasn't quite right. Not yet.

  He fastened her wrists to the center post of the headboard and re-hooked her ankles. The angle of her arms stretched over the pillows arched her back and presented her gorgeous breasts for inspection. He rolled his tongue over a nipple, loving how the tiny bud puckered under his touch. She moaned when he moved to the other, that one already hard and peaked. Christ, she responded so easily.

  Within seconds he had her writhing. She pulled on the restraints and bit her lip while sexy little noises rose from deep within her throat. He kissed and licked a trail up her chest until he settled his mouth on that perfect dip in her neck. As far as erogenous zones went, this tiny little spot reigned supreme. By paying a few moments attention right there, she'd be putty in his hands, ready for anything.

  She bucked under him and raised her hips, panting. He pressed his body down on hers, his hard cock poised at the lace-covered entrance of her pussy. He intended only to hold her still, but the sizzle when their bodies touched and the moist heat between her legs sent shockwaves through him. God, the temperature of her skin had to be off the charts. He needed to slow the pace or neither of them would make it through the really good parts he had in mind.

  He lifted off her, stood next to the bed, and pushed a hand through his hair. The vision of her bound and blindfolded while she mewled and squirmed on the satin sheets had his resolve ready to snap. Shit, how he wanted to say “to hell with it,” climb back on top of her and fuck her to his heart's content.

  Jesus, no other woman ever had him this close to losing it. Yeah, she had a gorgeous body. Her high, round breasts along with her shapely hips and thighs could come straight out of any number of men's magazine. Athletic but not stick skinny, her curves would drive any sane man wild. But her appeal was so much more than physical. That “more” and all it entailed kept him in a perpetual state of longing.

  For right now, however, he needed to keep his thoughts in check, rein in his famous control, and concentrate on her needs if he wanted to make the rest of the night good for them both.

  A taper candle on the nightstand caught his attention and gave him a hell of an idea. She craved the pain? Okay, he'd give her a little pain. He grabbed the candle and returned to the bed, lying on his side next to her. Propped up on his elbow, he threw one leg over hers. She shimmied closer and he leaned forward to kiss her, her soft mouth hot under his. Their tongues dueled, licked and tasted, and his cock throbbed. If she continued to rub her hip into him like she was doing now, he'd end up coming before he ever got inside her. That wouldn't do. Not at all. Time for a major distraction.

  He held the candle above her left breast and tipped it slowly. A bead of hot wax dripped onto the sensitive flesh of her areola. She broke f
ree from his mouth and sucked in a shocked breath. He blew on the tiny drop to cool it. Her mouth opened on a moan, then closed to bite her lower lip. Damn, he loved it when he caught her off guard like that.

  He continued to drip the wax, first on one breast, then the other. He kissed her, blew on the wax, licked down her neck, lightly bit a nipple, completely bombarding her with erotic sensations.

  She wriggled and arched, her breaths now short strangled pants. She struggled against the ankle cuffs, twisted her legs in an attempt to bring her knees closer together. Shifting, he sat and passed the candle from one hand to the other. He dipped his fingers under the lace of her thong and through her slick folds. So fucking wet. He rasped his finger over the tiny bud of her clit with teasing swirls. The little ah's and oh's that mixed with her groans forced him to reach deep inside and settle the wild beast her reaction brought out in him. Easier said than done, he mused.

  He withdrew his hand in a sudden movement, refusing her any completion. The denial would get her off, and in a twisted way would bring her that much closer. He set the candle on the nightstand, turned back and gripped the lace thong. One of these days, he'd take her panties off the proper way. But for now, he tore the seams and pulled up. The fabric scraped over her already-sensitive clit. She hissed as he tossed the lace over his shoulder. He retrieved the candle, brought it over her middle and with a slight tilt, dripped more wax. Single molten droplets melted into a line down the concave of her stomach. She moaned and bucked. In an attempt to hold himself back, he grabbed his balls and squeezed. Shit, just watching her pass through each erotic stage of arousal had him edging that fine line.

  He moved to the end of the bed and continued his paraffin trail. Inside her belly button, he pooled the crimson drippings before meandering down his chosen path. Once he came to the short-trimmed curls of her mound, the hair shaven and shaped into a perfect little vee, he held the candle steady over the swollen lips.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Trickle.

  "Ah ... ahhh...."

  Her lower lip turned purple from her biting teeth, knuckles white from the death grip on the restraints. Unable to stand it any longer, he blew out the candle and tossed it to the nightstand. He crouched over her and pushed two fingers deep inside her soaked cunt. Her groan was low and guttural, as if her soul had let loose. He curled his fingers and rasped over and over again on that perfect sweet spot mere inches inside her, the one guaranteed to drive her completely insane. The thumb of his free hand found her clit, already hard and protruding from under its little hood.

  His assault was ruthless. The walls of her vagina clenched hard on his fingers. Her mouth hung open on a perpetual moan. But, Christ Almighty, he had to give her that denial, that sweet pleasured pain of refusal.

  It took every ounce of his power to move his muscles and shift off the bed.

  Her choked cry shot straight to his cock. He stood at the end of the bed—higher than high—and pinched the base of his dick while he wrenched on his sac, willing himself not to come. Zoe, on the other hand, panted and thrashed in desperation.

  The four walls of the room closed in on him. The edges blended together. At first he thought he imagined the deep, throaty whisper. But then, she repeated her tiny little cry.

  "God, please...."

  His heart soared. She spoke. She fucking spoke.

  To him.

