Expecting Surrender (Dominion Trust Book 3) Read online

  A faint buzz sounded from his coat hanging from the back of his chair. He plucked his phone from the pocket. A text from Kirsten.

  He opened it, and groaned, putting the heel of his hand to his mouth.

 

  A picture was included, showing Kirsten in a faded, worn white t-shirt. She’d had the day off today, and sent him off to the office that morning with a sleepy, but lingering, kiss. She’d been wearing that same shirt and a pair of his pajama bottoms. In the picture, the shirt had been pulled taut against her breasts, the points of her very hard nipples prominently displayed.

 

  He smiled as he hit send, his cock already hard at the thought of taking those nipples of hers in his fingers, her cries of pain gasped into his mouth as he kissed her.

  Kirsten’s reply came back in seconds.

 

  Fuck. Me.

  This had started a month ago, when, out of the clear blue, Kirsten had texted him at work. What had begun with racy texts, became racy photos, and eventually a few actual calls. She’d said it was somehow easier to do that way, to be more honest about what she wanted, when he was away. He didn’t question it — because he felt the same way. How absurd was it that two married people needed that “arm’s length” separation to really get honest about what they wanted? It didn’t matter though. What mattered was that it was happening. Sure it was baby steps now, but he looked forward to what might come next, because recently they’d embarked on something he’d dubbed “The Game”. Little more than a series of little tasks, at first — one night she does anything her husband asks; another morning she agrees to wear whatever he’s picked out for her — that escalated slowly, but surely. Over time The Game had… evolved. What began as something playful had become something ever more serious — and kinky.

  And it was the most fun he’d ever had playing any game.

 

 

  His mouth went dry, and for the thousandth time, he wished he could be home with her, to give her more than she’d bargained for.

 

  He wasn’t sure if he’d crossed the line with that one, but his throbbing erection sure didn’t care. He smiled as her response — another picture — flashed on the screen.

  She’d put the shirt back on, the upper swells of her breasts quite visible as she stretched the neckline down for him.

 

 

  Keihl groaned, dropping the phone on his desk and adjusting his aching erection.

  Watching that clock was going to kill him.

  * * *

  He found her in the living room, curled up on the couch under a splash of warm yellow lamplight, a book in one hand, her long delicate fingers of the other playing with a glass of white wine. The TV was off, moody classical music playing.

  “Is that Wagner?” He laid his coat over the arm of the couch.

  “Try Strauss, dear.”

  He bent over the back of the couch, and she lifted her face for his kiss.

  “You’re lucky I can even pronounce Wagner.”

  He moved past, dropping into the recliner across the living room from her.

  “Do the senior partners know you’re working until eleven at night?” She gave him a frown. “Please tell me this is worth it.”

  Keihl shrugged. “I’m not sure much of anything is noticed up in that ivory tower. But there’s one thing they do notice. Results.”

  “You sound like my sales director.”

  “As long as the junior associate gets the shit done, said junior associate stays in the good graces.” He lifted a finger toward her. “Good graces mean said junior associate is on the radar.”

  “Staying in their good graces is hell on our sex life.”

  Keihl winced. “I’m sorry. I know this… sucks. But it’ll pay off.”

  She closed her book, her eyes assessing as she sipped from her wine. “I hope so. With the hours you’re keeping, we’re going to go into debt paying off my battery bills.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that. Joely’s rubbing off on you.”

  “Not yet,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “But I’m starting to consider her tactics. Or at least her coping skills.”

  “Come here, Kirsten.”

  “It’s time for bed—”

  “Come. Here.”

  Kirsten gazed at him a moment, then rose, dropping the paperback on the seat next to her, her wine glass dangling from two fingers. She walked slowly over to him, her see-through tee shirt long ago changed out for a cream colored knit top, her long skirt wrinkled on one hip from sitting — and waiting — for far too long. She stood before him, a hand on her hip. He could just make out her enticing perfume, the one she put on only for him.

  “The Game?”

  She sighed, her tongue between her perfect white teeth. “What about it?”

  “Did you do it?”

  “I suppose if you’d come home earlier you’d have found out.”

  Tonight had been one of the nights where he’d decided to up the ante on The Game. But he still wasn’t sure she’d actually done it. Especially when he’d rolled in practically in the middle of the night.

  “Answer me, Kirsten,” he said, his voice lowering to a rumble. His cock stirred at the defiance he saw flash in her eyes.

  Or maybe she’s just pissed at you.

  “I did it.” She gave him a little quirk of her lips. “I just wish a certain someone had been here to appreciate it.”

  “But I do appreciate it — and I’m here now.”

  “You’re too late,” she said, bending to kiss him on the cheek, then moving around the chair toward the hallway.

  He caught her arm fast, stopping her in her tracks. She looked back at him, color in her cheeks.

  “Show me.” He pulled at her arm, and she walked backward until she stood before him again, her eyes bright, the wine glass shaking in her fingers.

  “I said you’re too late, Keihl.”

  Pushing? This is new.

  And he liked it.

