Nurturing Britney (Surrender Book 7)

by Becca Jameson

  I come to her side and set a hand on her back, just as I did last night.

  She jerks, her eyes shooting open. When they land on me, she hesitates and then unfolds to crawl toward me. Again, like last night, she throws herself at me, her arms going around my body as she climbs onto my lap.

  I wrap my arms around her small frame and hold her tight, rocking her gently while I run my palms up and down her back. “Shh, sweetie. You’re okay. I’m here.”

  She snuggles in closer, as if that’s possible, her hair creating a curtain all around her body. She’s whimpering now, but no longer crying.

  I try in vain to brush her hair back, but it keeps falling over her shoulders. It’s just so long. There’s no need to point out the obvious. She’s had another nightmare. Not that I blame her. She’s been through a lot. I can’t fathom what I might feel like if I overheard someone discussing the sale of my body.

  I continue stroking her all over, trying to keep my hands above her waist. I’m not unaware of the fact that she doesn’t have on panties. After all, I didn’t give her any. Her bare bottom is on my thigh. Thank God I’m wearing flannel pants. If my leg were bare also, I probably wouldn’t be able to keep from touching her farther south.

  After several minutes, she slowly tips her head back and blinks up at me. We’re bathed in the light from the hallway. Her tears have dried. Her blue eyes are wide. Without warning, she rises, kneels with her legs straddling one of my thighs, and cups my cheeks. She searches my face for several seconds until her gaze settles on my mouth.

  And then she’s kissing me. Her palms are on my cheeks and she’s kissing me with desperation. Her lips part and her tongue enters my mouth. She inches closer, her knee lodged between my legs, her thigh against my erection.

  My hands go to her hips and I grip her, fighting against the urge to get lost in her kiss. I can’t let my emotions take over. If I let her continue, she’ll end up with my cock thrust deep into her pussy.

  I break the kiss and take control, lifting her off my thigh and flattening her on her back in the center of the bed. When she reaches for me, I clasp her wrists and draw her arms over her head.

  She squirms, whimpering in protest. Her nightie is around her waist, leaving her pussy bare. “Please,” she pleads.

  I’m leaning over her, my hands still holding her wrists against the pillow. “Britney, look at me.”

  Her chest rises and falls, her body twisting back and forth, not because she wants to escape but because she wants to touch me. I recognize this desperation. I’ve seen it before. It makes my cock so hard that I have to grit my teeth to get control. Her head lolls back and forth, and she’s breathing heavily, the deep breaths of arousal.

  “Britney,” I repeat, her name coming out as a command this time. I press against her wrists.

  She finally meets my gaze, her lip quivering, her eyes glazed with lust. “Please… I need…”

  “Okay, sweet girl. Take a breath.”

  She draws in a deep breath and lets it out, but her heels are digging into the mattress and keep slipping, making her body jar. “Please, Davis. Please…”

  The desperation in her voice is acute. Twenty-two years of pent-up need tumbling out in a rush of emotion.

  I squeeze her wrists once more, holding her gaze. I need to be sure she’s listening. “I’m going to let go of your arms. You’re not to move them. Understand?”

  She nods.

  I release her, my eyes wide to ensure she’ll obey. “Good girl. Stop squirming. Don’t move.”

  She slowly lets her feet relax, her body melting into the mattress a bit. She’s still breathing heavily, her lips parted.

  I stroke her cheek. “I’m going to take care of you, sweet girl, but you have to stay still. That’s my rule. If you can’t remain still, I’ll stop.”

  She nods. “I won’t move.” Her hands fist in the pillow as if to prove her point.

  I lower my gaze to her chest and fight for my own control as I take in her small breasts. The material of her nightie is thin enough that I can see nearly everything. Her nipples are hard points. I circle the tips with my fingers, barely touching her, and then flick both of them at once.

  She cries out, her chest arching.

  I have to give her credit. She’s doing well. I know it’s hard for her to remain in this position while I explore. “May I lift your nightie, sweet girl? I want to see all of you.”

  She nods. “Please…” The sound of her begging is music, but there’s something else I need from her. If I’m going to continue, I can’t let it go. It’s in my blood. It’s who I am.

  I lift her nightie over her breasts and gaze at their perfection as her chest rises and falls until she’s squirming again. I stroke the undersides with my thumbs, knowing she will arch again at that simple touch.

