Deep Surrendering: Episode 3

  I listened as she described the latest debacle involving two of the massage therapists and their battle over tips.

  “I swear, every six months there is this debate about pooling tips and it’s driving me crazy. I can’t deal with this shit. Don’t get me wrong, I love women, but they drive me fucking crazy.” I laughed and finished my sandwich.

  “Well, now I’m pissed off about work. Thanks for that,” she said as I fought her for who would pay the bill. She won this time.

  “Well, I guess I’m a crappy friend, then. Will you still help me tonight?” I asked.

  “Yes. Because I’m a good friend. Your place at five-thirty?”

  I gave her a hug before we parted ways, me back to class and her back to the spa.

  “Thank you, Chlo.”

  “Anytime, Mari. Call if you need anything.”

  I should have chosen something lighter to sell than candles. They were a bitch to pack up and carry and unload. Fortunately, I didn’t have to carry all the scents around with me, since I had a little box of sample scents.

  Chloe arrived just as I was looking for some more order forms.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not normally this disorganized, but I’ve been a little distracted lately and…”

  My searching for the order forms was interrupted when someone stepped out from behind Chloe, holding a fresh bouquet of lilacs.

  “What are you doing here?” The papers I held in my hand scattered to the floor.

  “Can I tell her?” Chloe said, turning to ask Fin.

  “Sure, go ahead. It was your idea.” What was her idea?

  “You are a lucky woman, Marisol Everly, because tonight your best friend is going to do you a solid and sell your damn candles so that you can hang out with your boyfriend. I know, I know, I’m a saint.”

  I stood there for a few seconds, completely shocked. Then my next instinct was to throw my arms around her neck. In order to accomplish this, I had to jump because Chloe was so much taller.

  “I love you, I love you, I love you,” I said, squeezing my arms around her neck.

  “I know you do. Everyone does. Oh, calm down,” she said as Fin coughed loudly behind her. “If I was going to take her, I would have done it already. She won’t play for my team, which is a damn shame. A damn shame.”

  “Thank you so much, Chlo,” I said in her ear before I let go of her. She wouldn’t look at me and her face was turning the color of her hair. Vibrant red. Chloe might be confident, but she didn’t take sincere compliments well.

  “Go on, get out of here, you crazy kids. I’ve got this. I’m going to sell the shit out of these things. No one will get out of the party without buying something. I’ve got this.” She picked up the plastic bin I used to carry my samples in, along with my bag of order forms and miscellany, and smiled.

  “Really, thank you, Chloe. You’re a good friend. Marisol is lucky to have you.” Her only response was to go red in the face and scurry away (or at least try to) before we could embarrass her further.

  “I can’t believe this. I was all set to sell our new scent of the month and now I get to see you.”

  Fin produced another vase, which was a darker purple than the first, but obviously part of a set.

  “What is the scent of the month? You could still try and sell it to me if you want,” he said, filling the vase with water and setting it next to the other one. He had on a pair of dark jeans, his worn boots, and a plain blue T-shirt that nearly matched his eyes. Stunning. He was stunning. Always.

  “It’s called Summer Cottage, and it’s a mix of what’s supposed to smell like the ocean, laundry detergent, and pine. It’s not that great, actually.” But I hoped Chloe could sell it better than I was right now.

  “So that’s your sales pitch?” He leaned back against the counter and I walked over and joined him.

  “No, that’s not my sales pitch. I’d do a much better pitch, but I don’t have all my stuff with me, and I’d rather get going on our date than talk about candles. Unless candles somehow have something to do with our date.”

  “Candles might have something to do with our date. Or they might not. I didn’t have a lot of time to prepare.”

  I looked up at him. “I’m not buying that sales pitch from the guy who had a projector screen and trays so we could eat dinner in bed.” Didn’t buy it for a second.

  “Ah, you got me. I do have a plan. You ready to go?” I wasn’t really wearing date-night attire, but I didn’t feel like going through the process of picking a new outfit when I could be spending time with him doing whatever we were going to be doing.

  “I am, unless my attire isn’t appropriate for wherever we’re going.” I was also fishing to see where he was taking me.

  He looked me up and down, as if he hadn’t noticed what I was wearing when he walked in. I tried to look professional when I did my candle parties, like a woman who knew her shit when it came to candles, so I had one of my black pencil skirts on and a burgundy button-up shirt with a ruffle in the front, and nude pumps.

  “I’m not sure. I think I need to see the back to be absolutely positive.” With deliberate slowness, I turned myself around and looked over my shoulder at him.

  “What do you think?” I wiggled my hips a little and considered hiking my skirt up a bit. Currently, it fell just past my knees.

  “Hm, I don’t know. Can I see it from the front again?” I spun back around and gave him a little shimmy with my shoulders this time. His eyes widened noticeably.

  “No, you should definitely change. Get that off as soon as possible.” I knew what taking my clothes off would lead to. But he was giving me the choice.

  “Okay, I’ll change. But what should I put on?” I backed toward my bedroom and he let me go.

  “Something you can dance in.”

