Submission Games, page 4
part #0 of Krinar World Series
“I’m sure,” the K says, satisfied by my answer. I come to a stop a safe distance from him, and take a look out the window myself. Fuck, we’re high up. I know the glass must be thick enough to protect me, but I still sway a bit at the view. Unexpectedly, I feel Navur’s arm wind around my shoulders, his grip strong, as possessive as it is protective.
“Why did you do this?” I ask quietly, keeping my eyes tight on the toes of my shoes. “Get me the Montrose job? Fly me back to Manhattan?”
“I already told you,” the K answers, tone quizzical. “You insisted we couldn’t be seen in your hometown, so we came here. You promised you were all mine for a month, so I simply ensured that.”
“But, you could’ve just made me quit my job back home,” I insist, perhaps pushing my luck a bit too much, but I can’t help it. I need to understand where I stand with the mysterious, demanding creature. “You didn’t have to get me a new job, and certainly not one this amazing.”
“Noelle,” Navur says, a hard edge in his voice. He turns me toward him, and tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. From this close, he towers above me. “I read everything you’ve ever written. Your talents are wasted in Buffalo Creek. Hell, they were wasted at your old job here. As selfish as my motivations may be, I’m not just a taker. I also quite enjoy giving. Surely you remember that, little one.”
If my cheeks were warm before, they’re ablaze now. I drop my gaze again, and after a moment, he lets my chin go.
“This doesn’t have to be a punishment, Noelle,” Navur says, his voice softer this time, but still steely. “This isn’t a bullet you’re taking for your family, your community, or whatever cause you’ve convinced yourself you’re fighting for. This can be good for you, in every single way you can imagine, and then some. It’s up to you, little one. Are you going to make this hard for yourself, or are you going to make this the best month of your life?”
I keep my eyes on the plush carpet, fighting to keep my breathing even. If only it was that easy. If only I could just flip a switch in my brain and turn this nightmare into a daydream. If only, if only, if only.
“You said I had a meeting with Montrose later,” I say at last, breaking the tense silence. “When is that?”
“In a couple hours,” Navur says, and I can still feel the heat of his gaze on me, even when I can’t bear to look at him.
“Then I’m going to prepare for that,” I say, grabbing my duffel and heading toward the bathroom, not daring to look back.
I’m lucky I already have the job, because I’m totally bombing this meeting. As the polite assistant editor tries to walk me through my new responsibilities, it’s all I can do to nod mutely and then ask him to repeat himself. We repeat this process an embarrassing amount of times, and I can see the confusion and disappointment in his eyes at my performance. I wonder if he already knew that this job was bought for me, or if he’s just now figuring out that strings must’ve been pulled for this back-country idiot to wind up at his desk.
Finally, it’s time for me to leave. We shake hands, and I paste a smile on my face, desperately hoping that I won’t continue to let this poor guy down. But if the first day of my indentured servitude to Navur is any indication, I’ll be utterly useless for the next month.
I can’t help it that he ties my already muddled mind up in knots. The worries weaving through my head are so numerous, I don’t even know which thread to tug at first. What if he hurts me? What if my family finds out? What if he steals me away after all, and I never even get a chance to say goodbye? How long until I become just another cautionary tale?
There’s one forbidden thought, one that I’m happy to let remain buried under the others, because it’s somehow the worst of all.
This thought isn’t a question, but a certainty.
He will destroy me, and I’ll like it, and when our thirty days are over, I’ll be left wanting more.
A familiar black towncar awaits me outside of the towering Montrose building. It’s not the same car, of course, and not the same driver, but the feeling of tight apprehension as I slide in beside Navur in the backseat is the same.
“How did it go?” the K asks, as if he cares.
“Fine,” I lie, keeping my gaze out the window. My eyes are dry, but I feel the need to blink back tears, the weight of the day pressing heavy upon me. I don’t know how much more I can take, and yet, there’s still a whole night to contend with.
“Are you ready for dinner?” Navur asks.
