Summer of Surrender

He traced along the top edge of her teeth with his salty thumb and Kezia wanted to say please. Well, more like shout it out. Not to any arty-farty sex therapist crap, but to a good, hard shag. His hard-on was straining against his jeans and she could smell him; pure sex. Yes, he scared her, he was so friggin’ intense, but he turned her on as well. Like she’d been turned on when she was a teenager and thought her Mum was just about to walk in on her and a guy and find out they weren’t just listening to music. Like she was turned on when she imagined being pinned down, helpless, as the man she’d always loved forced her to submit to his every desire. Or something like that. Shit, books and films had a lot to answer for. She touched his finger with the tip of her tongue. He was staring straight into her eyes, his own so dark she couldn’t tell where his pupils ended and the colour began.

‘Do you want me?’ He eased his thumb from her mouth, squeezed her lower lip between thumb and finger, gently tugging and by the way it was affecting her swollen breasts he could well have been tugging her nipples. He let his hand drift down to rest lightly on her chin.

‘I don’t know you.’ Her throat had tightened with anticipation for what would come next, her shoulders tense.

‘But you want me, in the same way I want you.’

He slid his hand under her hair, ran one finger from the base of her neck up to where it met her skull, pressing gently into the soft indent and she couldn’t stop the shudder that travelled down her spine pooling at the base. That was good. His thumb circled, small persistent needy circles that sent a pulse between her legs. She gasped. Now could be the time to say please, or thank you. Oh that was very good, he seemed to have found the spot that channelled right down to orgasm central and if he stopped now she might have to scream.

‘Have you ever had sex with a stranger?’ And that husky voice was the icing on the cake, or should that be the cherry?

He’d said something. What was it? Oh, yeah. Sex, stranger. ‘I make love, not have sex.’ She could barely hear her own whisper, she swayed slightly into the pressure of his hand. ‘And nobody I’d call strange.’ Slightly wacky, yes, but not strange. She wanted to reach out and hold him, but she just knew it would break the spell. He’d stop. She didn’t want him to stop.

‘Just having sex can be good.’

She shivered under his touch as his thumb ran along the side of her neck, resting over her pulse point. His large, warm hand cradled her head, her jaw in the palm of his hand. If this was sex then fine, bring it on.

‘But it’s not—’

‘You’ve made love to people you’re not in love with.’

It didn’t seem to be a question, and right now her vocal chords didn’t want to play anyway.

‘That’s comfort, not a real connection, and what happens when you can’t be bothered to be a comfort blanket any longer?’ His fingers were still doing their thing and her brain seemed to be slowly melting, which gave him an unfair advantage.

‘But I—’

‘Close your eyes.’ It must have been surprise, no way would she have just shut them otherwise. His fingers slowly moved down to her throat, with the lightest of touch. ‘Clasp your hands behind your back.’ Hell, she did that too. But if she didn’t she couldn’t find out what came next, and all of a sudden she wanted to know.

His breath was warm against her skin, he must be close, so close. She had to touch him, she mustn’t touch him. The nip of his teeth on her neck made her jump, then whimper. His finger was tracing down her chest, down towards her breasts and her nipples started to prickle. She just had to reach out, hold him, or something.

‘Don’t move.’ Shit, all she’d done was think about it, unclasped her hands just a touch, but that liquid chocolate voice in her ear made her freeze and her stomach tighten.

His finger traced a path around her breast, slowly, tantalisingly moving in with each circle, then outwards, never touching the hard nub. She needed him to touch her nipples, or suck them, or anything… Any second now she really was going to scream. He moved on to the other breast and she could hear her breath coming in short gasps, feel her heart pounding so heavily her whole body seemed to be shaking with it. She bit her lip. She wasn’t going to beg.

His warm hands moved down, circling her waist, firm fingers pressing down over her stomach, lower, lower. He was holding her hips now, and those probing thumbs were circling her stomach just above her mound. Firm, tantalising. She moaned as she felt her juices pool in her knickers whimpering as she clenched her thighs together, feeling the slow pulsing in her pussy build. Oh, God she was going to come. She couldn’t stop now, she couldn’t. Her knees were trembling, she tightened her stomach muscles, felt the delicious throb intensify.

And he stopped. Let go. Cold air replaced where his hands had been.

‘Wha–?’ For a split second she was dazed, still numbed by the soft, sensual throbbing that had been bubbling its way through her body. She stared at him, confused, and he stared straight back, from a safe distance.

‘Demonstration over.’

‘Demonstration?’ The calm words hit her hard, her muscles contracting for a far different reason from a few minutes ago. The bastard. He’d shoved his hands back in his pockets, partly to hide his hard-on, and his face was devoid of expression. So, he hadn’t been pulled to her like she had to him, this wasn’t about the way her body reacted when he came within ten yards of her. This was business, pure and simple, showing her what a fucking clever sex quack he was. And she’d just started thinking he was nice. So much for her being a good judge of character.

