Touch to Surrender Read online

  Touch to Surrender

  Copyright © 2013 by Cara Dee

  Edited by Lisa A. Hollett

  Disclaimer: This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and you did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Warning: This story contains scenes of an explicit, erotic nature and is intended for adults, 18+. Characters portrayed are 18 or older. If you're interested in the BDSM lifestyle in any form, please tread carefully, and don’t dive in headfirst. Research, research, research. And reach out to people with experience for guidance.

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  Special thanks go out to Lisa for always being there for me and for going that extra mile, Deb for adding her own touch which I couldn’t appreciate more, and Adèle for making Evangeline French.

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  Chapter 1

  We take off on the same night where Twice the Touch ended.

  Brayden Zeagler

  "What are you doing?" I chuckle and bat away Lina's hands. A Dom walks past our booth with his sub on a leash, and my cheeks heat up as my girlfriend tries to be funny, not caring that people are watching us. "Christ, stop it!" Though, she doesn’t; she keeps giggling and trying to pinch my nipples. "You annoy me." I growl playfully against her cheek and squeeze her to me. That way, she has no access to my chest. "My little shit."

  "Aww, so affectionate." She grins impishly at me and pops a kiss on my chin. "But hey, I got you to smile."

  I Eskimo her. "You always do." That couldn’t be more true. Whenever I'm down, Lina's there for me. Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve her—the way she loves with all her heart, takes care of her loved ones, stays loyal…she's fucking amazing. "I love you." Giving her another squeeze, I lower my head and kiss her deeply.

  She melts into me, the furry trim of her sexy bra tickling my skin. "I love you too, mon ange." She gets this tender look in her eye, one that maybe seems at odds with a BDSM club, but it never fails to make my day. "We're lucky, aren’t we?" She brushes some hair away from my forehead. "I've never felt this happy. Have you?"

  I shake my head, agreeing with her. Ever since I ran into her three years ago on her college campus—where I was meeting a buddy before his computer animation class—I've felt like a lucky son of a bitch. But it's gotten even better since we met Mark Cooper. Somehow, his presence makes what I feel toward Lina even stronger.

  Our relationship has been smooth sailing all the way through. The day I met Evangeline Lacroix, I asked her out on a whim, knowing if I didn’t I would regret it for the rest of my life. She said yes; we dated, we fell in love, we moved in together, and everything was perfect. Too perfect. We're both eager to please, both so compliant, and both incredibly alike. It's been easy—a straight and narrow path.

  It got to the point where we frustrated each other because we both hate making decisions. Sex wasn’t the issue—far from it. It's our everyday lives; we need someone there to guide us, tell us what to do, and make sure we don’t lose ourselves. Thankfully, Lina and I are both honest, too, so we confessed our desires pretty quickly.

  We researched options together, because we needed more but could never let go of each other.

  Lina was the one who put BDSM on the table, which turned out to be both a rewarding and embarrassing night. While Lina listed things in a matter-of-fact voice and ooh'd and ahh'd over things she wanted to try, I was squirming in my seat, hard as a rock and probably looking like I was constipated. Fun times. In all seriousness, though, we did find what we were looking for. We read about domination and submission, realizing that this was what we craved.

  We explored it together—though not in the right way. We had to compromise a lot and take turns. Our first night at Switch was another attempt at finding our way, but thankfully Mark changed the path for us.

  The only problem is that Lina and I have gotten attached to him to the point where deeper feelings are now involved. While our love for each other has strengthened, a new bond has tied us to Mark in a way where we want more and more and fucking more. More of him, more of us together, and most importantly, more of us all together as partners.

  We want it all, domination and submission along with a real relationship.

  That’s where my past comes in to fuck me up…

  Having feelings for another man?

  Wrong, disgusting, twisted, immoral, sinful.

  Being a submissive was a hard pill to swallow, but I did ultimately choke it down and accept it. Being bisexual…I've accepted that, too, but it doesn’t mean I can act on it. It's a line that’s too "revolting" to cross.

