Page 33 of Surrender

“Maybe I’ll show you one day so you can critique them properly,” Cristiano says, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Yeah. That’d be fun. But be careful, I’m a harsh art critic.” It does sound like fun, though. I wouldn’t mind sitting with Cristiano and painting or drawing together, making fun of each other’s works. Even if they’re just simple little scribbles, or paint splattered across a canvas.

Just as long as it’s not fucking red.

CHAPTER TEN

FOX

We stumble through the condo door, and I immediately turn to grip Cristiano’s shirt and pull him down for a kiss. I can taste the expensive wine on his lips, and I suck on his tongue as if to get more of the flavor.

Corbin had given me six days.

I can have fun with Cristiano for six days at least. I can let him spank me and fuck me and drive me wild. Never mind that I don’t know who set the bomb, or how they’d figured me out. Corbin wants Cristiano dead, so it’s going to happen.

But it doesn’t have to happen now.

Cristiano groans into my mouth, but his hands are careful on my lower back, avoiding the spots that are still trying to heal. They slide down to my ass, resting there, and he kisses me back. “Did you have fun?” he murmurs against my mouth.

“Yes,” I answer, grinding my crotch against his thigh. “So much. I’ve been thoroughly wined and dined. My ass is definitely open for business now.”

“Good to know I only had to drop a grand for you to drop your pants,” Cristiano teases, squeezing my ass cheeks. “Cute, sweet little fox.”

I suck on his neck and start unbuttoning his shirt. “I wasn’t the one who ordered the three-hundred-dollar bottle of wine.”

“You were the one who ordered the two-hundred-dollar entree, though,” he says, clucking his tongue as his hands move to squeeze my caged cock through my pants. “And the dessert! Just because it said it had gold in it didn’t mean you had to try it.”

“Well, you’re my Daddy, and I’m your boy. I think the rules say you have to spoil me rotten.” I get my hands underneath his shirt and begin roaming his hairy torso.

Cristiano chuckles. “Next time, I’m getting you a kid’s meal at a fast-food joint so you can at least get a toy to remember the occasion by.”

His words strike me as odd. Does he know this little affair is coming to a close soon? But I can’t imagine Corbin was careless enough to be spotted.

“Nope. I’m used to the expensive stuff now. I can’t ever go back to fast food.” I break away from him so I can unbutton my own shirt. “One-hundred-dollar bottles of wine will seem plebeian now. That’s basically box wine.”

“I’ll have you know I grew up on box wine,” Cristiano says, though he makes a face when he says it. He watches me keenly, his eyes hungrily devouring every inch of flesh as it’s revealed to him. “It tasted fine at the time, but then I had this bottle of wine that cost two grand at a gathering, and nothing was ever the same afterwards.”

“At that point, you’re just tasting the dollar signs.” I throw my shirt toward the couch and start working on my fly. “In a blind taste test, most people cannot tell the difference between a cheap and an expensive wine.” I pause my undressing and smile up at him. “I can definitely taste your bank account though, so don’t think that’s an invitation to go skimping.”

“Yeah? And what does my bank account taste like, little fox?” It almost sounds like he’s teasing, but there’s a slight edge to his voice. He’s probably wondering just how much I do know about his bank account. “Should I punish you for looking at things Daddy’s boy has no reason to know?”

“You should definitely punish me,” I agree. “But your bank account mostly tastes like paper and ink, and the $1,540 printed on the receipt tonight.”

“Our waiter was phenomenal and deserved every cent of his tip,” Cristiano says, his voice softening slightly as he looks me up and down. He slides his own shirt off and tosses it off to the side, then grabs my hand. “Bedroom. I want to look at your back before we get more distracted, though.”

I groan in frustration. “My back is fine. The doctor cleared me for moving around, anyway.”

“He said light movement, not rigorous exercise.” Cristiano leads me toward the guest bedroom, the one I’ve been using. I wonder about what his own bed looks like. Maybe the sheets are bright white, and he doesn’t want to risk my back splitting open and bleeding all over it.

“This is light movement!” I protest. “We didn’t start fucking in a side alley or parking garage, for one.”

I wouldn’t have minded if we had. The roughness of brick or concrete against my back would probably have felt good, even.

“Because I absolutely would’ve forbidden it,” Cristiano says. His voice is a low growl, and he opens the door to the room to let us inside. “Lie down on your stomach. I want to have a good look at your back. If you behave while I do, I might just fuck you after. Otherwise… it’s more television and relaxation for you, pretty little fox.”

Christ, that sounds like hell right now, considering how badly my cock wants to escape the cage. I know if I tried hard enough, I could come even with the cage on, but it would be sad and unsatisfying.

“Fine, fine.” I wiggle my ass as I walk over to the bed and stretch out on my stomach. I tilt my ass up and spread my legs, then look over my shoulder with a sultry smile. “There’s one part of me you’re very welcome to inspect.”

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