Expecting Surrender (Dominion Trust Book 3)

by Trent Evans

  “Yes.” She locked eyes with his, willing herself to stay calm. “As long as we aren’t too rough, we can do quite a bit, even into late stage pregnancy.”

  Keihl stared at her a moment, then reached for his glass, sipping.

  “Besides. You won’t even want to touch your bloated wife anyway. So this is all academic.”

  He set his glass down, hard. “Stand up.”

  She let go of his hand and stood, her fingers clamping the edge of the table in an effort to steady herself on trembling legs.

  “Closer,” he said, spreading his knees.

  She moved within the span of his legs. Her legs felt about as stable as a ladder in soft sand. The five inch heels she’d chosen as part of her outfit didn’t help in that regard either.

  He stared up at her, his eyes flashing, mouth a hard line. “I don’t want to hear you say that again.”

  “It’s true, isn’t it?” Her voice quavered. She remembered what Joely had told her about her own pregnancy. The thought made her blood run cold. Rejection.

  “Maybe for some men. But not for me.” He pulled at the sash, and flicked the robe open, almost as if the clothing bothered him. His gaze coursed down her body, and she closed her eyes, the warm coiling beginning deep within her belly.

  “This body.” He reached up and lay a hand at the base of her throat. “Is beautiful. And it will be even more beautiful when you’re swollen with our baby.”

  She shook her head, at once hopeful that maybe he was telling the truth, and at the same time fearing he was just telling her what he thought she wanted to hear.

  “Some men.” He shook his head, frowning. “Well, let’s just say some of them don’t know a good thing when they see it.”

  His hand meandered down her body, the fingertips slipping under the edge of the robe to ease one breast fully out from behind the fabric. He ran the back of his knuckles across her nipple, once, twice. It pebbled almost instantly, his touch like electricity on her flesh.

  “These,” he said, grasping the nipple firmly between thumb and finger. “They’ll turn darker, and get longer and wider.”

  She bit her lower lip as he squeezed.

  “They’re already long though, aren’t they?”

  She averted her eyes. She’d always been embarrassed by her prominent nipples. She’d usually had a difficult time finding the right bra that would completely conceal them. Once she met her husband it had become even more difficult. Just the smell of his cologne as he brushed by would be enough to have them stand up for him.

  “But in a few weeks, mmm, they’ll be even better.”

  “You won’t even notice,” she mumbled. Her pulse thumped in her neck, so strong she swore even he could hear it.

  “That’s what you think,” he said, moving the robe off both shoulders, letting it fall to bunch at her elbows. “I’ll keep track of all of it. I’ve been thinking about this.”

  She squeezed her eyes tight as he brushed the pads of his thumbs across both erect nipples. It was just the lightest of touches, exactly the way he knew would make her fly apart. It felt as if two vibrating cords were being drawn out from the tips of her breasts when he did that.

  “Sensitive are they?”

  She nodded, a tiny whimper escaping her plump lips.

  “Better get used to that, girl.” He flicked one of them, and she jerked at the unexpected sting. He looked back up at her, grinning. “See? I barely touched you. Poor Kirsten.”

  She frowned down at him. “Now you’re just being mean.”

  “Something else you’d better get used to,” he said, his grin disappearing.

  A frisson of nervousness raced down her spine. She began to wonder if she might be biting off a little more than she could chew here.

  His hands took both of her soft breasts, giving them a hard squeeze before they moved lower, swirling over her belly. Fingertips traced the central line of her abdomen, explored the well of the navel.

  “Enjoy that while you can,” she said with a rueful quirk of her lips.

  “Just a few more weeks.” He leaned forward to lay his lips against the smooth flesh of her belly.

  She moved her hands to his head, running her fingers through the thick, dark hair.

  “Put them at your side,” he said, between soft kisses to the flesh around her navel. “I didn’t tell you could do that.”

  Holy shit.

  “Um, why not?” She wanted to reel the words back in before her lips were done forming them.

  His gaze snapped up. “This is what you wanted, right?”