I don’t reply, wielding my silence like a petulant teen’s weapon. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have to say that he knows what my first assignment is, and I don’t have to watch the street signs outside to know we’re already heading to Belle Rive, the upscale French bistro I’m supposed to have twenty inches written on by tomorrow. It’s an easy assignment, but after my colossal failure at my meeting today, it’s more than I deserve.
Arguably, I shouldn’t even be mad at the K. I’m the one who agreed to this deal, a transaction that some might call prostitution, and perhaps rightly so. I’m the idiot who landed herself in this situation. I never should have gone to the x-club that night, never should have given in to temptation. I should have known that it could never end well, that one night with a K could never be that simple. At the same time, I know I can’t blame myself for the actions of a creature who essentially stalked me, hunted me down like prey, and backed me into a corner so tight I had no option but to give in to his dark wishes. Still, I know there’s nothing I can do to punish the K for his misdeeds, so I settle on punishing myself for mine, mentally battering myself the whole way to Belle Rive.
We are quickly escorted to a table upon our arrival. I’m not surprised that Navur was already prepared for this job, even before I was. I wonder if part of the terms of whatever arrangement he made with Montrose on my behalf is that he be informed of all my assignments. But why complicate it that much? I bet he just has them “assign” me whatever he requests. Not even the most powerful media execs can rival a K, after all.
I slip out of my blazer as we sit, feeling out of place amongst the fashionable diners surrounding us. No one bats much of an eye at the K amongst them. These days, high society and extraterrestrial mix pretty well, leaving me to feel like the alien in this crowd.
This isn’t an unfamiliar feeling. Even with my most expensive designer clothes and best manners, I’ve always felt like people in places like this can instinctively tell I’m more fit for a McDonald’s. After years of working the high-end restaurant circuit, I’d almost beaten that complex, of at least gotten pretty good at faking it. Now, however, after just a few months back in West Virginia, I feel like I’ve got “redneck” written all over me again.
“Relax,” Navur says, as the server pours our wine, something red and overpriced. The K lays his hand gently on my arm, as if to comfort me, but the touch only makes me tense further. Is he so conceited as to believe that a generous gift, a nice dinner, and the promise of a good lay is enough to win me over? Hardly. We’re barely acquaintances, much less friends. I pull my arm away discreetly, folding my hands in my lap.
I sip my vichysoisse while Navur attempts small talk, marveling at how tasteless the soup becomes on my tongue. Is it just my nerves, or has their well-renowned cooking gone seriously downhill? But no, judging from the faces of the other diners around me, this should taste delicious. Fuck. Just my luck, to land my dream job (the slutty way), and be instantly terrible at it.
“Good, hmm?” I chirp suddenly, finally looking up at the K. “What do you think?”
Navur perks back up at my attention, and takes another spoonful of his soup. “Yes, very. Perfectly creamy, but not too heavy.”
I nod as if agreeing as he goes on, focusing on jotting down quick notes. If I can’t do my job right, I can damn well fake it.
This gets trickier once our entrees come out, as we ordered different meals, but I insist Navur try a bite of my risotto, claiming it’s too good for him to miss. By the time our crème brûlée arrives, I’ve convinced Navur I’ve had a major attitude rehaul, and I’ve almost convinced myself that I can make this work, even as the caramelized sugar melts to sand in my mouth.
“Your deadline isn’t until tomorrow afternoon,” Navur observes, when I remain hunched over my laptop as the clock speeds past midnight.
I haven’t told him that, but again, there’s no need to dwell on how he knows the things he knows. Just like there’s no need for me to glance up at the tall K, standing in the bedroom doorway in nothing but a plush robe.
“I like to write while everything is still fresh,” I lie, tapping my fingers over the keyboard almost maniacally. I’m glad I’m sitting with my screen turned away from him, because all I’m looking at after hours of “work” is a blank document. “You don’t have to wait up.”
“I’m not the one who needs sleep,” Navur reminds me, practically floating across the room on those graceful K feet. He closes my laptop for me, carefully but forcefully.
“Please don’t do this.” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can measure them, and I find myself looking up at the K with big, pleading eyes. “Please.”
