9. Dana - Sweet Surrender
Chapter Nine
DANA - SWEET SURRENDER
N athan drops to his knees, pushing my thighs apart with a kind of reverence and need that makes breathing difficult. The cool night air contrasts sharply with the heat rolling off my body and I grip the yacht’s railing so tightly my knuckles ache.
When his hands slide up my legs, slipping beneath my dress to firmly grip my thighs, I know staying upright isn’t an option. His fingers drag, slow and deliberate over the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, teasing along the hem of my underwear without dipping beneath.
Far enough to make me gasp. Far enough to make me ache. My nails dig into my palms, hard enough to leave crescent marks, the pain grounding me, keeping me from spiraling into the overwhelming need taking over every thought.
“Nathan,” I whimper. It’s half plea, half warning. Please.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks up at me, his dark eyes burning with intent, pupils blown wide with hunger. A wicked curve tugs at his lips as he hooks my legs over his shoulders, pulling me to the top of the railing until I’m precariously perched, completely reliant on him to keep me from falling overboard—or falling apart entirely.
His lips brush against the crease where my thigh meets my hip, featherlight and excruciatingly slow. A teasing flick of his tongue, a barely-there kiss, followed by another—hotter, wetter, dragging lower before retreating.
My breath stutters, my thighs tremble, and I feel him smirk against my skin. His fingers tighten at my hips, pinning me in place as his mouth continues its torture—sucking, tasting, pushing me to the very edge without giving me the final, devastating relief I need.
“Hold on, Dana,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “I’ve got you.”
And then his mouth finally moves exactly where I need it, a slow, deliberate drag of his tongue over my drenched heat, tasting me like he’s savoring something forbidden. A broken cry rips from my throat, my head falling back as pleasure courses through me, molten and dizzying.
“Nathan,” I pant, desperate, needy, but he doesn’t let up. Doesn’t rush. Instead, he groans—deep, guttural, sinful—sending vibrations through my clit that make my entire body jolt. My fingers tighten in his hair, yanking, urging, but he just chuckles against me, dark and smug.
“You’re dripping for me, Dana,” he rasps between licks, voice thick with hunger. “You taste fucking divine.”
My thighs tremble around his head, my body teetering on the brink of something devastating. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth working me over mix with my ragged moans, the scent of my arousal thick in the salty night air. I can’t think. Can’t breathe. Only feel as he sucks my clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking and circling, ruthless and precise.
I keen, my hips jerking against his face. “Please—please, Nathan?—”
His grip tightens, holding me still as he drives me higher, pushing me past the edge until I break. Shattering apart with a strangled sob, my entire body locking up as waves of pleasure crash through me. He moans into me, like he’s savoring every last pulse of my orgasm, like he wants to drown in it. And when he finally pulls back, lips slick, eyes blazing, he smirks.
“That’s my girl.”
His head disappears between my thighs yet again.
I bite my lip to keep the noise down, but as he works his magic I feel myself getting slicker. I want more.
“Nathan,” I gasp, but his name just winds between my lips, lost in the rush of sensation as he devours me. His grip tightens on my thighs, fingers digging into the soft skin underneath my ass. He holds me to him possessively while his mouth moves with relentless precision, each stroke of his tongue dragging me closer to the edge.
I’m pinned between the cool metal railing and the searing heat of his mouth, completely at his mercy. My breaths come in shallow, desperate gasps as my body trembles. He’s relentless, thorough, and the pressure building inside me becomes unbearable.
“Oh my God,” I cry, the fingers of one hand tangling in his hair as my hips buck against him. He groans in response, pulling me even closer, his hands gripping my thighs with a strength that’s going to bruise.
“Come for me, Dana,” he growls against me, his voice rough and commanding. I’m not even entirely sure those were the words he said, but the sound and feel of it sends me over the edge. Pleasure crashes through me in waves, almost in time with the rocking of the boat. It leaves me trembling, breathless, and crying out his name as my vision blurs.
