PrideandSurrender (6 page)

The hard demand of lust sped through my system, flooding my
cunt with heat, making my nipples ache. Making me crave him. I licked my dry
lips, and he watched the movement before repeating, “Tell me why.”

Did I know? Yes. Deep down, I did. I was afraid to give
voice to the reason. Afraid of what it would say about me. Afraid of what he’d
think, of the power it would give him when he already had so much.

But strangely, I was unable to deny him an honest answer.
“I… It feels possessive.” My breath came faster. “Like ownership. Like your
touch is a brand.”

“And you like that?” He fingers pressed into my rapid pulse,
a warning that my body was already telling him the truth. Was already
surrendering to him and his desires.

Our eyes met and locked together. An unspoken mutual
agreement passed between us. I whispered, “Yes.”

“You are mine, Juliet.”

Yes, Christos.
The words pressed against the back of
my teeth, but I couldn’t spit them out. I wanted them to be true. But even
more, I wasn’t sure I could stop the qualification right after them.
For
now.

I didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“I want to know.” His fingers were still wrapped around my
neck, not hard, but with enough pressure I wouldn’t forget the message. “Why?”

I knew what he was asking. Why was I like this? What was I
so afraid of? Why couldn’t I trust him? He wanted a specific event, and the
truth was there wasn’t one. I sucked in a breath and his grip immediately
gentled.

I tried to give him the best answer I could. “I wish I knew.
I wish I could point to a tortured childhood and say, oh, right here is the
reason, but I can’t.”

He waited, raising a brow, staring at me, not allowing me
the easy answer.

I lowered my gaze, focusing on a smaller photograph I’d done
in the same garden. Another rose. “I like to be in control. It’s easier. Safer.
I don’t like to be emotionally messy. No one made me this way, I just am. I
opened my own business because I wanted to be in control. I married my
ex-husband because he was a good, safe choice. I didn’t make a conscious
decision to block him out, I just did. This is the way I’m built.”

Beside me, Christos released his hold around my neck and
slid his hand down my body to wrap around my waist. He pulled me close and
kissed my temple. “Go on.”

“This is the way I like my life. Neat. In control. Safe.
Everything in its place. Nothing happened to make me this way—this is how I
feel,” I searched for the right word, “comfortable.”

I stopped talking and bit the inside of my cheek. That was
the easy part to explain, the next was harder. Tension seeped into my
previously relaxed muscles and I wished for something to cover my bare breasts.

He squeezed me tighter then rolled onto his back, taking me
with him so I was draped over him. Covered. Able to conceal my face.

“How do you do that?” I blurted, unaware I was even going to
speak before the words were out.

“Do what?” He ran a hand over my back, the silk, warmed by
the heat of his palm, slid over my skin.

“Always know what I’m thinking, addressing my comfort before
I’ve even spoken? It’s disconcerting.”

He kissed the top of my head, and I felt him smile against
my temple as he continued his long strokes up and down my spine as if I were a cat.
“I pay attention. Obviously you’re not use to people who do. All this time,
I’ve been watching you. Drinking you in, learning your nuances from afar. I see
what you do.”

“What do you mean? What I do?” Agitation seeped into the
sensuous mood, and I didn’t like it. Couldn’t I have one night to appreciate
him?

“I see how you don’t talk about yourself. When people ask
you personal questions you deflect and charm them into not noticing that you’re
not telling them a damn thing.”

I hated that he noticed, that he saw
me
. “Because
talking about myself is boring. Those people aren’t asking because they want to
know me, they’re asking to be polite. I deflect, not because I’m hiding but to
let them off the hook.”

“I believe that’s what you tell yourself,” he said, still
sweeping up and down my back, but it had stopped feeling good, instead it felt
as if he were pacifying me.

I shot up, scooting away from him and wrapping my ripped
blouse around myself. “Don’t think you know me, Christos.”

This time agitation flashed in his eyes and I was happy to
see it, I didn’t want to be the only one. He slowly sat up, grabbed a pillow
and rested it against the iron headboard before propping himself against it. “I
know you better than you want to admit, and that’s why I scare you.”

Rationally, I saw the fault in my logic. Seconds before, I’d
been asking myself how he knew me so well, but when fear takes over, logic
doesn’t really matter. “You want me to be who you’ve built in your mind, but
that’s not me.”

“Wrong, Juliet.” He sat forward, closing the distance
between us. “I see you clearly. I’m the first person to see past all your
bullshit. You like to pretend that you’re cool and in control, but that’s your
façade. All your neat order, the only person you’re hiding from is yourself.”

“That’s what
you
want.” I raised my voice, welcoming
the anger as the only form of protection I had. “You want me to be this ball of
fire under the layer of ice, but all that’s there is another layer of cold.”

