The Beauty of Surrender Read Online Free Page A
Author: Eden Bradley
She was about to find out.
D ESMOND PULLED ONTO Doyle Drive, passing the densely tree-lined road through the old Presidio military base, heading for the Golden Gate Bridge. The windows in his black Lexus were open, letting in the scent of ancient eucalyptus trees and salt air.
Have to get home. Just get home and …
What? How was getting home going to be any better? At least he’d had the distraction of work today, a long meeting with a client in the financial district. At home he’d be alone with his thoughts.
Every thought he’d had was about Ava Gregory since the moment he’d met her, seen her perfect doll-like features, that creamy porcelain skin, the flawless curve of breasts beneath her sweater. They were almost too large for her tiny figure, her breasts. Pornographic, with a face so sweet. And that little pink mouth of hers …
He groaned, shifted in his seat against the erection that was becoming painful again.
Had to have her. Touch her .
Yes . And he would. Unless the girl changed her mind. He didn’t know what the hell he’d do if she did.
She wouldn’t.
Was he as certain of that as he wanted to be?
When was the last time he’d doubted himself this way? Doubted anything in his life?
He’d spent his entire adult existence being certain about everything. He’d chosen his life very carefully. He chose his bedmates every bit as carefully.
He had no choice when it came to Ava.
But it would be good. Better than good. If he could just get through this damn introductory period that he was too noble to bypass. He’d been the one to set up the rules this way: get to know the girl, the formal questionnaire, the long conversations by e-mail, by telephone, in person, before he ever touched her. Fucking torture, thinking about waiting this time. But he would not break his own rules. They were there for a reason. It was his responsibility to handle a submissive correctly. Safe, sane, and consensual, as always. And part of that saneness, that consent, was everyone involved being well informed.
Foolish to even imagine going back there, into the city, going to her house, getting her to let him tie her up …
But that was exactly what he was thinking.
Control!
Yes, control was the key. Always had been. Always would be.
He downshifted as he pulled onto the Golden Gate Bridge, slowing as he rolled through the toll gate, then speeding up a little as he moved onto the long expanse.
The San Francisco Bay stretched out on his right, the lights of the city gleaming against the velvet dark of the water beneath him. To the north was the paler glow of Marin County, the small seaside town of Sausalito, which was his home.
Home. Have to get home. Be alone .
He’d ordered Ava not to touch herself, but he had no such strictures.
He hit the gas a little harder, the sleek car shooting smoothly over the half-empty bridge. He reached the other side, swung off the highway, and took the road curving down into Sausalito. Even through the wispy fog he could see the moonlit water, the boats bobbing in their docks. A million-dollar view, one he never tired of. But he didn’t care tonight.
Taking the road a little faster than he should, he gunned the engine, the car holding fast around the turns. Making a left onto his narrow street, he shifted again to climb the steep hill. Finally he reached his driveway, pulled in. He switched the engine off, not even bothering to put the car in the garage.
He got out, swung the iron gate aside, stormed up the narrow front path, pushed through the front door. He was nearly breathless.
Tossing his keys down on the console table in the entry hall, he strode to the window overlooking the bay. That million-dollar view again, but tonight it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he could see San Francisco laid out before him like some miniaturized map of itself, and somewhere down there was Ava. The girl with the flawless skin, that beautiful mouth, the enormous innocent blue
D ESMOND PULLED ONTO Doyle Drive, passing the densely tree-lined road through the old Presidio military base, heading for the Golden Gate Bridge. The windows in his black Lexus were open, letting in the scent of ancient eucalyptus trees and salt air.
Have to get home. Just get home and …
What? How was getting home going to be any better? At least he’d had the distraction of work today, a long meeting with a client in the financial district. At home he’d be alone with his thoughts.
Every thought he’d had was about Ava Gregory since the moment he’d met her, seen her perfect doll-like features, that creamy porcelain skin, the flawless curve of breasts beneath her sweater. They were almost too large for her tiny figure, her breasts. Pornographic, with a face so sweet. And that little pink mouth of hers …
He groaned, shifted in his seat against the erection that was becoming painful again.
Had to have her. Touch her .
Yes . And he would. Unless the girl changed her mind. He didn’t know what the hell he’d do if she did.
She wouldn’t.
Was he as certain of that as he wanted to be?
When was the last time he’d doubted himself this way? Doubted anything in his life?
He’d spent his entire adult existence being certain about everything. He’d chosen his life very carefully. He chose his bedmates every bit as carefully.
He had no choice when it came to Ava.
But it would be good. Better than good. If he could just get through this damn introductory period that he was too noble to bypass. He’d been the one to set up the rules this way: get to know the girl, the formal questionnaire, the long conversations by e-mail, by telephone, in person, before he ever touched her. Fucking torture, thinking about waiting this time. But he would not break his own rules. They were there for a reason. It was his responsibility to handle a submissive correctly. Safe, sane, and consensual, as always. And part of that saneness, that consent, was everyone involved being well informed.
Foolish to even imagine going back there, into the city, going to her house, getting her to let him tie her up …
But that was exactly what he was thinking.
Control!
Yes, control was the key. Always had been. Always would be.
He downshifted as he pulled onto the Golden Gate Bridge, slowing as he rolled through the toll gate, then speeding up a little as he moved onto the long expanse.
The San Francisco Bay stretched out on his right, the lights of the city gleaming against the velvet dark of the water beneath him. To the north was the paler glow of Marin County, the small seaside town of Sausalito, which was his home.
Home. Have to get home. Be alone .
He’d ordered Ava not to touch herself, but he had no such strictures.
He hit the gas a little harder, the sleek car shooting smoothly over the half-empty bridge. He reached the other side, swung off the highway, and took the road curving down into Sausalito. Even through the wispy fog he could see the moonlit water, the boats bobbing in their docks. A million-dollar view, one he never tired of. But he didn’t care tonight.
Taking the road a little faster than he should, he gunned the engine, the car holding fast around the turns. Making a left onto his narrow street, he shifted again to climb the steep hill. Finally he reached his driveway, pulled in. He switched the engine off, not even bothering to put the car in the garage.
He got out, swung the iron gate aside, stormed up the narrow front path, pushed through the front door. He was nearly breathless.
Tossing his keys down on the console table in the entry hall, he strode to the window overlooking the bay. That million-dollar view again, but tonight it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he could see San Francisco laid out before him like some miniaturized map of itself, and somewhere down there was Ava. The girl with the flawless skin, that beautiful mouth, the enormous innocent blue