Deep Surrendering: Episode Four

  Deep Surrenderings, Episode 4

  Copyright © 2014 Chelsea M. Cameron

  www.chelseamcameron.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. All rights reserved.

  Cover Copyright © Chelsea M. Cameron

  Edited by GreatImaginations.com

  Interior Design by Novel Ninjutsu.com

  For the very first time, I was in control of sex with Fin. Myriad emotions flitted through my mind as Fin stared at me, waiting. I’d asked for this, and now I was terrified to go through with it. I mean, God, people had sex face to face all the time. There were probably millions or even billions of people facing each other and having sex. Right now.

  But those people weren’t Fin. No one was like Fin.

  He was dark and sweet and funny and commanding, and I wanted him more than I wanted any other person. More than I knew you could want a person.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “I think that’s supposed to be my line,” I said. The tension radiated off him in waves, but if he wanted to get out, all he had to do was say the word. Just one word. Red.

  Stop. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. You shall not pass.

  “Are you scared?” I asked, and he nodded his head slowly, his hair swinging across his forehead.

  “If I said no, I’d be lying,” he said.

  I could tell. For someone who was about to have sex, he didn’t look like he was anticipating it with anything but dread.

  “We don’t have to do this. I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to.” I’d told myself I wasn’t going to back down from wanting this, but it was hard not to when he was clearly upset. Reluctant, sad sex under duress definitely wasn’t something I wanted to be a part of. Second only to pity sex.

  “I want to do this for you. You’ve done everything I asked, so this is the least I can do. I can do this for you.”

  My heart twisted, and I wanted to kiss him. So I leaned forward and up, hoping that he would get the hint. When my lips met nothing but air, I opened my eyes and found him looking down at me.

  “It’s just a kiss, Fin. We can start with a kiss.” His eyes were dark and liquid, and I sensed I was meeting yet another side of Fin. I didn’t quite know what to make of this Fin yet.

  “I think I can kiss you,” he said, and I sensed he was half-joking. Well, if he could joke a little, then he must be relaxing a little more.

  “We can do this. We’ve done it before. Just picture my ass if you get nervous.” That made him laugh for a second, and then he pulled my face up and pressed his lips to mine. It was a chaste kiss. Probably the most simple and sweet kiss we’d had. He pulled away before I could turn it into something more.

  “You call that a kiss? That was just mean,” I said, wanting to smack him in the chest. “I kind of want to punish you for that.”

  “Is that so?” He shifted closer so my chest brushed against him. Just that little bit of contact flipped my sex switch, and it was all I could do not to attack him and throw him on the bed.

  “Yes. Now go and stand by the bed.” I tried to make my voice as commanding as possible, channeling my inner dominatrix. I needed a whip or a crop or something. Maybe Fin had something like that hanging around. He probably did, or he could call down to the front desk and have one sent up, along with some more of that cherry lube.

  Fin hesitated for just a moment and I thought he’d refuse, but then he walked over to the bed and stood by it, awaiting further instructions. Who was in charge now?

  “I kind of want to ask you to hop on one foot to see if you’ll do it.”

  “Whatever you want, Marisol.” His shoulders were still tight, but he wasn’t backing down. Something told me he liked a challenge and he’d see this as one to overcome.

  “I want to undress you. And I want you to undress me. Slowly. And I want to stare at you for a little while before we do anything. But you’re already crossing some of your boundaries by agreeing to do this face to face, so I won’t make you take off your clothes. Not this time. But I do want you to undress me. I want your hands on my skin. Right now.”

  I walked toward him, hoping I looked seductive. The way he watched me, hungrily, made me feel like a sex goddess. When I stood in front of him, I was fully confident that this was going to work. That this could happen. That he could give this to me after all I’d given to him.

  His hands rested on my shoulders, skimming down my arms. Just take off my shirt. That’s all you have to do. Take off my shirt! I screamed the words in my head, begging him to hear me. There wasn’t much to my top; he could probably tear it right off me with his fingers.

  “Fin,” I said, making him meet my eyes. “Stop thinking. You’re getting wrapped up in your head. This is just you and me. We’re on the dance floor again.” I’d told myself I wasn’t going to touch him first, but I moved his hands to my waist, and then put my hands on his shoulders like an old-fashioned junior high slow dance. I swayed and he moved with me, our motions seamless and completely together.

  “See that? See how we move together? Feel it?”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice soft and low.

  “That’s all this is. We’re going to dance. You and me.” I wished we had some music, but we’d have to do with the sounds of the city below us.

  At first, his sway was rigid, as if he was just tipping back and forth like a rocking ship, but then I felt him melt into our movements, and we shifted together.

  “See?”

  “Yes,” he said, and then leaned down to rest his forehead against mine.

  We swayed for a while, and somehow our bodies were drawn toward one another. The hardness in his pants teased and pressed against me.

