Surrender (The Titans of Founder's Ridge Book 3)

by Nichole Greene

  “This,” I circle my index finger in the air, “is my club.”

  “Oh.” She swallows as that news sinks in. “Oh. It’s nice.”

  “Thank you. What are you doing here?”

  “We’re here to support Donovan,” she gestures over my shoulder to Donovan and Friday. “I didn’t realize this was where it was going to be. You know, at a…” she trails off.

  “Sex club? BDSM dungeon?” I fill in the blanks.

  “Yep.” She takes a gulp of the vodka soda our bartender just pushed across to her. “Yours, no less.”

  I notice Jacob is blatantly checking her out, so I close the distance between us, placing my hand on her hip and sliding my fingers between her exposed skin and the laces of her dress. I lean in to whisper in her ear, “Better slow down on the drink. We have a two-drink maximum, less for those who are underage.”

  “Why’s that?” she asks, not moving away from my close proximity.

  “You can’t consent if you’re drunk.”

  “Good point.” She leans against the bar with one elbow. “So what exactly do you do here?”

  “Make sure everyone behaves and pay the bills.”

  “Ah, man. Here I was hoping for a show.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.” I have to bite the inside of my cheek to hold back from offering a private experience.

  Friday joins us as Donovan walks up to the platform we have in the center with a table laid out. Mara is already up there, about to lie down for the demonstration. When I glance at Friday, I expect to see some level of jealousy as she watches Donovan stroke Mara’s body while he ties her to the table. To my surprise there is no jealousy, just straight desire in her eyes.

  “Do you want a table to sit at?” I offer.

  “No, I like this view,” Friday answers distractedly.

  “I have to go make a few rounds around the club to check on things.” I look down at Claire. “Are you good?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine.” She dismisses me with a wave of her hand. “Go do your job.”

  I lean down as I make eye contact with Jacob and kiss her on the cheek, effectively marking my territory. I walk away to go find Grant. I can’t stand next to her in that dress, in this place, without wanting to bend her over the closest table and finish what we started weeks ago. My need for her is clawing at my chest, fighting to be released.

  I’m just about to push send on a text to him when he steps out of the stairwell. I slide my phone into my pocket and pull him aside. The urgency to put distance between Claire and me is making me more intense than usual.

  “Claire Volkov is here,” I say quietly.

  “Connor’s sister?” he asks with both eyebrows raised. “Fuck. We better make sure he doesn’t find out. He’d bust the windows out.”

  “No kidding. Can you keep an eye on her while I go up to the office? I have a few things left to go through.”

  “What do you have left to do?” He narrows his eyes, suspicious of my behavior. He knows I finish my work before coming down to the floor.

  “I wanted to double check last month’s invoices. I thought I saw a discrepancy earlier.”

  “Right,” his voice is colored with disbelief.

  I don’t say anything else, just head for the stairs and jog up the two flights to our offices. As soon as I’m in my office, I flip on the security cameras and select the cam with the best view of her. She looks so fucking radiant tonight. She outshines every woman in the room without even trying. Grant is blocking her from Jacob’s view, thank fuck.

  I was able to rein myself in this past week and only accessed her camera twice. I told myself it was to make sure everything was working properly, but obviously that is a bunch of bullshit. I am a bit worried after watching two rehearsals. She stumbled in both of them. It was barely noticeable, but all I seem to be able to do right now is catalog her every move.

  A knock at the door startles me, and I call for whomever it is to come in. A strangled groan almost escapes me when I realize it’s Sarah. She’s one of our attorneys and my sometimes play partner. When she didn’t come slinking into my office earlier, I hoped that meant she was out today. Apparently, no such luck.

  Her blonde hair is down her shoulders in loose waves, streaks of silver the only thing that gives away her age. She’s in her mid-forties, but her skin is still tight and firm, her body has the curves of a mother. She’s beautiful but quite literally the last person I want to deal with. I need to end it completely.

  “Sir,” she slinks toward me with her bowed. Her charcoal gray pencil skirt has a slit up one side, exposing her shapely thighs, and her deep purple blouse is halfway unbuttoned. I stop her right before she drops to her knees in front of me.

