Deep Surrendering (Episode Two) (4 page)

“Fine. But you asked for it.”

Yes. I did.

This time I kept my mouth shut and didn’t do anything. We were doing this his way, and I wasn’t going to interfere.

He tore the robe open and paused for a moment to admire the lingerie, tracing his finger over the lace, before he took hold of either side of the panties and ripped them right from my body. In my head I heard Sloane screaming for their loss.

The bra was next, but he was a bit gentler with that, and it survived removal.

“Turn over on your stomach.” I did as he said, turning my head to the side on the pillow so I could breathe.

He moved above me and my skin shivered in anticipation of what was to come. I could just barely see him out of the corner of my eye, and that made it all the more sexy.

“Open your legs,” he said, that commanding voice back. I opened my legs for him, but apparently that wasn’t enough, so he grabbed the outside of my thighs and pulled them wider before running his hand up my thigh. I quivered, waiting.

“I should be mean and not let you come before I do, but I do need to make up for leaving you the last time.” His hand slid up and down my opening and I could feel moisture gathering there. I’d been ready for him days ago, and it was as if I’d paused in that moment.

“So sweet and so wet already,” he said, pleased as he dipped one finger inside me, making me moan.

“Shhh, no talking.” I bit my lip and tried as hard as I could to be silent. He removed his finger and moved his hand back down my thigh and then up again, before stroking me with his fingers, pushing one inside me and then repeating the process.

It. Was. MADDENING. I wanted him to keep touching me. To keep plunging his fingers inside of me. I wanted his mouth on me, I wanted his tongue and his lips and fingers working. But I kept silent.

“So impatient. If we do this again, you’re going to have to learn. I’ll be more than happy to teach you control, sweet Marisol.” I was screaming inside my head for him to just fuck me, but he wouldn’t.

I couldn’t stay silent as he grabbed me by my waist and flipped me on my back.

“I want to watch your face as I make you come. Only then will you be allowed to make a sound. Nod if you understand.” I nodded and he crawled between my legs, putting his hands under my ass to lift me closer to his tongue. I’d never had a harder time being silent than when he licked me up and down before plunging his warm tongue inside me.

With just his mouth, he teased me, going hard and then pulling back, sucking and then blowing on my most sensitive areas until I was coiled so tight I could feel my release just beyond my grasp.

“Not yet,” he said. “Hold on.” I gripped the sheets as hard as I could and willed my body to be under my control as he drove me further and further toward orgasm.

And just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he licked me one final time.

“Now. Come for me.” As if my body was controlled by him alone, I let go, crying out words that all came together and made no sense. He kept his mouth on me, making it last. Distantly I heard a package rip and he pulled away.

And then, just as I thought it was over, he was above me and thrusting inside me with one smooth stroke. “Now it’s my turn,” he said, slamming so hard into me it was almost painful. I was still tender from my orgasm, but wet enough that he slid in with no resistance.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet and tight for me, Marisol.” He smiled down at me as if I’d done something worthy of winning a prize. I was still dazed as he lifted one of my legs over his shoulder and pulled out, thrusting hard again. I couldn’t help making a noise, and he clamped one hand over my mouth. I had a momentary urge to bite his fingers.

“No. Talking.” He thrust with each word to drive the point home before setting a pace that my body almost couldn’t keep up with, but once I got the rhythm of it, I was matching him, silently urging him on.

“My sweet girl,” he panted, sweat dripping from the ends of his hair and falling into the bed, our bodies slippery with moisture.

Impossible as it might have been, I could feel myself rising again. If only he’d move just a little . . .

THERE.

With a few more thrusts, I was coming again, and I was too busy trying not to make a sound to realize that he was coming as well, calling out a number of obscenities, my name mixed in there as well.

He fell to the side, panting and wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Am I allowed to talk now?” I asked.

He turned toward me with a glare on his face, but it melted into a smile as he moved some of the hair out of my eyes.

“Yes, you can talk now.” The dark Fin was gone, replaced by the goofy sweet one who brought me flowers and made stupid jokes. I was attracted to both of them. Very attracted.

I turned on my side, propping my head on my arm. “When do I get to see you naked?” There was only one part of him exposed and he quickly got to his feet and headed to the bathroom before I could get a chance to . . . examine the situation further. He came back zipped up and with his hair slicked back.

“Probably never. I don’t take my clothes off to have sex.” He sat down on the corner of my bed, much too far away. I looked around for my robe and pulled it around myself.

“You know that’s kinda fucked up, Fin,” I said. He looked at me and I saw a ripple of anger and . . . something else.

“I’ve been trying to warn you that I’m not the guy you think I am. I told you that I’ve done things that would disgust you. Would disgust most people, and the people that wouldn’t be disgusted aren’t people you would ever want to know or encounter.” There he went again. Talking about how damaged and fucked up he was. The song was getting old. I’d heard it too many times.

“You know, you’ve been saying that, yet you haven’t even given me a chance. How about you tell me one thing and then judge? Can you do that for me?” Fin sat with his back to me and I scooted down to the edge of the bed so I could sit next to him.

How was it that he could have sex with me, but he couldn’t talk to me?