  I drew away from him and his eyes opened, taking a moment to focus. Like he’d been in a trance.

  “Are you ready?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  Before we got any further, I left him to fetch a condom from his bedside table. I reached in to grab something off the top, but I pulled the drawer too hard, and it tumbled to the floor.

  “Shit,” I said, bending down to pick up the contents. But before I could, large hands snatched the scattered items out of my hands.

  “I’ve got it,” he said in my ear. I tried not to look at what he was picking up, but I couldn’t help it. There weren’t just condoms. There was also the bottle of cherry lube and a few bottles of similar substances. A coil of silky rope. A blindfold. A roll of black tape. And a rod with fringes at the end.

  Bondage tools.

  Fin shoved me out of the way and desperately tried to get everything back in the drawer, but it was too late. I’d already seen everything. Or maybe just what was in that particular drawer.

  “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said under his breath.

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not like I was unaware of this part of your life, Fin. Look at me.” He turned his head away from the scattered items on the floor and gazed at me. His eyes were wide with fear.

  “I’m not running away. I’m staying.”

  “Why?” Well, wasn’t that the ultimate question? Why did I stay with him? Even after he bailed on me twice, even after I found out some of his secrets and knew there were more. Even though he was leaving.

  “Because something in you needs something in me, and something in m
e needs something in you. I can’t explain it any better than that. No matter what else stands in our way, I knew that the first night I met you. Sometimes you just meet people and you know. You know that they’re going to impact your life and you theirs. So until that feeling goes away, I’m going to be here.” I reached for his hand and he let me take it.

  “Would you like to just sleep tonight? I can take the couch if you want to be alone,” I said, but he shook his head.

  “No. I’ve been wanting you all night. I want you so much sometimes I can’t breathe.” I was familiar with the feeling. Slowly we rose together, forgetting about the items on the floor. I didn’t want to think about them right now. I just wanted to think about him inside me. Nothing keeping us apart.

  We’d been building toward this moment for hours. It was a wonder we didn’t both spontaneously combust.

  “I know, I feel the same way,” I said. It looked like I was going to have to make the first move here. As much as I wanted him to undress me, he seemed too fragile. So I slipped my fingers under the edge of my silky top and tugged it over my head, letting it fall to a heap on the floor.

  “Do you want to do the skirt, or should I?” I said.

  “I can.” I turned and presented him with my back. His hands started at my shoulders and dragged down my spine, and I was reminded of the last time we were together and he used the ice cubes. The mere memory of it sent a bolt of desire shooting through me, and I almost told him to hurry up.

  With hands trembling a fraction, he pulled the zipper of my skirt down and it joined my shirt on the floor.

  “There. Now that wasn’t so hard.” That was perhaps not a good choice of words.

  Fin exhaled and looked me up and down, drinking me in. “There are a million different things I want to do with you.” His eyes snapped to my face. “What do you want to do?”

  I answered by taking one of his hands and putting it on the side of my face and taking the other and placing it on my lower back. Then I rose on my tiptoes and whispered two words:

  “Kiss me.”

  He did.

  Things came naturally to us after we started kissing. We had been together before, so we were familiar enough with each other’s bodies. I tried my best not to touch him other than to kiss him, but I rested my hands lightly on his chest and he didn’t push me away.

  Growing bolder, I fisted his shirt in my hands, but he pulled his mouth from mine.

  “Red?” I asked. “But just the touching, right? Not the whole thing?”

  “Just for the touching. I’m sorry.”

  “No worries. Message received.” I put my lips to his again and kept my arms at my sides. It was much more difficult to not touch him when we were facing each another. That was probably another reason he didn’t like to do it this way.

  His hands fluttered over my skin, hesitant at first, but he grew more confident the longer we kissed. I opened my mouth and he dipped his tongue inside.

  Slipping my bra straps over my shoulders, he undid the clasp with a flick of his wrist before pulling it down my arms and letting it land on the floor. My panties followed. He went for his zipper, but I stopped him with my voice.

  “Get on the bed. Please.” It seemed rude to ask without a please. He nodded and climbed on the bed, laying on his back and waiting for me.

  “Would it be easier with all the lights off?”

  “Yes,” he said, so I turned everything off and pulled the curtains closed so the room was as dark as possible. His eyes still followed me, watching as I moved.

  “Ready?” I asked for the last time.

  “Yes.” I climbed on the bed next to him, and we lay side by side for a moment.

  “Do you want to be on top?” The symbiosis we experienced a few moments before had evaporated and now things were awkward again.

  “Top, I think. Yes, top would be good.” He sounded like I was asking him what kind of ice cream flavor he wanted.

  He was looking at the ceiling and breathing deep like he was meditating. Even in the dark though, I could see the bulge in his pants.

  I waited. And waited.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t—” I started to say, but then he was on top of me, pressing my body into the mattress but still supporting most of his weight with his arms. I made a surprised sound that was cut off by his mouth on mine. I think he didn’t want me to speak, as usual, but at least facing one another we could kiss to keep me quiet.