  “Sarah,” I don’t miss the look of hurt that flashes in her eyes at the use of her name instead of her pet name, “stand up.”

  She finally makes eye contact with me. Her confident and intelligent attorney side comes back to take the place of her submissive side.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” I say simply.

  “Why?” she asks, clutching her blouse together now.

  “There’s someone else.”

  “We aren’t monogamous,” she says with confusion, “so I don’t see how that is a problem.” Understanding crosses her face as she takes in my expression. “Ah, she’s different.”

  “Yeah, she is. I can’t stop thinking about her. Poly or not, my partners deserve my full attention when they are with me, and I can’t give that right now.”

  “To anyone but her, you mean.”

  “Exactly,” I say as I glance over at the security feeds. I do a double-take because now instead of Grant standing with her at the bar, Jacob is there. I watch as he lifts his hand and runs a finger down her arm. I grab my wallet, keys, and phone and walk past Sarah. “I’m sorry to leave so abruptly, but I just remembered something.”

  That Claire Volkov is mine and fuck the consequences.

  5

  CLAIRE

  If this fucking clown puts his hands on me one more time, I’m going to give him a right hook to the gut like Lilith taught me. He’s going on and on about his—meaning his family’s—investment portfolio. I’m about to tell him my family could buy his five times over when an arm wraps possessively around my waist, and I’m pulled back against a familiar chest.

  “Tsarina,” Griff says as his hand splays over my stomach, “are you ready to go home?” His other hand cups the opposite side of my face and turns my head so we’re nose to nose.

  His eyes are an almost golden color, and in them I see every single thought and feeling I have for him reflected back at me. He wants me. He wants whatever this raging connection between us is. He is effectively claiming me here inside his club for all to see. His gaze stays steady on mine while he waits for my answer.

  “Yes.”

  His hands tighten on my body when he gets my answer, and for a split second, he seems to lean in toward me for a kiss. After a quick internal battle, he stops himself. Then his hand is gripping mine, and he’s dragging me toward the exit. I pull my phone out and text Friday, who is sitting in a booth with Donovan.

  “Did you use your driver, or should I grab a taxi?” he asks once we’re out on the sidewalk.

  “Marco is parked down the block,” I point in the direction.

  “Let’s go.” He’s all but pulling me along behind him. “Your place is closer, and I know Con and Lilith are with your parents in Founder’s Ridge. You choose, your place or mine?”

  “Yours. Who knows if Con is watching the security feeds,” I roll my eyes as I say it. It would not surprise me one bit if he was.

  Griff smirks. “Probably.”

  We get to the SUV, and he pulls the door open, helping me before sliding in next to me. Griff gives Marco his address and sets his hand high up on my thigh. Griff and Marco start up a conversation about the Yankees, I think, but I can only focus on the path of Griff’s fingers. Up and down my thigh in a torturously slow and soft
rhythm, moving higher and higher until his hand is under the hem of my dress.

  He’s still talking to Marco, completely unaffected as his fingers find their way to my core. I gasp as he teases me. His lips tilt upward in a half smirk as he works me into a needy mess, all while having a conversation about baseball statistics. I open my legs a bit wider, hoping he’ll get the message, but he continues to tease. I’m so wet that even though he hasn’t pushed inside me yet his finger is coated with my juices.

  As soon as we pull up in front of Griff’s building, I’m pushing him out the door. It feels like he’s trying to torture me as he says goodbye to Marco and slowly strolls into the lobby hand in hand with me. The doorman nods at him as we pass. He leads me over to a bank of elevators and swipes a card to call the last one.

  As soon as we’re on and the doors have closed, I’m pushed up against the wall. His mouth is on mine in a deep, passionate kiss. He presses one leg between mine, putting pressure right where I need it. He breaks our kiss and stares down at me with a look that manages to be both intense and playful. He lifts the finger he was teasing me with in the car to my lips.

  “Open up, Tsarina, and taste what I can do to you with just the lightest touch.”

