The Invitation 2: Surrender

by Roxy Sloane

  I pull my hand away, even though my body is screaming for more.

  “What do you want me to do?” I ask.

  The answer comes, thrillingly direct.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  THIRTEEN

  I do as he says.

  Carefully, I undo the sash and let my dress drop to the floor. I’m so turned on that even the feel of the fabric rippling over my skin makes me gasp with sensation.

  “Beautiful…” his voice is smoky with desire. “Turn around, let me see you.”

  I turn a slow circle, jutting my hip to show off my curves and the lace lingerie.

  “Lay down on the couch now, and spread your legs.”

  A shock of lust hits right between my thighs. I follow his order, arranging myself across the chaise lounge. It’s deliciously comfortable, the pillows propping my back up and putting me on display: my bra pushed down around my waist, and the scrap of thong underwear that doesn’t conceal anything at all.

  From his position, hidden behind the grille, he can see all of me, but I can only glimpse the shape of his outline through the screen. He could be anyone.

  This is so hot.

  “You look beautiful like that, sweetheart,” he whispers, voice heated with lust. “I want to taste you.”

  “Nothing’s stopping you,” I tease. I spread my thighs, showing him the view.

  He lets out a dark groan. “None of that now, minx. This is all about watching you. Maybe next time.”

  A thrill runs through me. Next time...

  “Hook your ankle over the back of the couch. Put your other foot on the floor. I want to see everything.”

  I follow his command. This experience feels surreal. So naughty. So hot. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I only know that I can’t stop.

  “That’s it,” he breathes. “Perfect.”

  I lay back, my head spinning. I have my legs spread wide. I’m completely open to him. Nothing is hidden.

  God, I need to be touched.

  As if he can hear my thoughts, he says, “Tell me how wet you are. Go on, touch.”

  My fingers graze down my stomach and over my hip. I reach the band of lace on my panties then I pause.

  “Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” he sounds amused. “Go ahead and stroke that tight little pussy for me. I know you’re dripping, begging for my cock to fill you up.”

  I shudder. I want to surrender. I want to lose control.

  My fingers roam lower. I slide across the wet fabric and dip lower, into the hollow of my cunt.

  “There you go. Just like that,” he breathes, his voice huskier now.

  The tip of my middle finger pushes the lace into my sensitive folds. It scrapes across my clit and I have to bite my lip to keep from gasping.

  Yes!

  “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you,” he orders. “Keep touching your breasts. Squeeze them while you rub that slick nub.”

  His dirty words only make me hotter. I reach with one hand to pluck and twist at my puckered nipples while the other presses down against my clit. Heat crashes through me. I arch my back off the chaise and moan, desperate for more.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart? What do you need?” he asks.

  “More. I need more,” I manage to gasp.

  “Then take off your panties.”

  I race to pull them off, carelessly tossing them to the floor. I spread my thighs wide again, hooking my ankle high on the back of the couch.

  He can see every part of me and I don’t care. I want him to. I want him to see me with my bra bundled around my waist, my thighs and pussy slick with my own juices.

  “What are you waiting for, darling? Give your dripping cunt what it needs.”

  My hand trembles as I reach lower again. I slide my fingers over my clit, swollen and tender.

  “Yes. Good girl. Stroke it soft. Just like that. Now move your hand, up and down. Harder.”

  I follow his directions, running my fingers in circles around the sensitive nub, squeezing at my nipple with my other hand.

  I’m lost in a haze of pleasure and pure lust. His voice washes over me, like he’s the one touching me instead.

  “This is what you do to me. This craving you’re feeling right now. You drove me crazy at the club that night, you didn’t back down for a second. It was so fucking hot, watching you. The way you let me pleasure you, right in front of everyone.” His voice is hoarse now, panting as I stroke. “You liked it, didn’t you? Being forced to hide what a bad girl you are...”

  I rub my clit harder, caught up in the heat. In the forbidden, dirty words he’s murmuring.

