Expecting Surrender (Dominion Trust Book 3)

by Trent Evans

  Keihl backed up, slipping behind a round pillar, just enough to stay out of view should those beautiful, ever alert eyes of hers turn his way.

  She weaved through the reunions taking place all around the concourse, her long coat across her arm, the sleeveless white button down blouse as crisp as if she’d just put it on, the flattering fit of the fabric tastefully showcasing the jut of her generous breasts.

  He followed her at a distance, watching the way her curvy little ass moved in the snug navy skirt she often favored for conferences. They’d joked it was part of her “sexual power suit”, and as he watched her stride, he couldn’t think of a better way to put it. The way the skirt hugged her hips, showing off the long muscles of her thighs, the tight calves. She was pure temptation to any man with a pulse — a subtle advantage at a conference where any females were a decided minority. She wasn’t afraid of using her sexuality when she needed to — and he knew she enjoyed doing so, even if she’d never admit it.

  She walked downstairs, toward baggage claim, and he stayed far enough behind on the escalator to stay safely out of sight, his eyes never leaving the beautiful, bewitching figure of his wife.

  Home.

  The crowd at baggage claim was big, packed ten deep around the whole perimeter of the carousel. She dropped her leather carry-on at her feet, then stooped to adjust something on one of her heels, the round perfection of her bottom pointed directly at him. His cock stirred at the sight, already imagining what that ass would look like as he tore her clothing from her body, feverishly staking claim to her soon as she was safely back under his roof once more.

  It had been like this more and more of late. This new possessiveness that seemed to well from within her, this renewed need to protect, cosset her, keep her from even the possibility of any harm, no matter how small the chance. He pictured her chained up inside their house, not permitted outside without him.

  Easy, caveman.

  Absurd, of course, but he really was starting to think of her in that way. His woman, the mother of their future child. And he didn’t want her to leave his sight anymore, even though he knew he needed to give her space, let her live her life. There’d be a time though, when that would change, when he’d insist — and that time filled him with a nervous anticipation. For there were so many urges, so many primitive, even dark instincts tangled up with his need to protect her, to cherish her.

  To make her even more his, in every way.

  Keihl pulled out his phone, thumbs whirring, looking at her, waiting to see if she’d hear the incoming text chime.

  She crouched down, digging through her purse, pulling the phone out. For a moment she stared at the screen, then she looked around, nervous fingers brushing a lock of hair from her eyes.

 

 

  He was pleased to see that she kept her eyes on her phone, despite the question. He knew she desperately wanted to look behind her, to find him now that she knew he was here. But where was the fun in that?

 

  For a moment, he thought she’d balk at it. Then, oh so slowly, her hand crept to her neckline, working at the buttons. The flush he could see even at the nape of her neck made him smile with glee, and he had to discretely adjust his now blatantly obvious erection.

 

  He grinned as his thumbs typed it out.

 

  He ducked behind a newsstand kiosk, just in case she tried to sneak a peek around her while he typed. There was the loud buzz of a grinder, and the rich smell of fresh ground coffee assailed his nostrils as he stood there, typing out his lust for his wife.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Her hand went to her cheek, her blush bright against the paleness at the roots of her hair.

 

  He’d never have thought he’d be the kind of guy to enjoy the verbal side of things, the psychological thrill at issuing her orders, and watching her obey them, but as they’d explored further he’d found it just as satisfying as the physical. That selfish, evil joy to be had at dominating much more than her body, at bending her will to his, had its own unique appeal. It was something he intended to explore much more in the days ahead.

 

  Me too, sweet girl.

 

  She snaked her way through the crowd gathered near the baggage claim, and he used that opportunity to close the ground between them, unable to stand one more minute apart from her.

  He found her right at the edge of the baggage carousel, the metal plates worn bright as they moved slowly in their endless track, one of them squealing in its carriage every time it turned the far corner. She bent over reaching for her black suitcase, her fingers examining the white tag fluttering at the handle. He bent over her, closing his hand over hers.

  “You pick that up in your condition, and it’ll be extra for you when we get home,” he whispered into her ear, the hint of her alluring perfume still barely there despite her long flight in the dry, canned air he hated on airplanes.

  Her body tensed for a moment, then she looked back at him. “You scared me.”

  Pulling her hand back, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll get it.”

  Kirsten rolled her eyes, but she smiled anyway. “I’m pregnant, not broken.”

  “I intend to keep it that way.”

  He bumped her hip with his. “Step away from the carousel, young lady.”

  An older couple nearby, obviously overhearing, gave him a knowing smile. He winked at them, momentary co-conspirators.

  Kirsten bumped him back, and snatched up the passing bag, giving him a defiant little quirk of her lips.

  Game on.

