Fury of Surrender (Dragonfury Series Book 6)

by Coreene Callahan

  “Jalâyla.”

  His growl dragged her away from the thought-she’d-seen-something dilemma. Tucking the mystery away, she refocused on Forge.

  Staring at her from beneath his brows, he leaned away. “Arms up.”

  Hope startled. “What?”

  “You heard me,” he said, the angles of his face sharpening. “Arms. Up.”

  His voice deepened. The command in his tone made her move. Both her hands shot above her head.

  “Good lass.” The rumble of approval made her heart do a happy hop. “Now, hold still.”

  “Okay.”

  Movements measured, he reached up and grabbed her wrists with one hand. Holding both against the wall, he tugged the Velcro on the wrist-lock boxing gloves away from the cuffs. Slow and sure, he pulled until he held half of each wide strap in his hands. Hands still encased in her gloves, half the Velcro still locked around her wrists, Hope watched him tie the trailing ends together. She stared at the strong knot and frowned. What the heck was the point of that? The gloves needed to come off. Knotting them together didn’t make—

  Watching her closely, he looped the knotted length over a hook embedded in a cinder block above her head.

  Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

  “Restraining you. Pleasing myself.”

  The straightforward answer made her quiver. Oh God. Makeshift handcuffs. She tugged, testing her theory. No give. The microfiber held. The knot didn’t slip. Her heart stalled, hanging behind her breastbone a second before starting up a driving rhythm. Tied up and trapped. Completely at his mercy, and oh, the things he could do to her. Naughty things. Delicious things. All the best kinds of things, and now, she couldn’t do anything to stop him. Surprise dropped away. Excitement took its place, raising goose bumps on her skin.

  One corner of his mouth creased. “Enjoy that idea, do you?”

  Mouth gone dry, Hope swallowed. “Maybe.”

  “Scared?”

  “A little, but . . .” She tugged on her wrists again.

  He ran his hands up her arms. Checking the tension, he caressed the hollows on the inside of her elbows, the soft, tantalizing touches designed to drive her wild. Strung up, body on display, arousal rising, Hope trembled. He stroked her over and over, ever patient as he waited for her to continue.

  She searched his face. Solid. Steady. Not an ounce of artifice in him. Forge would never hurt her. It wasn’t his way. The realization steered her toward confidence. Worry leached away. “I trust you.”

  His breath caught. His hands stilled as he leaned in to kiss her. Once. Twice. A third brush of his mouth. “Sweet lass, you honor me.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes. Hope kissed him back, each soft caress as soothing as it was arousing. She shouldn’t cry. Not now, in the face of desire and in front of a gorgeous man who wanted her. Too bad her heart didn’t care. His compliment tunneled deep, digging up old wounds, exposing past grievances, laying her bare. Hope told herself to stop it—to be sensible and strong—but as her eyes burned and her chest ached, she couldn’t stem the growing tide of emotion.

  Such simple words. Each one, though, touched a place deep inside her.

  No one had ever called her sweet before, certainly not her father, the one person who should have loved her no matter what. As strong as her father had always been, he couldn’t hold a candle to Forge. He was the best kind of different—everything the vice admiral wasn’t—and as she gazed up at him, heart in tatters, Hope absorbed his compliment like a plant denied water for too long. Oh, to be accepted and valued, to be found sweet instead of lacking, was incredible.

  Inconceivable. Confusing too.

  After years of playing second fiddle to her brother, she’d never thought anyone would truly see her. Not just the facade she presented to the world, but her—the flesh-and-blood woman behind the mask. In one sentence, Forge changed all that. She sensed it in his kiss. He liked her just as she was, making her feel cherished and important, seen in a way she’d never been before and . . .

  Hope flinched. Whoa. Hold your horses, lady. Far too heavy a thought.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, Hope nuzzled the stubble along his jaw. Rough whispers scraped her skin, helping her regain her bearings. Thank God. Serious thoughts needed to wait for a more serious moment. Sex with Forge was supposed to be fun, not world altering. Which meant she needed to lighten the mood. Now. Before things got out of hand and she lost her heart to him for good.

  Wiggling, Hope threw him a playful look. “You planning on torturing me?”

