Surrender to Temptation (20 page)

When he began to shudder, his hips bucking, he eased out of my mouth and moved to slide down my body, which was as sticky with sweat as his. With a strength I'd only guessed at, he reached between my legs and tore at the scrap of cloth that barred his entry. The sound of fabric ripping sliced through the thick air and changed the pace of our desire for each other.

Cupping my breasts together with my hands, I offered myself up to him and moved to close the small distance between us. His fingers triumphantly feasted on the wetness between my legs, and the intense sensation made me buck, wild and rough.

Our eyes met again, and the roughness grew in intensity.

The low heel of my sandal dug into his calf, where a couple of drops of blood swelled and scented the air with copper and salt. He peppered my neck, my shoulders, my breasts with bites, sharp stings that urged extra slickness to coat his fingers.

He came first, the hot, steaming seed spurting onto my breasts, my collarbone, and flecking my lips. I licked the taste away, breathing hard, startled by my own release when those rough fingers found a spot previously unexplored, and pinched.

We lay there in the confined space, a tangled mass of arms and legs and clothing, glued together after our exertions with sweat and semen.

He had found a way to appease me and to get his way also, damn him. The fact that he had outmaneuvered me was an incredible turn-on. I loved that not only was he amazing to look at, but his brain never stopped. And he found ways to urge me past my fears and inhibitions.

When he tugged my hair, forced me to meet his gaze, I nearly cried, as girls are wont to do in the face of such extreme emotions.

“You're beautiful.” In that moment I believed that he was telling what he found to be the truth. “You're beautiful.”

My heart soared as I pressed my forehead to his and tried to regain my breath. We were both sticky with sweat. Outside the car, passing vehicles whirled by in brightly colored blurs.

“Good Lord.” My eyes widened when I realized what had just happened. Zach had just made me come on the side of the highway. Anyone could have seen us. Hell, a trooper could have stopped to investigate why we were pulled over and been treated to an eyeful of my bare breasts instead.

I felt like a sixteen-year-old caught fooling around with her boyfriend.

“Zach!” My hands fluttered to cover my breasts as I pulled away from him. They came away damp with his release, and a distressed mewl left my lips.

To my utter surprise, Zach threw his head back and laughed—a full, deep laugh that came straight from his gut. The sound was so infectious that after a moment I giggled, too.

“No one saw, Devon.” Shifting in his seat, he pulled his pants up and removed his handkerchief from his pocket in one smooth movement. I reached for it, but he shook his head, a gleam in his eye.

“Let me.” I opened my mouth to protest, then sighed with pleasure as he began to clean the salt from my skin.

“Mmm.” I settled into the touch, savoring the feeling of his hands on my skin.

A car passing by us honked long and loud, breaking into the moment. Grabbing for my shirt and bra, I scrambled back into the driver's seat, mortified and still incredibly turned on.

“Oh, my little minx.” Zach laughed again at the indignation on my face when I tugged my shirt back over my neck, planning to maneuver myself into my bra from under its comforting cover.

“I'm glad you're entertained.” I sniffed, then caught my breath when I caught the gleam in his eyes. “No. Not again. Not here. Damn it, Zach, you can't be ready again yet!”

The laughter dying down to a predatory smile, Zach leaned in closer, then closer still. I held my breath, waiting for the kiss.

“Here is a lesson, little one. Submissives don't get to say no to their doms.” He plucked my bra from my fingers, running his free hand up under the shirt that was twisted around me, palming a breast in his warm hand.

“You must be punished for breaking this rule. No bra for you.” I moaned as he rolled my nipple between his forefinger and thumb. I had just climaxed in the intense, earth-shattering way that only Zach could pull out of me, but his caress on my still tender flesh made heat pool deep in my belly all over again.

When he removed his hand and pulled my shirt down over my torso, I glared, not happy at the loss of sensation.

“Subs don't get to stare down their doms, either.” His eyes narrowed in warning. I narrowed mine right back, partly because he was irritating me, and partly because I thrilled to the idea of his style of punishment.