He doesn’t stop, his tongue coaxing every last quake from my body until I’m completely spent. I have to consciously remind myself, more than once, that if I don’t keep half of me upright, then I’m falling backwards into the water. He finally pulls back, his lips glistening as his dark, hungry eyes lock on mine. He makes my knees weak all over again.
“Nathan,” I whisper, my voice shaky. His name is the only thing on my mind.
He carefully disentangles himself from my legs and stands, his strong arm wrapping around my waist to steady me. Still in my heels, I feel even wobblier than I should. Damn dress code. I look up at him, my cheeks flushed from the… workout. He grins, and his mouth claims mine in a kiss that’s fierce and consuming. The taste of me still lingers on his lips as he presses my back against the cool metal railing.
“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs against my lips, his hands sliding over my hips. “How much I’ve wanted you.”
I feel the tips of his fingers dig into the soft curve above my hips, gripping like he wants to leave fingerprints. I make a small noise of need in response, too far gone to think, let alone stop him.
My hands clutch his shirt, my body arching into his as he kisses me again, deeper. He lifts me effortlessly, and my legs wrap around his waist. The feel of him pressing against me through the thin barrier of our clothes sends another rush of heat through me. Fuck, he feels so good.
“Nathan, wait,” I manage, my voice raspy. My eyes desperately search our immediate surroundings, expecting someone to walk in on us.
His grin is wicked, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. “I want them to see.” His voice is low and possessive, a growl that makes my pulse race. “I want them to see who you belong to.”
The words ignite something reckless in me, drowning out every warning in my head. His hands drag up my thighs, teasing along the lace of my underwear before slipping beneath it, his fingers stroking the heat of me with slow, torturous precision. A deep groan rumbles in his chest, vibrating against my lips as he breathes me in.
“Fuck, Dana.” His voice is ragged, nearly breaking. “You’re soaking for me.”
His fingers slide through my slickness, dragging a needy whimper from my throat.
“Please,” I gasp, arching into his touch. “More.”
That’s all it takes. He presses deeper, finding the spot that has me clutching at his shoulders, my moans barely stifled against his neck. His free hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back as he watches me unravel, eyes dark and ravenous.
“That’s it, beautiful,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. “Let me hear you.”
I do. I can’t help it.
His name spills from my lips, a desperate, breathless plea as he works me higher, faster, until my body clenches around his fingers and I come undone, gasping, shuddering, melting into him. He curses, his forehead pressing to mine, his fingers slowing but not leaving me, like he can’t bear to let go.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he growls, his lips crashing into mine like he needs to claim every sound I make.
Before we can go further, he pulls back, his breathing labored. His gaze flicks around the dimly lit deck, his jaw tightening.
“This isn’t enough,” he admits, voice raw and wanting. “Not even close.”
As if making a decision, his attention snaps back to me, heat simmering behind it.
“But we can’t continue this here,” he murmurs, his grip flexing against my skin, like he has to force the words out. “Let’s take this somewhere private... unless you prefer an audience.”
I nod, unable to find words, and he lifts me effortlessly against him, my legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. His grip is secure under my thighs, holding me flush to his front as he strides below deck with purpose that leaves no room for doubt.
Every step is deliberate, unhurried, like he’s savoring the feeling of me in his arms, the way my body presses against his, the heat between us impossible to ignore.
My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, my lips grazing his jaw as I murmur his name—a plea, a promise, a surrender.
When the door to the master suite closes behind us, he’s on me again, his hands and mouth igniting a fire that consumes every rational thought.
I don’t hesitate when he sets me down, his hands guiding me to kneel in front of him at the bed’s edge. A flicker of panic rushes through me. What if the dress gets damaged?
I glance up at him through my lashes, about to voice the thought, but when my eyes meet his, I forget the question entirely. His gaze burns with intent, his fingers already working at his belt with an unhurried confidence that makes my breath catch. The soft click of metal sends a delicious thrill through me. It’ll probably be fine.