  "No. Dammit, the frown is back." Lina hands me my Coke, first taking out the straw, knowing I prefer to drink without one. And that right there? It's just more proof of how eager we are to please and take care of each other. She knows my needs as well as my likes and dislikes, and I know hers. "Here. Drink. And stop—please stop beating yourself up with whatever it is you're thinking right now." Her eyes turn pleading. "You know nothing is wrong with what you feel, Brayden."

  My smile is small and forced. Taking a sip of my Coke, I try to compose my face, but it's impossible to hide around Lina. She reads me too well. We clicked so fast and perfectly when we got together that there was never a question about whether or not I should divulge my past. She pulled it out of me without effort, but she's also the only one who has managed to do so.

  "I know." I really do. "But it's easier said than done." A part of me wishes I was still confused or lived in denial.

  It would be so much easier. But now…I know exactly what I want—who I want—but I'm struggling to accept it. Setting the glass back on the table, I wrap my arms around Lina again and bury my face in her hair.

  "Do you think we're setting ourselves up for…" My mumbling trails off as I can't find the right word. Misery? Heartbreak? Failure?

  "With Mark, you mean?" she asks softly, the pounding Goth music nearly drowning out her voice. I nod and hum, feeling her fingers in my hair. "I hope not. But we knew the risk from our first weekend at his place."

  True. Maybe it's because we're so in tune with each other that we know how the other feels. My attraction for Mark—hell, Lina knew before I did. It was during our first stay at Mark's; I could see how Lina just melted into his arms, a sign of trust, comfort, and…more. More, as in she feels more. Perhaps I saw it because I felt it, too. It's just that I couldn’t show it like she did—still can't, and it's eating me up inside.

  After that weekend, we went home to our run-down apartment, already knowing this was becoming much more than we ever dreamed. What was once simply attraction for what he is grew into affection and care for who he is.

  There's a lot more to Mark Cooper than being a Dom. He's the kind of man's man I've always been drawn to, but he's also understanding and a wonderful caregiver. He's got a great sense of humor, he's almost as carefree as Lina is, he's accepting, and he's selfless.

  I say selfless because we recently learned that his divorce was finalized not very long ago, and he has told us about his ex-wife and a marriage that left him a little jaded. But we haven't noticed anything jaded about Mark, which can only mean he's put all that aside to be the best Master he can be for us.

  "We'll have to stay positive and hope for the best," Lina says firmly, bringing me back to the present. "We should work on getting that man to fall for us." Mischief lights up her eyes, and I can't help but chuckle at her. She's always so optimistic. "I bet he'd love it if you walked over to the bar—" she points in Mark
's direction; he's currently busy mixing a drink or something "—and kissed him."

  I roll my eyes, but I can't hide my grin. "You forget that I know you, ma belle. You have more voyeuristic tendencies than Tom."

  She scrunches her nose. "Tom, who?"

  "Peeping Tom," I laugh.

  "Oh, my God!" She cracks up, too. "That was so bad!"

  I shrug, a smirk on my face.

  Chapter 2

  As soon as Mark's shift is over a couple hours later, he disappears quickly to freshen up in Mr. Ford's personal bathroom upstairs, and then Master returns. Master…because now he's in his snug leather pants, a black T-shirt that clings to his body like a second skin, and his boots. Fuck me. While he's not some bodybuilder—far from it, really—he's still muscular. You can tell he lifts weights judging by his arms. He has a defined torso, too, and strong, firm thighs.

  I swallow hard, feeling my cock stir in my loose boxers. In my fantasies, I've had my hands and mouth all over his hard body, much like Lina has, but as for reality…it's a lot bleaker.

  "You ready to play, pets?" He smirks and extends his hand to us. By now, Lina and I have found seclusion in Mr. Ford's private booth near the bar—the booth with a ceiling and drapes and privacy. "We won't be in the Cave tonight."

  Huh. Where else would we go? Maybe to his place…but that doesn’t make sense. He specifically told us to be ready to scene at Switch the minute his shift ended. But instead of reading more into it, I brush all my questions aside, content to let my Master take the lead. It's so fucking relaxing not having to worry about anything.