“I pay for sex.”

I waited for there to be more. “That’s it?”

He turned toward me and his expression shifted to one of anger. “’That’s it?’ Marisol, are you being serious with me?”

“Well, I mean, I’m sure you’re not the first guy who’s done it.” And he wouldn’t be the last. They said it was the world’s oldest profession. Distantly, I wondered if the girl from last night was one of those.

Fin searched my eyes, as if I was joking with him. Sure, the idea of him paying for a prostitute didn’t make me jump for joy, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, though it did make me wonder what else he didn’t want to tell me.

“Don’t you want to know how many? Places? What I did with them? Whether I used protection? Whether I have any diseases?” Fin fired the questions at me like an interrogation.

I swallowed a few times. I hadn’t really thought about that, but I would have eventually. “Okay, tell me. How many? Where? What did you do? Did you wear a condom? Have you been tested?” I volleyed the questions back at him.

“I’ve lost count. They’re all written down, though. Mostly in other countries where there are fewer regulations and prostitutes are a lot easier to find. I did everything to them. I fucked them. I tied them up. I hit them. I dominated them. I had them any way that suited me, whenever it suited me. I didn’t always use protection, but I visit a clinic every month and get tested for anything and everything. I have the current results in my office if you’d like to see them.”

That was so much information at once that my brain couldn’t process it. Fin let me sit and think for a few minutes.

Hookers. He’d been with hookers. And he hadn’t just been with them. He’d done things with them that I could only imagine. He didn’t need to go into details for me to figure it out. I had an imagination. And he hadn’t always been careful?

Thank God we’d used a condom.

“So. What do you think now?” Fin said, his voice sharp.

“I think . . . I think that I probably shouldn’t have just had sex with you.”

I could feel Fin pulling away from me and getting ready to bail again.

“BUT. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you again. You’re these two people, Fin. I’m sure you’re aware of that. You play two different parts in life, and I’m attracted to both of those parts. One of them scares me, but I can deal with that fear. I think, deep down, that you want me to throw you out, because it’s so much easier that way. Then you don’t have to let me in.” I touched his shoulder and he flinched, which basically proved my point.

Someone in his life had hurt him. He’d closed off his heart to outsiders. He’d put up walls and done things to keep people out. It had worked for him for years, but I didn’t give up so easily. Like he said, I was impatient. And stubborn.

“But if I let you in and showed you everything, you’d leave. And then I’d be left with a bleeding heart and no way to recover. I’ve seen what broken hearts can do to people. There’s almost nothing worse, because there’s no cure.”

“No,” I agreed. “But you can heal. And what is the point of life if you don’t have love in it?” Granted, I didn’t have a whole lot of people that I loved, but I couldn’t imagine my life without those few people. Even my parents, who didn’t see eye to eye with me on anything and loved me anyway. It wasn’t the same thing, but unconditional love was just that. Without conditions.

“And besides, who decided I’m the one who’s going to break your heart? Maybe you’ll break mine.” I meant it as a joke, but he didn’t laugh. Making a frustrated noise, he got up and started pacing around the small room, which was impressive, considering how much space he took up.

“You can’t be fine with this. You’re lying to me.” He tore his hands through his hair, which was already mussed.

“I’m not ready to throw you a Congratulations You Fucked a Bunch of Prostitutes party, but that doesn’t mean I can’t . . . be okay with it. At some point.” He shook his head over and over, as if he was trying to get rid of a bee that was buzzing in his ear.

“Have you heard anything I’ve said? Or do you just not want to believe it?” I was certain the latter was definitely the case. He was really losing it now, muttering to himself. I got up and grabbed his arms to make him stop pacing, but he started to plow me over, so I had to do something, and I did the first thing that came to mind.

I pulled my hand back and smacked him across the face.

“Oh my God!” I said as soon as I realized I’d hit him. But at least it made him stop pacing and look down at me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.” His face was frozen, his jaw clenched, and redness was blooming on the cheek I’d smacked.

He seized both my wrists and I inhaled sharply. “What is wrong with you, Marisol?” His grip was firm, but his words were soft.

“I don’t know. I just . . . I feel something for you and I don’t know what it is yet and I’m scared of it, but I welcome it because I haven’t felt this alive for a long time.”

He dropped my wrists, but grabbed my face and pressed his forehead to mine. “Me too, Marisol. Me too.”

The red-hot intensity of the moment faded into something softer and sweeter again. I almost wished I had a program that would alert me when he was sweet and when he was dark. It would make things a lot easier.

I moved my head back so he’d look at me, and before he could say anything else, I raised myself on my tiptoes and kissed him. “It’s okay, Fin. It’s okay.”

I didn’t really know what I was saying was okay, but I felt the words needed to be said. I stroked the sides of his face, and for a moment, I thought he was going to cry.

But then he held me. Held me like I was a precious thing to him. A fragile thing that he wanted to protect. It didn’t hurt that he was so much taller than I was that he could almost fold himself in half over me.

I’d invited him over to get him out of my system, but all I’d done was let him in. Despite what he’d done, despite what he told me (and the things that he was still keeping from me), I wanted him in my life. Needed him to need me.