Requested Surrender

by Riley Murphy

  “Good.”

  When he went to turn from her, she stopped him. “Hey, why do you think it’s good that I’m nervous around you?”

  “It means I’m touching you.”

  “Is that all?” She gave an exaggerated snort. “Believe me, you nailed doing that last night. That was the best orgas—hey!”

  He pulled her over to one of the leather loungers that sat opposite his desk. One minute she was trying to disengage her hand from his and the next she was bent over the arm of the chair. Before she could push herself up from it, he held her down with one hand and pulled her pants and thong down with the other.

  “David!”

  He didn’t say a word as he bent over her. At first she thought he was going to screw her right there. But then he remained fully clothed even though he pressed himself intimately against her. His heat and the power of him was the best kind of aphrodisiac but, then he began raining light kisses on the side of her neck. Biting and licking so lightly she wanted more, and when he slid his hand between her and the chair and played with her breasts through her shirt, she moaned. He plucked at her nipples and pinched them hard until she flexed her bottom back into him praying he’d get the unspoken message.

  Oh God, he did. Just as he’d done last night, he slid a finger into her. Deep, really deep, and all her inner muscles remembered him. They clutched and squeezed around him, only this time instead of working her into a slow building frenzy he went right to the spot. Caressing it hard, but oh so good. Too good. She didn’t even have time to enjoy the explosion as her body moved forward before her mind had a chance to catch up.

  “Jesus Christ!” She gasped when he let go of her and stood back. She didn’t move for a moment while she tried to calm her racing heart. Licking her lips and pushing the hair out of her eyes, she was going to pull up her pants, but he beat her to it.

  “David.”

  He actually lifted her by the pants so she slid right down into her thong first and then her Levis as he bounced her. Not very ladylike or elegant, but effective none-the-less. After she did up the zipper and refastened the button she blew the hair off her cheek and spun around to look up at him. “What was that all about?”

  There wasn’t a hair of his out of place. He looked as dead sexy now as he did when she first saw him this morning. Aggravating to the extreme especially when she had a good idea what she currently looked like. She was going to scan down to confirm her suspicions, but his words stopped her. Actually, the tone he spoke them in made her stand straighter and pay attention.

  “I can touch you like that anytime I want, and your body will always give into me. The reason being is that, right now, your submission is about as deep as my penetrating you. So where’s the challenge in that? When I request your submission, it will be immeasurable.” He reached out and pulled her into his arms, enveloping her in an embrace that was solid. Warm. All consuming as he curled down and whispered in her ear, “Would you like to know why?”

  She didn’t trust herself to speak, as she brushed her forehead against his chest in a nod.

  “I want to touch the parts of you no one else has touched. I want to own the piece of you that has yet to be discovered. So stop resisting. Let go. Let it happen.”

  It felt so good being crushed against him that she closed her eyes and sighed. “I agreed to stay with you, and I will no matter what.”

  He leaned back and forced her to look at him. When she did she was surprised to see a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. “Although I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t want you merely coping. I want you craving. Me.”

  He kissed her then. Not the teasing, sexy let’s-get-to-know-one-another-in-a-romantic-sense kind of a kiss that they’d shared while they flirted with each other over those dinners. This was an open mouthed, hot, deep, I-fucking-want-to-know-you-in-the-most-basic-biblical-sense-possible kind of kiss. It sapped her will. Her strength and her balance when she collapsed against him with a groan. Sinking her hands his hair, she fisted those coarse strands as she anchored herself for better access to his mouth.

  By the time he broke the embrace she was glad to see that she wasn’t the only one breathing hard. He was quicker to recover, though, as he cradled her cheek and brushed the pad of his thumb over her lips, drying them. When he was done, he cleared his throat and stepped back.

  “About those plans? You aren’t allergic to dust, scared of dark places or afraid to be alone for hours at a time, are you?”

  He didn’t wait for her to answer. He only turned and headed toward the door while all kinds of things popped into her head. Him blindfolding her, tying her up and leaving her in his basement for the balance of the morning. Or maybe in an outdoor shed? No, as she headed after him, she decided those things were probably too common for a guy like him. A car. An old antique car that hadn’t been driven in a really long time that he kept parked in a garage somewhere on his estate. That could be dusty, dark and a place to be abandoned for hours at a time.

  They walked down one huge hall, turned down another, cutting through a gigantic music room. She almost tripped over her own feet as she sized up the grand piano. It had to be twenty feet long. No sooner did that come to her then David stopped in front of a beautiful wood carved door. He put his hand on the door knob and turned to her.

  “Ready?”

  Not by a long shot. “Sure.”

  Chapter Seven

  David opened the door and stepped aside so Lacy could enter.

  “A library?”

  “My library,” he corrected. “Not what you were expecting, I assume.”

  She walked in, stopped and then shook her head. “Not even close.”

  “Should I ask?”

  She pursed her lips as if she were thinking about it before she answered, “No, I wouldn’t.”

  Once he closed the door, his curiosity got the best of him, and he threw out a guess. “Worried about my dungeon?”

