Page 69 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
He turns and leaves the boutique, decidedly quieter than the way he entered.
It’s nearly an hour before the seamstress manages to carefully dissect the gown, preserving the construction.
When I finally join Maxim out front, he’s in the driver’s seat and doesn’t say a word as I claim the space beside him. He doesn’t even look at me, turning his full attention to the road. Rather than the penthouse, I’m surprised when we arrive before Club XXX minutes later, just as night is beginning to fall.
Maxim climbs out and marches inside almost too quickly for me to keep up. Before I can fall behind, he grabs my wrist, dragging me down the hall to his secluded room in the back.
After stumbling over the threshold, he shoves me against the wall. The cold surface braces me as his bulk crushes me from the front.
“Fuck,” he breathes, as his fingers bunch up my skirt and find the wetness already slicking my inner thighs underneath. He wastes no time, testing me with the width of his thumb.
When he flicks his wrist, nothing is preventing him from going deeper on the second explorative touch. Further than he meant to, judging from his raspy grunt. His free hand crawls up my spine, cinching my neck, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“Say it,” he growls, grinding his pelvis against my hips. “You’ll marry me?”
I suck in air through my teeth and release it in a single word. “Yes…”
“In that dress.” He lowers his mouth to my throat, inhaling me. “You will wear my ring?”
My eyelids flutter at the intensity of his voice. “Y-Yes.”
“And you’ll take my name, even if it means nothing?”
“Yes.”
He groans, cursing under his breath. “You truly were made for me.” A crime in his book—and my punishment comes swiftly—his lips dominating mine, nipping teeth giving way for a tongue that batters me open and overtakes any resistance I may have felt. With the club full, someone might be able to hear us, even from here.
And when he finally wrenches up the skirt of my dress and plunges inside of me, anyone within a goddamn ten-mile radius probably hears me.
Hears him. His guttural roars echo every mewling cry to spill from my throat. Together, the sounds meld into a blistering crescendo—the only thing I can hear as my world comes apart.
I come clinging to him with all I have, my limbs shaking and ghosted with sweat. “Holy…fuck,” I breath out against his skin.
“I’m going to fuck you in that dress,” he swears as his hands cup my ass, lifting me into his arms. With staggering steps, he brings me to the bed and climbs onto the mattress, pinning me beneath him. “Mark you in it,” he adds, describing more of his X-rated wedding day. “Take pieces of the silk. Make a whip. I’ll use it on your pretty skin until all of you is painted red…” His voice shakes with need, and he hardens against my thigh, rousing an answering twitch in my belly. “And the ring,” he adds, sliding his hand down my trembling stomach to the space between my legs. I’m forced to buck my hips into him further, relishing the sinful contact. “The things I will do to you with that ring.” He swipes the pad of a finger over my entrance, swirling the moisture already there. “But that is nothing compared to your name.” He chuckles deeply, and my breathing hitches at the foreboding sound. “I’ll train your sweet ass to react to it,” he tells me, nuzzling his open mouth against my shoulder. Without warning, he bites down. Once. Twice. I’m too tired to scream. I just moan, weakly clutching his arms. “I’ll make you come every time I fucking say it.Francesca…”
He bites off the rest and groans again, sounding pained. Starving. Mad. “I will be the only man who can call you his.” His hand sinks into my hair, and he uses a chunk of it as a leash to draw me into him, letting our mouths meet. He isn’t content with claiming just my lips. His mouth travels across my jaw and finds my ear as he shifts his hips against mine, drawing his erection between my legs. “And how I will own you.”
“Own?” I counter, finding my voice again. “I thought this was a trade?”
“Trade… Yes.” He nuzzles my throat as if addicted to the taste of me. I doubt he’s actually processed what I’ve said. He finds my nipple and captures it between his teeth through my dress, making my back arch off the mattress.
“A t-trade,” I insist, sinking my fingers through his hair. I stroke through the damp strands until he finally faces me again. “Do you accept my terms?”
Rather than annoyed, his eyes glow, heavy-lidded with lust. A low hum revs in his throat, deepening the more I touch him. Could this be victory?
“My kitten,” he grates, sounding pained. “She drives a hard bargain. Regardless, I accept the terms, but can you acceptmine?”
He gives me a taste, entering me again. I’m sore and breathless from the first time—but my body gives me no say. It yields to him, dragging him deep. So deep that I forget what it feels like to ever go without him.
In the aftermath, he holds me tight, crushing my body to his chest. His hands stroke through my hair as if memorizing every strand.
“I want you in my dress,” he admits. “My ring. You’ve made a tempting offer. So I’ll take it. And in return…you get to play your dangerous little game.”
“Dima?” I say, dread thickening my throat.
“Is that what you truly want?” His skeptical tone resonates cold in the wake of his lust—but his fingers absently stroke my hips, countering any real anger.
“I want to help you,” I reply. “I wasn’t lying when I asked you for a partnership.” I press myself against him, sensing how his body relents to me as if in defiance of his stubborn frown. “I want your trust.”
He grunts and parts his lips over my shoulder as if a mouthful of my flesh is the only thing worthy of silencing him. A jolt runs through me as he bites down, conveying his agreement.
He’ll let me talk to Dima.
But as he rolls over and drags me to his side, I can’t resist wondering who got the better bargain out of this trade.