To my shock, he laughed, shaking his head as if he couldn’t
fathom how ridiculous I was. I dug my nails into my palms and resisted the urge
to chuck a pillow at his head. Finally, I asked, “What the hell is so funny?”

“You.” He looked at me, and despite his amusement, his green
eyes gleamed with some hidden knowledge that instantly put me on high alert.
“My darling girl, you are the furthest thing from cold. You surround yourself
with all this neat control for one reason only, to protect yourself from all
the fierce emotion you do feel. Underneath the ice, you’re raw, emotional and
scared to death. Hell, you’re not a fireball, you’re an explosion waiting to
detonate.”

I scrambled off the bed, the tears already forming in my
eyes. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t stay here, I needed distance.

“Don’t think you’ll run away from me.” A warning.

I ignored him, walking as fast as I could without running to
the door, desperate to escape. I needed time to collect my thoughts. Get myself
back together.

I felt him at my back before I heard him move, his heat
burning my skin. He grabbed my waist and pulled me tight against him, slamming
the door of my bedroom shut, closing off my escape route.

“I warned you, Juliet. Told you how it would be,” he said,
his voice angry now. “I will not let you run from me. And the truth is you
don’t want me to let you.”

I swallowed hard, my nails digging into his forearm. “I need
space.”

He nipped my neck. Goose bumps popped over my arms as his
teeth scraped my skin. “If I let you go right now, you’d hate it. Nothing would
disappoint you more than if I gave you space.”

My whole being went still. God, he was right.

As much as I wanted to get away, as much as the fear swirled
inside me, if he let me go right now, I’d be crushed. Twin tears slid down my
cheeks and I brushed them away.

“I have a theory,” he said against my hair. “If you give in,
let yourself go, embrace the storm like you did that day from your photo, each
time you do, it will scare you less. Maybe it’s so hard for you, not because
you feel so deeply but because you fight it.”

I went limp in his arms, suddenly too tired to fight. Not
even pretending to want to anymore. He wouldn’t let me go. And I didn’t want
him to.

“Come back to bed, my lovely Juliet.”

“I hate you,” I said with no real heat. The opposite word to
the one hovering around the edges of my mind. I rested my head on his shoulder.

“I know you do.” I felt him smile again, and I relaxed.

He understood.

Christos laid me on the bed, my head resting on the fluffy
down pillow. “No more talking, Juliet,” he whispered over my rapidly heating
skin. “Just let me love you.”

I tensed at the word before I could stop it. Although I knew
he felt it under his hands, he didn’t pause or stumble or stop. Instead, he
brushed back the edges of my torn blouse and swept it from my shoulders, taking
the straps of my bra with him.

Lips, soft but sure, trailed down my neck. His tongue
flicked over my pounding pulse before he sucked the delicate flesh there and
his teeth scraped over my skin. I braced my hands on his broad, capable
shoulders.

Muscles bunched under my touch as he shifted down my body,
kissing the hollow of my neck, brushing his mouth over my collarbones and down
my chest. This wasn’t like the last time, it wasn’t full of frantic urgency,
but the power of his passion for me, my passion for him scented the air around
us.

His lips traveled over the curve of my breasts and he licked
my beaded nipple. I inhaled deeply, arousal and sex spilling from his every
pore. His fingers stroked my other nipple while he sucked the hard bud into his
mouth. I cried out, nails digging into his shoulders at the dual sensation.

With every pull of his mouth, with every twist of his
fingers, my cunt filled with a wet heat that took my breath away. My clit
pulsed. My hips started to move, the pleasure so keen I tried to twist away.
But of course he didn’t let me.

His legs covered me, trapping me beneath him. While his lips
tormented my breast and his knuckles danced over my exposed nipple, he pried
one of my hands off his shoulders and twined our fingers together, resting our
clasped hands next to my head. I clutched at him, sweat beading at my hairline
and trickling down my spine as need coiled deep inside me.

Teeth gently bit down on my nipple and I moaned. My hips
sought the pressure and friction that would bring me the release I was now
desperate for. A low growl filled the air and vibrated over my skin in a rush.

His skin heated under my palm. I gripped his hand so tightly
my fingers started to ache, but I couldn’t let go. The orgasm building inside
me scared me, but despite my fear, I sought it, my body craving the release and
Christos too fiercely to be denied. I bucked against his thigh, frustration
rearing up when the pull of my skirt got in the way of what I wanted.

Suddenly, I needed to be skin to skin. I needed him covering
me, over me, possessing me. Filling me up, overpowering me in the way only he
could. But I didn’t know how to voice my desire and all I could manage was a
desperate, “Please, oh please.”

Cool air hit my wet nipple as he lifted his head and stared
into my face, green eyes filled with lust and greed that made me shiver
searched my expression. “What do you need, my Juliet?”