  Lina slides out of the booth first, and Master kisses her knuckles before pulling out the collars he uses when we scene. Aside from those, we always wear our red rubber wristbands at Switch now. They tell others we're attached, unavailable—that we belong to someone, Master in this case. He's got one, too, as does everyone who's in a relationship or arrangement. And if you do wear a red wristband, you don’t also have to wear a yellow one for being new even if you are, because you're someone else's responsibility.

  "Will you please repeat the rules for playtime, kitten?" he asks and holds out the two-inch-wide leather collar with a soft inner lining.

  "Yes, Master. My safewords are green for safe, yellow for caution, and red for stop," Lina recites dutifully. "I will only answer direct questions unless you say otherwise, and the only other sounds you allow are, um, when I moan and stuff." Even in the darkness of the club, I see the blush gracing her cheeks.

  "That’s correct," Master chuckles. "When you moan and stuff." With a kiss to Lina's lips, he positions her next to him instead, then reaches for my hand. I follow obediently and stand up in front of him. Eyes on his. It's a rule for when he collars us. "Your turn, pup." He holds up my collar, identical to the one Lina has. "The rules, please."

  "Yes, Master." I nod as a shiver rips down my spine. "My safewords are green for safe, yellow for caution, and red for stop. I will only answer direct questions unless you say otherwise, and the only other sounds you allow are sounds of pleasure."

  "Good pet." He fastens the leather around my neck. "Additionally, you will both keep your eyes on the floor until I say it's okay for you to look up. Understand?"

  "Yes, Master," we answer.

  "Good. Let's play."

  Doing as we're told, Lina and I follow Master through the club area, a few feet behind him, eyes downcast, and then we end up in the lobby, much to our confusion. But Master doesn’t stop; he continues past the bathrooms and then leads us up the stairs that are off-limits to regular guests. As far as I know, only Mr. Ford's office and a few supply closets are up here. Oh, and Kevin's office.

  "Here we are," Master murmurs to himself and stops in front of Mr. Ford's office. Producing a key, he unlocks the door and ushers us inside, and I take subtle glances around me while keeping my gaze lowered. "You may look up, and then you can sit down on the couch closest to Nicholas's desk."

  I obey and look up, taking in the large office, its honey-colored hardwood floor, erotic art on the dark red walls—black and white photos of Kayla in various states of undress—Mr. Ford's desk, filing cabinets, and small seating area. For such a vast space, he's really not doing much with it. It's very classy and sexy, though.

  Grabbing Lina's hand, we walk over to the two gray couches by a massive window, and we're both kind of awestruck when we see the view of the entire club. Just a floor down, everyone is having a blast: scening, dancing, drinking, socializing, and I get an odd thrill watching them. I already know it's one-way mirrored glass—I can see them, but they can't see me—because I know exactly what they see. I mean, I knew Mr. Ford's office was up here, but when you're down in the club, all you see is a blackened mirror. It's so private up here; not even the music penetrates the walls, except for a muted beat that is easy to ignore.

  Lina gives my hand a tug, so we quickly move on and take our seats on the couch Master told us to go to. In front of us, there's a low table and another couch.

  "We're just waiting for a friend of mine to get here," Master says and puts down some drinks on the table. Two bottles of water and two sodas. "And his sub."

  He can definitely see the questions written on our faces, but he doesn’t allow us to speak, and we don’t try to. Public play is exhilarating and a big turn-on, so it's just curiosity, and I already know Master won't share us, because that is a hard limit. For all of us. In other words, he probably doesn’t feel inclined to ease our need to know.

  Just a few seconds later, there's a firm knock on the door, and Master grins and says, "That would be Donovan and his Rory." He walks over to the door, and I try not to ogle his ass in those leather pants, but I fail and Lina totally catches me, causing me to flush bright red. She giggles behind her hand but says nothing, and then we refocus on Master, who is now ushering in two people.

