Surrender (5 page)

His mouth latched onto her nipple and his teeth held it in place while he lapped at it, and he cupped her other breast in his large hand, caressing and pinching just hard enough to elicit a gasp from Fiona. Then, without warning, he drew himself up and straddled her waist. Her heart pounded and she squirmed under his massive, freakishly muscular body.

“Put your hands up next to your head,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Good.” He leaned forward and slipped her wrists into restraints he located behind the bed.

“What are you doing?” She tugged against the soft fabric encircling her wrists and realized it was attached to the bed somehow. Panic brought her out of her desire-induced haze. His face was a mask, unreadable, and it frightened her.

“No questions. No talking unless I ask you a question.”

“But—”

He cut her off with a stern look. Despite her anxiety over the unfamiliar, a new wave of pleasure shot between her thighs and caused her to clench her legs tighter together. She watched Merokk studying her and felt small under his gaze. His erect cock rested on her stomach. She tried not to stare, but it was so damn big. His chest was broad, sculpted, and hairless. She guessed the Kall didn’t have much body hair besides that on their head. His skin was dark, as if he’d spent hours baking under the sun, though she knew it wasn’t a tan. Seconds passed like long minutes, and she grew uneasy. She had to break the silence.

“Merokk—”

His hand came up and his flat palm smacked the underside of her right breast. She twisted and pulled at the restraints, but he seemed to only enjoy her distress. A pleased look replaced his frown, and he methodically began to slap both of her breasts, always hitting the fleshy underside. It didn’t hurt. Not really. But no one had ever done anything like this to Fiona before, and the newness of it was hard to accept—that this Kall, her husband, had her tied up and at his complete mercy.

“Remember what I said about submitting to me, Betsy.” His hand rose and delivered a dozen more slaps to her breasts, and Fiona tried her best to hold still and accept the blows as the urge to please him consumed her. She winced and whimpered through each one, but the small amount of pain didn’t overpower the desire coursing through her center. Instead it seemed to increase her need to feel Merokk inside her. She was burning up, ready for him to stake his final claim. She felt her juices rubbing between her thighs and knew he would slide easily inside her pussy—at least she hoped so. She glanced down at his cock again, and her heart fluttered. It would be a tight fit.

Merokk moved to the side of the bed and lifted her legs high in the air, drawing them straight back. She felt exposed, her wet folds high on display. Rising up on his knees, he secured her legs against her stomach with one arm. His free hand then descended to her vulnerable bottom, a torrent of hard slaps landing on her cheeks and thighs. Fiona howled and struggled, but his hold on her was firm. He kept on spanking her like a man possessed. This actually hurt, and Fiona finally resorted to biting her lip to keep from begging.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he said, still continuing his assault on her bottom. “Who do you belong to, Betsy?”

“You!” she cried. “I belong to you!” To her relief, Merokk’s hand stilled, and he centered himself between her thighs, holding her legs up and spread. The tip of his stiff cock pressed against her slick entrance. He stared intently at her and yelled something in his own native tongue before he plunged deep inside her.

Fiona braced herself for the pain, but it never came. Their bodies meshed together perfectly. She almost smiled when she thought of how his initial gentleness astonished her. He’d told her about Kall sexual practices—warned her what to expect. BDSM indeed. Her thoughts fled as he began to pound into her, digging his fingers into her thighs as he built a rhythm of quick, deep, punishing thrusts. He continued to speak in Kall, throwing in a “Betsy” now and then. Fiona didn’t care what he called her at this moment, as long as he kept fucking her like an animal. Her first orgasm built fast and coursed from her center, spreading outward until her fingers and toes tingled. Merokk looked pleased as her muscles contracted around his cock, but he didn’t reach completion with her. Instead he kept going, thrusting his big cock in and out with inhuman speed. Nothing else existed in the world. Not a damn thing. There was only Merokk and the impossibly wonderful sensations he drew from her body. She felt his cock began to jerk strangely and his thrusts slowed. His eyes rolled back in his head, and that’s when Fiona became lost in the new, deep sensation between her legs. His cock pulsed inside her as his warm seed filled her up, and the unusual vibrations it created drove her toward another mind-blowing orgasm.