I licked my dry lips. “You.”

“I am yours.” His mouth covered mine, kissing me soul-deep.

Our tongues met and twined together as tightly as our
fingers. It seemed as if electricity flowed from our palms and met in that tiny
space in the middle of our hands, connecting us both physically and mentally.

It went on and on until I thought we’d never come up for
air. Until we were both panting for breath, sweat slicked our skin, and the
energy between our joined hands built into something tangible.

Finally our mouths parted and his tongue flicked over my
swollen bottom lip. “I have to let go now, Juliet.”

My fingers tightened automatically.

“But only for a moment.” His gaze swept down my body. “Only
to get us naked.”

I blinked, my throat going tight. The strength of my need
must have been shining in my face, all my rampant, violent emotion must show in
my eyes. I knew this. Could feel it reflected back at me. And still I couldn’t
look away. I nodded, and with great reluctance let him go.

He shifted to a kneeling position, reaching under me to undo
the button and zipper of my skirt.

My gaze drifted to where his jeans dipped down, he’d never
re-done them from our mad, frantic fucking in the foyer. His cock jutted out
from the vee of the zipper, and I stared. I had no idea when he’d gotten rid of
the condom he’d worn, but he stood naked and proud before me.

Suddenly, I wanted to taste him. Lick him. My mouth actually
watered looking at his hard length, the almost angry color of his arousal. I
needed it. Needed to feel him on my tongue, feel his heat in my mouth.

Faster than I knew I was capable of moving, I sat up,
shimmying out of my skirt and panties on my way back down.

He must have realized my intentions because he said,
“Juliet, wait, that’s not—”

My tongue circled the plump head and his hand shot into my
hair. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed.

Delicious. Salty. His skin satin smooth under my lips, I
moaned and took the head into my mouth.

“That’s… No… Wait… Fuck… Juliet.” He sounded desperate, and
for the first time since he’d started his pursuit, I experienced a sense of my
own power.

I
was making Christos Constantine speechless.
Enraptured by the very idea, I pulled his cock deeper, swirling my tongue
around the sensitive head, pressing against that soft place on the underside,
intent on driving him crazy.

His fingers tightened on my head, at the nape of my neck. I wasn’t
sure if to pull me away or push me closer. I took the decision out of his hands
and sank another inch down his shaft and sucked.

He groaned, his hips thrusting.

I created a tight suction with my lips and moved up and down
in a slow, torturous rhythm.

“Jesus, that mouth.” His voice was reverent.

My cunt actually convulsed at his words. He suddenly fisted
my hair and pulled me away. My lips left him with a pop, and I glared up at
him, not wanting to be denied.

His expression startled me and my heart turned over in my
chest. His face had darkened, the angles of his cheekbones taking on a harsh,
predatory quality.

Fear and anticipation prickled over my skin. I had only
myself to blame. Hadn’t this been exactly what I was after? Hadn’t I wanted to
bring this out? And right then I admitted that with Christos I wanted the raw,
volatile emotions, wanted the brutality. Craved it as nothing I’d ever craved
in my life.

He was the storm, and this time I wasn’t going to wait it
out in my car. I was going to step right out in the open and let it sweep me
away.

He released his hold on my head and gripped my shoulders,
pushing me back against the blood-red comforter and pillows as if I were some
virgin sacrifice. He stripped away the rest of his clothing, stopping only to
pull a couple of condoms out of his pocket. Never taking his eyes from me, he
tossed one on the table.

He took the other and put it in his teeth before taking both
my knees in his strong hands and pushing them apart. Something intangible
filled the air between us—that sense of calm before the storm when the trees
turn still, the sky darkens and the world goes silent. That’s what filled my
bedroom.

I shuddered under his touch. He tore the condom package open
with his teeth before rolling it over his straining erection.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly bone-dry. He filled the
space between my splayed thighs and I tensed in preparation of his entry. But
it didn’t come.

Instead he ran his hands over my breasts, scraping his
knuckles up and down my nipples, down over ribs to my stomach and hips. He
traced a path over the swollen, needy wet slit and I cried out. Hand firm on my
hip, holding me in place, he circled my clit. A sharp burst of pleasure had my
lashes fluttering closed.

He shook his head. “Keep them open and on me.”

Lids snapping open, I met his gaze.

His fingers glided over my skin.

I was so wet.

Again he circled the small bundle of nerves at the juncture
of my thighs, and then he squeezed. I jolted, levering off the bed, digging my
heels into the comforter.

He smiled then, so wicked and carnal I lost my breath. “I am
going to fuck you now,” he said almost conversationally.

I nodded. He squeezed again, rolling his thumb and
forefinger. I cried out, pushing my head onto the pillow. “Oh god.”

