Rough Surrender by Cari Silverwood

bottom lip. “I guess. You did the same to me, sir. It seems only fair.” She smiled.
    Smiled? Jesus in heaven. Not good . He smiled back, making sure to put a slightly diabolical twist on it. Unease shadowed her face.
    “If you’re to judge my marriage proposal, we should make sure you’ve seen me at my worst... You can always tell me to stop. Besides, I think you will like this, in a way. Yes?”
    “Um.” Her nostrils widened. Her knees shifted. Her hands clenched on her thighs. “I suppose.”
    “Good. I’m glad we are in agreement. Go and get the cords from the bed.”
    Now, this was much more interesting. The little flavor of fear in the way she rose, with her eyes locked on his, then walked away, stiff and uncertain, was far better. Faith was a hard woman to overwhelm. He leaned into the chair’s back. A challenge–but then if he saw her right, this was what she truly needed. He loved a challenge.
     

 

 
    Chapter 11
     
    The gold cords weighed heavily on her fingers as she went back into the bathroom. Mr. Meisner sat on the chair like a judge waiting for his next case...her. What was he planning? She could tell he meant to unsettle her. Well, no one had ever called her a pushover. She set her jaw.
    “Here, Faith.” He held out his hand.
    She gave him the cords and saw how he unraveled them while judging her reaction. It was amazing how quickly her pussy heated. All those words for her anatomy, and she sure remembered them. Cunt, cunny, cleft, vagina...dark and dirty, and my, oh, my, she liked this whole thing. Except, maybe, when he went careering off course, like now.
    “Your wrist, love.”
    Blinking, sure she teetered on a precipice and this dad-blasted man intended to give her a right good shove, she gave him her wrist. He urged her around until she faced away from him then took her other wrist too. Again, with the tying of her hands at her back, and she closed her eyes to savor the odd, yet delicious, want in her for handing him control. Her clitoris swelled, as if it had a mind of its own. She couldn’t help taking a deep breath at the surge of pleasure, at the scattered tingle as places woke and longed for more of his touch.
    “Good,” he said, and his hand curved over her bottom, appreciating every inch, or so it seemed. She swayed, and let her tongue tip venture out onto her lip when his hand went between her legs and stayed there, like it belonged in just that place, like he had a right to be there. Oh. Yes.
    “Wet,” he murmured. “Now you can kneel.”
    With a hand on her elbow to steady her, Mr. Meisner helped her kneel on the towel. Standing over her with his cock an inch away, he carefully twined her hair round and round and anchored his hand within. So firm she might have been in a vice, and with her hands behind her he could do what he wished.
    “How does that feel, Faith?” he asked quietly.
    She looked up at him and sank into those brown eyes, floating away with the sensation of being dominated. Her tongue and brain were miles from each other. Words and thoughts mired, and tangled. A reply would spoil the moment. She shook her head as much as his grip allowed her to.
    “That’s better. Lovely.” He bent down and kissed her long enough to send everything spinning. When he raised himself again, her lips were bruised and her heartbeat erratic.
    “I’m going to put my cock in your mouth. Use lips, not teeth. See if you can take it all in, after a while. When I come, you’ll get a mouthful. So don’t be surprised.”
    His hand held her even firmer as the head of his cock found her mouth. She opened wide then watched as it glided between her lips. She felt the strange soft, hardness poke along her tongue and then withdraw. A taste like skin, but deeper, richer.
    Shutting her eyes let her feel more. She was pleasuring him the same as he’d done to her. His flesh pushed in, invaded her mouth, withdrew.
    “Use your tongue,” he murmured. At the huskiness in his voice she