  She nodded, nibbling her lower lip again. The combination of his piercing dark eyes and his roving hands was getting her hot, and she wondered if he could smell her arousal.

  “Then the first thing you’re going to need to do is listen to me, and do as I say. Right?”

  She nodded, the hated blushing back at her cheeks.

  “Good.” He reached around under the fabric of the robe and clasped both of her vulnerable buttocks in his hard hands. He looked up at her, his expression stony, almost cold.

  She dropped her hands to her side with a tiny sound of protest.

  “Watch yourself, Kirsten.”

  Her pussy clenched at the words; so stern, just as she’d always fantasized about. She wondered how many other women secretly reveled in the menacing rumble of an angry man’s voice. Perhaps she was one of kind?

  “Do you think you’ll be saved just because you’re waddling around, carrying our child? Hmm?”

  Her blood ran cold, even as her cunt spasmed. “Saved from what?”

  He smacked her bottom, the lush flesh wobbling under his hands. “That.”

  “No — I don’t know.”

  I don’t want to be saved. I want more, so much more.

  “Turn around. Pull up your robe and show me your ass.”

  She obeyed immediately, feeling the slick lips of her cunt slipping together as she moved. She hoisted the fabric of the brief robe, ensuring it was held well above her buttocks. His fingers traced random patterns over the smooth flesh.

  “So pale.” He laid a still hand against the curve of one cheek. “But I guarantee you, they won’t be this way very often from here on out.”

  “Thank God,” she whispered, daring to push back against his hand ever so slightly.

  He gave her ass another crisp slap, and she yelped more in surprise than pain.

  “I guess we need to go over the rules now.”

  She looked back at him. “Rules? Keihl, I—”

  “Be quiet. Face forward.”

  Oh dear God.

  He kneaded the flesh of her buttocks in his strong hands, his grip harsh. It hurt, and she instinctively pulled forward.

  He spanked each cheek twice, hard. The slaps rang out in the quiet, dimly lit dining room, the sharp pain shocking her into momentary stillness. He was serious after all.

  She could feel her cunt dripping fluid down the inside of one thigh.

  “Rule Number One: Do what you’re told. Do you understand?”

  She held her tongue, as much in shock as in stunned, bone-deep arousal.

  “I’m waiting, Kirsten. I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question. That’s not one of the rules, but you’d better remember it too.”

  “Okay — yes, I understand. Jesus, Keihl, can we talk about—”

  “No.” His hand clenched a buttock threateningly, and she tensed. “Be quiet, for now.”

  After a moment, he continued. “Rule Number Two: Be honest with me, and yourself. Tell me the truth even if you think I’ll be angry.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  That one would be easy. Right?

  “Lay over the table.”

  Hesitating, she glanced pointedly at the centerpieces with their still burning candles. He followed her gaze, then chuckled. “No, I suppose that won’t quite work, will it?”

  She watched him quench both flickering candle flames between his fingertips, marveling that the
searing pain seemed to faze him not one bit. In mere moments, he’d removed the centerpiece, the scent of the wispy smoke from the blackened wicks lingering in the air. Then she felt his hand on her shoulder, urging her over.

  Bending forward, she laid her hands on the cool wood.

  “Did I tell you to do that?”

  “Do what? You said bend over the table.”

  He gave her bottom three quick smacks. “I said ‘lay’ over the table. Do what you’re told, remember? Now put your hands back where they were — holding up that robe. I want to be able to see that ass.”

  She obeyed, the heat starting to build in her buttocks. He’d never smacked her more than a few times during sex. She wasn’t at all sure she’d like much more pain than she’d already had, but her pussy was embarrassingly wet at the possibility. The view she was exposing to him made her shiver with an embarrassed arousal as she pressed her cheek to the dark cherry wood of the dining room table.

  His hands stroked over her bottom, then down her taut hamstrings, the long fingers caressing the vulnerable flesh of her inner thighs. Her swollen cunt pulsed as the edges of his fingers just brushed the fine hair covering the plump labia. It was maddening, this perusal of her prostrate form at his leisure.