  “Only a little.”

  Well, that sounded ominous. “Why am I not reassured?”

  He chuckled. “Fuck, you’re fun.”

  “Well, then, reward a girl, would you?” Wanting to get to the good stuff—like him naked and over her—she tipped her chin up and offered him her mouth. “I’ll take as many orgasms as you care to give.”

  “Would you like each on a silver platter?”

  “No,” she said. “Just fast.”

  “There’s that impatience again.” His mouth curved. “But you’ll have tae wait, jalâyla. I intend tae enjoy you first.”

  “Selfish.”

  “Ask me if I care?”

  “Mean too.”

  Amusement in his gaze, Forge slipped his hands under the hem of her tank top. Strong fingers drew circles over her belly. Calloused palms slid over her rib cage. Without breaking eye contact, he found the bottom edge of her sports bra and pulled. The heavy elastic band obeyed the tug, the slow draw of fabric baring her an inch at a time. Cool air attacked her damp skin. Tugging on her bound wrists, Hope arched, begging him without words to touch her.

  Forge didn’t disappoint. Shoving her clothes up her arms, he cupped her breasts, big hands holding her secure, surrounding her with his heat. Her nipples furled tight. He rolled each one, pinching them between his fingertips.

  Pleasure throbbed through her. “God, that’s good.”

  “We’ve barely started, lass.”

  She twisted, trying to get closer. “I want your mouth on me.”

  With a growl, he dipped his head and nipped a tight peak. The tip of her breast pulsed. He licked the small hurt away, then suckled, drawing her into his mouth, bathing her in heat, making her breath catch. Closing her eyes, Hope tipped her head back. He bit down, pressing her between his teeth. She moaned. He sucked harder, taking her to the edge of pain and . . . glory, glory hallelujah. He was unbelievable. Just right, giving her what she craved: the firm hand of a skilled lover.

  Arching into his touch, Hope keened in encouragement, egging him on.

  Please, please, please, her mind screamed.

  More, more, more, her body added, as urgency overtook her, zipping through her veins, glowing bright, pushing her into imprudence. She should do as Forge asked and be patient. He wouldn’t leave her hanging. He’d please her in his own time. Hell, the pleasure would no doubt be better for it—explosive even—but as an insistent throb settled between her thighs, thinking became history. She didn’t want a slow, gentle exploration. She wanted him hard. She wanted him fast. She wanted him inside her now.

  Using the makeshift restraints as leverage, Hope fisted her hands and, with a quick lift, wrapped her legs around his waist. Hot and hard, his erection settled against her core. Shoulder blades pressed to the wall, she rocked her hips.

  Forge released her breast. His head came up as he grabbed her bottom. She moved again. He shoved her backward, meeting her stroke for stroke. Her back bumped against cinder block. The Velcro holding her prisoner rasped in the quiet as Forge rolled into her, stroking her through her shorts. He snarled her name. Bliss blurred her surroundings, making her move with him, enslaving her a stroke at a time.

  He shoved forward again.

  The pleasure mounted. God, she was close. So very close. Almost there. Just a little more and—

  Forge ripped the Velcro imprisoning her wrists open. The bindings gave away, freeing her hands.
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br />   “Oh yes, please.” Curling her fingers in his hair, she offered him her mouth. He bared his teeth, snapping at her. The click of his molars echoed inside her head. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Go slow next time. Please, Forge—I need you right now.”

  With a soft curse, he grabbed the outside of her knee. “Unlock.”

  Thigh muscles quivering, she obeyed and opened, unwrapping her legs from around his waist. The second her feet hit the floor, he knelt and dragged her shorts down her legs. Tossing the thin fabric over his shoulder, he curled his hand over her bare hips, leaned in, touched his nose to the curls protecting her core, and inhaled.

  “God, you smell good.” Nuzzling her, he caressed the back of her thigh and kept going, moving down until he grasped her ankle. Applying gentle pressure, he lifted her foot off the floor. Her knee bent. He pushed it sideways, opening her to his touch. “Bet you taste even better.”