‘Yup. That’s what we do here, Kezia.’

She shook her head slowly, fighting the burn of tears that was building up in her eyes. Sexual frustration and emotions warred in her body. ‘You sad bastard.’ She took a step backwards, back against the wall, her sweating palms against the cold plaster. He’d got under her skin, made her give up control, just to prove his point that love and lust were a million miles apart.

He didn’t move as she stared at him, didn’t flinch, but the empty look in his eyes made her want to grab him, shake him, scream at him until he snapped out of it. It had felt real, he’d felt real, warm, like he wanted to create something between them.

An illusion and a control freak.

One tear spilled and she could feel the damp heat trickle down her cheek, taste the salt in her mouth. Not bothering to wipe the tear or say a word she finally found the power to move her feet, push past him.

‘Kezia.’ But she didn’t pause, didn’t turn, she just kept on at the same steady pace across the yard, forcing herself not to run, until she couldn’t hear him or the horses any more.

Kezia kicked off her boots in the kitchen, hardly pausing, then marched straight up the stairs, banging the door shut and falling on to the bed.

What the hell was wrong with her? Why had she let him get under her skin? Some stupid fantasy about domineering men and wild passionate sex that a stupid corner of her mind had decided was about to come true. Except she didn’t want a domineering man. And definitely not one who wouldn’t even let her touch him.

She stared up at the ceiling. He’d barely touched her breasts and he definitely hadn’t touched the place she wanted him to most. He hadn’t kissed her, he hadn’t talked dirty to her and he hadn’t fucked her. He’d just breathed in her ear and stroked her. And she’d just had what she was pretty sure could have turned into one hell of an orgasm, if he hadn’t stopped it before it had barely begun. That feeling in her belly, the gentle pulsing between her thighs had been slowly unravelling something deep inside, and she’d wanted the tremble spreading through her body to go on forever. And now, she was just left with a dull ache that needed satisfying.

She shouldn’t have let him touch her. He was an attention-seeking, arrogant, domineering twat with a chip on his shoulder the size of a small skyscraper. Getting off on being able to turn women on. And, oh my God, right now she wanted more of the idiot.

Leaning over she grabbed her rucksack and pulled a battered notepad out of the back, ignoring her mobile, which was beeping with yet another incoming text. There was only one person who it could be from; Simon. Simon, who had agreed she needed space, who had agreed that they didn’t have a future together as lovers, but should stay in touch as friends. Simon, who was starting to become a pain in the arse. Yeah, his ‘hope you got there okay’ texts were fine, but then the follow-ups, along the lines of ‘I need you, when are you heading back?’ and ‘you need me, I know you do’ had sounded desperate and had unnerved her. And they were starting to get irritating. He hadn’t been like that when they were together, he’d been laid back and casual, they’d taken things one day at a time. No expectations, no demands, no needs. What was going to come next? ‘I can’t live without you?’

Simon had been fun, the brother she’d never had, more friend than lover. They’d had a few weeks of laughs, cuddles and getting to know you shags, but never once had there been the slightest hint that he was expecting more out of the relationship than she was. Saying goodbye had been hard, because she did care, but in her heart she’d always known that they were happy for now, not forever. And she’d thought he’d felt the same.

Until she’d shown him the plane ticket. Then he’d flipped a bit, which had shocked her, almost cried, which had shocked her even more and now was bugging her. Staying friends would have been great, but this wasn’t. He seemed to have turned overnight from casual dude without a care in the world to someone bordering on obsessive. Stalker material.

She pushed the phone further into the rucksack and fished out a pen. She was crap at spelling, and even worse at long words, but she’d started scribbling down what she was up to after they had gone. Her parents. At first she’d just told them, spoken out loud each night when she was lying in bed, telling them what she’d done, thought, hoped. And then it seemed easier to write it down, when she was sharing digs with people who already thought she was bonkers. And muttering to herself labelled her as completely deranged.

This time it wasn’t for them, though, this was for her. It looked like she was stuck with this guy for the summer, just the two of them. Which could have been cool, but it looked like it was heading for hell, probably because of the sizzle every time she went near him. But she wasn’t in the habit of hating people. She took them as she found them and accepted people’s differences. It was what she’d been brought up to do, he can be an earl or a tramp darling, her mother had always drummed into her, but it’s what’s inside that counts. We’re all human, even if we’re trying our damnedest not to be. And if we are, then there’s a reason, and we’re not always going to know it or understand it. But we can accept it.

Yeah. Easy for her to say. Kezia liked to know, though, not just accept. And right now she wanted to know how the heck she was going to survive the summer with Mr Moody, without either wanting to kill him or jump him.

The last bit could be tricky, but he didn’t want jumping. Obviously. The last thing on his mind was a fun fling that involved cuddles and kisses. The man just wanted sex, and preferably without his cock being involved in the party. Wacky.