  As they made their way back through the throng, he pulled her close, taking the bag from her hands. “You’re making your bed, girl. Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

  She grasped his arm, her touch tight, fervent. He turned to her, seeing the fire dancing in the liquid depth of her beautiful eyes.

  Kirsten hugged him, pressing her soft body to him, rising up to kiss him, her lips and tongue desperate for him. He kissed her back, dropping her suitcase to the floor, submerging his hand in her lush hair, taking a gentle, but proprietary hold of the base of her skull. The feel of her on his tongue was something he’d missed, something he’d needed every day she’d been gone, and as he kissed her even more deeply his arousal rose up. He didn’t care that they were in public, with people all around them, watching. There was only this, only her, and he needed her to know it, to feel it.

  She broke the kiss then, and looked down, whispering. “I thought about you every minute, every second, Keihl. I’m home. I’m yours. Do what you want with me. Anything you want.”

  Rising up again, she nipped his lower lip, giving him a mischievous lift of her dark brow.

  Holding her close, he kissed her on the forehead, her eyes closing.

  “You’re going to take a detour to t
he bathroom before we find your car.”

  Her eyes flew open, and she peered up at him.

  “I don’t…”

  He kissed her fragrant hair, whispering against the soft locks. “Give me what I want, Kirsten. Right now, I want your obedience. Be good.”

  Color bloomed in her cheeks, but she gave him the slightest of nods. He picked up the suitcase once more, one arm holding her close, and they were off again, making their way toward the twin doors of the restrooms.

  She gave him one last anxious look over her shoulder as she pushed the door open, then she was gone. He leaned against the wall near the stainless steel gleam of a water fountain, and pulled out his phone.

 

  He waited, every second an eternity. Perhaps this was too far, too soon? He texted again.

 

  Every moment he waited, his heart thudded faster in his chest, even as his cock hardened with anticipation. He crossed his ankles, hoping it would deemphasize the bulge growing in his slacks.

  She’s not going for this. Well done, asshole.

  Her text arrived, and he opened it, letting out a long satisfied sigh at the picture of her bare breasts, the cold metal of the stall doors in the background. Her long nipples were rock hard, prominent dark coral tips he longed to suck and bite.

  Soon.

  Such a good wife she was. His cock was a heavy, throbbing weight of arousal, and he smiled thinking of how she must’ve winced as the little electric shutter click went off as she took that photo, the sound amplified by the confined space of the stall. Such a thing shouldn’t turn him on, but of late he’d found there was a whole constellation of such illicit delights. Apparently, he hadn’t yet plumbed the full depths of his depraved desires.

  You’re a lucky prick. She could do so much better than your ass.

  He laughed to himself, grateful, knowing the pure truth of it. He texted her once more.

 

  After a minute or two, she slipped out the door, her eyes darting left and right, as if the people outside suspected what she’d been up to. Her eyes found him, and she rushed to his side, hugging herself close to him once more.

  “I can’t believe I did that.” She looked down, putting a hand to her face. “There were… others in there.”

  “I’m glad you did. For a second, I thought you’d back out.” He lowered his voice to a faux soothing tone. “It would be such a shame to add more punishment to what you’ve already got coming, my dear.”

  “More, punishment? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I think we both know you’re getting a nice spanking as soon as we get you home, no matter what. The only question is what you end up having added to it in the meantime.” He nuzzled her temple, his voice a quiet growl, and her body shivered against his. “You’ve deprived me of this ass for days, and I’ve laid awake at night thinking of when I’d have it in my hands once more, how I’d make it hurt. So red, so hot. It’s mine, and I intend to reacquaint it with my hand as soon as you’re back under my roof.”

  He tipped her chin up and crushed her mouth with his, and she responded with a soft sound from deep in her throat, clutching him harder, his animal lust rising within him once more at her obedience to his order. It stirred something within him he couldn’t quite identify, some sort of primal satisfaction, a rightness with what she’d done. She’d submitted to his will. It was a small thing really, but it held a quiet, deceptively powerful eroticism that took him by surprise. The selfish possessiveness he felt when she was close by his side, her body pressed to his, filled him with simple joy — and the need to further explore.

  “Someone’s going to tell us to get a room,” she said, combing her fingers through her hair, averting her eyes from the people passing by in either direction. She tilted her face up at him. “Can we go home now … Sir?”

  He beamed at her.

  “I can’t get home fast enough.”

  * * *

  Her heart was already beating fast as Keihl swung the front door open, the familiar smell of the house, the cool air inside, wafting over her.

  Home.

  The meeting had been interminable. More insurance and reinsurance nightmares, no tort reform in sight, and impending regulations so confusing that even her corporate counsel couldn’t fully make sense of them. She’d sat there through all of it, glad-handing donors, ignoring the sales pitches, and thinking about two things.

