Submit and Surrender

chapter 12


It wasn’t just what he said to her. It was that he’d already prepared a place for her. It was the way he held her hand as she picked her way through the gravel of his drive to the broad slate squares of the walk to his front door. It was the way he carried her bag, without a second thought, without a chance that he’d give it up even if she fought him for it. It was the way his hand on the small of her back made her feel completely safe.

Which, ironically, meant danger. Adra knew she was about to freak out.

Ford held open the door for her.

She liked walking through it way too much.

“You don’t have to take care of me, you know,” she said, stepping over the threshold.

She hadn’t been in this house in so long. She had missed it. She’d missed this ridiculous masculine decorating scheme, all these dark stones and dark polished woods and high-end electronics. She’d missed the scent: the wood-burning fireplace, and Ford himself.

“There aren’t very many things I have to do,” Ford said. “Some things I just want to do.”

Adra stopped, the final click of her heels echoing softly in the high-ceilinged foyer, and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath.

“I don’t want you to take care of me,” she said.

That echoed, too.

She hated that she’d needed to say that. She hated how defensive it sounded, how ridiculous, how scared and uncertain. She was a grown woman; she didn’t have anything to prove to anyone.

No. She shouldn’t have anything to prove to anyone. But that didn’t necessarily make it so.

She opened her eyes, and found Ford watching her. Studying her. His eyes searching, his expression intense, his whole body primed, alert—just like her own.


Damn.

She felt exposed. Naked. Far more naked than she’d ever actually been before, if that was possible.

Oh God, what if she was in way over her head?

She felt the panic begin to brim, and it felt like a breath taken underwater. And then Ford was there.

Her Dom was there.

“I am going to take care of you,” he said. “Right now.”

He kissed her back against the wall, put his hand between her legs, and squeezed until Adra moaned helpless into his mouth. By the time he pulled away she was weak-kneed and feverish, her mouth searching mindlessly for his, her hands gripping at his shoulders.

Jesus, this man…

As her eyes started to focus, she latched on to the heat building in her core with what could only be called gratitude, and looked up at him.

“I’m not done with you,” he said.

Adra swallowed. She didn’t know if she was done freaking out, either. She didn’t know if she could…

“Go into the living room, strip naked, and wait for me on all fours,” Ford commanded.

Her breath hitched.

“Now,” he said.

His voice snapped her back into herself, and away from all that over-thinking, overwhelmed panic. She thought about what he’d said, where he’d touched her, and how wet she was. How she felt the pressure pulsing inside her, how it was drowning out everything else, even the panic, distilling her down to this one, pure thing that she could handle.

Jesus f*ck, this man…

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.

And she practically ran to the living room, her heels echoing off the polished floors until she crossed another threshold, and nearly tripped in the soft, deep carpet of Ford’s comfortable living room.

Shoes were the first to go.

He hadn’t turned on any of the lights yet, and so Adra undressed in the dark. The dress slipped right off of her; bra and thong followed. She hadn’t worn stockings or garters, though she’d thought about it. She was glad now that she hadn’t. She went from dressed to the nines to dressed for one thing in particular in about three point two seconds.

One thing left to do. She shivered slightly in the dark.

Then she walked to the middle of the room, in front of the huge, dark fireplace, slowly lowered herself to her hands and knees, and felt her mind begin to empty.

The thing about waiting was that at first the world would shrink down to a size just big enough to hold the thing she waited for. And then, as the seconds—minutes? Eons? Who could tell?—ticked by, slowly the world kept shrinking, until the thing she waited for, the man she waited for, was too big for it. There wasn’t room in Adra’s head for anything else but Ford. For when he would arrive. When he would touch her. What he would do.

She waited, and the only passage of time were her rapid, shallow breaths, and the wetness she could feel spreading between her legs.

Adra listened. She listened so, so hard.

But the thing about carpet over a stone floor is that you can’t hear a damn thing.

She didn’t know he was behind her until he was inside her.

Her breath came out in a long, soft cry as he slid into her, his hands holding her steady at the hips while her arms buckled beneath her. He felt big, bigger than she remembered, stretching her to where she almost thought she couldn’t take it anymore. Her eyes flew open while he paused briefly and her body adjusted. And then she leaned her head against her forearms, now flat on the floor, and pushed up against him, wanting more, so much more, as much as she could take.