  “Any more rules?” She tried to keep the snark out of her tone, but wasn’t completely successful.

  “That’s it for now,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice, and it relaxed her a little.

  His warm, inviting smile always did.

  Fingers slipped between her sodden labia, stroking lazily through the soft folds. Then two long fingers plunged deep, exploring the depth of her cunt, eliciting an ascending moan of pleasure from her. He stroked in and out of her several times, the wetness of her cunt easing the way with an embarrassing swiftness.

  “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Nice and hot.”

  She wanted to hide her face in her hands, but she knew he wouldn’t approve.

  Be careful what you ask for, Kirsten.

  But this was exactly what she wanted. This and whatever else he wanted to do to her. That was the point. She didn’t want to call the shots anymore. The idea of giving herself to her husband, being controlled by him, held a dark seductive power for her. Just the idea made her cunt gush and her clit positively sing.

  Wet fingers eased along the edges of her inner labia, the sensation making her shiver. Then they found her clit, and she moaned as he touched it.

  “Ah, God,” she whispered, her hips rotating ever so slightly.

  He palmed the plump purse of her cunt, the tips of his fingers pressed to her hardening clit. But rather than stroke her he just held them there. Maddeningly still.

  “Rub that cunt on my hand, girl. If you get to come at all, you’re going to work for it.”

  She moaned and thrust her hips up and down, over and over. He lessened the pressure of those fingertips just enough to keep her climax just out of reach, but her pussy was awash in wetness, and the pleasure of her labia sliding along his warm palm as his devilish fingers tormented her poor clit was almost enough in itself. She could feel the wave building, her thighs trembling.

  But he must have seen it, for he pulled his hand away just before the wave could crest. She let go a frustrated groan, the pleased rumble of his laughter both arousing and embarrassing to her.

  He had her acting like a bitch in heat.

  “Please, Keihl!”

  “Please what?” His hand rested on the curve of her hip, his slick fingers wet against her skin.

  “I need to come! God, please.”

  “We’ll see, Kirsten. Be good now.”

  His hand claimed her cunt again, while the other clenched a buttock tightly to steady her.

  “Oh, Jesus!” His fingers filled her once more, stroking remorselessly in and out of her slick sex. She groaned even louder as he fit a third finger into her now very tight pussy. The combination pleasure/pain of the stretching made her want to climb the walls, the dark allure of the pain adding a spice to the mind-blowing pleasure of feeling him fill her so completely.

  “What do you want now, Kirsten?” His breath was at her temple as he crouched over her, the fabric of his slacks rubbing against her naked flesh.

  “Anything!”

  Everything.

  “What if I want to fuck you? Do you want that? Tell me.” He planted a rough kiss on her ear, nibbling at the tender flesh.

  “Oh fuck. Please, I want you, Keihl! Anything!”

  She probably would have agreed to almost anything at that point. Anything as long as he let her have an orgasm. The delicious tension in her body was unbelievable, like nothing she could ever remember feeling.

  “I should have bound you,” he whispered into her ear. “Fucking my helpless, bound wife. My slave.”

  She caught her breath at that. She pictured herself kneeling at his feet, as he looked down upon her. Her owner, her God, ready to pronounce judgment on his lowly slave.

  “Next time we do this, you’ll be bound or cuffed. I don’t think you deserve to be fucked any other way, girl.”

  She moaned, rocking her hips under the remorseless plunging of those fingers. She swore her clit was about to explode, the deep, throbbing, frustrating pleasure ready to drive her insane. But the worst was that she was just out of reach of that orgasm. Her poor, throbbing clit, bereft of any touch save that of the very air currents in the room. That would almost be enough she thought. She would go out of her mind if this went on much longer.

  His finger withdrew and she whimpered in frustration, a pat of his palm to her cunt a parting caress before he left her.

  Then the hard head of his cock nudged its way between her soaked lips, and she almost screamed. Her hips rotated and rocked against him in response.

  God, yes.