  Oh.

  I'd immediately assumed Rory was a woman, but that’s no woman—unless she's got no breasts and likes boxer briefs, 'cause that’s all he's wearing. Master greets the taller one, Donovan, warmly with a firm handshake, and the two exchange words that are too quiet for me to hear.

  Both newcomers are handsome, but in very different ways. Donovan reminds me a little of Mr. Ford with his CEO-like manner and expensive suit. Only, this man comes off as more strict, whereas Lina and I have quickly learned that behind Mr. Ford's polished looks is a softy, especially for Kayla. But Donovan doesn’t seem to have a soft bone in him. Cold, blue eyes, sharp features, and not a blond hair out of place. Rory, on the other hand, appears shy and fidgety, yet still eager to be here. He hasn’t been told to look down, so I can take in his appearance without any problem. A slightly crooked nose, hazel eyes, fair skin…and he's pretty short and slight in statue. But cute. Very cute. I'm guessing there's an at least ten-year difference between the two, Donovan looking like he's in his late thirties or early forties.

  I wince internally, Dad's disapproving face flashing before my eyes. I've appraised the two men for too long.

  Lowering my gaze, I wring my hands in my lap, just waiting for Master to tell us what to do.

  Soon enough, I hear them moving closer, and I look up just as Master introduces his friends. "This is Donovan Moore—that’s Sir or Mr. Moore to you, pets, although I doubt there'll be much talking—" he smirks "—and his sub, also husband, Rory."

  Husband. There's a twinge of envy twisting up in my chest, and not because of their marital status, but because they're obviously embracing their sexual orientation. With Master seemingly studying me, I try to keep my face composed, but he can read me almost as well as Lina can.

  "Evangeline and Brayden," Master goes on, making sure he's got our attention, "Donovan and Rory have flown up all the way from San Diego to scene for us." I swallow thickly, willing my dick to stay calm in my boxers. The black silk gives me away too fucking easily. "Thank them."

  "Thank you, Sir, Rory," Lina says, flushing, while I say, "Thank you both for taking the time, Sir and Rory."
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  "It'll be my pleasure," Mr. Moore responds in a smooth voice. With a quick snap of his fingers, Rory is there to remove his Master's suit jacket.

  Lina and I watch how fluidly Rory moves around, now the opposite of fidgety, and I know myself the calming effect a command has. Our eyes follow as he kneels to slip off Mr. Moore's shoes, unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants, and slide them down. Meanwhile, Mr. Moore takes care of his tie and dress shirt, and our own Master walks over and sits down between Lina and me. By the time Mr. Moore sits down across from us, clad in only boxer briefs, Rory is tenting his own briefs, and I try not to stare.

  "Get my bag outside the door, too," Mr. Moore tells his boy, and Rory speeds off without a word, retrieving a brown leather duffle.

  Behind me, I feel Master's arms settle on the back of the couch, his fingers softly caressing my neck and shoulders. "Unbutton my pants, pup," he murmurs in my ear. "And pull out my cock."

  I exhale shakily, feeling my dick stir under the silk, and shift closer to Master to carry out his command. I've done this much in the past, but it never fails to turn me on as if it's the first time I've ever been near him. Struggling with the button, I finally get control of my trembling fingers, and I work the zipper carefully before gently grasping his semi-hard cock and tugging down at the leather. He lets out a breath and lifts up, making it easier for me to pull his pants down past his thighs.

  His cock is the last thing I let go of, and I hate that I want so much more.

  "Good boy." He gives the back of my neck an affectionate squeeze, then turns to Lina. "Get me hard, kitten. With your mouth." His hand, still grasping my neck, applies pressure in a way that makes me tilt my head toward Mr. Moore and Rory—a silent order of where I should keep my eyes. Still, I see Lina in my periphery as she leans over and starts to suck Master's cock.

  Lucky her.

  Eventually, I refocus and pay full attention to Rory, who's been commanded to lie across Mr. Moore's lap. Naked. His pretty fucking sexy ass in the air.