“I’m going to pound into you.” Another squeeze that spiked
such a hard, fevered need I would have done anything in that moment for relief.
“I’m going to take you hard, vicious, brutal.”

“Yes,” I panted. I started to crest, an orgasm barreling
fast and furiously on me, but then he pressed the heel of his palm hard against
my clit and the sensation faded, leaving behind an ache so acute it was almost
unbearable.

He positioned his cock at the entrance of my cunt and leaned
over me, once again lacing our fingers tightly together. Our faces inches
apart, he looked down at me. “You’re not to look away, do you understand,
Juliet?”

He couldn’t have asked anything harder. I was already at the
height of sensation, the height of vulnerability—how could he ask me for
something so hard?

Again that slow buzz of electricity filled the center of our
palms, connecting us.

He kissed my lips, licking along the seam, never taking his
eyes off me. “I promise I will catch you.”

With that promise, I nodded. How did he manage to make me feel
so frightened and so safe at the same time? “All right, Christos.”

He squeezed our joined hands. “Do you feel that?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Have you ever?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“You are the only one, Juliet.” And before I could respond,
he filled me so completely I gasped with the shock of it.

He didn’t look away and neither did I.

He rolled his hips, pushing hard into me, his pelvis rocking
against my clit on the upstroke. I raised my legs and wrapped them around his
waist, holding him close with my thighs.

He growled. A low, guttural sound that made my nipples pull
tight. His chest brushed across the sensitive buds as he picked up his rhythm.

His cock dragged along the flesh of my inner walls, going
faster and harder, still rolling into me. Somehow managing to stroke my cunt,
my clit and my nipples at the same time. I cried out, I wanted nothing more
than to close my eyes and sink into the comfort of hiding, but his gaze held
me. The electricity sparking between our joined palms anchored me so I could do
nothing but ride out the storm.

My breath came fast as the steep climb grew inside me.

Sex and need and lust filled the air as he took me, pounding
into me so hard the headboard slammed against the wall.

Our bodies ground together as though we couldn’t get close
enough.

It was a brutal joining made all the more intense by our eye
contact. The noises we made would embarrass me later, but now it was so
animalistic, so raw, filled with so much power I could only revel in it.

My fingers tightened on his, and I pounded my fist into his
back as I climbed higher and higher. Oh god, this need would overtake me.

The bed seemed to have taken on the rhythm of our straining
bodies. We were slick with sweat. Mad with desire. Demanding in our lust.

Release hovered right out of my reach, the crest so high it
frightened me. Something like this, it had to hurt, had to be crushing.

I started to fight it.

The tide of emotion. The pleasure spiraling out of control
inside me. All the elements in the room. His body over mine. Inside me. The
sound of the bed shaking the walls and the floor beneath us. The damp, hot
sheen that clung to my skin.

It was all too much. Surely this would kill me.

He held me to him with his hand, his gaze and his body. With
one brutal thrust, his pelvic bone hitting my clit, his chest abrading my
nipples, his cock buried to my womb, the storm broke and the orgasm poured down
on me. The pleasure so intense, for the first time in my life, I screamed in
the throes of my climax.

As the powerful contractions racked my body, I clung
desperately to his gaze, clutching his hand while I rode out the storm of my
life. And while he anchored me to him, catching me just as he promised, he
thrust inside me once, twice, three times, setting off another wave of vicious contractions,
making my cunt ripple along his cock.

With a roar that vibrated the walls, Christos came. He
pumped inside me over and over, drawing my orgasm out with wave after wave of
contractions.

Finally, the last of the most intense climax of my life faded
away and my heart rate began to slow, my breath began to ease. He brushed my
wet hair from my face, his hips going still, his body gentling.

As I cooled and sanity returned, I waited for the
embarrassment. What I’d done with him, it hadn’t been pretty. It wasn’t sweet,
romantic movie sex. No, this was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. This
sex had been hot and wild and messy.

But strangely, the embarrassment didn’t come.

The haze of lust cleared from my vision and he snapped into
a crystal-clear focus. Light danced in his green eyes, and something else
gleamed there too, some sort of hidden inner knowledge. I searched his
expression and knew he waited patiently for me to understand too.

Our joined hands tingled and I finally understood what I’d
been craving so desperately earlier, and why I fought so desperately against
him. I’d recognized him the moment I’d met him and I’d been running from the
truth ever since.

It came over me like a rush, the understanding as fierce as
my orgasm had been. We were two sides of the same coin, one unable to exist
without the other. Predator and prey, dominant and submissive, the taker and
the taken—it didn’t really matter what I called it. The roles were established.

I couldn’t speak the words. They lodged in my throat,
holding back all the emotions rolling inside me. But I silently acknowledged
the truth—Christos and I, we wanted the same thing—his complete and total
possession of me.