Expecting Surrender (Dominion Trust Book 3)

by Trent Evans

  “Leave those on.”

  She jumped, nearly toppling over as she tried to balance on one leg. She looked around for Keihl. It was his voice, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Um, okay.” She straightened, her hands on her hips. “Where are you?”

  Nothing.

  She felt him watching her. She liked it, this new side to Keihl. She moved toward the kitchen, guessing he must be hiding on the other side of the wall.

  “Stay there. Don’t move until I tell you to.”

  Her pussy spasmed at his voice. It was the voice she only heard in the depths of passion, the voice she felt wash over her in the heated darkness of their bedroom as they made love.

  “Oh… okay.” She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Don’t do that. Drop your arms.”

  “Why? Keihl, where are you? What’s going on?”

  She didn’t care as long as he kept doing this. She wanted to see what he’d do next.

  Slut.

  “I want to be able to see your tits. Arms. Now.”

  She could feel a trickle of moisture beginning between the lips of her sex, her heart rate picking up.

  “Fine.” She dropped them to her sides, suddenly feeling like a little girl. Where was this coming from? She loved it.

  “Open your blouse.”

  “What?”

  Tense silence. The sound of her breath was loud in her ears. Her trembling fingers moved to the top buttons, and she struggled with them. She felt his gaze upon her, as if he stood right next to her. Over her.

  “Keihl, tell me where you are. You’re kind of scaring me.”

  He stepped out of the darkness of the hallway that led to the master bedroom. He leaned a muscular shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed over his strong chest. She could see the stubble darkening his chin and jaw. He had to shave every day, one of those men who really did have a five o’clock shadow. Masculine. Beautiful.

  “Are you going to do what I told you to do? Or is this as far as it goes?” His hazel eyes glittered, and she glanced down. The bulge in his charcoal slacks looked painful. Her mouth watered.

  She loosened the next few buttons most of the way down her still flat belly, then dropped her hands. She locked her gaze with his, the fire in his eyes unmistakable.

  “Show them to me.”

  “Keihl—”

  “Do it, Kirsten.”

  She spread the cream fabric wide until even her shoulders were bared. The pale curves of her full breasts threatened to burst out of her skimpy bra, her nipples pebbled to aching stones under the black lace.

  “Pull your skirt up.”

  Glaring at him, she felt her cheeks heat, but knowing she’d do what he asked.

  “I’m waiting.”

  With trembling hands, she eased the dark fabric up her thighs until the tops of her stockings were revealed.

  “Higher. Stop screwing around. I want to see if you’re wearing panties.”

  Blushing, she averted her eyes, the weight of his gaze heavy upon her, her clit pulsing in time with the thump of her heart. She pulled the skirt the rest of the way up until the curls of her pubis were exposed to him.

  “Very good. You listened. A start.”

  Her cheeks burned fire as she stood in the middle of her living room with her cunt bared to her husband. She swore he’d be able to see the glistening wetness of her lips through the sable curls.

  “Strip.”

  “What?”

  He took a step into the room, his corded forearms still crossed over his broad chest. She couldn’t wait to run her hands, her tongue over the thick muscles. Feel their barely leashed power.

  “Do it, Kirsten — I’m tired of telling you twice. We agreed, remember?”

  They had, but she had no idea it would escalate like this. She had no idea how much it would scare her — and excite her.

  She unzipped her skirt, and the soft fabric whispered down her legs, pooling at her feet. She stepped out of it to his approving murmur.

  “Fold it and put it on the couch.”

  She glanced at him, the corner of her mouth quirked. His jaw clenched, and his eyes glittered. He was either pissed off or really turned on. She hoped it was some of both.

  Dangerous.

  “Now the top. I want to see those big tits of yours. Get them out.”

  She almost said something at that, but bit her lip. Her pussy burned like a furnace even as her feminist hackles were raised.

  Reaching back and unsnapping her bra, she held the cups to her chest. He shook his head at her, his expression darkening.