Navur’s brows furrow, his eyes flooding with what is becoming a familiar expression. A touch confused, maybe perplexed, maybe hurt. He doesn’t understand why I’m still pulling away, why I haven’t automatically bent to his will. His other human conquests must jump into bed and spread their legs easily.
After a beat of tense silence, prey desperately staring down predator, he sweeps in for the kill. The K scoops me up against his broad shoulders, and I instinctively wrap my arms around his thick neck to steady myself as he carries me into the bedroom. In another world, this would be a sweet scene, with me squealing and wriggling, and him chuckling gently at my playful protests. But in this world, we’re both dead silent, my only movement the crashing of my heart in my chest.
He tosses me down on the bed, gently, but with enough force to leave no doubt of who’s in charge. I fight the urge to scramble away from him, and instead, sit frozen as he begins unbuttoning my blouse. Still, the only sound between us is my heavy breathing, as my silk shirt comes off, and then my heels and skirt, until I’m left chilly in my panties and bra, and my enemy towers above me, his loose robe showing off a deep V of nothing but hard muscle.
I feel on the edge of myself, my body shaking with gasping breaths, as Navur expertly undoes the clasp of my bra, and slides the lace straps down my arms. My arms ache to cross over my chest, shielding my bare breasts from view, but I can’t even manage that. My heart pounds as the K digs around in a dresser drawer, but all he pulls out is a piece of familiar soft pink fabric. My sleep shirt. He tosses it at me unceremoniously, and I scramble to pull the garment on over my head before he can change his mind.
Still silent, terrifyingly silent, Navur unties his robe and tosses it over the armchair. He’s not completely naked underneath, but he might as well be. His fitted burgundy boxer-briefs cling to the curves of his body, the silky fabric leaving very little to the imagination. Before I can beat myself up for being unable to look away, he turns his back to me, and I get an eyeful of his tight, round ass before he switches the bedroom lights off.
If my panic had temporarily abated, it returns without hesitation, as I’m left nearly blind in the dark room. I gasp softly as Navur pulls me toward him on the bed, but all he does is lift the soft sheets over us. In the cocoon of Egyptian cotton, I hold my breath, waiting for his hands to crawl over me. Instead, he simply holds me tight against himself, his grip remaining frozen chastely around my waist even as I feel his cock hardening against my ass, straining at the thin layers of fabric between us. My face reddens, and I wonder if he can feel the hungry heat emanating off me, despite the trembling of my body.
“I won’t rush you,” Navur whispers hoarsely into my ear, just when I think we’re done speaking for the night. “But I won’t let you waste my time. You owe me thirty days and thirty nights, little one, and I know you know that this isn’t going to count.”
I sleep restlessly that night, tossing and turning, trapped in Navur’s warm arms until dawn. He’s right, and I know it. I can’t put this off forever. I knew what I was getting myself into, and I knew what I was doing it for. Now that it’s real, why am I having such a hard time pulling it off?
Navur is gone when I wake up the next morning. For a moment, I enjoy the blissful emptiness of the giant bed, squeezing my eyes shut and pulling the sheets tight around me. For a second, I let myself pretend.
“Good morning, little one.”
A deep voice crashes my daydream. I open my eyes cautiously, peeking over the thick duvet like a child afraid of the dark, as Navur gently sets a coffee mug down on the nightstand beside me.
“Thanks,” I mumble, more out of habit than genuine gratitude, busying myself with the mug. The coffee is too hot, scalding my tongue, but I keep sipping regardless.
“You haven’t written anything,” Navur says next, cutting to the point. I look up at him over the rim of the starch-white hotel mug, surprised. Did he hack my laptop password? It doesn’t matter. However he figured out this little secret, it just further confirms that I no longer possess even the illusion of privacy. “Why?”
“Um,” I hesitate, trying to land on a lie that will preserve my dignity. Ultimately, I decide that with nothing left to lose, I might as well tell the K the full truth. “Yeah, no. I don’t know what to write. I’m sure the food at Belle Rive is lovely, but I couldn’t taste a damn thing. I was so nervous, it was all like sand in my mouth.”