The night didn’t end there. Merokk took her in many different ways and in many different positions. On the floor, on the bed, on her hands and knees, against the wall, bent over the bed, over and over again until dawn peeked through the windows and they collapsed together on the bed. She drifted to sleep feeling used but, strangely enough, treasured. What a strange combination.

Chapter Five

Merokk surveyed the inside of the lavish mansion that would be their home. It was everything he’d imagined his house would’ve been on the Kall homeworld; it was just on the wrong damn planet. He glanced down at Betsy and raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

“It’s wonderful. I never thought I’d end up living in a place like this.” She turned away and surveyed the weapons lining the walls of the great room. Axes, swords, massive hammers, and many other instruments of death. Once, they’d been his for practice and in battle. Now they served as a reminder of all he’d lost—and gained. Not all Kall warriors lived to see retirement from service. There was a certain amount of honor in death, but there was also honor in surviving the wars and growing old. Those who did were afforded the highest respect among the Kall.

I never thought I’d end up living in a place like this.
Betsy’s words suddenly came back to him, leaving him perplexed. She was the president’s daughter. She’d lived in large, extravagant houses her whole life. The Carson family was one of the wealthiest left on the planet. So why would she say something like that? He decided it probably had something to do with the war and let it slide.

“Do the weapons bother you? I can have them relocated somewhere else in the house, more out of sight.” Maybe they served as a reminder of how many of her people he’d killed.

“Oh, no.” She turned and smiled. “They don’t bother me.”

He kissed her cheek and led her through the rest of the house. Heavy woven rugs in rich hues; thick red and blue velvet curtains; ornate chandeliers with green Kall diamonds; statues depicting ancient, forgotten gods; and shimmering oval wall lights decorated the most important rooms in the house. Betsy took it all in with a bewildered expression, oohing and aahing over little things he’d come to take for granted, particularly the skylights and indoor fountains. Even the smallest guestroom impressed her as if everything inside were made of solid gold.

It took several hours, but Merokk managed to teach her how to use the communicators located in the panels near the doors of each room. She could use them to speak with servants or to make an outside call anywhere on Earth. The only interplanetary communicator was located in Merokk’s study, and since she had no reason to use it, he skipped that demonstration entirely. Lastly, he introduced her to the servants, most of who were married to one another. Enthusiastically, she shook their hands and repeated their names, taking Merokk aback. Was she always so kind to the help? He’d expected her to ignore them—yet another preconception about her proved wrong. What other surprises were hidden up his little wife’s sleeve?

“And this is Rentzaq. He’s in charge of security around here. If you leave the house, he’ll accompany you anywhere you need to go.”

“Pleased to meet you, Rentzaq.” She smiled up at the older Kall, offering her hand to him. Rentzaq accepted it and smiled back, flooring Merokk. The old grump hardly ever did anything but scowl.

After a quiet dinner, Merokk and Betsy retired for the evening. He sat next to her on the bed and explained the rules of the house as best he could. She was free to do whatever she wished during the day, but if she left the property, she must take Rentzaq along. Although the city seemed peaceful and safe at the moment, he refused to risk her welfare.

“If I find you were rude to the servants, including Rentzaq, you will be punished. The same goes if you’re disrespectful to me, Betsy. Do you know what will happen if you are?” He leaned closer, searching her face.

“Y-you just told me. You’ll punish me.”

“How will I punish you, Betsy? I want to hear you say it.”

Her cheeks reddened and she looked down at her hands, knotting her fingers together. “You’ll spank me.”

“That’s right.” He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I won’t hesitate to take you over my knee if you disobey the rules.”

She swallowed and nodded in acquiescence.

Merokk turned her head toward the far side of the room. Above a wide table covered with candles and images of the Kall homeworld, a leather strap hung from a hook on the wall. He grabbed her hand and led her toward the object. “Don’t move,” he said as he dropped her hand. He retrieved it from the wall and held it at her eye level. Her expression grew panicked, but she didn’t step back from the object of her fear. “If you ever lie to me, Betsy, I will use this instead of my hand. Never lie to me.”

Immediately, she began shaking her head, not once taking her eyes off the heavy strap. “I promise. I’ll never lie to you.”