  She swallowed. It was absurd to be embarrassed about it, but something about him ordering her to show them to him made her want to hide behind the couch like a frightened little girl. She took a deep breath before pulling the bra away. His eyes widened at the sight, his gaze not leaving her chest. She felt the gentle swaying of her heavy breasts as she folded the undergarment and laid it on top of her skirt.

  “Stand up straight. Shoulders back.”

  Pulling herself to her full height, her cheeks burned once more at having to present her breasts so blatantly to him.

  “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, his voice thick.

  Is it turning me on to be… exposed? Embarrassed?

  Maybe she needed therapy. Maybe she needed to be fucked first. Then second.

  “You are so fucking… beautiful, Kirsten.”

  She wanted to kiss him, curl up in his strong arms, get lost in the man who loved her so much.

  He shook himself, clearing his throat. “Clasp your hands behind your head and turn around.”

  Ohh, this is new.

  She wanted fifteen more minutes on the stair machine before showing him her ass, but that didn’t appear to be in the cards. With the tick-tock of her high heels on the floor, she turned. Her buttocks shuddered ever so slightly as she moved, and she felt the flush pour down her neck and chest.

  A big truck passed by on the road outside, the ground vibrating slightly. She looked toward the street, hoping to God the driver hadn’t been looking through the windows of their living room.

  Keihl’s hand clasped her buttock, and she jumped, his low laughter rumbling behind her. He caressed her ass, both hands palming the curves of her hips. She tensed as a fingertip drew itself deep into the cleft of her bottom.

  “Bend over the couch. Put your hands on the cushions.”

  “Keihl, I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Not now. Bend over.”

  “Keihl—”

  His strong hand entwined in her hair, and she drew in a sharp breath. “The Game, honey. Have we gone as far as we can go?”

  No. Not even close.

  She bent over, acutely feeling her naked vulnerability with her fully clothed husband standing close behind her. The height of her heels meant her back inclined down toward the couch, her head lower than her hips, the soft weight of her breasts brushing together below her chest.

  The fabric of his slacks pressed against her, the long bar of his erection hard against her soft ass. His hands clutched the pendent breasts, squeezing them in a firm grip. “I love these. I can’t wait to see them.”

  “What? You can see them now, silly.” She wiggled her ass against his cock. She hoped her cunt wasn’t leaving a wet spot against the expensive fabric. She’d been made to take more than one mortifying trip to the dry cleaners to have her cunt juice cleaned from his slacks.

  “I mean I can’t wait to see them when you’re heavy with my child.”

  “Our child.”

  “Tell yourself that when you look in the mirror at your growing belly.” His hands clenched her breasts tighter. “You’ll know who caused that swelling. Me.”

  He moved his cock against her, his kneading of her breasts getting rougher by the second. His fingers moved down to the tender nipples — she’d noticed their sensitivity already had skyrocketed — and pinched them, the
mix of pleasure and pain making her gasp.

  More, please.

  “Get down on your knees.” His voice was a gravelly whisper in her ear.

  She moved to turn, but he stopped her.

  “No, stay facing the couch. Lay over it.”

  She found it surprisingly awkward moving to her knees while wearing the high heels. She had new respect for strippers, doing what they did in those sky-high platform pumps.

  “Very good. Don’t move.” He moved away, his steps receding down the hall.

  Laying her head on her clasped arms, she tried to get her breathing under control. Slickness coated the insides of her thighs, and she prayed he couldn’t smell her. She was mortified about smelling and always kept herself scrupulously clean. Lately though, he’d seemed to take almost a cruel delight in her discomfiture about it.

  Then he was back behind her, looming over her, grasping one of her wrists and moving it behind her back. Cold metal pressed against the tender skin of her wrist.

  “What the… ?”

  “Relax. They’re just cuffs.”

  Oh. My. God.

  He pinned her other arm behind her back, metal clasping over that wrist too. She pulled at the cuffs, the implacable steel confirming she wasn’t going anywhere. Her heart jackhammered in her chest, even as her pussy wept her excitement. Still, she couldn’t help moving to turn over, the feeling of vulnerability too much.