“We haven't been together for a long enough stretch to determine whether or not I'm your submissive.” I snapped the words as I threaded my arms through my sleeves, then restarted the car. I was feeling thoroughly off balance.

Zach was silent for a long moment, as I waited for a break in traffic, then slipped the car back onto the road. When I dared to sneak a peek at him, he seemed lost in thought and, surprisingly, not focused on the cars on the road around us.

“Is that what you want, Devon?” I caught a breath at the serious tone in his voice. “It's not uncommon to have a contract outlining limits in this kind of relationship.”

“A contract?” I was taken aback and not a little hurt by his choice of words. Whether deliberate or not, I felt the connection that we had just shared shrink, being shoved neatly into a box labeled
unconventional BDSM relationship
. “I . . . what . . .”

My words tapered off as my mind reeled. I felt that pressing need to please him, and yet I found the notion of a contract decidedly unromantic.

Maybe that was the whole idea. Maybe the contract would bring the focus back to the sex, easing the appearance of the lovey-dovey feelings that had recently begun to flutter around in my chest.

“Whatever you want.” I tried to grab hold of some of the joy that I had felt earlier, and instead was left feeling flat and unfulfilled.

“No.” Zach's voice was stern. “This has to be your decision.”

I ignored the order in his tone. “I choose whatever works best for you.” I was being stubborn and I knew it, but I wasn't going to put myself out there, demanding that he tear up any such contract that existed because our relationship couldn't be defined on paper.

“All right, then.” He paused for a long moment before he spoke, and when he did his voice held the smoothness that it did when he was at work. “I'll have my lawyer draft one.”

I felt my mouth begin to fall open at the notion that a lawyer would draw up such a contract. But then, what had I expected? I was sleeping with Zachariah St. Brenton, eccentric billionaire playboy, the dominant who was into kinky sex.

“You're wearing all black again.” Zach broke the uncomfortable silence. His observation lifted my spirits the tiniest bit.

“I am.” I didn't look down to see what I had on—all of my clothes, save the revealing red blouse that had now been shoved to the back of the closet, were so very similar that it really didn't matter.

“Why do you do that?” He seemed genuinely curious. I opened my mouth to tell him that dark clothes helped to camouflage the fullness of my hips and butt, the softness of my belly, all things that I disliked about my figure. The black kept the attention focused on my mind, which was, in my opinion, far more appealing than any of my physical assets.

The simple clothing also kept the spotlight off of me, letting me fade into the background, a place that I found infinitely more comfortable.

A place that I hadn't been allowed to hover in since I met Zach. His attention was like a laser, cutting through the darkness and illuminating whatever he focused on.

I still couldn't quite understand why he was focused on me.

Yet, as I opened my mouth to tell Zach all of these things, I quickly recalled his refusal to share his issues with me. I remembered the contract, and how it shoved the focus of our relationship off of our hearts and back into the bedroom.

“I'm sorry, but I'm not comfortable discussing that.” My voice was flat, even a little bit cold. I thought that my words would make Zach mad, would make him demand that I tell him under threat of a spanking or some such thing.

Instead, when I cast a sidelong glance his way, I found his face completely calm and expressionless. Indifferent, even, as if he had only asked to be polite and couldn't be bothered to listen to the answer, anyway.

“I understand.” Leaning forward, he punched some buttons on the big screen and brought up the map screen of a GPS. The system announced that it was downloading the latest traffic news, then informed us that we would be at our destination in just under an hour.

“It hasn't been that bad of a drive.” An hour earlier I would have found immense pleasure in Zach's words, would have felt joy that he finally trusted me enough to let me have the wheel without panicking.

Now it felt as though he was just making conversation.

“I'm looking forward to this weekend.” I heard the sensual promise in his voice and couldn't help but respond. There wasn't a woman alive who would be left cold when that face, those lips, those eyes spoke of decadent pleasure.

“Me, too.” I swallowed hard, clinging to the tendrils of joy that were dissipating far too quickly for my liking.

Yes, I responded to the pleasure he could bring to my body. I couldn't deny that.

