Page 8 of Surrender to Me

Legend caught the movement, but instead of reacting, he grabbed a wooden box, flipped it open, and pulled out a small jar of what I knew was probably the finest weed. He didn’t rush, didn’t even seem to notice the silence stretching between us. He just set up deliberately, effortlessly breaking the bud apart between his tattooed fingers.

The slow precision of it had me watching, mesmerized until I finally realized what I was doing and looked away, focusing on my drink instead.

“So, you live on the island?” I asked, trying to break the tension.

He glanced up briefly, smirking as he reached for a rolling paper and leaf. “When I want to. This is one of my vacation properties.”

I took a slow sip of my drink as I nodded, the Tequila smooth as it burned down my throat. “So,” I said, licking my lips. “Is this the part where I ask you what I should expect this weekend?”

Legend’s hands never paused as he rolled the blunt, but I saw the way the corner of his mouth ticked up. “You don’t strike me as the type to need instructions,” he murmured.

I tilted my head. “Maybe I like to be prepared.”

He lifted the blunt to his lips, running the tip of his tongue along the edge to seal it. And fuck. It was the most casual, unbothered thing, but the way he did it? Focused. Slow. Unapologetically deliberate. My thighs clenched instinctively. His eyes flicked to mine, amusement flashing in them like he had caught it. He leaned back against the dresser, lighting the blunt, taking a deep inhale before exhaling slowly... all smooth and shit... watching me through the smoke.

“Expect,” he finally said, “that I’m gonna give you exactly what you came for.”

“And what do you think that is?” I asked, my voice way too breathy for my liking.

He smirked again, pushing off the dresser, and walked toward me with that lethal, unhurried confidence. He stopped right in front of me, the scent of his cologne and fresh weed flooding my senses as he tilted my chin up with one finger.

“Freedom,” he murmured.

I stared at him, heart pounding. “Freedom?” I repeated, barely able to get the word out.

His thumb brushed over my bottom lip lightly, just enough to make me inhale sharply. “You spent all night trying to impress muthafuckas who wouldn’t know real ambition if it slapped them in the face,” he murmured. “You’re so tense from working and fighting for every inch of success, you don’t even know what it feels like to just let go.”

I swallowed, my breath sticking in my throat.

“That’swhat this weekend is,” he said, voice low and unrushed. “You don’t make decisions. You don’t stress about outcomes. You don’t plan shit. You let me take care of everything.”

His finger traced down the side of my throat, sending a ripple of heat down my spine. A slow shudder ran through me, and he felt it. He exhaled another stream of smoke, his thumb brushing my jaw one last time before he pulled away, handing me the blunt.

“Hit that,” he ordered, his voice a little rougher this time.

I took it from his fingers, my heart still racing, my stomach still tight. The first hit slid down my throat warm and smooth, the slow burn unraveling my nerves as I let the smoke settle in my lungs before exhaling. This man watched me the entire time.

His eyes were dark, unwavering, his mouth curled in that lazy, knowing smirk like he already had me figured out. I handed the blunt back to him, licking the remnants of smoke off my lips. “You always roll them this good?”

“I do everything… good.”

The energy between us shifted—thicker now, heavier, and my heart thumped. I didn’t know if it was the Tequila, the weed, or the way Legend looked at me like he was calculating all the ways he was going to have me.

Clearing my throat, I leaned back against the bed, propping myself up on my elbows. “So this is how you start things off? Get me high, get me nice, then see if I change my mind?”

He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his eyes still locked on mine. “Honey,” he said, voice smooth as silk, “you wouldn’t be here if you had any intention of changing your mind. I told you what’s up already. There’s no turning back.”

I swallowed, my stomach tightening. Legend put the blunt in the ashtray and popped a mint into his mouth from the small tray on the dresser. As he moved closer, his presence all-consuming, effortless as the very air in the room shifted around him. “Stand up,” he said.

I arched a brow but didn’t move. “Why?”

His smirk deepened. “You came here on the terms of you surrendering yourself to me,” he murmured, reaching down and gripping my jaw lightly, tilting my head up to face him. The touch was possessive like he already owned me. “That starts now,” he said, his voice low, edged with something darker. “Stand up.”

Slowly, deliberately, my bare feet sank into the plush rug as I straightened, my eyes never leaving his. Legend studied me, the faintest glint of satisfaction flickering across his face. Then he reached out, his fingers tracing the thin straps of my dress, dragging them slowly down my shoulders. In an instant, my dress was a pool beneath me leaving me bare. Naked.

He let out a low grunt and licked his lips. “You’re gonna let me teach you exactly what surrendering truly feels like.”

I watched him reach into the top drawer of his nightstand and pull out something dark. Silky. Long, smooth lengths of black fabric coiled in his palm. My pulse skipped, my thighs pressing together on instinct. He smirked like he saw it. Like he felt it.

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