His thumb brushes over my lip, his voice dropping to something dark and commanding. “Open, Dana.” There’s no time to second guess before his thumb applies the faintest pressure, tugging my jaw down with a silent demand. “Now.”
I obey, parting my lips for him. He doesn’t even bother with the rest of his clothes, and my pulse quickens at the realization he’s just as undone as I am. The weight of him is intoxicating, the thick heat of him nudging against my tongue before he slides into my mouth. His groan is deep, a guttural sound that settles low in my stomach as his free hand threads through my hair, his tight grip making me moan around him.
His breathing stutters as he moves, slow at first, measured—like he’s savoring every second, every slick glide. A shiver rolls through him and his hold tightens, his pace shifting into something more deliberate, more consuming.
“That’s it,” he growls, his voice taut with pleasure. “Good girl.”
His praise sends a wicked thrill through me, and I hum around him, the vibration tearing a broken groan from his lips. His fingers tangle deeper in my hair, tugging just enough to make my scalp tingle, guiding me as I take him deeper. He throbs against my tongue, thick and hot, the taste of salt and pure need coating my senses. My lashes flutter as I press forward, swallowing him down, the stretch making my eyes sting deliciously.
A rough curse spills from him. “Fuck, Dana. Just like that.”
The words shoot straight to my core, and I whimper around him, letting my nails dig into his thighs as I pull back slowly, dragging my tongue along the thick vein that pulses beneath my lips. I flick my tongue against the tip, savoring the way he twitches, the way his hips jerk forward, desperate for more.
His breath falters, jagged and erratic. “You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind.”
I hum in response, a teasing little purr that makes his grip tighten, makes his restraint snap entirely as he takes control, thrusting deeper into my mouth. The wet, obscene sounds fill the air, mixing with his panting breaths, with the sharp groan that tells me he’s teetering on the edge, hanging by a thread. And I want to push him over.
I tighten my grip, nails scraping as I suck his cock deeper into my throat, hollowing my cheeks, swallowing around him like I’m learning he loves. His thighs tremble beneath my touch, his entire body wound tight, straining.
He’s so fucking close.
“Look at me,” he rasps. I obey, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. His pupils are blown, his lips parted, his expression so wrecked, so fucking desperate that it makes my cunt clench around nothing.
He groans deep, head tipping back. “Christ. You’re gonna ruin me.”
The weight of him, the way he takes control, is electrifying. I meet his thrusts eagerly, lost in the moment. His groans grow more primal, his control fraying as he pushes deeper, fucking my face with a frenzied pace. He pulls back, his release spilling over my chest—hot and possessive—leaving me breathless and needy.
Nathan tilts my chin up with his forefinger, his thumb skimming over my lower lip as he leans in, his voice thick with promise. “You’re mine, Dana. Every part of you.”
Cool air kisses my bare skin, battling the heat radiating from Nathan’s body. I simply indulge when he leans down, gripping my hips to pull me up so I’m swaying in front of him.
He turns me, pressing my palms flat against the dresser, positioning me in front of the mirror. His lips chase his hands, pressing kisses into my neck, nipping and tasting, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin just below my ear like he has all the time in the world.
His grip tightens. A silent command.
Then he moves, steering me backward, his steps slow, deliberate, ensuring I feel every moment—every shift, every breath—as he maneuvers me toward the bed. His body presses against mine, the firm heat of his chest guiding me until the backs of my thighs hit the edge of the mattress. He spins me in place, then stills.
“Down,” he instructs simply.
And I sink, my knees meeting the bed as my chest meets the mattress. My breath trembles.
Before I can adjust, his palm glides up my spine—each touch deliberate, every caress practiced—until his fingers encircle the nape of my neck. Like a collar he’s always meant to place there, grounding and possessive.