  He’d always liked a little defiance — something his strong wife possessed in spades anyway. As part of The Game though? This was a first.

  “Show me.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, glaring up at her. “I think you know what’ll happen if I don’t get my way, don’t you?”

  Her breath quickened, her little nostrils flaring.

  “Why?”

  “I want to see if you did as you were instructed. Now, show me.”

  She handed him her wine, giving him a little smile. He downed the contents in one gulp, setting the glass on the floor.

  Her fingers gathered up the fabric of the dark skirt, exposing the long legs he’d been thinking about while neck deep in reports and state statutes.

  When the hem made it to mid-thigh, she stopped, giving him another flash of her eyes. “Satisfied?”

  “Not even close.” He reached out, stroking the smoky stockings encasing her thigh, his fingertips easing under the hem. “All the way.”

  She gave him a roll of her eyes.

  “Next time you do that, you’re going over my knee.”

  Her sharp intake of breath told him he’d gotten her attention.

  Apparently it was his turn to try something new. He’d only spanked her once before, shortly after The Game had started. It had been a clumsy, awkward affair that left them both laughing, despite his hard cock and her wet pussy. It had been a start anyway.

  The skirt continued its slow march upward until the garters came into view. He looked up at her.

  “Good girl.”

  Her blu
sh made his cock come fully to throbbing attention, and he spread his legs, adjusting his slacks. Her eyes darted down to it before meeting his gaze.

  “Now, can I go?”

  “You’re not done yet, and you know it.” He lifted a finger slowly, giving her a cool look.

  She gathered the skirt until it bunched in her fists at her waist. The spicy scent of a very naked, and very wet pussy filled his nostrils, his mouth watering. The black lace of the garter belt and the suspenders perfectly framed the nest of dense sable curls tucked between her thighs. He ran his fingers through the silky hair, watching her bite her lip as he gently tugged at it.

  “Love these curls,” he said, staring at them, stroking the hair up, then down with the flat of his hand, noting the peek of her bright pink inner lips as they engorged between her plump outer labia. “I don’t understand why so many men like a shaved pussy.”

  “I can take a few guesses,” she murmured.

  He glanced up at her, winking. “You obeyed me.”

  “You didn’t think I would?”

  “As late as I was?” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I was expecting a frying pan to come flying at me.”

  “The thought”—she caught her breath as his fingers slicked back her hood, revealing a very red, very erect clit— “the thought might’ve crossed my mind.”

  Chapter Two

  “Mrs. Warren, are you okay?” Bill Stewart arched an eyebrow at her. “Can you go over the proposal for us? Just need the highlights.”

  Clearing her throat, she gave her boss a quick smile. “Thanks, Bill.”

  “Gentlemen, you’ve got the packets in front of you, it’s all there.” She looked at the three men from Wasco County Power seated on the other side of the deep cherry wood of the conference room table. “But I’m not going to bore you with all the details today — I encourage you to read at your leisure, and check our numbers. Strict DOE specs on the design, but feel free to confirm it with them. What I want to go over today is how much we think this turbine system is going to save you — starting year one.”

  Kirsten stood, plucking the projector controller from the table, and began her presentation, the same one she’d done before, and the same one she knew was calibrated perfectly to get attention. She’d worn the same fitted dark suit Bill called her “killer suit”. The man was not one to shy away from commenting on it, but she never took it as harassment or sexism. It just wasn’t how he thought. The man believed in results, and he didn’t care if Kirsten had to use her gift of gab, her brains, or her sex appeal to get them. As far as that man was concerned, they were all weapons in her arsenal, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass how she deployed them.

  The words flowed, the clients were definitely interested — and not just in her boobs — but Kirsten’s mind wasn’t on the presentation. She was elsewhere — because of what she’d discovered that morning.

  Kirsten still didn’t really believe it was true.

  The presentation concluded, the hands shaken, the offers of dinner she politely declined, Kirsten made her way back to her hotel, navigating her rented Ford Edge through the seemingly meandering maze of freeways that crisscrossed through the beautiful green country west of Raleigh-Durham, North Carolina. She finally made her way back, dropping to the cool sheets in her darkened hotel room.

  She sat up, stripping off her suit coat, and unbuttoning her blouse. She fished her phone from her coat as she kicked off the tall heels that never failed to hurt her toes even as she loved the way it made her legs look. The sacrifice was so worth it — if they won the project.

  Traveling away from her husband had never been easy. She hated being away from him even more than when he was the one traveling. For some reason, it was just easier to be the one waiting at home for him, rather than the other way around. She’d never admit to anyone that when Keihl was on one of his trips, she’d occasionally found herself over on his side of the walk-in closet, inhaling deeply of the scent of his clothes.

  Kirsten looked at her phone, squinting against the brightness of the screen in the dark room. There was a text from Keihl.

 

  She smiled. Wonderful man.

  Hitting his number, she got up and put on some coffee, silently cheering that it was a blend she happened to love. He picked up as she undid the last button of her blouse.

  “It’s early, so I’m going to assume you’re not at a smoky bar shamelessly flirting with rich men.”

