Terms of Surrender by Gracie C. Mckeever
Authors: Gracie C. Mckeever
Tags: Siren Publishing, Inc.
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this-is-my-world-and-you-ain't-nothing-but-a-squirrel-trying-to-get-a-nut attitude."
Yep, that about summed up Nick. "What kind of clubs?" Slany asked.
"Gay clubs. What kind did you think?"
Now, Slany shrugged.
Peyton grinned. "I'm not ready for those other clubs just yet. Maybe if I met the right woman, and we went there together…"
"You don't seem too surprised by my news."
"Hey, it's your funeral."
"See, this is why—"
"I'm kidding, Slany." Peyton caught her shoulders. "Listen, kid, don't let what anyone thinks stop you from getting with this guy if he's what you want."
That was just it—she wasn't sure she wanted him.
She wanted his body. She wanted so badly for him to fuck her, she could taste him, smell his spicy aftershave when she closed her eyes at night. She remembered the way he tilted his head when he was working at his computer, remembered the way he fiddled with the gold hoop in his ear when he was concentrating.
But beyond all this, what did wanting him mean to her mental health? How dangerous was this attraction to her hard-won self-esteem and independence? Could she maintain any sense of herself dealing with such an imposing force? Could she maintain her sanity?
53
Gracie C. McKeever
The idea of giving herself over to him, body and soul, of relinquishing control equally thrilled and scared the hell out of her.
Slany had only just started dipping her feet into the culture's waters, her experience with Dominant/submissive relationships like a chapter in one of the many erotic romances she had been reading of late: unexpected and satisfying, but ultimately left her curious and wanting more.
Much more.
She always loved romances, especially the kind that left the bedroom door open. But in the last year, she had become addicted to the erotic, obtaining her fixes from various electronic publishers (thank God for the Internet!) that catered to all sorts of tastes and fetishes, had herself discovered a particular affinity for BDSM.
However, reading it and living it were two different things, especially since she had a feeling with Nick she wouldn't only be living it, but breathing, eating, and sleeping him . A man like him would brook no less.
And that's probably what scared her most, that she couldn't meet his demands, and she desperately wanted to, knew she would have to if she wanted to be with him.
… you have to do what I say, when I say it, no questions asked.
She shivered at the thought, wondered exactly what he had in mind when he said that, wondered how many other women he had said it to.
Her heart shuddered with jealousy at that last thought.
"Slany, do you trust him?"
She jerked her eyes up to Peyton's. "I barely know him."
"He seems to know you—at least, well enough to have made a proposition that makes you quake in your abstinent pumps, ready to turn tail and run for cover."
"For someone who's only met a few Doms, you seem to know a lot about the behavior, how they operate with their subs."
"No more than you. No more than what I've read."
"Nick's talking about the real thing, Peyton. Not books, but actual field experience.
Compared to him, Ron was just a joke, a fling." Slany shook her head. "I don't think I can do it."
"You haven't even given yourself a chance yet. You haven't given him a chance yet."
A chance to do what? Succeed where Ron had failed and totally crush her spirit?
"A true Dom would never hurt you, Slany. That's not what they're about," Peyton said, as if reading her mind.
"But he wants to take control of—"
"Only what you give him. And you have to give it willingly."
She knew all this in theory, had read and thoroughly enjoyed all the literature. But she never thought she'd be faced with the real-world possibility of living out her fantasies, for the simple fact that they were fantasies, wild and orgasmic, but safe within the bounds of her books, nothing she'd ever really do.
54
Terms of Surrender
Peyton peered at her and repeated, "Slany, do
Yep, that about summed up Nick. "What kind of clubs?" Slany asked.
"Gay clubs. What kind did you think?"
Now, Slany shrugged.
Peyton grinned. "I'm not ready for those other clubs just yet. Maybe if I met the right woman, and we went there together…"
"You don't seem too surprised by my news."
"Hey, it's your funeral."
"See, this is why—"
"I'm kidding, Slany." Peyton caught her shoulders. "Listen, kid, don't let what anyone thinks stop you from getting with this guy if he's what you want."
That was just it—she wasn't sure she wanted him.
She wanted his body. She wanted so badly for him to fuck her, she could taste him, smell his spicy aftershave when she closed her eyes at night. She remembered the way he tilted his head when he was working at his computer, remembered the way he fiddled with the gold hoop in his ear when he was concentrating.
But beyond all this, what did wanting him mean to her mental health? How dangerous was this attraction to her hard-won self-esteem and independence? Could she maintain any sense of herself dealing with such an imposing force? Could she maintain her sanity?
53
Gracie C. McKeever
The idea of giving herself over to him, body and soul, of relinquishing control equally thrilled and scared the hell out of her.
Slany had only just started dipping her feet into the culture's waters, her experience with Dominant/submissive relationships like a chapter in one of the many erotic romances she had been reading of late: unexpected and satisfying, but ultimately left her curious and wanting more.
Much more.
She always loved romances, especially the kind that left the bedroom door open. But in the last year, she had become addicted to the erotic, obtaining her fixes from various electronic publishers (thank God for the Internet!) that catered to all sorts of tastes and fetishes, had herself discovered a particular affinity for BDSM.
However, reading it and living it were two different things, especially since she had a feeling with Nick she wouldn't only be living it, but breathing, eating, and sleeping him . A man like him would brook no less.
And that's probably what scared her most, that she couldn't meet his demands, and she desperately wanted to, knew she would have to if she wanted to be with him.
… you have to do what I say, when I say it, no questions asked.
She shivered at the thought, wondered exactly what he had in mind when he said that, wondered how many other women he had said it to.
Her heart shuddered with jealousy at that last thought.
"Slany, do you trust him?"
She jerked her eyes up to Peyton's. "I barely know him."
"He seems to know you—at least, well enough to have made a proposition that makes you quake in your abstinent pumps, ready to turn tail and run for cover."
"For someone who's only met a few Doms, you seem to know a lot about the behavior, how they operate with their subs."
"No more than you. No more than what I've read."
"Nick's talking about the real thing, Peyton. Not books, but actual field experience.
Compared to him, Ron was just a joke, a fling." Slany shook her head. "I don't think I can do it."
"You haven't even given yourself a chance yet. You haven't given him a chance yet."
A chance to do what? Succeed where Ron had failed and totally crush her spirit?
"A true Dom would never hurt you, Slany. That's not what they're about," Peyton said, as if reading her mind.
"But he wants to take control of—"
"Only what you give him. And you have to give it willingly."
She knew all this in theory, had read and thoroughly enjoyed all the literature. But she never thought she'd be faced with the real-world possibility of living out her fantasies, for the simple fact that they were fantasies, wild and orgasmic, but safe within the bounds of her books, nothing she'd ever really do.
54
Terms of Surrender
Peyton peered at her and repeated, "Slany, do
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