  “Dungeon?” She twisted around and looked at him. “Out of all the places I envisioned we’d wind up, I never thought of that. Ironic as it should have been the first—wait, does that mean you have one?”

  “State-of-the-medieval-art. But we can explore that at another time. Right now I’d like to see you organized so I can get back to work.”

  She took a tentative look around. No doubt hunting for shackles or something. He waited as she continued to scan until her eyes landed on the stacks. When they remained glued there, David leaned forward and tilted his head to see her expression. Expressions, actually, as her look went from curious to suspicious, finally settling on miffed before she turned to look at him.

  “What’s with the piles of old records and why are those lower shelves empty?”

  He straightened and said, “I would think the answer to that is obvious. Those classic LPs—“

  “LPs?”

  “Yes, long playing vinyl records were on the shelves, but I had the case cleaned and now I want the LPs cleaned before they go back on the shelves.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Really? I can’t even imagine why you’d want to show this to me.”

  “Are you sure?” When she blinked at him he added, “About the imagining I mean. I would think it’s obvious.”

  “You want me to clean your antiques?”

  “Classics. After you do, you simply shelve them. It won’t be hard. They’re already in alphabetical order.”

  “I’d rather eat kale chips.”

  That comment was so bland he smiled. He knew all about her girlfriend’s struggle with kale. When was she going to stop focusing in on her friends and their experiences and start focusing on her own? Sure, Ethan had made his point by pushing the unwanted greens toward his woman. In the end it had worked out great for them and if Lacy would only cooperate, David’s plans could work out as good or better even for her. “And I’m sure Colin would have preferred to polish the vinyl. But like the famous song goes, you can’t always get what you want.”

  “Perfect,” she grumb
led under her breath, “now I’ll be stuck singing that for the next hour.”

  He walked over to the first pile of albums closest to the huge suspended panels that blocked off the light from the windows and said, “Okay here’s what you’re going to do. I’d like you to start with this pile and work your way down the line toward the door.”

  “Why is it so dark in here?” She stepped to the fabric frames and examined them. “Can’t these partitions be moved or opened?”

  “Careful.” He grabbed hold of the one she’d put her hand to, and stopped it from swinging. “There are nothing more than rollers connected to chains that support them. See?” He pointed up and showed her the track. “We usually keep them closed to protect my books. There will be a time I’ll ask you to open them, but not now. At the moment, you can use the floor lamps on either side of the case if you need more light.”

  She nodded and then took another look around. “So this is the dusty and dark place you’re going to stick me for hours by myself?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s not so bad. I mean it could have been worse, right?”

  He caught her arm when she turned. No doubt eager to get started. “I don’t know about worse, but I do know this isn’t what it seems.”

  That got her attention. “No?”

  He led her over to the first stack and explained, “You have to be careful when you take the discs out. No fingerprints. You can touch the edge and the middle but nowhere on the raised lines. This is how you polish them.”

  “People do this? They polish their vinyl? Who knew?”

  “Yes, pay attention. And then you do the back like this.” He demonstrated.

  Lacy kept one eye on David and her other on the consecutive piles. At the moment she was thinking what a waste of time this was going to be. The one he’d pulled out gleamed bright enough you could see your reflection on it. Knowing David, they were all like that so she decided she could probably skip that step and be done all the quicker but then he put the first one on the shelf and hesitated while he stared at it. “And don’t think you can skip this step as there’s a surprise.”

  Of course there was.

  “I’ve left several notes with directions for you on the inside paper jackets. Seven total, hidden in various albums for you to find.” He turned to her and added, “You’ll read each instruction and do exactly as I’ve asked.”

  “What kind of instructions?”

  The bright smile he gave her rivaled a sunbeam. “If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

  If he was waiting for her to comment he was going to have a long wait. This was one of those “the less she said, the better” times. In other words, no helping him out with her big mouth. By their third date she’d realized all he had to do was let her talk and she’d be in the thick of another fine mess of her own making.

  “I know these look like drawers.” He pointed to the pulls at the bottom of the bookcase. “But they’re really steps. You’ll need to use them to reach the higher shelf.” After he bent to show her the clever system, he stood. “And in order to understand the instructions you’ll need to be clear on certain terminology.”

  She bit her tongue and swallowed. How kinky were they going to get here? Don’t ask. Curiosity equaled dead cat, remember? Don’t—ugh. “Unless you’re going to be using some underground gang lingo from the clubs, I’m fairly up-to-speed on BDSM vernacular.”

  He inclined his head. “Good to know. Now this is the liquor cabinet”—he moved both arms like Vanna White did when she indicates to the letter board—“and this is the credenza.”

  “And I’m”—she mimicked his hand gestures only directing them to herself—“an asshole.”

  “No. What you are is impatient. Combine that with your dirty mind and it’s no wonder you wind up in the sticky situations you usually find yourself in. You have to learn how to be more patient.”

  Amen to that. “What’s in there?”

  “The bathroom,” he followed behind her, and said as he flicked on the light. “It’s a full bath complete with double shower.”

  Okay, she got the cabinet versus credenza thing, but the double shower? “Why do you have a shower in a library bathroom?”