  “Answer me,” he demands.

  “I loved it,” I stutter, my voice shaking. God, I’m close. My body is rising, twisting under my frantic fingers. “It was good.” I pant, trying to catch my breath. “So good.”

  “That’s my kinky girl,” he praises. “And how’s that sweet pussy now? Does it ache for your fingers? Does it need to be filled?”

  “So much. Please...” I beg, gasping. I’ve never needed anything the way I need his cock right now. I can imagine it. Hard and deep, driving me over the edge.

  “Not yet.”

  I curse in frustration, but that just makes him laugh. “Slide lower, baby. Stroke your lips.”

  I drag my fingers down to where I ache. I grind my palm against my clit and stroke my fingers along my entrance, caressing the hot wetness, impatient for more.

  “That’s it, sweetheart. Imagine it’s my fingers touching you.”

  I can hear my breathing turn rougher, feel my breasts move with each pant. God, it feels so good. But I need more. Why won’t he give me more?

  “Now push your finger in deep, feel how much you want my cock.”

  I moan with relief as I slide one finger inside. My walls clench hard around me, eager for more. I groan and shut my eyes.

  This is so fucking hot. I’ve never been this turned on before. His voice, his orders make me burn.

  “That’s right, finger yourself. Feel how soft and wet you are inside. Two fingers now, baby. Stretch that tight little cunt. ”

  I slam the second finger inside me, feeling the friction ignite. My other hand drags along the slick leather of the couch, searching for somewhere to hold. I push my fingers further inside, fucking myself harder and deeper with my hand.

  God, I’m close. My legs tighten, I can feel the shivers start in the base of my spine. I pump harder, desperate. I’m almost there...

  “Stop.”

  My whole body freezes.

  “You know the rules. Or do you want this to end?”

  I shake my head no. Absolutely not.

  I lay there, strung out, so close to the edge. I can hear the couple still fucking in the room next door. Her loud cries and moans, his deep grunts, the headboard slamming against the wall as he works her over.

  It’s pure torture.

  “Do you hear that, sweetheart?” he teases me. “Would you like me to fuck you like that?”

  “Yes,” I gasp, weak with need.

  “I saw you watching them,” his voice slips through my bloodstream like a drug. “Did it excite you, seeing her get spanked? I know it did, it was written all over your face. Is that what you want, to be tied down, and shown who’s in charge?”

  “Yes,” I whimper, past shame, past caring. All I feel is desire, hot in my veins. A desperate need.

  “You don’t need a whip or handcuffs to know, I’m the one in control here.” His voice turns harder, so fucking sexy I could die. “I tell you how I want it, I tell you when. You don’t come until I say you can, is that clear.”

  “Yes, yes. Please…” I gasp. I didn’t understand before, what would make those women beg the way they did. I thought it was just for show. But there’s nothing fake about the mindless need clawing low in my body, the way my pussy aches to be touched, filled, stretched wide open and fucked hard for days.

  The silence stretches. God, it’s more than I can bear. I listen t
o the ecstasy of the couple behind the curtains and pray with everything I have that he puts me out of this misery, and soon.

  Like an answer to my prayers, his voice comes again.

  . “I want you to fuck yourself on your fingers until you come,” his voice echoes through the stillness. “Now.”

  Heat rushes through me in a tidal wave and I nearly drown.

  I thrust my fingers deep, grinding my palm against my clit and plunging over and over, riding the waves of pleasure higher and higher. I grip on for dear life, moaning as my body writhes on the couch. Fuck, I’m almost there.

  “Do it, baby, stretch that tight little cunt wide open for me. Fill it up. Rub your clit until you come.”

  The friction, the stretch, the heat, the grind, his voice, it all builds and builds until I’m crying out for release.

  God, I’m almost there, but I need something more. I sob with frustration and need, until suddenly in the next room, a scream of ecstasy sounds. She’s coming; the sound of flesh slapping and male animal grunts echoes through the air, frenzied and totally out of control.