  He sat up and unzipped his pants, fumbling a bit before he got them undone, and reached for a condom. Shoving them down, he let himself free.

  I bit my lip as I looked at him. I’d only had a quick glance the first time we (almost) had sex. The first time when he left me.

  He rolled the condom on so fast I nearly missed it. Before I realized he was going to go through with it, he shoved me back and plunged inside me. I’d been ready all night, but the intrusion was so fast that I pulled back a little.

  “Whoa, slow down,” I said as he pulled out and prepared to enter me again. I wasn’t supposed to speak, but it had been involuntary. His face was set with grim determination. Like sex was a task he had to complete. No. This was wrong. So wrong.

  He stopped but wouldn’t look at my face.

  “Fin,” I said, reaching up to touch his face. “Look at me. Look at my eyes. I don’t want this to be an ordeal you have to get through. Do you want me to turn over?”

  “No. No. I can do this. Just … give me a minute.” This was quickly turning from something sensual to something I just wanted to get over with.

  He started the deep breathing again, and I felt all my desire to have sex evaporate in the dark room.

  “Lilac,” I said, using my safeword.

  His reaction was immediate and violent. He threw himself away from me and scrambled to get off the bed.

  “I’m sorry!” he said, heading for the door. “I’m sorry.”

  “Wait!” I grabbed my shirt from the floor and shoved it over my head. It stopped right past my hips, so it covered what I needed it to cover. I got to him just as he started to open the door.

  “I stopped because I didn’t want it to be that way. I didn’t want sex with me to be a negative thing. Something you had to get through. I never want that with you. It’s been a long day, okay? Maybe we should call it a night.” I hated the idea of going home alone, but I didn’t think he wanted me to stay.

  “I’ve fucked this up so badly, Marisol. I wish I could give this to you, but it’s hard. I’ve spent years not getting close to people and keeping them away, and to change that in one night … I guess I can’t.” He zipped his pants up and opened the door.

  “No,” I said, grabbing his arm and making him turn around. “I want to talk about this. If we don’t, it’s just going to fester and get worse. I don’t want this to stand between us. Please, Fin.” His eyes blazed down at me and I couldn’t read his expression.

  “I’m leaving, Marisol. In a few days. I’m leaving,” he said, his voice tight.

  “I know we haven’t talked about the future, but … I don’t want this to end. I want you in my life if you’re here or a thousand miles away.”

  “This is, this is crazy. Irrational.”

  “I know. It is. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t real.” I wished we could just kiss and he’d lead me back to the bed and make slow, gentle love to me, but that wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t in the right headspace for that. His demons had wrapped themselves around his mind, coiling and squeezing like snakes, swallowing his rational thoughts and leaving only fear and darkness behind.

  We needed some light right now. I wasn’t going to get anything out of him by begging or demanding. I’d have to soften my approach. Or maybe try something completely different.

  “Do you have any ice cream?” I asked, and that definitely got his attention. I remembered our first date when we’d eaten ice cream and how he laughed when it ran down his arm.

  “Ice cream?”

  “Yes. I always
find talking about things you don’t want to talk about is easier with ice cream. Come on.” I looped my arm with his and dragged him to the kitchen.

  “Ice cream isn’t going to fix this situation.”

  “Shh,” I said, putting my finger to his lips. “Ice cream first.”

  He just happened to have a container of mint chocolate chip in the very back of his freezer that he didn’t remember buying. I found two spoons and popped the top on the container as he got out some bowls.

  “No. No bowls. We’re eating it straight from the container. It tastes better that way.” I stuck my spoon in and scooped out the first bite, putting it into my mouth and rolling the sweet creaminess around. He’d gotten the good stuff.

  “Do you have a scientific study to back up that assertion?” Finally. The sweet joking Fin was starting to come back. I missed him.

  “Of course I do. I would never say something like that without having scientific findings to back me up. Unfortunately, I don’t have them on me, but I’ll fax you a copy.”

  He sighed. “Marisol,” Fin said, setting down his spoon. “This isn’t going to work. This distraction.”

  “Well, it won’t if you set your spoon down.” I scooped up some more ice cream and put it in my mouth.

  “Marisol.” His voice was sharp and I looked up from the ice cream container.

  “Look, I’m doing my best here. I used my safeword because you looked so uncomfortable and scared, and I don’t want that for us. I want us to be open and able to talk to each other. I could feel you pulling away from me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I’m not currently accepting sorrys from you. Have some ice cream.” I loaded up my spoon and held it out for him. “It’s going to melt, hurry up.” Some dripped on the counter, but I didn’t pull my hand back.

  He hesitated but then opened his mouth and I stuck the spoon in.

  “You’ve got something on your face,” I said as some of the ice cream dripped down his chin.