  “Not yet anyway,” she said, giving her voice an exaggerated huskiness. “Zee night iss young.”

  “Oh shit, I’m buyin’ a plane ticket. When the German accent comes out, someone’s getting laid. I better fly out there and make sure it’s me.”

  Kirsten laughed. “My God. You men — one track minds.”

  “Hey, it’s biology, honey.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Why fight it?”

  Tell him, Kirsten.

  She inhaled deeply. “Something you probably should know. I’m late.”

  Keihl was quiet for only a moment, but it was enough. She’d gotten his attention. “Not the first time you’ve been late, right? How late?”

  “Over a week now.”

  “Hmm, well, anything make you think there’s something to it?”

  “No, which is why it’s probably nothing.”

  There hadn’t been either. No nausea after eating, no pain, no sore boobs. Nothing she’d been told were the tell-tale signs of a baby on the way. Still, something seemed… off.

  “I took a test though,” she continued. “Just wanted not to worry about it.”

  “And?” A tense note had crept into his voice.

  “Positive.” She had to remember to breathe, to stay calm, excitement and terror warring within her. “But I’ve had a positive once before. You remember after the honeymoon?”

  “Yeah I do. I was shitting myself.”

  Kirsten laughed, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt. “My OB said a few people throw false positives. Maybe I’m one of them?”

  Yes, Kirsten, despite the astronomical odds against it being a false positive this time.

  “What do you think though? Do you really think you are?”

  Kirsten wasn’t sure what she thought. Did she want to be? Well, in one sense, yes. She wanted to have Keihl’s babies — and she’d known that from practically the first minute she’d met the beautiful man. But was it the right time for them? For their careers? If not, when would it be?

  And what about this discovery, this new world of their sexual lives they’d just begun to explore? How would this affect that? She feared she already knew the answer to that, but wasn’t yet ready to come to terms with it.

  “I really don’t know. No.”

  “Better get you checked out then when you get back. Just to be sure.” The mirth was back in his voice. “Guess those horny CEOs are out of luck tonight.”

  “Can I at least flirt a little?”

  Keihl’s chuckle was low, gravelly, the sound earthing in her clit. “No way. I want you in bed at eight, bad girl.”

  Her breath caught at his words, her nipples tightening against the lace of her bra. She looked over at his open suitcase, thinking of the small discrete bag, what she’d packed along with her clothes. Her friend Joely liked to call it vibratory diversion.

  As if Keihl had read her mind. “And don’t even think about touching that pussy. That’s my job — when you get back.”

  “Damn you.”

  “Sleep fast, wifey.”

  The following morning, still not quite awake even after three cups of coffee, Kirsten found her seat on yet another packed plane, dawn sunlight just beginning to pour through the windows. She reached over to buckle her belt, grimacing at a pinch at her brassiere. As she adjusted it, she frowned.

  Her breasts were sore.

  Chapter Three

  “Well, looks like you’re going
to be a father, Mr. Warren”, the doctor said, smiling, holding the results out to him.

  Keihl was stunned. A new partnership and all the possibilities of his burgeoning career — now this. He wanted children, had always wanted them, but the timing couldn’t be much worse. He’d worked his ass off to make partner, taking on extra work, the shit cases. It had paid off, but the firm was full of sharks, and sharks had to keep swimming — or drown.

  “Are you sure, Tom?” Keihl tried hard to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

  What the hell were they going to do now?

  It’s time to put on the big boy pants, pal. Dad.

  Tom sat down on a padded stool, laying his clipboard on the exam room counter. “Keihl, hormonal markers don’t lie. It’s a sure thing.”

  After Kirsten had come home, she’d gone to her normal OB/Gyn, and Keihl had asked Kirsten to have the results sent to Tom. Keihl had wanted to get a second opinion; the sour puss OB/Gyn Kirsten liked didn’t exactly inspire his confidence. After he’d gotten the news, his emotions were a maelstrom of frustration, elation, anxiety, and strangely, excitement.

  Mixed in with all of that was the instinctual, quintessentially male pride at doing his most basic of duties. It was absurd, but the feeling was real.

  Congratulations, dickhead. You managed to reproduce. Would you like a medal?

  “What’s the problem? You seem… kind of spooked about this.”

  Keihl grunted. “Easy for you to say, man. You and Sharon have had three kids already. This is my first.”

  Tom stood up and moved to the exam room counter, washing his hands. Keihl didn’t know why he’d need to wash them, but he figured docs just did it out of habit more than anything else.

  “Just wait,” Tom said, looking back over his shoulder as he ran his hands under the water. “Soon enough you’ll see why Sharon and I are thinking about having a fourth.”

  “You are?” Tom’s kids were as beautiful as their parents were. Keihl only hoped he and Kirsten could be as blessed as his best friend had been.

  “Of course! We love it. And we both love kids, so why not?”

  Tom sat back down, rolling the stool across the floor, moving behind the black flat screen monitor mounted on an arm extending from the wall. A shelf, mounted to the base of the monitor, held a keyboard and wireless mouse, Tom’s fingers typing away as he talked.