When Zach had given me the keys to the car, I hoped that it was symbolic of a new step forward in our relationship. I had had faith that his willingness to trust me with his safety in the car meant that we were becoming more intimate emotionally.

Instead, he had just reaffirmed that he was in this solely for the sex. And if I was truthful with myself, I didn't think that was enough to keep me happy.

I
felt my spirits lift as we drove into Cambria—suddenly every tense minute of the long drive had been worth it. Rolling down my window, I inhaled the salt-infused sea air deep into my lungs as Zach directed me to his house.

I caught him laughing at the blissful expression on my face, and I didn't care. San Francisco, Phyrefly, all of the problems in our relationship—they all seemed so far away.

Being back in the place where we met was not only romantic, it was refreshing. I felt my worries start to drift away on the cool ocean breeze that was tickling at my skin.

“This is it.” Zach's instructions had led us to the outskirts of the village and up a winding path to a rocky cliff. I had been expecting a duplicate of his house in San Francisco—something large, high-tech, and modern.

The spacious but cozy bungalow surprised me in the best possible way.

“It's lovely!” Hurriedly, I exited the car, my feet carrying me halfway up the charming pebbled path before I realized that Zach might not appreciate my just rushing into his home.

I turned, biting my lip, and found him right behind me, a leather duffel bag slung over one of his broad shoulders.

“It's somewhat different from the house that you've seen.” While he looked pleased with my reaction to the house, he also seemed a bit uncertain. “It doesn't have nearly as many bells and whistles.”

“Of course it doesn't.” If he thought I was going to be disappointed, he had another thing coming. Thinking of the confusing panel of buttons in his massive glass shower, I shuddered a bit and grinned up into his face. “That's why we're here, isn't it? To get away from all of that?”

Zach studied my face intently, as if searching for some hidden meaning. I let him look, sensing that it was important to him that I was telling the truth.

“I've never brought anyone here before.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. “It's not exactly what people expect of me.”

He stared at me until the full meaning behind his words dawned on me.

“No one?” I blinked, suddenly shaky. “What about Charles?”

“He drives me here, then stays at a motel until I'm ready to go.” Pulling a small copper key from his pocket, he flipped it into the air and then caught it with an air of nonchalance that I could tell was slightly forced. “This is the only place where I can truly let go of everything else in my life. I've never had any desire to bring anyone here before.”

My mouth fell open a bit. I forced it closed. Though I wanted to fling myself into his arms, I didn't want to frighten him with an overly intense reaction.

Instead, I smiled up into his dark eyes and held out a hand for him. “What do you normally do when you first get here?”

He looked slightly wary at my easy response. I smiled innocently in return and finally, he took my offered hand.

I savored the touch of his cooler palm against my warm one.

“I put my bag in the bedroom, strip, and go ride a few waves.” When he pointed to the stairs that had been carved out of rock, which spiraled to the craggy beach below, I drew in a startled breath.

He had called my bluff. I would follow his lead, but the idea of surfing was not something that appealed to me in the least.

“Of course, you could just stay up here. Wait for me with a cold beer. Naked.” Heat flashed through his eyes, and his smile became that sensual curve of the lips that I had become so intimately familiar with.

I had no doubt that if I didn't join him in the water, he would make me do exactly that.

“I don't have a swimsuit.” I followed him to the door, noting that he was carrying only one duffel bag. “Someone didn't give me a chance to pack one.”

Zach slid the key into the dead bolt of the door, then turned to give me a wicked smile that was full of promise.

“You can swim naked, too.”

•   •   •

“J
ust need to finish waxing the board. Then we'll go in and you'll be a lot warmer.” The top of his wetsuit hung around his waist, exposing his gorgeous golden torso to my stare. His hard muscles rippled as he rubbed the wax into the board, and saliva pooled in my mouth.

“Oh boy.” I tugged uncomfortably at the wetsuit that Zach had provided for me. In it I felt as though I couldn't quite breathe properly.

I wasn't convinced that it would keep me warm in the water. I could feel the surf splashing around my toes, and it was icy as snow.