  When her body settles back down, I meet her gaze. “I have one more rule, and then I’m going to make you feel good, sweetie.”

  She swallows. “Okay.”

  “When we’re like this… When it’s sexual, I mean. In my bed or yours or wherever I’m intimate with your body, I need you to address me with respect.”

  Her brows narrow in confusion.

  “You’ll address me as Sir, sweetie. Hard rule.”

  She holds my gaze for several seconds, her lips parted, her throat moving, and then she utters my two favorite words in the English language. “Yes, Sir.”

  I smile. “Good girl. Now, if you can remain in this position, address me properly, and let me explore, I’ll give you what you need.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her words are stronger this time. Her cheeks are flushed, but she doesn’t balk at my demand.

  There are lots of things I haven’t told her. So many things she needs to learn about me and my preferred kink, but for now, this will do. It’s as far as I imagine I can push her, and she’s doing fantastic. Her submission is sublime.

  I gently cup her breasts and watch her face as my thumbs flick over her nipples.

  She gasps, fighting hard to remain still.

  “That’s a good girl. Take what I’m giving you. Concentrate on what’s offered. Does it feel good?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she murmurs. “So good.”

  I keep tormenting her, circling the sweet buds. I lower my gaze, torn between watching her face and taking in her tits. They are so fucking gorgeous. Small. Perfectly shaped. Perky. Exactly a handful. Her nipples are dark pink and tiny, the tips swollen dots of pleasure. Every time I touch them, she writhes gloriously.

  I tease her mercilessly, circling her breasts from base to tip over and over, not using enough pressure, not tapping her nipples often enough.

  She moans, her legs restless.

  Finally, I lower my gaze farther. “Bend your knees, sweet girl. Spread your legs open for me.”

  She lifts her knees, and I release her nipples to settle myself between her legs.

  “Wider, sweetie. I want to see all of you.”

  She shudders as she obeys me, exposing the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Smooth and bare from the product I instructed her to use. Her labia are pink and swollen.

  I set my hands on her inner thighs, pushing them wider. I want her to feel the exposure. Feel my gaze on her like a caress.

  She whimpers, her head rolling from side to side.

  When I part her lower lips, she gasps.

  I hold her open, not touching her anywhere she craves, just soaking in the wetness that leaks from her cunt. I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life. The first time she opened for me, exposing everything. Offering her body into my care.

  I pull the hood back from her clit next, making her gasp again.

  The little nub is wet and pink and swollen. I circle it, and the moan that comes from her mouth is primal. “Please,” she begs again, forgetting my rule.

  I remove my finger and meet her gaze, one brow raised.

  She licks her lips. “Please, Sir. Please let me come.”

  “That’s a go
od girl. And I will. When I’m ready. Patience.”

  She bites her lip and nods. There’s nothing sexier in this world than a woman desperate to come. Better yet, a submissive woman in such despair that her vision is clouded.

  When I look back at her pussy, I realize there is something more gorgeous. It’s right in front of me, offered by the sweetest little girl I’ve ever seen. An untouched woman waiting impatiently for her Dom to grant her the first orgasm she’ll ever have at someone else’s hands. There’s only one first time, and I want this experience to burn into her brain. I have no problem admitting that I’m hoping this experience binds her to me in a way that she won’t ever be able to deny.

  I may be selfish, but I want Britney more than I’ve ever wanted a woman before. I want her to be mine. I want all of her firsts. I want to claim her virginity someday and add that to my most prized memories. I want her submission. I want her to be my little.

  That last part might be tricky, but so far, she’s showing all the signs of acceptance. If only I can be so lucky.

  I return my attention to her clit, circling it again, gathering her wetness. When I finally flick my finger over the distended nub, she cries out. I drag two fingers through her folds next, not entering her in the slightest, just giving her a taste of what she’s missing.

  She’s so precious. Every whimper and moan. Every loll of her head to one side. The way her nipples stand at attention. I can’t resist lowering my face so I can inhale her scent. I won’t put my mouth on her tonight. I’ll save that luxury for another time. I won’t have any trouble making her scream for me with my fingers. She’s that aroused.

  I flick over her clit again, this time watching her face.

  Her head tips back, her neck elongating. Her hands are fisted so tight that her knuckles are white. Her chest is arched, her breasts so fucking sexy. Her belly is flat, hollow even. Her heels are digging into the mattress again, but she’s keeping her thighs parted.