Ford slapped her ass and drove into her again.

And again.

And again.

She was moaning, she was sure she was moaning, just driven to it by the feel of him thrusting inside her relentlessly, when he reached forward, grabbed her by the back of the neck, and brought her up to where he could grab her breast.

“Oh f*ck,” she said.

“You know the rules,” Ford said, pounding into her again. “You don’t come unless I say so.”

This was different. This was anything but gentle.

This was perfect.

He held her down, toyed with her nipple, f*cked her mercilessly, and all the while all she could think about was that she couldn’t come. Her whole body tightened around him, around the impending orgasm, the shape of the thing she could already feel building inside her, and she could only think: Oh God, don’t come, don’t come, don’t come…

Then she felt his hand leave her breast, only to snake downward, his fingers searching out her *, and she almost screamed in denied agony. He thrust into her, hard, and she went mindlessly blank.

“Please,” she begged. She was babbling. “Please, please, please…”

“Come,” he ordered, and she exploded.

He stopped, kept himself motionlessly inside her while she came hard around him, the man apparently having an iron freaking will, something Adra could now appreciate more than ever. By the time the contractions subsided, Adra’s face was wet. Tears? Sweat?

Oh God, he was still inside her.

She shuddered, another aftershock tearing through her. She groaned, bit her lip, moved her hips.

Ford slapped her ass again.

“That one was just because I’m feeling nice,” Ford said. “Now I’m going to have some fun with you. Remember you don’t come until I tell you, or you’re going to feel it.”

And with that he slid out of her. He was only gone a second, maybe two, that might as well have been forever. Adra only noticed that she didn’t dare to move out of position until he came back and stroked the back of her thigh.

“Good girl,” he said.

And then he attached the nipple clamps.

Adra hissed, then felt herself start to float away as the sting faded into pleasure. This would keep her close to the edge for however long Ford deemed fit. This would…

The clamps were attached to a lead.

She knew because he pulled on it.

“Pay attention,” he said.

Adra whimpered. “Yes, sir,” she said.

“Which hand do you masturbate with?” he said.

“My left,” she said.

“Use it,” he said. “Touch yourself.”

Adra groaned even at the thought. The second she touched herself, knowing it was his order, knowing he was watching, knowing he would do whatever he wanted, it would be a constant battle not to fall over the forbidden edge. And still, she did it. She gingerly shifted her weight, moved her hand. Winced in anticipation.

And then she touched herself, and she started to shake.

“Adra,” he warned.

“I know,” she panted. “I know, I’m trying, I’m trying…”

“Try harder,” he said, and trailed the cool leather end of a riding crop up the inside of her leg.

She almost lost it.

Instead she moaned and turned her head to hide in the crook of her arm, closing her eyes, turning all her concentration on what she wasn’t allowed to do. Even though she knew what was coming.

The first strokes with the crop were light, feathery, like little stinging bites all over the backs of her thighs and her ass. Then sharper. Longer, not letting the crop dance off her skin quite as fast, letting it linger instead. Each one spiked sensation all over her body, each one struck nerves that seemed directly connected to her *, each one threatened to send her over.

“Move your hand,” Ford ordered.

Adra did as she was told, and moaned.

He struck her with the crop and she cried out.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

And then he hit her again.

“Keep at it, Adra.”

And again.

And again, until she was actually dizzy, moaning aloud, incoherent. Begging. Definitely begging, though she didn’t know if she had real words anymore, just that pleading tone of voice, that desperation that not even the best actress could fake, that base, animal need, her fingers working, her other hand balled into a fist, her teeth clenched…

He flipped her over quickly, easily, like it was nothing at all, and settled her shaking legs on either side of him. She opened her bleary eyes, blinked up at him, gripped at the carpet with her hands.

He removed the nipple clamps and for a split second she felt the painful surge of blood returning and cried out—and then he replaced them with his fingers, pinching, rubbing, slowly letting up on the pressure. Letting her feel every, long second of it while he kept his eyes locked on her contorting face.

“Please,” she begged again, writhing under him. “Please.”

Ford positioned his cock at her entrance, the head nestled in her folds, and it was so close she wanted to cry—and he paused.

“Your orgasms belong to me now,” he said, and his voice was different, rougher, more raw.