  She clenched the balled up fabric of her robe in her fists, desperately wanting to touch her husband, but just as desperately (and shockingly to her) wanting to prove to him that she could be a good girl for him.

  “Stay still, girl.” He peppered her increasingly sore ass with several harsh spanks, then clenched her hips in his hands, the grip almost bruising.

  His cock barreled forward, seating itself as deeply within her as it could go. It drove the breath from her, and she froze under him, her muscles trembling, her pussy squeezing him tight. He was a big man normally, but something about this new dimension to their love-making, their play, seemed to agree with him, for if anything, he seemed even bigger than normal. A raging bull, plundering her pussy at will.

  “Fuck yes, Kirsten,” he rumbled as he began a slow, deep thrusting. “This is where I belong, inside you. Owning you.”

  “Keihl. Oh fuck, Keihl. Yes!”

  “I can’t wait until your belly is swollen, and you’re ripe with our love, Kirsten. It’ll just make me want to fuck you even more. And you will be.”

  His thrusts took on more urgency, his hips slapping into her ass as he plunged fully into her, over and over. The dim room was nothing but the enticing sounds and smells of their love for one another. His cock plunged so deeply, she felt as if it were touching the very center of her, the penetration taking her breath away. He spanked her as he fucked her, and it just made her want more.

  “Harder, Keihl! Fuck me harder!”

  He growled, slamming into her, her thighs painfully impacting against the hard edge of the table. Maybe Joely was just unlucky to have a man who didn’t find pregnancy a turn-on. Kirsten was about to find out what it meant to have a man who far from being repelled by a pregnant woman, actually saw her as more beautiful, more sexual. She both looked forward to it, and feared it. What if it was too much for her, what if she went into that protective Mama Bear mode she’d heard so many other expecting women speak of?

  As his heavy thrusts continued to shake her body under their unstoppable power, she thought she probably wouldn’t have to worry about that. Even if she did become Mama Bear, she still needed him. Still needed his
touch, his maleness, his power over her. It was as vital to her as food or water, as the air she breathed. This need to be subject to him, owned by him. Even though she hadn’t yet had the courage to tell him exactly how deep her needs went, she knew she had to have it. In her heart she knew there was no substitute for the forbidden dance of a Dominant and a submissive, a Master and a slave.

  “You think you’ll be safe from this, when you’re pregnant?” His voice was a rough staccato growl in time with his thrusting.

  “No, I don’t want to be. I want this. Oh God, I want this!”

  “You’ll have it,” he said, pulling her to her feet by the roots of her hair, his cock still deep within her. The change in position made the fit tighter, and his heavy thrusts continued, bouncing her up and down upon him.

  She cried out, her hips twisting as his hand lowered to her sex, fingers unerringly finding the hard clit. “I want you to come for me, Kirsten. Do it now.”

  His fingers worked her as he rammed into her with rapid, punishing strokes. She could almost feel her feet lift from the ground on the power of his movements. It hurt her, but that pain, in concert with the devilishly clever fingers lifted her to the heavens.

  She screamed as her orgasm took her, her vision blacking out as the searing pleasure tore through her core, radiating out like a supernova from her sex. He yanked her head to the side by her hair, and nipped into the crook of her neck, the hurt of his bite adding a tantalizing counterpoint to the drowning pleasure of her orgasm.

  “You… are… mine,” he ground out, each word punctuated by a bruising lunge into her soaked, sore cunt. Then he groaned, the sound emanating from deep within him, the cords of his muscles tightening to vibrating steel. He pushed himself into her as far as he could go, truly taking her from her feet for a moment. Her cunt flooded with his seed, a mix of their fluids washing down her thighs. Her body rocked back and forth on the bellows of his broad chest, his breaths ragged. By inches, the tension in his body unwound, first lowering her to the ground, then with the loosening of his grip in her long hair, back onto the table.

  She laid there limp, floating, as he bent over her, trying to get his breath under control. She could feel the shaking in his hand as he caressed her back, his sudden gentleness a pleasing counterpoint to the animalistic violence of their lovemaking.