  Her husband, and the sad fact that, despite her growling belly, even the smell of food seemed to be making her nauseated.

  She looked back at him as he set the suitcase down in the tiled foyer, the door booming shut behind him.

  “I’m starving.”

  He regarded her a moment, then gave her a little wink. “We’re going out.”

  She beamed at him, a relief flowing through her tired body so powerful, so profound, she wanted to jump into his arms and squeal like a little girl.

  “First things first.” He tipped his head toward the stairs. “Upstairs.”

  Her heart sank even as a pulse of heat rushed between her legs. She’d missed this too. There was so much to talk about, so much she didn’t yet understand — and choices to make about the road ahead. But she’d missed The Game most of all, missed this new side of her husband that she hoped — no matter how much it confused her — would never go away. Hoped was simply a part of him he’d kept hidden away, rather than a role to play.

  Kirsten didn’t want role-playing. She wanted the real thing.

  And how do you expect to get the real thing when you’ve got a child on the way? You know better. You know what has to be done.

  It was true, but it didn’t have to be done now. There was still time to follow the path a little further. Perhaps there might be a way after all? She looked up at the beautiful man responsible for it all, and gave him the saddest face she could muster considering her now very wet pussy and hunger pangs gnawing away at her belly.

  “Keihl — I mean, Sir—” he gave her a knowing grin at that “— I’m so hungry, I was hoping you’d let me—”

  “Don’t worry about it, Kirsten. It’s just dinner — but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.” His dark eyes flashed. “There’s something for you in the guest room.”

  Puzzled, she watched him as she walked up the stairs, his impassive expression giving her nothing. What was he up to? Was it something for The Game?

  Opening the door, her hands came to her face. The room had been transformed. Gone was the bed with the sagging mattress. In its place was a tall ornate crib, dominating one wall, the deep cherry wood gleaming, bumpers, pillows, blankets in blues and pinks and whites filling it. It was all there. Changing table, dressers, even a bassinet that brought tears to her eyes. She rushed over to it, running her fingers over the worn, gouged wood that has been re-stained to a semblance of former glory. It had been the one she’d remembered as a child — the one she’d rocked her little sister in, while her exhausted mother was collapsed on her bed, drained from yet another day of double shifts that single parenthood demanded. How had Keihl found it? Hell, she doubted her own mother knew where the thing had ended up. It even had the same tiny squeak on one end she remembered as she rocked it. In one corner was a brand new deep brown recliner, replete with nursing pillows, even now calling out to her seductively to have just one seat in it.

  “I took a stab on the recliner,” he said behind her. “Your sister thought a rocking chair was a better idea.”

  Kirsten whirled, tears streaming down her face, throwing herself against his strong chest, burying her face against him, hugging him tight. “I love it. God, I love it, Keihl.” She peered up at him. “And I love you.”

  “I love you too.” He gave her a little smile,
his gaze warm. “Did okay?”

  “You kidding?” She kissed him again, hard. “You know how to score points, counselor.”

  “Your sis thought I might be going a little overboard.”

  “I feel like waiting on you hand and foot now.”

  Keihl grinned, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I was just hoping you’d let me fuck you.”

  She burst out laughing, and kissed him again, his arms pulling her tight to him. “I think that goes without saying.”

  “Among other things, girl.” His hand squeezed her skirt clad ass. Then he sighed, and held her at arm’s length, looking her up and down. “This is going to be the longest goddamn dinner known to man, when all I want to do is throw you on our bed, caveman style.”

  Kirsten loosed another button on her blouse, taking a half step toward him. “We could…”

  Her stomach growled so loudly, even he heard it, his eyes going wide.

  “Gotta get some grub in you, wifey. You’re eating for two now, you know.”

  “Let me at least change,” she said, brushing against him as she moved past, cupping the hard bulge at his crotch, feeling his cock jump at her touch.

  He pulled her hand away, giving her a little shake of his head. “Keep that up and we’re not going to make it out of this house.”

  She pouted at him as she turned down the hallway, her hips swaying.

  “Promises, promises.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The pale amber liquid sparkled in the warm light as Kirsten twirled the glass.

  “I’d rather have a nice Riesling.”

  “Afraid not, old girl. Nothing but unleaded for you for the duration.” Keihl laughed at her mock scowl.

  “This… sucks.”

  “Into every life, a little rain must fall.” Keihl pointed to her belly. “Or in your case a little person.”

  “The first minute I’m done breast-feeding, I’m going on a bender.” She sipped the cool spiciness of the sparkling cider. “Wanna join me?”

  “Who’d take care of Keihl Junior?”

  The waiter set down a plate of steaming bread, laying a white napkin across her lap. That was something she knew was on borrowed time too. In a few months, she’d lose sight of that lap of hers. And she was just fine with that.