“Yes,” she said.

“You are mine,” he said.

“Yes!”

“Now come as many times as you can,” he said.

With a growl, he plunged into her again, and Adra screamed. She came immediately. She came insanely. She wasn’t sure if she ever stopped, or if that low, buzzing hum was just the base note of the longest orgasm of her life, or if what would happen next was that she might actually die. She had no idea what was happening to her. And she didn’t care, as long as Ford kept doing it to her.

And he did, until sweat began to trickle down his forehead, until his own fingers dug into the carpet beneath her, until he dropped his head and kissed her roughly. Then he pinned her hands above her head and, with a feral growl, gripped her neck with his teeth and finished them both, f*cking her with wild, senseless abandon until they both lay sweaty and limp on his living room floor.


Adra loved that feeling, with Ford on top of her. Loved how he covered her, how she could bring her hands up the broad plans of his back and never quite reach everything, how she could barely see over his shoulders while he breathed her in. It was the first time she felt like she was drowning and enjoyed it.

She had no idea how much time had passed.

She didn’t care.

It was Ford who moved first, Ford who would have been waking up to his Dom responsibilities. Adra was content to lie there for the rest of time, really, but Ford stirred, nuzzled her, licked her neck, pushed himself off of her so that he could see her face.

So that he could stroke her cheek.

So that he could kiss her.

So that he could take care of her.

Adra was still floating somewhere high in subspace when he gathered her up, carrying her again to a comfy couch, wrapping them both in a blanket. Even as things were still kind of fuzzy, she remembered being gratified by the fact that they were both naked this time, and she found herself burrowing into his chest, toying with the fine hairs she found there. She didn’t even remember to worry about it all.

“How are you?” he asked, after a while.

“I’m excellent,” she said, and sighed softly.

“Still coming down?”

“I don’t even know,” she said. “It feels different. Easier. The drop isn’t so hard.”

“This was intense,” he said, stroking her hair. “Was it too much?”

Just like him to make sure.

“It was perfect,” Adra said, looking up at him. She meant it. “It was exactly…it was perfect. I would tell you, Ford. I wouldn’t hide it just for your approval. I’m not that sub.”

“I know you’re not,” he said gently.

“How did you come up with that, on the fly,” she murmured.

“I’m that good,” Ford said, shrugging.

She smacked his chest, but what was she going to do, argue with him?

“How are you outside of the scene?” he asked, suddenly serious again.

And she was now very, very aware of their closeness, all over again. Only this time, it didn’t bother her. She knew it would later, but at the moment her body simply did not have the energy to freak out anymore.

Ford was a very smart man.

“I’m ok,” she said. “I am, really. This was…this was perfect, I meant it. I feel kind of amazing. You may have killed a whole bunch of brain cells, but they were all the bad kind, so I think it’s a win.”

“Is that how that works?” Ford said, and snaked his hand up her stomach to play with her breasts. Adra sucked in her breath but couldn’t fight a smile. “I’m going to have to kill a whole lot more.”

“We’re outside a scene,” she said in mock disapproval.

“We are well into cuddle time,” Ford said, gently rolling a nipple between his fingers. “And you are mine, anyway. I’m gonna do this whenever I want.”

God, that sounded good. How could she fight that?

She bit her lip.

“You keep doing that, we’re going to be in a scene again pretty quickly,” Ford said.

“Oh my God, you’re going to kill me.”

“We’ll die happy, though.”

“Hush,” Adra said.

He smiled at her.

And then they sat like that, together, Ford holding Adra, the two of them wrapped in a blanket. Together. And it was…it was comfortable. It was peaceful. It was nice.

No, it was beyond nice. It was—

“I have to call it,” Ford said softly.

“Hmm?” Adra said.

“The cuddle clock.”

Had it been ten minutes since he’d first asked her if she was ok? Really? It felt like…it felt like nothing.

Then Adra remembered what he’d said. “The cuddle clock?”

“You heard me.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“Of course I’m making fun of you.” Ford smiled.

Then he kissed her on the cheek and lifted her up, gently setting her on her feet.

Adra got to keep the blanket. Which meant that Ford didn’t.

She let her eyes wander.

Jesus Christ.

“Let me show you where you’ll be sleeping,” he said, and took her by the hand.