  Without giving her a chance to answer, he bent his head, spread her open, and licked between her folds. His tongue lashed her. The heat of his mouth scorched her. Delight whiplashed, sending her spinning into the abyss. Pleasure blasted through her. Forge growled and, tasting her deep, brought his fingers into play. Wanting more, she opened wider, baring all, giving him everything. Slick with need, her sex welcomed him. He slid in with ease, caressing her with one fingertip, then two. Back and forth. Rub here, stroke there, return for more as he learned what pleased her. Circling her entrance, he played, dipping in before retreating, only to come back and do it again.

  Soft touches.

  Slower caresses.

  Mind-blowing pleasure.

  The kind that left her hanging over a precipice Forge refused to push her over. Another light flick of his tongue. More gentle thrusts of his fingers. Her knee wobbled. He firmed his grip on her bottom. Muscles deep inside her clenched, released and . . . God. She couldn’t take any more.

  “You’re so wet, lass. So hot.” Flicking her with the tip of his tongue, he drew circles around her clitoris, exposing the bundle of nerves. Hips canted forward, Hope gasped, then groaned when he licked her again. “Like that?”

  “Yes!”

  “Want tae come?”

  “Please!”

  “Go on, then. Come for me.”

  His lips firmed. His fingers found her entrance and thrust deep—once, twice, a third time before he sucked . . . hard.

  Hands buried in his hair, Hope came screaming.

  The explosion rocked her world, sheeting white behind her eyes. Her legs gave out. Forge didn’t give her time to recover. Still throbbing inside, unable to feel her toes or fingertips, Hope didn’t object when he laid her down on the hardwood floor. She lay limp instead, fighting to catch her breath as Forge kissed her curls one more time and rose over her. His biceps bunched. She shivered, mesmerized by the hard flex of muscle when he fisted the back of his T-shirt and yanked it over his head. His heat hit her first, rolling over her belly to caress her breasts and . . . God be merciful. Look at him: so big, so strong, so beautiful he made her heart hitch.

  Unable to resist, she set her hands on his chest.

  He growled her name.

  Hope whispered back, asking for patience. She wanted to explore, to make him hers one touch at a time, to enchant him even as he did her. Caressing him with her fingertips, she stroked over his shoulders. His nostrils flared. She ventured down, roaming over his chest, skimming his abdomen, following the dark trail until she reached the waistband of his jeans. She played with the buttons holding him behind his fly. He froze, chest pumping, muscles tense, as her hand slipped beneath denim. She played a moment, fingers dancing over his skin and—

  Forge bared his teeth on a curse.

  Hope hummed and, with a tug, popped open his button fly. One button, then two. Three, four, and five followed. Her gaze on his face, she curled her hand around his erection and . . . oh wow. He was incredible, velvety-soft skin over hot and hard. Wonder filling her, she explored his length, giving him pleasure, taking her own. “You feel so good.”

  “Bloody hell, lass.” Eyes half-closed, he rolled his hips, seeking more of her touch. “Tell me you want me. Tell me tae—”

  “Take me,” she whispered, arching beneath him. “I need you inside me.”

  “And you’ll have me—so deep, so fucking hard you’ll scream my name.” Taking her mouth, he forced her to open wide, take more of him, and taste herself on his tongue. The kiss lasted forever, yet not long enough, and when he lifted his head, Hope tried to follow. With a snarl, he nipped her bottom lip. “You’re mine, Hope—mine. Every gorgeous inch of you. Donnae forget it.”

  His. All his.

  The assertion should’ve scared her. Belonging to someone had never been big on her list of things to encourage, but somehow . . . for some reason . . . Forge’s claim lent her power. The power to choose. The power to agree. The power to claim him in return. Strange in some ways. Just right in others. She didn’t understand it. Couldn’t explain it. Didn’t care to either. Right now, all that mattered was Forge—pleasing him, seeing to the needs of the only man who’d ever claimed her as his own.

  The idea settled deep.

  As it found a home inside her, Hope trembled beneath him. Poised above her, balanced on his elbows, Forge nuzzled her cheek. Day-old whiskers burned over her skin, layering on sensation as he settled between her thighs. In no hurry, he stroked her out of afterglow and back into arousal: strong fingers playing over her skin, hot breath against her ear, sharp teeth grazing the underside of her chin. Such gentle touches. So generous in his attentions. So unbelievably hot, Hope burned brighter with each new caress.