  My body constricts. Oh, god!

  “Come,” he commands. “Come for me.” And I break.

  Pleasure slams through me from deep inside, white hot, rushing out to the tips of my fingers, the end of my toes. Every muscle goes taut as the waves crash through me, so intense I think I’m going to pass out. I hear another loud scream, and realize it’s my own voice, crying out with release as my body breaks apart.

  When I surface, the room is still dark. Silence.

  Holy shit! I’ve never come that hard in my life, not with a partner, and definitely not solo. Damn. That was a life affirming orgasm.

  I stretch out, feeling my muscles glow with my climax. I feel fucking amazing. So satisfied. Who’d have guessed masturbation could get me off like that?

  He did.

  I sit up, looking over at the grille. I clear my throat. I don’t know what to call him.

  “Uh, hello?” I ask.

  There’s silence.

  “Hello?” I call again. I get up on shaking legs and move closer, but there’s no shadowed silhouette behind the grille. The confessional space is empty.

  He’s gone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I leave the club in a daze. My legs are unsteady, and my head is spinning from what just happened: the most seductive, thrilling, dirty sexual experience of my life.

  How does this guy know to push my limits like this? It’s like he can read my mind, and knows all my deepest fantasies.

  Back at the apartment, I run a bath in the massive marble tub and fill it to the brim with expensive bath bubbles. I pour myself a glass of whiskey from the stocked bar in the corner, and gently ease into the steaming hot water.

  Mmmmm….

  I take a sip of the deep amber liquid in my glass, warming my body from the inside out. Slowly, I relax back in the water and let the night replay in my mind.

  I feel incredible.

  Even now, away from the dark seclusion of the club, I don’t feel embarrassed by all the things he made me do tonight. In fact, it turns me on all over again. I remember watching the couple as they fucked. Displaying myself to him on the chaise. Having him watch me as I pleasured myself.

  Wow.

  I shiver, still feeling his eyes burning on my skin.

  I submitted to his desires without shame. It was so hot to have a stranger in control like that. I wanted - needed - to please him.

  I’ve never been pushed so far, never given up so much power to one man. I’ve always been the dominant one in the bedroom, always the one to call the shots and make the decisions. But with just a few words, this mystery man convinced me to give up everything and do things that I’ve only ever fantasized about. But more than that, he showed me things I never knew about myself.

  How far I’ll go for pleasure. How fucking amazing it feels to surrender.

  And now that I’ve had a taste, I want more.

  My thoughts wander to the voice, the man, behind the screen. He watched me from the shadows as I opened myself up to him and let myself go. His voice teased me, challenged me. The dark tone and deep resonance was so sexy as he whispered instructions for me to do dirty, delicious things to my body.

  I didn’t recognize the voice of the man behind the screen. And his shape was obscured by the shadows and the grille.

  But I have to know him… Don’t I?

  He feels familiar, more than someone who stepped out of my darkest fantasy. I feel like I know him in real life.

  But who?

  I think about the men I know in New York City. Is one of them my gift giver, the man who knows all my darkest fantasies?

  My first thought goes to Ashton. I know from our one night together in law school that he has the imagination and dirty mind to dream up this game, but it’s not possible. His British accent is unmistakable. My mystery man is American. It’s not Ashton’s voice, I’m certain of that.

  I feel a pang of disappointment, but I push it aside. Ashton is different now, I remind myself: colder and more aloof. A stranger. He’s no longer the warm, friendly Ash I knew from grad school. And Ash couldn’t do a passable American accent if his life depended on it.

  So if it’s not Ashton, then who can it be?

  My client, Adam, seems too nice, too sincere and honest to be Mr. X. He’s cute, sure, but he’s more the vanilla sex kind of guy, not diamond keys and sex clubs. But I could be wrong. Adam could have a dirty streak a mile wide hidden behind his nerdy t-shirts and floppy hair. Because, really, don’t all nerds have a Princess Leia bondage fantasy tucked deep dark inside?