Adra didn’t take her eyes off his perfect ass even once. She kind of just…couldn’t believe it. That he was real. He was one of those mythical people who actually looked better naked. Better than “better,” even—he was perfect. He was her ideal.

Adra shook her head. That was not a helpful thought.

“Here you are,” he said, opening a door to a large bedroom that was, objectively, lovely. Soft lighting, white on white high-thread count sheets and a comforter that looked like an actual cloud, a sitting area with those plush chairs that made you want to take a nap. And a bathroom. A beautiful en suite bathroom with a standing tiled shower and an oversized hot tub.

“This is your guest room?” she said.

“Get used to it,” he said. “Hey, did you actually remember to pack any comfortable clothes?”

Adra tore her gaze away from the bathroom and was confronted with Ford’s nudity again. She lost her train of thought.

“Eyes up here,” Ford said.

“What? Um, no, now that you mention it,” Adra said. “I was just kind of…”

“I’ll put something out for you,” he said, smiling down at her while she made every effort to make eye contact. “I thought we could do a movie.”

“Nothing sappy,” she said, perhaps a little bit too quickly.

“Really? You think I’m gonna pick out a sappy movie? Me?”

“I’ve seen your DVD collection, you bleeding heart.”

“You know I’m gonna remember that, right?”

Adra smirked. “I was hoping.”

“Get your ass in that shower before I regain my strength,” Ford said, and whisked away the blanket. Adra ran into the bathroom laughing.

And when she got out, the first thing she saw was a pair of Ford’s sweatpants and one of his t-shirts, both of which she would be swimming in—and she didn’t care. They smelled like him, and they were the most comfortable things she’d ever worn. And when she wandered back to the TV room, she found that Ford had fixed them some food and had the movie all set up.

“Here,” he said, handing her a bowl of stir-fry. “You like spicy beef, right?”

“When did you learn to cook?”

“I didn’t. I learned to dial.”

“Well, good job dialing,” she said. It smelled amazing, and Adra realized she was starving. She took her bowl and a fork and plopped down on the world’s most comfortable couch, ready to relax.

“So what are we watching?” she asked.

In response, Ford sat down on the other side of the couch and picked up the remote.

It was Clueless.

Adra stared at him. “You own Clueless?” she said.

Ford looked at her haughtily. “It’s an American classic,” he said. Then he smiled. “Someone told me that.”

Yeah, Adra had.

The thing was, Ford had never seen it before she’d made him go. And she really had gone through his DVD collection back when they used to hang out together all the time. Ford definitely hadn’t owned Clueless before they’d had their…little mistake, and stopped being friends for far too long.

She was still staring at him.

“You want something else?” Ford asked, frowning. “It’s this or Die Hard.”

“No, this is fine,” she said, blinking back the world’s stupidest tears. “This is great. It’s perfect.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Ok, then,” Ford said, and leaned back in his corner of the couch, his feet up on an ottoman.

Adra suddenly had no idea what to do with herself. It was obviously very important to observe the rules of the cuddle clock for mental health and general sanity reasons, but she found that she was almost terminally conscious of the physical distance between them. She wasn’t watching the movie; she knew it by heart anyway. She was watching Ford out of the corner of her eye.

It was torture.

It was worse than not being allowed to come.

Why couldn’t she think about anything else but how far away his leg was from hers?

She must have been sitting up ramrod straight, the tension obvious in every line, because when Ford looked over at her he kind of laughed, reached over, and pulled her into the crook of his arm.

“Friends are comfortable with each other,” he said.

“Right,” she said. “You watch movies with Roman like this?”

“I’d watch movies with Lola like this,” Ford said.

“And then you’d be dead,” Adra said.

“I didn’t say it would be a long-term plan. Are you gonna relax?”

Adra sighed, heard it turn into laughter, and shifted down until her head was in his lap.

“I guess so,” she said.

She lay like that through one and a half movies, with Ford’s hand in her hair, alternating between a kind of nervous, aroused tension and utter contentment, until finally, finally, she fell into what must have been the least restful sleep ever.

Only when she woke up she was in that beautiful bed, and it was morning. And she was alone.

She felt enormous relief paired with a vague kind of grief. She didn’t know what to call that weirdo feeling, but felt certain that there must be a word for it.


Staying with Ford was going to be interesting, to say the least.