So, she needed a plan. Step one; write down all the positives, ignore the negatives because she’d end up with a whole book full of them and as she couldn’t run away yet. There wasn’t any point going there.

Positives (she underlined it for good measure) – nice place, in the middle of nowhere, Marie back soon (oh, God five more weeks of him), comfy bed, sweet horses, money (essential), food (essential), he’s sexy (very), he’s hot.

Plan – admire the scenery (him included, note to self – handy for fantasies), learn how to ride, muck out the stables (and anything else he says), try to ignore the way he looks at me, DON’T let him touch me (she underlined the DON’T as well for extra good measure), find a job with horses.

Another note to self (v. important) – make sure never to go near a sex therapist again (Marie is OK).

Her list covered the finding a job part of her goal, the making something out of her life part, but not the settling down. It didn’t look like this was the place for that, but it was a start.

She let her arm fall back onto the bed and felt calmer. She had a plan.

And now she really must finish off what he’d started, or she was going to feel frustrated, randy and rampant when she saw him again. The last thing she wanted to feel was sex-starved, especially if she was going to stick to the plan.

Closing her eyes she pulled down the zipper on her jeans, and kerpow, he was there in her head like the magic genie. Standing up against her in the stable. She eased her hand into her panties, let her fingers rest against the damp, swollen lips.

‘Turn around.’ She turned to face the wall without question. ‘Take your top off.’ For a second she hesitated. ‘Now.’

‘Yes, sir.’ She peeled the damp top over her head, let it dangle from one hand, unsure what to do. ‘Move your legs apart.’ Slowly she edged her heavy boots apart until they were hip-width, wide enough for him to touch her if he chose to.

Kezia let the tip of her finger ease its way inside herself.

‘Hold your hands behind your back.’ Before she could object he’d bound her wrists with her t-shirt. He moved closer until she could feel the heat of his body only centimetres away. All he needed to do was sway his body and he would cover the gap between them so that skin met skin. But he didn’t. ‘Don’t worry, trust me, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.’ Oh, but she wanted, wanted so much.

He swept her hair up in one hand, twisted it so that her neck was exposed and then he kissed her. He smelled of soap, of herbal shampoo, clean and inviting, and of salt, of need and lust. Slowly he ran his tongue down her spine, her shoulder blades tightened and a shiver ran all the way from top to bottom. ‘You can say stop, but I want to show you what you’ve never let yourself have, what you’ve never let someone give you.’

‘I want—’

‘Shh. Don’t move and don’t speak unless you want me to stop.’ He let her hair fall, tucked it over her shoulder so that it left her back uncovered, exposed. She heard him strip his top off, and she wanted to look at him, but the second she tilted her head he took hold of her hair. ‘I said don’t move, unless you want me to stop. Do you want me to stop?’

‘No, no don’t stop.’ His firm thumbs stroked down either side of her spine, a slow, steady pressure that made her gasp and her buttocks clench, he was already finding the spots that made her want him, need him. This time he circled his thumb as he went, his splayed fingers curling around her rib cage. As he got lower, ever lower towards the base of her spine she tightened her thighs.

‘Don’t.’ He stopped, waiting until she’d relaxed. ‘Accept it, let your body ask for it.’ He bent down, slowly licked her linked fingers, then took each thumb in turn into his mouth, teasing with his teeth, sucking, taking each finger in turn and letting her rock her hips. She shifted back towards him.

She stroked her fingers inside a pussy that was already tensing.

‘Naughty girl. Rest your forehead on the wall and shift your feet back a bit.’ Her weight was forward now, her thighs tight and trembling as he ran first his finger, and then his tongue, up each toned inner thigh. And then he tasted her thighs properly, circled the softness of her skin, just inside her shorts, with his tongue, kissing, sucking, nibbling as his thumbs traced ever firmer circles over her buttocks, the very base of her spine and she knew that she was going to come. She could smell her own scent, feel the tremble that was under his hands, spreading upwards, mingling with the anticipation and want. ‘Let go.’ He rested his hand between her legs, felt the heat and dampness through her shorts, pressed against her, let her rock against him.

‘Oh, shit.’ Her thighs tightened around his hand and she was coming.

Kezia gasped as her body hit the high it had been aiming for. Her pussy tightened greedily around her fingers. Gradually the tremors died down, her body fizzled back down from its peak, leaving just a gentle buzz of warmth. Then she rolled over on to her side and crashed.

Chapter 3

‘You’re going?’

‘No, what gave you that idea?’ She filled the kettle and put it down with a heavy clatter, hoping that it hid the sound of her heart hammering away sixty to the dozen. Feeling light-headed could be put down to the orgasm he’d inadvertently given her last night. Feeling hot and bothered was definitely down to him just being there. He was dressed in jeans that hugged his hips like they were never going to let go, and an open-necked shirt with rolled-up sleeves that declared ‘man alert.’

‘I just thought…’

‘Ah, it can be a dangerous thing, thinking.’

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