  Then there’s Paul, Adam’s brother. At first I ruled him out, since we didn’t meet until after the first gifts arrived. But then I stop and think about it for a second.

  Maybe Adam mentioned me before I arrived in NYC. I’m easily searchable on the internet. There are pictures - great pictures, if I do say so myself - out there for anyone to find if they looked.

  I think back to the club the night I met Paul. I was pretty distracted, with that butterfly buzzing in my panties, but I remember him being good-looking and smart. He was handsome in a stiff, overly serious way. But there was also a darkness to him, an intensity in his gaze behind the buttoned up, dry exterior. I bet he’s a freak just waiting to be unleashed. And maybe, just maybe, he’s already let the beast out.

  And then there’s Cam… I’ve only met him a few times with Keely. He’s always seemed like a blank slate to me, cool and polite, rather distant. I’ve never gotten a good read on his personality, but there’s always been a hint of interest in his eyes. Like he’s sizing me up for something more.

  Or it could just be my imagination, wishful thinking on my part. Because that man is hot.

  I just hope it’s not one of the other guys I’ve met here in town. That asshole lawyer, Greyson Werthers, Kellan, or possibly one of the paunchy middle-aged lawyers Ashton surrounds himself with. The thought makes shudder.

  Gross.

  My thoughts drift back to Ashton. He’s the only one of them I really know, and the more I think about it, the more I realize that this game is just his style.

  I remember the war stories we would trade during those late nights studying, all the crazy things he did with girls. Like the time he told me about how he met some girl at Mardi Gras. She blew him on his balcony over Bourbon Street with hundreds of people partying oblivious down below.

  When he told me, I got so turned on. I sat there pretending to study, but all I could think about was what it would be like if I were that girl: on my knees with his cock buried deep in my throat. All those people nearby, and any one of them could just look up and see…

  I’d had to make an excuse and leave, I was so hot. I ducked into the library bathroom and got myself off, rubbing furiously as I imagined Ash’s hands gripping tight on the back of my head, his thick cock sliding between my wet, hungry lips…

  The memory blurs into fantasy now. I si
nk deeper in the tub, sliding my fingers through the bubbles, stroking across my soapy, sensitive breasts.

  My nipples stiffen. My body shivers.

  I slide my fingers lower under the water, over my stomach and down between my thighs.

  There…

  I exhale in bliss and sink lower in the tub, touching myself in slow, easy strokes. I’m still tender and sore from earlier, but now my fingers are soothing, caressing that tight bundle of nerves until the pleasure ripples through my body in gentle waves.

  A loud noise cuts through my haze. My cellphone ring. Dammit!

  I drag my fingers from my pussy and search by the bathtub for my phone, trying to make the sound turn off. I hit the wrong button and accidentally accept the call.

  “Hello?”

  Shit.

  “Hello?” My reply is breathless. I’m still so close—

  “Justine?” A familiar British accent says from the speaker, shocking me out of my pleasure. “Are you OK?”

  You have got to be kidding me!

  It’s Ashton on the other end of this call. And he caught me naked in the bath getting myself off to a memory of him.

  I come crashing back to earth. I scramble out of the tub, grabbing the towel to cover myself even though I know he can’t see me.

  “JJ? You there?”

  “Sorry. Yeah. I was, um… busy. Did you need something?” I add quickly. My heart is racing and my body is still screaming out for release. “It’s kind of late.”

  “Right.” He clears his throat. There’s an odd tone in his voice that I can’t decipher. “I was calling about our deposition tomorrow. I just had an important meeting pop up at the last minute.”

  This is what he interrupted my orgasm for? “We can’t reschedule. Not with the timeline you put us on.”

  He chuckles, “I know, JJ. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

  I wonder what he’d say if he knew I’m not wearing any knickers.

  “Since we can’t push it, how about we take our meeting on the road? You can depose me while I’m on my way.”