  His dark eyes devoured her. “One never knows when one is going to get dirty.”

  Literally or figuratively. As he’d said about that story, Captivating Z, it could have gone either way. “I highly doubt a little dust is going to bother me so unless your instruction notes have powdered anthrax sprinkled on them and I have to reenact a Silkwood moment, I think I’ll be able to wait until I go up to my room to shower.”

  “We’ll see. There’s the egg timer. It’s—”

  “Hey, isn’t that mine? Did you take it from my place?”

  “— on the desk.” He carried on as if she hadn’t spoken and pointed to the squat white dial. “Use it when you need to. And”—he walked to her and tipped up her chin—“if I ever catch you using this with anyone else again you’ll get a spanking so hard you won’t be able to sit down comfortably for three days. Understood?”

  She never should have nodded. It went against the grain and every feminist bone in her body and yet clearly there were other bones within her. Her want-to-be-a-woman bones melted and made her perfectly okay with his warning. More than okay. She liked it. It made her feel special or important or something.

  “Good. I’ll be back at lunchtime. I thought we’d eat on the patio.”

  She had no idea where that was. “Great.”

  He got to the door and then turned back. “Please do as I’ve instructed and think about me.”

  When he left all she could think about was getting to one of those notes. Every possible manner of things ran through her mind about what kinds of directions he’d left. She didn’t know why, but the idea that one of his instructions would be to retrace her steps to his office and give him a blowjob dominated her imagination until that’s all she could think of doing. That’s all she wanted to do. She went through the first fifteen records with gusto, excited at the prospect of finding that note, but then fifteen lead to sixteen and sixteen to seventeen until she was sure she’d polished and shelved at least fifty albums. She was nearly ready to give up hope, when two yellow slips of paper fell out of the jacket of Buddy Holly’s Greatest Hits. Picking them up, she noticed that the strip of tacky glue had been cut off, hence the Post-it falling. She barely gave that a thought as she read.

  I want you to go to the credenza and open the top left-hand drawer. There’s a red satin bag tied with an ivory ribbon on the papers stacked to the left. Take the bag out and put it on the desk. Do not open it.

  She scowled and shook her head, shuffling those instructions behind the second yellow slip of paper. Surely there was more to it than that?

  Now.

  Oh he was very funny. Make her go through fifty albums for this little bag? And she couldn’t even open it? Lord knows she tried to get a peek as she brought it to the desk, but the infuriating guy had stuffed it with something like heavy fabric or foam so she couldn’t gauge what was in it. Not that she didn’t attempt to. It had some weight to it too. She stared at it for full minute, willing it to open of its own accord, but it didn’t.

  It stayed there looking ominous and sexy—a pool of crimson satin in the middle of the expansive hardwood desktop. Pushing her curiosity aside, she picked up the next record jacket and had barely pulled the disc from it when another note fell out. Bending, she picked up the paper and turned to eye the door. David was a sneaky Dom, that’s for sure. She’d have to be very careful around him.

  Standing, she blew the hair out of her eyes. There was no telling how he’d spaced his instructions. Sighing she read the one page.

  Go to the desk. On the right-hand side in the third drawer down, I want you to take out the item you find there and put it to the left of the satin bag. Make sure the label is facing front and center.

  That’s it? She marched over and did as he direct
ed. Only when she adjusted the bottle so the label was facing the way he wanted, she was forced to read it. She’d mistakenly thought it was massage oil until she read, Wet Silk. A liquid fabric that knits people together without unnecessary friction. Slide into some today.

  She snapped straight up and whistled, low and long. Now she really wanted to know what was in that bag. She was so preoccupied thinking about the possibilities that she’d gotten through two full album stacks before she found more instructions.

  Go to the credenza. In the cabinet there’s an item hanging on a small hook. Take it off and bring it to the desk. Before you put it down beside the lube and the bag I want you to rub it against your jaw so you can feel how smooth it is. Once you’ve done that, spread it out to the right of the satin.

  Molasses going uphill would have travelled faster than she did to that piece of furniture. The walk was like her very own green mile as she thought about what was hanging on that hook. Hook. The word gave her butterflies. Gingerly, she opened the cabinet door, closing one eye and squinting the other as she peered inside.

  “More red fabric?” Both her eyes were opened now and she frowned. It was a strip of red satin that matched the bag only… “A blindfold.” Those butterflies did crazy-eights in her stomach. Diving and soaring upward when she stood at the desk and rubbed her jaw with the fabric. A clean scent. David’s scent was on it. She breathed in deep, loving how it smelled of freshly washed linen only better because it brought an image of him to mind. With shaking hands she laid it down, spreading the blindfold out beside the sack before she patted away the few crumples until they were smooth. Eyeing the mini collection, she knew there had to be a theme, she was sure of it, but without knowing what was in the bag she was going to have to wait to find out.

  Be patient. David’s earlier words rang through her mind and she sighed. Patience wasn’t her strong suit—she turned and eyed the albums—but in this instance she’d make it work until she got to the end of his sexy paper trail.