  I quickly changed into a glittery silver top and a shorter black skirt that hugged my hips and didn’t leave much to the imagination (but also had a built-in pair of shorts so I didn’t unwittingly flash anyone). I also changed out the pumps for flats. I’d rather not have to stagger tomorrow than look cute tonight. I also took my hair down and ran my fingers through it.

  “Better?” I asked when I came out of my bedroom in my new outfit.

  “Nope. I still want to take that one off of you, and there’s less of it.”

  “Well, that’s not my fault. You said I needed something for dancing. This is my dancing outfit.” It really was. I’d gone out with the girls several times in it.

  “We should go. Yes, definitely.” He handed me my purse and shook his head again at my outfit.

  “You’re killing me, Cherry. Killing me.” I just laughed and took his arm.

  Carl nodded appreciatively at my outfit but didn’t make too big a deal of it. Good man.

  Fin directed him to take us to one of the clubs I’d actually been to before, but not on a weeknight. Tuesday was an odd night to go out, but he wouldn’t be here on Friday or Saturday.

  That thought made me grip the leather seat, nearly hard enough to puncture the material. If I had acrylic nails, I might have.

  “What’s wrong?” Fin instantly sensed my change in mood.

  “I was just thinking about how little time we have left. Sorry, I went to the bad place. I’m back.” I waved my hand, as if waving the thoughts away, and gave him a smile.

  “Sure?” His arm snaked around me and squeezed my shoulder.

  I watched the headlights from the other cars light up his face momentarily. Every now and then, I’d look at him and be struck by how handsome he was and how I still couldn’t believe he wanted me. And not just that he wanted me, but he wanted to be with me. Finding a guy who would sleep with you wasn’t all that hard. Finding one who would watch Casablanca in pajamas with you? More difficult.

  “I’m sure. Let’s just enjoy our time, okay?” I leaned my head on his chest and breathed him in.

  He didn’t answer, but I felt his fingers in my hair and he didn’t have to.

  For
a Tuesday, the place was busy, with a line of people out the door and spilling onto the sidewalk. Everyone was dressed in their dancing best. There was lots of skin and lots of sparkle, even on some of the guys.

  Fin exited the car and held his hand out for me, and I slid out of the car, grateful for the shorts I had on under my skirt. I thought we would walk toward the back of the line, but Fin had a quick word with one of the bouncers. I swore I saw money exchange hands, and before I could take a breath of outside air, Fin was taking me inside.

  Everyone took notice of Fin. It wasn’t just my imagination. The crowd parted for us as he towed me toward the bar to get a drink, and the bartender served him immediately, despite there being several other patrons begging for his attention.

  Seeing people react to him did give me some validation that I wasn’t alone in being affected by him. Maybe it was some sort of magic. A spell put on the men in his family by a witch hundreds of years ago. There wasn’t another way to explain it. He was gorgeous, yes, but it was something more than that. Something commanding about his presence. Impossible to ignore.

  He ordered me a Blue Hawaiian without even asking me what I wanted.

  “You remembered,” I said as he handed me my drink and sipped at his Whiskey Sour. “You remembered what I ordered the first time we went out.” I had to yell a little bit because the techno beat was so strong and the bass was cranked all the way up.

  “Of course I do. I remember just about everything about that night. What you were wearing and what we talked about. I don’t think I could forget it if I tried.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” I said, and he leaned down to hear me.

  “What?”

  “I said, I know exactly what you mean.”

  He nodded and someone bumped me from behind, and I almost spilled my drink down his front. He grabbed my arm and held me close.

  He leaned down and put his mouth to my ear. “Don’t want you getting bruised. At least not by anyone but me.” His voice was low, but I heard it, even over the insanity of the club.

  “Kidding. I was kidding,” he said quickly, but I wondered if he really was. He’d spanked me and fucked me hard, but I knew enough about the type of activities he’d done before to know that bruises and welts were par for the course. Light spanking was one thing, but I didn’t know if I was ready for bruises and welts. How could that be pleasurable? I didn’t get it.

  “Marisol?” I’d been lost in thought for a moment.

  “Sorry, just thinking.” His forehead creased in concern and I gulped my drink, nearly choking on it.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded, wiping my mouth with the napkin provided with the drink.

  “Are we going to be dancing? Or do you just like the atmosphere?” I asked. Fin moved well, but I hoped that would translate to the dance floor. Plenty of men seemed like they would be good dancers, but when push came to shove, those expectations were shattered by reality. And not in a good way.

  “Do you doubt my dancing abilities?”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” Tipping my head back, I downed the rest of my drink and slammed my empty glass on the bar. He did the same, but this time I led him through the crowd toward where bodies crushed and gyrated against one another.

  Confident in my dancing ability, I backed up until my back was up against his front, and his hands held onto my hips, his fingers digging into my skin through the fabric of my skirt. My face grew hot from the combination of the alcohol and the contact with Fin.

  He tucked himself around me, and the song changed as if it had been waiting for us.

  The beat was blindingly fast, and Fin waited for me to set the pace of our movements before he joined me, molding our hips together to move as one.

  Of course he could dance. I’d never doubted it, really, but how could this man who was so incredibly sexy already also be a good dancer? It wasn’t possible. No one was this blessed in the looks department and the brain department and the dancing department. No one.