His chest is a solid wall of heat at my back, his body caging me in. One hand skims my hip before gripping hard, keeping me exactly where he wants me, his breath ghosting over my ear, dark and commanding.
Nathan doesn’t just position me in front of the mirror—he traps me there.
“Eyes on us,” he orders, voice low and unyielding. “No looking away.”
I’m face down, ass up, fully exposed to him and the mirror he’s positioned me in front of.
A shudder racks through me, my fingers curling into sheets as his thumb strokes over the back of my neck—both a restraint and a reminder.
I can see him moving behind me, each shift a torment, the deliberate dragging of his fingertips down my stomach makes my thighs tense. I watch my reflection, watch the slow spread of his hands over my ass, the way he parts me for his own view before his gaze flicks up to meet mine in the glass.
My breath stutters.
Nathan smirks, dragging his fingers lower—so close, but not nearly enough.
“Tell me what you see.”
My lips part, but nothing comes out. My body trembles, a live wire sizzling beneath my skin.
His grip tightens at my neck, his other hand pressing down on my lower back, keeping me exactly where he wants me. “Try again, beautiful.”
My breaths turn shallow, choked, my pulse hammering. I keep watching, forcing my eyes open to hold his gaze as heat coils low and wet in my pussy.
“I see you,” I whisper. “I see…us.”
Nathan groans, deep and wrecked, and then he unleashes himself.
He thrusts into me in one slow, claiming stroke, and I sob—because it’s too much, because it’s not enough. My hands scramble against the sheets, my back arching as pleasure crashes over me raw and unrelenting, his name spilling from my lips.
His pace quickens, each thrust is punishing, making it impossible to anything but take it. The intensity coils around my spine, tightening with every drag of his cock against my walls. I can barely think, barely breathe, much less remember to keep my eyes on us.
On the image in the mirror.
On the sight of my boss fucking me like he wants to brand the image into my soul—like he wants me to know exactly who’s in control.
My cheek meets the mattress for a fleeting second before his fingers knot in my hair, yanking me upright. My vision blurs, a sharp noise catching in my throat—not just from the brutal pleasure of it, but from him touching my hair like that.
I should slap his damn hand away. I should tell him if he doesn’t let go right now, this whole thing is done. But instead… I shiver, relishing the sting of his grip.
“Nathan,” I gasp, half warning, half wrecked plea.
His fingers flex, a ghost of a squeeze, the tension delicious and infuriating all at once. His other hand smooths over my hip in contrast, grounding me before his hold eases—not fully letting go, but a silent concession.
A wordless promise that if I said no, he would listen.
But I won't stop him.
Instead, I meet his gaze in the mirror, watching the way my lips part, the way my body molds to his.
“You keep looking, beautiful.” His voice is molten heat against my skin. “You don’t get to look away.”
I swallow hard, staring into the mirror, watching the way I melt under his touch, his control, his fucking worship. Nathan curses, his grip bruising as he pulls me back onto him, his other hand still curled in my hair, making me watch myself unravel.
“Do you see it?” His voice is raw, reverent. “How you and I fit together so fucking perfectly?”
I can’t respond—not when my body is wound so tight, straining at the breaking point. His grip shifts, pushing me right up against the precipice, holding me there for a torturous, endless second before shoving me over.
A jagged, devastating release wrecks through me, searing itself into my mind as I watch it unfold in the mirror—the way my body convulses in his grasp, the way his arms tighten around me, like he’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.
Nathan’s rhythm falters, his control finally snapping. A guttural groan rips from his throat as he follows me over the edge, his fingers digging bruises into my hips like he can’t bear to let go.
The room drips in silence, nothing but our labored, uneven breathing filling the space. The mirror reflects the aftermath—the way we collapse into each other, tangled, breathless, undone.
Nathan’s arms tighten around me, pulling me flush against him, his lips pressing into my temple in a quiet, unshakable claim.
“Mine,” he murmurs, his voice steady, certain. “Always.”