“Good.” He returned the implement to its hook and gazed down at Betsy heatedly. He put his mouth to her ear and lowered his voice. “It’s time for bed. Tonight I’m going to teach you how to take all of my cock in your mouth.”

* * *

“So…how are things with Merokk?” Layla shot a wicked smile across the table and took a sip of her iced tea.

Fiona tried her best not to blush but felt her cheeks redden despite her efforts. She lowered her eyes and grinned, momentarily lost in thoughts of her husband.

“Oh! That good, huh?”

“You know, you could’ve told me more about the Kall. I didn’t think he’d want me in his bed at all.”

A waiter approached to refill their drinks, and the two women fell silent for a moment. The café in downtown DC buzzed with American government workers and a few Kall warriors garbed in black and gray. Their presence didn’t bother Fiona the way it would’ve in New York Settlement. A few days around Merokk, his servants, and his friends had put her at ease. Fiona’s eyes shot up as the waiter moved along.

“Seriously, you should’ve told me! It’s not like the almighty President Carson was in the room with us during Betsy Carson 101.” Fiona speared a tomato with her fork and popped it into her mouth.

Layla sighed. “I’m sorry I lied to you about so many things. I was instructed to lie so you wouldn’t get cold feet like Betsy and run off. The president blamed me for her abrupt departure after Kall Sex 101.” She giggled. “I spent way too much time on the Kall homeworld.”

“So that’s why Betsy ran away? Because she didn’t want to have sex with Merokk?”

“Yup.” Layla shrugged. “I hope she’ll be okay, wherever she is.”

“I thought you guys were best friends. You really have no idea where she is?” It occurred to Fiona how badly she wished Betsy was never found. A vision of the strap hanging on the wall flashed in her mind.
If you ever lie to me, Betsy, I will use this instead of my hand. Never lie to me.
She repressed a shudder and glanced across the table.

Layla sported a deep frown and was pushing her salad around with a fork. “I have no idea. I guess she didn’t trust me anymore.”

Fiona changed the subject by asking Layla about her family. The president’s aide was newly married and lived with her husband in an apartment building a few blocks away. Her husband’s son had been seventeen at the start of the war, just old enough to fight against the Kall. Sadly, he died during an attack on DC. Fiona could sympathize. The few friends she’d cared about were likely dead. War was ugly, and the terror of it lingered like a horrific dream that followed you all day.

Layla walked Fiona to the gate of her home, and they made plans to meet for lunch in a week. It was nice to have a friend for a change, and Layla seemed genuine enough. Swinging her handbag and humming, Fiona entered the front door and headed for the never-ending staircase. She slipped off her heels—Betsy’s heels (the First Daughter’s wardrobe was part of the package deal)—and heard the door opening behind her.

Rentzaq.

Fuck.
Fiona hadn’t taken him along to the café, per Merokk’s ridiculous instructions. She hoped the overglorified bodyguard didn’t rat her out to her husband. Rentzaq nodded politely and disappeared in the direction of the great room. Maybe it didn’t matter. After all, Fiona hadn’t been alone. Layla had kept her company, and the two of them had only ventured a few blocks away. Pushing her worries aside, she traded the uncomfortable heels for a pair of flat shoes and spent the afternoon reading a romance novel in the library. At least Betsy’s taste in books was halfway decent, and at least she’d preferred real books to the electronic ones.

Dinner began pleasantly enough, but Fiona soon became aware of Merokk’s foul mood. He barely commented after she said something, when normally they held a lively discussion during mealtimes. This wasn’t like him, but she didn’t have the guts to question his mood. What if he knew about her indiscretion this afternoon? Worse yet—what if he knew she wasn’t Betsy Carson? She prayed it was the former and finished her dinner in silence, avoiding Merokk’s fuming obsidian eyes.

The servants cleared the table and returned with glasses of wine. Fiona sipped the strong drink and stole glances at her husband. Oh, he looked positively livid. She considered whether or not to confess and couldn’t reach a firm decision. What if she confessed to the wrong crime? What if he was pissed about something else and her admission needlessly incurred his wrath?

