ReclaimedSurrender

by Riley Murphy

  Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and willed herself to breathe as one of his fingers traced a path over the elastic ribbing of her panty. Slowly he followed the curve where her thigh met her torso, sending a series of white-hot tingles right to her belly. The achy and building tension that pulsed to life in her clit bordered on being painful. Triggering a need and desire for him so strong she swayed and clung to the ladder with a moan.

  He must have heard it because abruptly the tantalizing suspense ended and his hand slipped out from between her legs. She almost wilted from the loss.

  “Come on. I’ll help you down.”

  A shaky breath later she nodded. She knew he expected her to descend the way she’d gone up. Facing the wall of books, but she had no intention of doing it that way. His way. Instead she turned until she precariously towered over him for a change.

  “Alex.”

  Ah, so he wasn’t as unaffected as he made it seem. She’d seen the hungry lust in his eyes before he could hide it. “Yes?” She braced her palms on his shoulders and pushed off, confident he’d catch her.

  And he did. “You little fool. In those heels you could have fallen.”

  He held her in his strong arms, letting her slide down on him until they were eye to eye. Only his gaze wasn’t on hers. No, his eyes were examining her lips as if he wanted to gorge on them.

  Automatically she tilted her head back to give him better access. Loving the spicy scent of him. The crushing pressure of his arms around her. The heat. The hardness.

  “Alex?”

  His husky whisper acted as a physical stroke between her legs where she was heated and moist. Ready. He leaned down, coming close. Her pulse slammed in time with her rapid heartbeat. She closed her eyes, parted her lips and—

  “It’s time to polish my furniture.”

  He set her down so fast she stumbled back and fell into a jarring sit as her butt got hooked on a ladder step. “Wh-what?”

  “My wood? Polish? Remember?”

  She blinked and followed the direction of his point toward the large cherry-wood credenza. Right on top of that there was a glass bottle and an oil-covered cloth. It took her a few seconds to recover and clear her desire-mush brain, but when she did, she huffed a slice of bang out of her eyes and frowned. “What did your last slave die of?”

  She didn’t have the chance to lamely quip “being overworked and underpaid” because he growled, “Exhaustion. Now move. Break time’s over.”

  Yeah, and so was her sexual buzz. “I’m tired.”

  “Alexis.”

  She narrowed a look up at him, wondering how he managed to make her name sound like a threat and a punishment at the same time. It really was a talent. With a deep breath she stood and sauntered past him, but the haughty demeanor she was going for was kicked down a notch the second he smacked her ass as she went by.

  “Hey.” Rubbing her stinging butt cheek with one hand, she picked up the fancy bottle with the other. It was her homespun lemon oil concoction all right. One cup of olive oil to a quarter cup lemon juice. What did Rene call it? Her tree-hugger special. Salad dressing for furniture.

  Putting it back down, she absently toyed with the cloth, adjusting the tented wrinkles and folding and unfolding the edges, while she tried to figure out her feelings.

  That took all of thirty seconds. There was no figuring out to be done. She was hot for him. Anger or no anger. That was the truth. Maybe it was time they put what happened behind them. Time for her to forgive him for what he’d done and make him promise never to do it again. Why couldn’t she have found a birth control pill that worked for her? It would have made all this so much easier.

  “Rene?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her hand fell away from the cloth. Knowing he was right behind her, she tilted her head to let him see that she was considering things. “I don’t see how me doing our chores is getting us anywhere. I mean,” she turned and shook her hair behind her shoulders, “it makes no sense. Why don’t we just,” she shrugged, “you know, do it.”

  “Do.” He sat on the arm of his Burmese leather chair. “It?”

  “I’m sure you’re not loving this intimate awkwardness either. It’s as if we’re virgins or something.” She made a face. “Maybe we should think about rediscovering each other kind of like ripping off a Band-Aid. It’s over fast and then we can relax and do it without the worry.”

  “I’m not worried.” But his look told her she should be. “Start polishing.”

  “Why should we prolong the inevitable?”

  “Are you telling me you’re ready to beg me to get back into my bed?”

  She blinked, wondering where he’d gotten that idea. “No.”

  His lips pressed together and his eyebrows arched. He didn’t need to say the words that’s why because they were written all over his face.

  “Fine.” She turned and snatched the oil and cloth off the credenza and then whirled back around. “But this is no way—”

  He held up a hand. “To get back into your good graces?”

  Her nod may have been curt, but the look that accompanied it was mutinous. At least she hoped it was.

  “Honey, if I thought I had done something wrong and I needed to get back into your good graces because of it, I would have already done so six months ago. This whole time hasn’t been you denying me. Far from it. It’s been me denying you. But now that I’ve discovered it’s not totally your fault I’m prepared to forgive you.”

  “You? You’re prepared to forgive me?” She nearly dropped the lemon oil. His audacity knew no bounds. “It’s been me denying you. A-and…” She knew it was childish but she did it anyway. She raised her chin a couple of notches and sniffed. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not ready to forgive you.”

  That lofty comment was ignored while he zeroed in on another. “You deny me?”