“I'm pretty sure it's going to be colder in there, actually.” I eyed the waves that were rolling in. Nothing too big, but their pale blue shade looked frigid.

Despite his threat, Zach wouldn't let me surf naked, saying that it would be irresponsible of him to give me hypothermia. Providing me with the brand-new wetsuit and a neon yellow scrap of fabric that Paris Hilton might consider an adequate bathing suit, he had insisted that I would love the sport.

I hadn't been able to focus on a convincing protest. Seeing things meant for me mixed in that bag with his clothing and toiletries had done something funny to my insides.

“Generally a person would practice on dry land before taking the board into the water.” Zach's eyes twinkled at me as he spoke. He looked more free than I had ever seen him. “We're heading straight for the water.”

“Why?” My nerves made me indignant.

“Let's call this an exercise in trust. Now, let's give this a try.” Zach grinned as he gestured me over to the freshly waxed longboard. I grimaced.

“Did you just frown at me?” His voice was layered with only a hint of the dominance that he used in the bedroom, yet it still caught my attention and I widened my eyes.

“No.” I fidgeted, eyeing the waves. This wasn't going to go well, I could tell.

“Devon.” Standing, Zach wrapped his arms around me from behind and squeezed once, gently, before letting go. The embrace—and the boost of confidence I took from his touch— warmed me as no wetsuit could.

“What's got you so nervous about this?”

I couldn't even bother trying to hide my expression. I knew that he would make me tell him, but as I formulated the words in my head, I realized how incredibly silly it would sound to say them out loud.

“I'm—I'm not the kind of person who will be good at this.” I blurted it when he raised an eyebrow to let me know that he was waiting. “Surfing is for people who are . . . carefree. Athletic. In control.”

A meticulous planner who hated the gym and used minutiae to try to exert control over her daily life, I was none of these things.

“What a bunch of bullshit.” I huffed out an exasperated breath at his words. I had expected the attentive Zach who made me feel better about myself, not the man who was glaring at me with irritation.

“It's not bullshit. That's how I see it.” I furrowed my brow and glared, holding on to my preconceived notions as tightly as I could.

“I shouldn't have to spell this out for you anymore, Devon.” I saw that I had seriously irritated him as he picked up the longboard and balanced it vertically on the damp sand. “But since you have such a blindness about yourself and a lack of self-worth, I'll do it one more time.”

Lack of self-worth?
I sputtered as I tried to think of something to say to refute it. In the end it didn't matter, because he wouldn't let me reply.

“Well, you're not exactly carefree, but I think what you're meaning is someone who has a free spirit. You moved to San Francisco on a whim, without a job or a place to live. Athletic. You could run a marathon if you wanted to, Devon. It's all in the mind.”

Indignant, I cocked my head and continued to glare up at him.

“Are you quite done?” I was ready to smack him over the head with the surfboard, arrogant ass that he was.

“No, not quite.” His smile was amiable and deadly as he shrugged into the top of his suit and fastened the zipper over his broad chest. “In control. I don't know how a woman who leaves her cheating boyfriend, moves to a new city, and starts a new life that she loves is anything
but
in control.”

I was stuttering, trying to think of a counterargument, when Zach moved suddenly, dropping the board on the sand. Clasping me around the waist, he lifted me off of my feet and strode toward the water.

“Zach!” Knowing what was coming, I kicked and thrashed. He didn't even seem to notice, or so I thought. But when he unceremoniously dropped me into the waist-high water that he had strode into, sliding me down the length of his hard body, I felt the unmistakable ridge of his erection, pressing against the thick fabric of his wetsuit.

I opened my mouth to call him a jerk; the expression on his face warned me against it. I drew my eyebrows together in a scowl, and he smiled in return, turning to walk back up on the beach to retrieve the board.

“Dunk yourself and get used to the water.” I considered telling him where to shove it—the water was freezing.

But if I didn't dunk myself, he would do it for me. No way. I ducked beneath the water, gasping when I came back up, then crouched so that the water covered me up to my neck.