  I open my mouth and let him slide his finger in. I wrap my lips around him and suck myself off his finger. I use my tongue to wrap around it and hollow out my cheeks while I stare up at him from under my lashes. I start pulling his shirt from where it’s tucked into his pants. I want to feel his hot skin under my fingers.

  The elevator opens right in his foyer. Double height windows tower over us. I don’t even get a second to take everything in before I’m being dragged into a small kitchen on the opposite side of the open plan living space. He pulls a knife out of a butcher block on the counter.

  “Do you trust me?” he asks with the knife hanging beside him.

  “Yes,” I answer, “implicitly.”

  “Good,” he purrs. He grabs the of the dress and slides the knife under the laces. “I’ve wanted to do this ever since I saw you tonight.” He cuts through the leather laces of the dress I’m wearing up to my ribs and then rips it over my head.

  I’m left standing completely naked except for my stilettos in his kitchen.

  “God, you are fucking exquisite.” He steps back and drags his eyes up and down my body. With the dull edge of the knife, he traces a path from my jaw, down my neck, over the swell of my breast and nipple before he sets it down on the counter. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. You are mine. My partner. My toy. Nothing comes between us.”

  I grab his tie and pull him close to me. “And you are mine. I never did share well.”

  “No one else,” he says as he lifts me and starts carrying me toward the stairs, which he takes two at a time.

  “Am I going to need a safe word for this?” I joke in between kisses.

  “No,” he answers seriously, “but we will have that conversation soon. Tonight we’re making up for lost time.”

  He carries me into his room and sets me down on his bed. Everything is dark, the walls, the bedding. The only light comes from the open blinds letting light from the full moon in. He flips on a lamp, and I see the reason for the darkness—the walls are a dark gray, the bedding is black, and his bed is a black metal four-poster design. The lines are sleek, sexy, and masculine.

  My eyes travel back to Griff as he strips his clothes off. First his tie, which he tosses on the nightstand. His shirt and pants are next, landing in a pile on the floor. My eyes travel over his tattooed arms and chest, down his lean and cut abs to the erection straining against his briefs. I reach out to touch him, but he grabs my wrist.

  “In this room, I’m in charge,” he says firmly as he brings my wrist to his lips. A small frown crosses his face when he sees the scar there. “I tell you what you can and cannot do, understood?”

  A part of me is extremely annoyed by that attitude, but even more of me is turned on by it. The tone of his voice, the look in his eyes, the way he carries himself, it all makes me want to please him. I don’t understand it, but right now, in this moment, I am all in.

  “Yes, sir.” My brain meant it as a joke, but my body just came alive saying that.

  With those words, Griff’s eyes darken like a switch was flipped. He steps between my legs, wraps his hand around my throat, and tilts my head back. He kisses me with slow, deep sweeps of his tongue. His lips move over mine sensually. His other hand pinches my nipple, pulling it just hard enough to make me gasp in pleasure. He smiles against my lips.

  “I love that you like a little pain with your pleasure, Tsarina.” He pushes me back on the bed. “Are you comfortable with ankle restraints?” He pulls up a leather cuff attached to the bedpost with a chain.

  I nod my head. The thought of being tied down by him has my body tingling.

  “Anything other than an enthusiastic and verbal yes is a no.”

  “Yes, I want you to use them.”

  “Good girl.” He smiles at me. He runs his hands firmly down my leg from hip to ankle. He expertly wraps the cuff around my ankle and tightens it. He runs his hands back up my leg but stops at my pussy. He uses one finger to tease my clit, making my hips jerk at the contact. All too soon, he’s pulled away. He repeats the action for my other leg.

  As soon as he finishes tightening the cuff, I test out the strength of the restraints. There is a little give but not much. I watch as he slowly lowers his face to my aching core.

  “So gorgeous.” He parts me with his thumbs before running his tongue up me from end to end with agonizing precision. Up and down, torturing me with his thorough dedication to my pleasure. He sucks my clit into his mouth, drawing a breathy cry from me, my hands reach down into his soft hair and pull.