  His chest brushed over her breasts. She moaned. Intense violet eyes met hers. Her bottom lip trembled. He kissed her again. She opened her mouth wider, accepting his claim and staking her own. Craving the heat of him, Hope raised her knees and tilted her hips. The rasp of his jeans brushing her inner thighs, he notched against her core. Big hands in her hair, he held her still, pressed in, thrust deep, possessing her with one hard stroke. Pleasure, more intense than before, arced through her, arching her spine. Lips parted on a silent scream, arms holding him tight, she tumbled off the edge and into ecstasy, trusting Forge to catch her.

  Flat on his back in the middle of the sparring gym, Forge played with the thick ends of his female’s long hair. Half on top of him, cheek pressed to his chest, Hope lay at ease in his arms, lost to the world after a long, intense loving. Raising his head off the floor, he watched her sleep a moment, then readjusted her, moving her head to the hollow of his shoulder.

  A pucker appeared between her brows. She grumbled in protest.

  Drawing a circle on her temple, he soothed her with a soft rumble.

  The sound of his voice settled her. Her breathing evened out, warming the spot above his heart as he lay back and closed his eyes. God, she was sweet. Beyond beautiful. So bloody responsive she surpassed spectacular, burning hotter than any female he’d ever touched. His mouth curved. Not a bad tally when it came to Hope and sex. Throw impatient into the mix. Pencil in demanding—and peevish when she didn’t get her way—onto the bottom of the list and . . . aye. Sounded about right.

  Recalling the extent of her need, Forge hummed.

  Christ, she was something. A female who enjoyed sex hot, hard, and fast. Every male’s fantasy, the complete package, his absolute dream girl. Grinning like an idiot, so content he could hardly stand it, Forge stroked his hand over her back. The gentle caress kept him content, but didn’t wake her. Up and down. Around and over. His palm roamed curves covered by the blanket he’d tucked around her. He wanted to do more. Pull the thick fleece away. Bare her body for another round of loving. Wake her, take her, until she satisfied the ever-present need inside him.

  His body stirred at the idea, readying him for her.

  Forge blinked. Shite. Seriously? Again?

  He’d already loved her twice. Had come so hard inside her the second time he’d feared for his recovery. Glancing down, Forge l
ooked at his fast-growing erection. Demanding prick. It had the worst timing. He couldn’t stay, was already fifteen minutes late for the meeting. Even now, the pack gathered, waiting for his arrival inside the clinic. Which meant he should get up and go. Now. Before Bastian and the boys came looking for him.

  He stroked the backs of his fingers over her cheek.

  She sighed.

  “Hope?” Slipping his hand beneath the thick fall of her hair, he palmed the nape of her neck. His fingers went to work, massaging in gentle circles. “Time tae wake up.”

  She whined, the soft sound full of complaint.

  “Come on, luv.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered open, tickling his skin. Stretching, she undulated against him, cranking him tight as she raised her head and set her chin on his chest. Sleepy green eyes peeked up at him. “Wow. I fell asleep.”

  “Aye, you did.”

  “How long was I out?” she said, covering her mouth with her hand when she yawned.

  “Not long. Twenty minutes or so.” Just long enough to make him late.

  Knowing he needed to go, but unable to release her, Forge picked up a lock of her hair. The thick tendrils slid over his palm, glinting reddish gold under the glare of industrial-grade lighting. Fascinated by the color, he twirled the strands around the tips of his fingers and . . . hell. He was in danger of acting like a pansy—one of those males who refused to leave a female—instead of the warrior his brothers-in-arms expected him to be.

  Any other time, he would’ve said screw it and stayed. But not now. Not tonight. Mac’s life took precedence over pleasure, but God, he hated to leave Hope after loving her so hard. When she was still so warm and cuddly . . . and looking at him as though he mattered to her. The soft acceptance in her gaze taunted him. Made him yearn for something he knew he had no right to think. Not that it mattered. The unruly questions refused to be ignored, circling inside his head, firing his imagination, making him ask what it would be like to be needed each day, accepted every night, but most of all loved by the female fated to him.