  His pressed a heavy palm between her shoulder blades, his strength pinning her down easily.

  “Keihl, I don’t know if… “

  “Are you okay? Are they hurting you?” His fingers traced the metal that imprisoned the delicate bones of her wrists.

  “No, it’s not that.”

  “Then be still. You’re fine. I won’t hurt you.”

  What if I want you to? How fucked up is that?

  His hands roved over the tense muscles of her upper back, and he pressed soft kisses to her spine. His touch caressed down her arms, squeezing her bound hands in his for a moment, before moving further down. She wanted to kiss him, to feel his lips claim her.

  His hands clutched her buttocks in a harsh grip, squeezing their vulnerable weight, testing the pliancy of her flesh. “These will be bigger too,” he said in a voice she had to strain to hear. “These hips will widen, and this ass will be rounder. God, I can’t wait to see it.”

  His strong hands clasped her hips and he pulled her roughly back, until her ass stuck out at an obscene angle, the air cool on her exposed cleft. She buried her face in her arms, knowing all of her charms were exposed to his gaze.

  He paused a minute, no doubt to drink in the view, fingertips stroking the swollen moistness of her pussy, occasionally dipping between the tender inner lips to anoint themselves in her wetness. She felt a tickling near her cleft, and tensed. His breath blew warm against her cunt, then she heard him inhale deeply.

  “Keihl, oh God...”

  “Shh, let me enjoy this. You smell so fucking good, Kirsten.”

  She wanted him to fuck her so badly she could scream.

  Please.

  The fingers brushed her slickness up into the crack of her ass, swirling around the tender mouth of her bottom. She clenched, and he chuckled.

  “Don’t worry. Not going there — yet.”

  She’d never been fucked there before, and as a result the thought held a dark, mysterious fascination for her.

  His fingers spread her cheeks wide, and she caught her breath as his broad wet tongue laved her anus, the feeling equal parts pleasurable and disturbing.

  “What’s wrong now? I didn’t hurt you.”

  “I-I don’t.” She took a breath. “Nobody’s ever done that to me before.”

  “Oh good,” he murmured, and licked her again.

  She wriggled her hips, trying to shake him.

  “Stop that, Kirsten.” A coolness had slipped into his voice, and her pussy heated yet further.

  “You aren’t supposed to do that,” she whispered.

  “What? Kirsten look at me.”

  She looked back at him. He peered at her from around her hip, a mischievous smile on his face.

  “Keihl, I just — it’s just not right.”

  “Why the hell not? I love your ass.” He squeezed a buttock, then spread her cheeks wide once more, the air cool on her moist anus.

  “I don’t know. It’s not… what the man should do.”

  “Bullshit,” he said, slapping her ass before taking up both buttocks again. “I love it, and this is what I want. Part of The Game remember? You give me what I want.”

  “Yes… Sir.”

  His eyes fired at that, and he grinned. “I like that word. Maybe I should make you call me that all the time?” He turned his attention back to her ass, his fingers delving into her cunt once more. Fingertips lightly circled the throbbing ache of her clit, easing it out of its shroud. He tapped it lightly with a finger, and she jerked each time. She was a mere breath from exploding, and he’d hardly touched her.

  “Mm, somebody’s excited I see. Do you want to come?”

  “God, yes.” She felt like panting, her wet lips moving on her forearm.

  He tapped her clit once more, harder, and she moaned. “Too bad.” He laid a soft kiss on either side of her anus, and stood up.

  “Please, Keihl,” she murmured. “Don’t leave me like this.”

  “Oh, I won’t leave you like anything. You aren’t going anywhere for a while.” He jingled the chain of her handcuffs. “So be quiet.”

  She heard the sound of his zipper being lowered, then felt the hot head of his cock slap against her ass. His hands grabbed her hips in a painful grip, and he plunged within her. He slid deep within her until he bottomed out, the hard head butting against her cervix. She winced at the odd sensation; almost pain, almost pleasure.