  I try to grind against his face, but I can’t because of the restraints. I growl in frustration as the restraints keep me in place. The vibration of his low laughter against my clit almost brings me to orgasm. Right as the first tremors are about to begin, he pulls away.

  “Why did you stop?” I ask with a husky voice and wiggle of my hips.

  “Because I decide when you come, and you’re in for a long night.” He crawls up my body, stopping to lick and bite here and there.

  Fuck. Let’s do this.

  “May I touch you now?”

  “Since you asked so nicely,” he says against my neck, “you may.” He kisses me then, and the taste of my arousal mixed with him makes me want to wrap my legs around him and take him deep inside me.

  I run my hands down his chest and over his abs until I hit the waistband of his underwear. It’s the only barrier left between us, and I want it gone. I push them down his hips and thighs, wrapping my hand around his thick cock when he works them off the rest of the way. I love the way he feels in my hand, hard but soft. My thumb brushes over the head of his dick.

  “That’s a new and exciting development,” I say against his lips. “When did you get this?”

  “A couple of months ago.” He moves back down between my legs. “I got hung up on this girl.” His fingers slide inside me, pumping slowly in and out.

  “And you figured the best way to get over her was to pierce your dick. Makes sense.” His fingers hook up inside me, finding my g-spot and sending me right back to the edge. I cry out when he circles my clit with his thumb and adds a third finger to my pussy.

  My toes curl, and my back arches up off the bed as an orgasm comes out of nowhere. He keeps working me with his fingers until I stop spasming. It’s not until the final tremors subside that I’m marginally concerned at the wet puddle I’m laying in. He’s looking down between my legs with a huge smile on his face.

  “Tsarina,” he looks up at me like the cat that got the cream, “did you know you were a squirter?”

  “What?” I sit up, bracing on my elbow and look down. “I thought that was a myth.”

  “I assure you, it is not.” He holds eye contact with me as he lowers himself to me and licks me clean
.

  I catch my breath while he removes the cuffs from my ankles, pressing kisses to the arches of each foot. I scoot up the bed and watch as he pulls the duvet off and drops it to the floor. He stretches out beside me, so we’re face to face on the bed.

  “I’m serious. I couldn’t stop thinking about you after the wedding. I haven’t been able to be with anyone else since. I don’t understand it.” He looks uncharacteristically vulnerable as he cups my cheek. “This is risky. We can’t-”

  I cut him off with a kiss. “Let’s stay in the moment,” I say against his lips. I push him onto his back and move down to what I’ve been fantasizing about for months. I stroke his cock a few times before flicking his piercing with my tongue. I take him all the way to the back of my throat, hollowing my cheeks around him, loving the way he wraps my hair around his fist and pulses inside my mouth.

  “Fuck. Stop, Claire.” He gently pushes me away. “I don’t want to come in your mouth. Not tonight, anyway.”

  He rolls onto his back and situates me on top of him. I’m about to slide down his shaft when he holds me still. His fingers dig into my hips.

  “Are you on birth control?”

  “Yes and no STIs.”

  “Good. Me too.” He grabs a condom and rolls it on. “My piercing can puncture the condom, better to know just in case.”

  I lower myself until I can’t take any more of him. I brace my hands on his chest while moving my hips, increasing the pace. He cups my breasts and starts pulling and twisting my nipples, sending me straight to another orgasm.

  I’m still coming down from my high when he flips us so I’m on my back. He grabs my ankles and puts them together and starts thrusting wildly into me. The sound of our skin slapping together and panting breaths fill the room. My legs drop to either side of him as he lays on top of me, still thrusting deep and hard. He growls my name as he stills, his cock pulsing. I can feel him twitching inside me as he drops his head to my neck, his hot breath fanning over my shoulder.

  The next morning I wake up to the smell of bacon. I look around the room and see that I’m alone in bed. I roll over and gingerly get out of bed. I’m sore. I feel like I spent twelve hours in the studio with no breaks. This must be what Friday is talking about when she shares stories about being railed all night long.