  But there we were, dancing together as if we’d been partners for years. As if he knew how my body moved in the same way he knew his own. We breathed in unison and sweat beaded on my skin. There wasn’t much room to maneuver, but Fin and I found our little spot and claimed it.

  The beat coursed through me, taking over my own heartbeat. I was consumed by the music and the movement and Fin’s touch.

  I couldn’t stand not being able to see him, so I turned in his arms so I could look up in his face.

  Dark hair fell over his forehead and almost obscured his eyes. I brushed it back and was struck by the intensity in them. It was the same intensity I felt when he plunged inside me. Roping my arms around his neck, I grinded my hips against him and was rewarded by him biting the corner of his lip.

  His head dipped down to say something in my ear.

  “If you keep that up, I’m going to take you to the restroom and fuck you and I don’t care who’s watching. I might just do it right here.” His hand ran down my backside, and if he reached just a bit he could…

  “Oh, God,” I said, holding on to him for dear life.

  “Do you want me to screw you in the bathroom of this club where anyone could see us? Do you want to watch us in the dirty mirror?”

  Well, not particularly, but not because it wasn’t sexy. I just didn’t think a bathroom was a very sexy place. Now if there were a corner with a nice couch or something, that would be another story.

  “Or maybe that’s not what you want. Maybe you want me to call a cab and let me have my way with you in the backseat.” Okay, we were getting warmer. Well, I was getting warmer. We’d all but stopped dancing, so intent on our conversation. I couldn’t deal with the desire in his eyes, so I rested my head on his chest.

  “Or maybe, what you want most of all, is for me to take you back to my place and slowly remove this outfit before laying you on my bed and tasting every inch of your skin, tasting the sweetness here,” he said, running his hand down the front of my skirt and making me squirm.

  “And then take you slowly. So slowly until you can’t bear it anymore and beg me for more.” My knees wobbled, and it was a good thing he held me up, because I might have collapsed otherwise.

  “Is that what you want?”

  I had to gather my thoughts before I could speak. “I want to see you. I want to see you when we’re together. I want to touch you and taste you and make you feel like you’re cherished.” I didn’t know where the words had come from, but they felt right when I said them.

  Fin knew about fucking. About the joining of two bodies only for the purpose of pleasure. But the connection, that was what he missed. What he needed. What I could give him.

  “I don’t know if I can give you that. But I want to,” he said, his voice faltering for a second.

  “Let’s dance a bit longer first,” I said, turning back around. I could feel him straining against his pants behind me. Maybe the dancing wasn’t going to work out.

  “On second thought, we should probably get going,” I said, turning once again to face him. I thought about running my hand down the front of his jeans, but that probably wouldn’t help the situation in his pants.

  Fin put his hands on my shoulders and steered me through the crowd. Partially so I wouldn’t get bumped around by the more aggressive dancers, but also so I could hide the bulge in his pants.

  As always, Carl was outside and waiting. I was beginning to suspect he was a ninja. He tipped his hat at us and gave no outward sign that anything was amiss. Nothing to see here.

  Fin slid into the car after me, and the door had barely closed and his mouth was on mine. I nearly bit his lip in surprise.

  “I don’t know if I can make it home,” he said, pulling back and holding my face in his hands.

  “Can you try? I’d rather, um, not do this in front of Carl.” I whispered the last part. Even if he heard me, it was Carl’s job to pretend that he hadn’t. I almost wished Fin had a limo, with one of those little div
iders that would come up between us and the driver to give some semblance of privacy.

  He made a sound of frustration in his throat and slid as far from me as he could get in the enclosed space.

  “I didn’t say you had to stop kissing me,” I said, inching closer to him. “I’m fine with kissing.” He’d turned his head to stare out the window as we sat in traffic.

  “I can’t just kiss you right now. I want to ravage you,” he said in a hushed voice.

  “And I’m perfectly willing to be ravaged, but not in this car. At least not with Carl here.” I touched his shoulder and he shifted in his seat to face me.

  “I could ask him to pull over and go for a walk.” A wicked smile played on his lips.

  “You’re terrible,” I said, my eyes flicking to the front seat and meeting Carl’s in the rearview.

  “Carl, you do a lot of sitting all day, don’t you?” Fin said, raising his voice.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And don’t you fancy taking a walk right about now?” I grabbed on to Fin’s arm to get him to stop, but he didn’t.

  “It is a nice night, sir. I might consider doing that. But I’d want to know where a good place for me to walk would be. You just point one out.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said to Carl. “He doesn’t have to do that.”

  “But I want you right now.”

  This was getting ridiculous. I blamed the outfit and the dancing.

  The air between us was thick and charged, sweeping both of us up in a tornado of desire that we couldn’t escape from until we’d given in to our wants and needs.

  I gripped his shirt in both hands, flirting with the idea of tearing it off of him when Carl cleared his throat.

  “We’re home, sir.”

  “Thank God,” Fin and I said at the exact same time.

  We made it to the elevator before he pushed me up against the wall and hoisted me up. I wrapped my legs around him and held on for dear life.