  All control flew out the window. He grabbed a condom, ripped the damn package open with shaky fingers and covered himself in two seconds flat. He couldn't get to her—in her—fast enough. With a substantial lack of grace, he scrambled onto the bed and lunged on top of her. He covered her mouth with his in a carnal kiss. They swallowed each other's shouts as he thrust his painfully hard cock deep inside her. He held her hips tight and stilled for a moment. God, she felt like heaven. Desperation to come right then possessed his soul. He tamped down the rising tingles and anxiously waited for them to subside.

  Once the urgent sensation passed, he moved slowly, a torturous in and out. Bit by bit he drove them both higher, to a level he never imagined. He cradled a wax-covered breast in a calloused hand, forced his tongue deep inside her mouth and mimicked the action of his cock.

  Fast.

  Faster.

  Incredible.

  He left her mouth and moved to her ear. “Now. Come now, baby,” he whispered. His strangled voice sounded odd, even to him.

  "Yesssss,” she hissed.

  Her speaking astounded him for a second time. Then the contractions of her powerful orgasm distracted him and sent him into his own oblivion. She arched into him and he blew apart.

  He came for what seemed like forever. His spine tingled and his head spun. Not sure which way was up, he continued to move, to feel, to drown.

  As he drifted back to reality, he resisted the urge to rip the blindfold from her eyes. Their game wasn't quite over yet, but he'd made great strides tonight. Still hard inside her, he brushed his lips over hers. Her legs trembled when she nipped at his mouth, and her breath hitched.

  He growled, fucking hating the fact he had to leave. Once he'd pulled from the tight confines of her body and released her restraints, he placed a steady hand to the sexy dip of her stomach to let his warmth pass through to her, then grabbed his pants and headed for the door.

  Before leaving, he paused a moment to look back. His body and heart wrenched. But he turned, dropped the note and a single red rose next to her purse, and left.

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  Nameless Surrender: Chapter 7

  Zoe pressed the palms of her hands into the fabric of the blindfold. What the hell just happened? How had she lost control like that? One minute he had her so close, and then the next—nothing. He'd left her hanging on the verge of what promised to be a killer orgasm. And, by God, she couldn't help it. She'd pleaded.

  Not that he seemed to mind. If anything, her simple little beg brought out an animalistic side she hadn't felt before. She'd never been taken like that. Certainly not by Stephen, let alone anyone else. It was—amazing.

  No, check that. He was amazing.

  She groaned, rolled to her side and curled into herself. A half-laugh, half-sob caught in her throat. She didn't want to feel the attraction, the fire.

  The need.

  But, damn it, she did.

  Even still, his whispered words rang in her ears. Now. Come now, baby. Four plain words that her body responded to in a way she never knew it could. With passion and, God help her, the romanticism she so missed.

  She couldn't do this. Not now. She pushed herself up and ripped off the blindfold. Her insides clenched at the sight of her breasts and tummy covered in a vibrant crimson wax. The erotic burn from each drop had driven her insane. God, how did he know exactly what she needed? How could someone she'd never even held a conversation with be so in tune with her desires?

  She picked at the wax and pulled off large chunks of the soft melted candle. It adhered to her skin, and the biting pain as she removed it from her sensitive flesh ignited her desire all over again. Had that little bit of torture been part of his devilish plan, too?

  She removed just enough so it wouldn't peek out from her halter top. The skin underneath blushed a fiery red. Oh, yeah, he'd marked her again.

  And how.

  She dressed in a hurry and tossed her hair up in a clip. She rushed to the door, desperate to get away from the scents and reminders, but stopped short at the sight of her purse. A small square envelope and a single red rose lay atop it.

  He'd given her a rose.

  God, the man had her emotions on a roller-coaster ride.

  Her belly fluttered. Not only did he instinctively know what she craved, but he had a tender side, too. Never before had she met a man with such desirable qualities.

  She sighed, picked up the envelope and ran her finger under the flap to open it. As she pulled out the paper, she closed her eyes to steel herself, and then opened them again on masculine handwriting.
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  Second time's the charm. Next Friday night. Eight-forty-five. Downtown. He gave the address of a little boutique in the heart of an upscale shopping district. Pick out a slinky dress, head to the fitting rooms. Go in the last one on the left. Model for me, blindfold or not—your choice. I'll be there, again.

  He signed the note with a simple X. Meant to be a kiss, perhaps?

  She lifted the flower to her nose and inhaled. The sweet scent wafted through her and pounded against the locked door of her heart.

  Blindfold or not. The words created an uproar in her nerves. Did he want to break their pact? Did he want more? The innuendo of the note said as much, but she didn't feel ready. God, maybe she'd never be. After what Stephen had done, with that kind of intimate trust broken, she didn't want to put her faith in anyone.

  She stiffened her back. No, it would take a lot more than a few romantic words and gestures for her to reconsider. She needed to stick to her original plan and have a little fun. If he couldn't agree to that, she'd survive. Simply move on. Find someone else to satisfy her desires.

  It was the only way she could protect her heart.

  Her thoughts immediately flew to a certain S.W.A.T. commander. Would he be interested? He'd given every sign, no doubt about that. Could he give her what she needed, with no strings attached?

  Maybe.

  Maybe not.

  She huffed out a breath, grabbed her purse and stuffed the note inside. The whirlwind thoughts made her head spin and she chuckled to herself. Talk about putting the cart before the horse. She didn't know what her partner's thoughts were. He could simply want to spice things up, break up the monotony—although the time she spent with him could hardly be called monotonous—and make their brief moments together as steamy as possible.