Dammit, he was right. I could already feel myself getting used to the water's temperature. Not that I was going to tell him that.

“Put your hands on my shoulders.” Returning with the board, he held up something that looked like a leash with a loop at the end of it.

It reminded me of some of the restraints that he had used on me. I flushed at the memory.

Catching Zach's eye, and the smirk that played over his lips, I knew that he was fully aware of where my mind had gone.

“This is the leash. It attaches you to your surfboard so that you don't lose it if you fall off.” I eyed the long cord dubiously. I wasn't at all sure that I
wanted
to be attached to the thing.

“Give me your ankle.” Zach knelt in front of me in the waist-high water, and opened the Velcro of the loop. When I balked, he clasped it anyway, fastening it snugly, the touch of his fingers on my skin giving me shivers that had nothing to do with the cold.

“There.” Leaning forward, he pressed a damp kiss to the skin just below where the short wetsuit ended.

I hummed with pleasure.

“This not only prevents the board from getting away from you, but it also keeps it from hitting other surfers. Some don't like to wear it, but I think that the safety of others comes before the freedom of movement that you get without the leash.” I wasn't about to argue.

“Okay. Up onto the board you go.” I blinked at him, nerves making my stomach churn.

“What do you mean, up?” I eyed the sleek, slippery-looking white board with trepidation. “That's it? Just . . . go?”

Zach laughed, and I was distracted by the lack of reservation in the sound. Somehow he seemed different here, away from Phyrefly and all of his responsibilities. He took advantage of my diverted attention to clasp me around my waist and hoist me up onto the board.

“Dammit, Zach!” I hissed as my butt made contact with the hard board. He rearranged my legs so that one was dangling over each long side as I sat up straight.

It felt incredibly awkward.

“Now what?” The board wobbled as I moved. I sucked in a breath and slapped my hands down on the thing, as if that would steady it.

“Devon.” Zach placed one hand on the board by mine, and the other at the curve of my waist. I turned to find him looking down at me, his face intent.

“It's just a surf lesson. What's the worst that can happen?”

Soon I realized that he expected an answer.

“Um . . . I fall off?” As I thought about it, I realized how silly I was being. Yes, I could fall off, into the water, and get soaked. In fact, I probably would.

I could handle it.

Zach smiled the moment he saw me relax. He squeezed my waist, then began to push the board out into slightly deeper water.

“Normally you would paddle out with your arms. But since I'm here, and I want you to have some energy left for other things later, I'll help you out.” The space between my legs heated, but I ignored it.

Zach wanted me to do this. It would be good for me to embrace a new experience. I was going to do it.

He tugged the board a little farther in the water, then guided it to an area with few waves. I was still nervous, but with the nerves came determination.

“Okay.” At his prompt, I lay down flat on my stomach on the board. “Now what?”

“Now you get yourself into position.” Zach looked out across the froth of clear blue water, the sun adding warmth to his skin. My breath caught at the sight of him, wet and disheveled and happy.

“You want to make sure to paddle out in unbroken water if you can. It's exhausting otherwise. Then you position yourself just outside the breaking wave.” He gestured to where the small waves were moving from the depths of the ocean to the shore.

The board rocked in the water. Despite myself, I relaxed into its rhythm.

“Once you've got your position, you pop up.” He smacked me lightly on the ass and I scowled at him. “It would be easier for me to show you, but I've only got the one board here. So you'll have to do what I say.”

“Like that's a surprise,” I muttered, and earned another spank, one hard enough to make me yip. Whipping my head around, I found him grinning at me.

“Keep it up, Devon. Makes it all the more fun for me.”

With a mock sigh, I pressed my lips together tightly. Truthfully, I wouldn't have minded another spank or two. It woke the nerves in my clit, making me rub my thighs together with need.

“Next is the pop-up.” He took my hands and adjusted them so that they were flat on the board on either side of my chest. “As quickly as you can, push yourself up with your arms and bring your legs under your body. Make sure to turn while you do it, so that you face the shore.”