“I had an interesting conversation with Rentzaq today,” he said casually. He swirled the wine in his glass and smiled coldly at her.

Fiona’s stomach dropped to her feet, and she froze in her chair, numb with fear. Why had she ignored his stupid rule? The idea of taking a chaperone along on her lunch date seemed pointless given the circumstances with Layla and the fact that the café was only a few blocks away.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Merokk asked, still swirling his damn glass of wine.

She sighed. Time to pay the piper. “I walked to a café a few blocks away with Layla today, and I didn’t take Rentzaq along. I’m sorry.” Her eyes pleaded for his understanding and lenience. “The city seems safe. We didn’t run into any trouble.”

His next words came out quiet but infused with authority. “Go straight to the bedroom and wait for me. I’ll be up shortly to deal with your disobedience.”

Somehow Fiona found herself sitting on their bed, but she didn’t remember the walk up the stairs. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her throat felt like sandpaper. He was going to spank her. She thought of the times he’d slapped her ass during sex. She’d enjoyed it, even when he let loose and gave it to her good. Of course she wasn’t stupid. An actual punishment would hurt and likely be one of the most humiliating experiences of her life.

Where was he?

An hour passed. Then two. Her stomach twisted and churned, and Fiona was thankful she’d eaten a light dinner. She stood up and began to pace the floor, wishing Merokk would hurry up and get it over with—or better yet, change his mind.

She turned at the sound of the opening door. Her husband strode into the room with his larger-than-life presence causing the enormous space to seem the size of a closet. The first thing she noticed about him was his eyes. Instead of anger, she saw warmth and kindness in them. Her anxiety lessened. Maybe this was her lucky day, and he’d decided her infraction was no big deal. He gestured for her to join him on the edge of the bed. With heavy feet, she approached him and willingly sank onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around her, he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, causing her heart to flutter.

“You’re not mad anymore?” she asked, drawing back to meet his gaze.

He sighed and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not happy with you, Betsy, but I’ve calmed down. I’m disappointed you disregarded a rule meant to keep you safe. There are a lot of desperate people wandering the streets right now. There’s no telling what could happen if you are in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the fact that you’re the president’s daughter only compounds the danger.” He cupped her face in his warm, large hands. “You’re not to leave the property again without me or Rentzaq. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I’m so sorry.” She bit her lip, apprehensive over his next move.

“Let’s get this over with.” He lifted her up, standing her on the floor. Reaching for her skirt, he pulled it down over her hips, taking her panties with it. Fiona felt like a doll being undressed, especially when her shirt and bra came next. She fought the urge to cover her exposed breasts. Sure he’d seen her naked plenty of times, but this was different. His gaze swept over her body, and a heavy sense of vulnerability took her unawares. It didn’t help that she craved his touch, anticipated it, and an unbearable ache had settled between her thighs. A strange mix of emotions and desires coursed through her, and it took all her strength to remain still under Merokk’s intense scrutiny.

A second later, Fiona found herself upended over her husband’s lap on the bed. This was really happening. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the throbbing sensation rocketing through her center. If Merokk discovered her arousal, she would be mortified beyond belief. This was a punishment—how the hell could she be so turned on?

Merokk wrapped one leg around hers and shifted her higher, forcing her thighs to part embarrassingly wide. He placed one hand on her bottom and grabbed her wrists in the other to pin them against the small of her back. Her heart pounded and pounded. Burning tears formed in her eyes and threatened to spill over, leaving her perplexed. The strength of her husband’s affection overwhelmed her to the point of utter confusion. He had rules in place to guard against her safety, and this knowledge warmed her heart as much as it left her terrified—because the depth of her feelings for him seemed endless. If something were to happen to him…

She couldn’t complete the thought.

Did he feel the same way about her?

“What’s this?” His fingers glided through her folds, discovering her dampness. She tried to squirm away, but his hold remained firm. One digit pushed inside her channel, pumping slowly in and out. “Don’t fight me, little one. You know you deserve to be punished.” She felt his hand leave her and stiffened when his moistened finger suddenly poked at her bottom hole.

“Please,” she whispered, but even she wasn’t sure whether it was a plea for him to stop or to continue. No one had touched her there before.