  He was totally amused. His dark eyes sparkled and his gorgeous lips curled up in the wickedest, most infuriating grin imaginable. Damn him. “Yes.”

  “Babe, if I wanted to get into your pants or your mouth or any other part of you I desire, it would take me less than five minutes to do it.”

  That hit her like a slap in the face because they both knew it was true. He was like a drug to her. Dangerous. Her present predicament proved that, didn’t it? She’d only spent an hour and half with him, doing housework no less, and she was ready to cave and forgive him. She wasn’t that weak, was she?

  Yes, you are, that’s why you’ve been smart keeping your distance.

  “Less than five minutes, huh?” She tossed the bottle of lemon oil up in the air and caught it, trying to appear somewhat cocky and confident even though she was dying inside. It was one thing to give up your power and another to have it taken away. “So why don’t you?”

  His jaw tightened. She watched in fascination as his cheek muscles shifted and flexed under his stubble-roughened skin as if he were gnashing his teeth together. A moment later she knew he was because he spoke through those pearly whites without unclenching them. “This is the last time I’m going to say this. You are the one who has to earn your way back to me. Now polish!”

  Jumping, she took two steps toward his desk before she caught herself. He had to know that she wasn’t going to be bullied. She squared her shoulders and elegantly made her way to the desk, all the while mulling over his words. He can get into my pants or my mouth…or any other part of me. Sheesh. What other part was there?

  Oh.

  She didn’t want to think about that bone of contention between them, so she continued with her silent rant. He thought she was so easy, did he? And he was the big, strong man? She twisted off the oil cap and simmered. She wasn’t a pushover. Well, maybe she was, but he was the one who made her that way.

  Less than five minutes to do it.

  Why was she feeling so bad about that taunt? If she put her devious mind to work, as he frequently did his, he wouldn’t last five minutes, she was sure of it. Her hand paused in the m
otion of pouring a small amount of oil on top of his desk. Lemony scent filled the air and tickled her nose while she watched the tiny puddle flatten and thought about putting that theory to the test. When the idea came to her she didn’t hesitate. She angled the oil bottle down and let the liquid rip.

  Rene sat there completely stunned. His wife was polishing his wood desk with her body. Her whole fucking body as she stretched and retreated, rubbed and reached, slid and swiped as she oiled the far end of the desktop by lying over it. The pungent smell of lemons somehow heightened the experience. Damn. He should have known something was up when she went at the task from the end of the desk instead of the front. The piece of furniture was as long as she was tall, without the shoes.

  Holy— Just then she grasped the front and back edges and fully pulled herself in a sexy glide over the top, while her breasts squashed out from underneath her and glistened in a tantalizing shine.

  He didn’t think it could get any worse, but the breath was knocked out of him the instant she bent her knees and her ankles crossed, one over the other with her come-fuck-me heels pointing to the ceiling. Sexy-as-all-hell didn’t even begin to describe the way she stole over the wood surface, as if she were begging it to fuck her or get her off. She gave up using the cloth and worked the oil around with her hands. Splaying her fingers and massaging the wood like she’d worked him over when they’d had a session with massage oil. Jesus.

  He readjusted himself. His fucking pants were choking the life out of him. He sucked in another breath. She was flexing those lush hips of hers, grinding them into the surface, clenching and unclenching her ass as if it were him who was beneath her.

  “Alexis.”

  “Mmm?”

  Her purr sent even more hot blood to his cock. He didn’t think it was possible, but he felt himself swell thicker. “Stop it.”

  She didn’t of course. Instead she turned over and he was just about to thank Christ that she had, when he saw it. Her outfit. The nude-colored lace and netting, drenched with the oil, went completely transparent. He could see everything. All of her better than if she were naked.

  Fuck.

  “Do you like what you see, Rene?” She pushed off her shoes and let them drop over the edge of the desk. Bare feet planted, she undulated. “Do you want a better look?”

  When she arched toward him the sight was like a direct punch to his solar plexus. Before he knew what he was doing he was standing at the end of the desk. Staring down. Her fully engorged nipples drenched and trapped in the oil-covered lace were the color of dark apricots and looked good enough to eat. Saliva pooled in his mouth with anticipation of a taste. He bent forward and would have licked his lips, but his tongue went bone dry because just then she shifted. Slowly she pressed her shoulders back onto the desk and spread her knees wide, exposing the heart of herself beneath the shaded veil of netting. The sight took his breath away. It also caused him to reclaim his sanity.

  He had to maintain control, no matter how tempting she was. This was imperative if they were going to find some balance with the problems they faced. Losing it now would ruin the great opportunity he had to prove to her she could trust him.

  He took a deep breath and straightened. Now that he understood what the stumbling blocks were he was ready to annihilate them. She needed to be reminded that they had certain boundaries in their relationship and he needed to impress upon her that he was totally prepared to hold her to them.

  “Mmm…” She flexed her hips upward and dragged a seductive hand down her rib cage, over her belly to her center. When she pressed her fingers in and shivered with excitement a controlled calm came over him.

  Sure, most men would be pleased by such an erotic display, but the truth of the matter was he wasn’t. Alexis knew better. The fact that she was brazen enough to try to pull a stunt like this now only reaffirmed his suspicions. She needed to be taken in hand.