  “What do you want me to do, Kirsten?”

  She moaned.

  “Say it.”

  “Fuck me, Keihl.”

  He stilled within her, and laid a heavy slap to her bottom. “Try again.”

  Oh fuck, she was going to die! Her dreams coming to reality. How was it possible?

  “Fuck me… Sir.”

  He chuckled above her as his hips began to move. She loved her husband, loved having sex with him. He was passionate, considerate, and loving. But this was something different.

  Something darker.

  His hips slammed over and over against her ass, shaking her with each impact. His hands roved over her body, squeezing a nipple here, slapping her flank there. The fabric of his slacks and the hard bite of his zipper pressed to her flesh. She didn’t want to think about what she looked like bent over her couch while her husband crouched over her bound form, pounding into her. His hard, thick cock moved within her slickness, seeking its own pleasure, ignoring hers.

  She knew she should be pissed, but it turned her on in a frighteningly intense way.

  He’s fucking you like a whore, Kirsten.

  He was — and her pussy was awash anyway, so wet that the squelching sound as he plunged in and out of her could clearly be heard over her moans and his grunts.

  His hand grasped her hair, pulling her head up. He kissed her ear, nibbled on the top of it.

  “I love you like this. Like you’re my little slave-girl.”

  “Oh, Christ,” she whispered, her cunt clenching upon him at the words. “More, more.”

  He spanked her ass, the harsh pain making her cry out. He smacked her once more, yanking her hair harder, her scalp burning. This was getting crazy.

  His hips crashed into her over and over, his cock repeatedly striking the mouth of her womb. It just plain hurt now, but the pain was morphing into something else.

  Something dangerous.

  She hardly ever climaxed from intercourse alone, but she could feel the clenching pleasure, spiraling deep within her belly. “Yes, yes. God, Keihl! So close!”

  He growled, his steel grip around her hips tightening, the nails biting in
to her skin. She felt his seed bathe the inside of her cunt as he groaned out his release. The sensation of his cock pressed hard against her womb, and the semen blooming within her, somehow set her off. She screamed then, her wrists jerking at the cuffs, her cunt clenching him over and over as she rode out her spasms, impaled on his cock. He stayed deep within her as she came, ramming his hips against her in hard, staccato thrusts, as if he wanted to get just that much deeper within her.

  He lay over her, crushing her into the cushions of the couch. Absurdly, she was worried that the cuffs would gall his belly as he lay over her, ignoring the bite of the remorseless metal into her own wrists. Her hips swirled under him, and she sighed at the movement of his softening penis in her cunt. She wanted to turn around and kiss it, slowly lick her essence from its inflamed, reddened length.

  After a minute or two, he withdrew and sat on the couch next to her. She hid her face, suddenly feeling her exposure like never before. It humiliated her, but rather than infuriate her, it made her want nothing more than to be touched, soothed. By him.

  He unlocked the cuff from one of her wrists, leaving the heavy metal to dangle from the other, and gathered her up into his arms. She nuzzled her face into the hollow of his neck, inhaling the cool scent of his cologne, pressing her lips to his heated skin, feeling the thump of his pulse. His hands gathered her legs, tucking them up onto his lap, her ass hanging over one side for his hand to stroke.

  “Keihl, that was”—she inhaled, shuddering—”incredible.”

  He pressed a kiss to her hair, his hand cupping her face, thumb stroking her ear. “Good.”

  They sat in the living room for a while, not speaking, just being together. As the night drew near, the streetlights began to flicker on in the gathering twilight.

  “What was it you wanted to tell me, Kirsten?”

  She looked up at him, her fingernails tracing through the coarse stubble at his chin. “I like this look on you.”

  “Too bad the clients don’t.” He winked at her. “So, what was it? Now I’m curious.”

  “Now you want to know.” She narrowed her eyes. “After you’ve come.”

  “Damn right, wench!”

  She playfully slapped his chest.

  “Come on, spill it, woman.”