Navur lowers himself onto the foot of the bed, and I instinctively curl my legs up into myself, pulling as far away from him as possible in this cramped space. My eyes jitter between his face and the half-empty coffee still clutched in my hands, feeling my cheeks heat from the sudden outpouring of honesty.
“Why were you nervous?” Navur asks, brows furrowed inward as if with genuine concern. “You’ve reviewed much more prestigious restaurants.”
I laugh humorlessly, a hard, violent sound.
It takes a second for what should be obvious to hit Navur. “Ah, you mean me. You were nervous because of me.”
I say nothing, biting back a sarcastic response, and staring into my dark reflection in the now-lukewarm drink in my lap.
“Why?” Navur asks the silence, sliding closer to me on the bed and lifting my chin to meet my gaze. “We’ve been intimate before, so you know the experience will be pleasurable, and clearly I found your body and performance satisfactory. And there’s no romantic element to this arrangement, so you should feel no pressure to woo or impress me. Why would you be nervous around me?”
“I don’t usually do this,” I say after a deep breath, forcing myself to hold eye contact. “I don’t do one night stands. I don’t do casual flings, friends with benefits, booty calls. Hell, I don’t even sleep with guys before the third date. So, yes, I’m a bit out of my depth in this ridiculous little sex transaction, and it’s pretty damn nerve-wracking.”
Navur considers this, cocking his head to the left, then shakes it.
“That’s fair enough, Noelle. But would you feel the same if I were a human man?”
“Of course!” I say too quickly, then sigh quietly and admit the truth. “No, I probably wouldn’t.”
We sit in that for a moment, Navur observing me expressionlessly, me shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny. Finally, Navur reaches over, plucking the forgotten coffee mug from my hands and setting it aside, and slowly pulling the covers out of my hands.
“I may not be a human man,” the K says in that deadly purr as he pulls my legs toward him, forcing me onto my back on the bed, and his warm hands begin sliding my sleep shirt up to my belly. “But by the time I’m done with you, you’ll never be able to settle for one of those weaklings again.”
I should be prepared, but both my mind and body jolt with electricity when Navur’s soft tongue brushes against my clit. I gasp quietly, legs curling up and hands grabbing blindly at the sheets crumpled around us.
We’ve done this before, yes, but somehow the time and circumstance stretching between our first time and now make this moment feel completely new. The flat edge of his tongue slides down my slit, then back up again, agonizingly slowly, the soft exhale of his breath making my back arch. Despite my best attempts, I’ve fantasized about this moment over and over again in the past months, but the reality is so much better than anything I could have imagined.
Even as the never-ending doubts and worries swarm through my head, with every lick, every kiss, every gentle bite, Navur forces my thoughts to clear, until all I’m aware of is the feeling of him on my skin, and then, the fire spreading from my head to my toes, until I combust with a loud cry.
Before I have time to recover from the first orgasm, Navur’s tongue is moving fast at my apex again. My mind is fuzzy with pleasure, and I’m barely conscious as he rapidly takes me over the edge once more. I’m only slightly aware of the feeling of his thick hair knotted in my greedy fists, of his firm hands holding my hips down as I buck wildly into his talented ministrations. When he finally pulls away, I’m boneless, my legs collapsing uselessly to the side as the big K sits up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, the obscene action almost primal. Without a word, Navur stands and exits the lush bedroom, leaving me sprawled motionless on the bed.
I’ve never come like this before. Not so fast, so deliriously, so repeatedly. As my thoughts slowly clear and reality comes back into focus, I can’t fight the toxic cocktail of emotions that floods me. I’m ecstatic, overcome with utter satisfaction. That was amazing, and I know I should be grateful to the man who got me here, that I shouldn’t let myself get bogged down with the details I can’t change, the facts that will only distress me. At the same time, a dark cloud bears down heavily upon me, sharp thoughts jabbing at me from all sides. I shouldn’t have let him do that. I shouldn’t have given in. I shouldn’t have let myself feel such extreme pleasure at the hands of a creature I know to be a monster.