  Disciplined.

  “Sit up.”

  She wasn’t listening and took too long to do as he told her so he swooped down and scooped her up off the desk. With a couple of none-too-gentle jostles he had her slung over his shoulder.

  “Rene!”

  Whack!

  “Rene!”

  “Do you want another one, Alex?”

  “Put me down!”

  She pulled on his shirt. He ignored her. She pushed against his back. He shrugged it off. She kicked her legs in frustration and even added a huff and a few puffs for good measure. He grinned while he exited his study and stalked down the hall. It wasn’t until she yanked on a good hunk of his hair that he smacked her ass again. Harder this time.

  She gasped, “Let me go.”

  “No.”

  She tried to bite him. The stubborn little brat. Whack!

  “Owww.”

  “Keep it up, Alex. I’ve been dying to tan your ass for months.” He took the stairs two at a time and was sorry that she settled down so quickly. She probably thought he was going to toss her on the bed and fuck her brains out until she couldn’t stand up. Lord knows they’d done this kind of thing before, but unlike those times, this time he wasn’t playing with her.

  He kicked open their bedroom door and wasn’t surprised when he bypassed the bed and she instantly started struggling again.

  “Rene?”

  “Quiet, Alex.”

  He went into the bathroom, grabbed a towel off the rack and snapped it open before dropping it on the floor. He spread it out with his foot and then put her down, making sure her feet were solidly placed on the terrycloth. “Stay put.”

  He didn’t waste any time. He popped open the stand-up shower door, leaned in and cranked on the water. When he was satisfied with the temperature he turned on her.

  “Take it off.”

  “I— What did I do? I only—”

  “We both know what you only tried to do.” His tone was patient, but firm. “They’ll be no more attempts of you trying to hijack the control between us. Got it?”

  “I…”

  He didn’t move. All he did was stare down at her for a few charged seconds. Long enough to cause the denial poised on her lips to die and her gaze to drop to the floor. This was the first unprompted submissive thing she’d done for him in quite some time. It made his voice soften. “Good girl. Now the lace, hand it over.”

  Oh her eyes may have been downcast, but unwisely that was the only part of her that deferred to him. “I’m not sorry,” she grumbled.

  “You will be.”

  She shot a look up and he did nothing to hide the intensity of his gaze. He purposely allowed her to feel the full force of it. “I told you, Alex. You don’t get to have me again until you beg. And with each little defiance the humbling experience I have planned for you will be expanded. So, do as you’re told and take off the lace.”

  Here again, her chin may have dropped as if she couldn’t look him in the eyes, but there was nothing subservient about her tone. It was filled with vehement promise. “I’m not going to beg. I’m not.”

  “Who are you trying to convince, me or you? You sound worried.”

  She slowly peeled off the ruined lingerie and handed it to him. “You’re a bully.”

  “You make me one. Now get in there.” He pointed to the misty shower stall. “And wash off the fun you had for yourself.”

  She scooted around him, clearly worried that he’d smack her already reddened ass again. “I’m not doing this because you’re making me. I’m only doing it because my skin is itchy.”

  “Liar.”

  “Bully.”

  “Brat.” He waited for her to duck under the water spray. “A straight wash,” he instructed. “No frills or thrills. I catch you attempting to pleasure yourself without my permission, and you’ll be punished. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  He gave her a few minutes under his watchful eyes before he went to the sink and washed the oil off his hands. When he was done he changed his shirt and headed for the door. She must
have seen him because she called out, “Rene? Where are you going?”

  He stopped and spun around. “Out.”

  “Out?” She paused mid-hair-scrub. He could see her frown under the collective shampoo bubbles that slid down her face. “Do you want me to stay home?”

  He shook his head. Now she was prepared to be reasonable? He growled and didn’t bother answering her. He needed to regroup and get the sight of her lying on his desk slathered in oil out of his head. And there was only one place to do that. The gym.

  He threw his stuff in his workout bag and heard Alex’s phone ring. Snatching it off the counter, he absently checked the caller ID as her mother had the most impeccable timing, but then he did a double take and his eyes narrowed. The name that came up was MMM… He recognized Michael’s number. And MMM…? His head fell back and he stared up at the ceiling in the exact spot where he imagined Alex was showering. He’d kill her.

  Rene let it ring until it stopped. That’s when he noticed she had five voice mails and ten missed calls. Michael, what an ass. He was probably drowning at work without her.

  Yeah, well you’re not faring much better here. Running off to the gym to pound on a punching bag.

  He was ready to tear his hair out. So when the doorbell rang he was happy. He fully expected to see MMM… on his doorstep. His first thought? He wouldn’t have to go to the gym to pound something. But he was disappointed there was no one—

  “Hi, Mr. Tanner.”

  Rene blinked and looked down. Spying the dark-haired imp, he sighed. “Hey, Cara.”

  Cara lived next door to him and Alex. She sported a cheeky smile on her face as Sylvia, her mom, came up the walk with a box in her arms. “Hi, Rene. This is the last one.” She deposited it on the vertical stack to the right of the door and stared at her daughter who was still grinning ear to ear.