  My cock is protesting this plan, but it will have to wait until I’ve left her room. If I touched myself right now, I would come all over her thighs. As it is, the tip of my dick is sticking out of my flannel pants. She can’t see my issue from her perspective though. And that’s for the best.

  My possessive instinct takes over, and when she meets my gaze, pleading with her eyes, I tap her pussy. “You’re mine, Britney.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispers.

  “This bundle of nerves is mine.” I lower my fingers to her labia. “This pussy is mine.” I don’t stop myself, easing my fingers to her lower puckered entrance. “Your bottom is also mine.”

  She nods. “Yes, Sir. I’m yours.” She’s shaking.

  I finally return to her clit, gathering her wetness from between her parted labia again, and circling the nub. When I flatten three fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves and rub, she finally tips over the edge.

  As I suspected, she screams, making me smile. Her body shakes with the intensity of her orgasm. Her clit pulses noticeably against my fingers where I continue to rub her, not slowing down or easing from her swollen skin until she gives the first hint of a wince.

  She’s panting heavily when I smooth my hands back up to cup her breasts. There’s a gorgeous smile of satisfaction on her lips as I tease her nipples once again.

  When I finally lean over her and take her lips, she cocks her head to one side and gives me full reign to deepen the connection any way I choose.

  I don’t hold back. I kiss her like it’s the last time I’m ever going to see her. I kiss her with all the passion that’s been building in me from the moment I saw her small frame sleeping in her car. I reach for her hands, thread my fingers with hers, and press them into the pillow to emphasize my possession.

  She gives me this and so much more. Her sighs are music. Every noise she makes stirs my cock further.

  When I break the kiss, knowing she needs oxygen, I lower my mouth to reverently kiss both her nipples. I resist suckling them for now, but I need to at least feel the pointed tips against my lips.

  I slowly lift off her, pull her nightie down to her belly, and ease her legs back together. I rise to tug the covers over her and then massage her arms as I move them from above her head to down over the covers. I find Bunny and snuggle the stuffed animal in with her owner.

  She watches me this entire time. When I’m satisfied that she’s comfortable, I lean over and kiss her forehead.

  “Thank you, Sir.” There’s a lilt in her voice.

  I meet her gaze, chuckling.

  “You can add that one to my tally marks.”

  “Oh, I will, sweetie. Count on it.” I cup her face. “Sleep now. I’ll leave your door ajar so I can hear you, okay?”

  “Yes, Sir.” The term of reverence slides off her tongue so easily that I want to yank the covers back down, damn the consequences.

  I don’t though. I find the willpower to leave her room. I even manage to make it to my own room and into my bathroom before my knees threaten to buckle. I lock the door, yank my pants down to my thighs, and grip my cock. It takes about three thrusts before I come all over the bathroom floor.

  The release is incomplete. My cock craves far more than my hand. As if it personally is aware of the hot, willing woman lying in the next room.

  It takes me a few minutes to catch my breath and clean up my mess, and then I turn off the lights and slide into my bed. I’m still gasping for oxygen, and I don’t know how long it takes before I finally fall asleep, but the vision behind my eyes is of the sweet girl in the next room, snuggled with her bunny, her expression one of ecstasy.

  Chapter 14

  Britney

  When I wake up to sun pouring around the edges of the blinds, it takes me far less time to remember where I am than it did yesterday, and then moments later the details of my life all flood back into my mind.

  It’s almost too much to process. The sexiest, kindest, loveliest man I’ve ever encountered gave me the best orgasm of my life last night. Best day ever.

  Countering that is the unavoidable fact that my former boss is trying to sell me, and he will if he can get his hands on me. If only I could ignore that detail. Of course, that event is what led me to Davis in the first place, so it’s hard to prefer it had never happened.

  I’m safe. My boss can’t find me. Davis is not going to kick me out anytime soon.

  As I push to sitting, I stop breathing as another memory rushes in. Did Davis claim me in some primal way last night? He did. He made it very clear that every inch of me was his. What does that even mean to him?

  I shudder as I rise from the bed and then turn around to quickly make it before padding to the bathroom. I don’t care what it means to be his. He’s not wrong. He owns me. Every inch of me. I don’t care that he’s so bossy and dominant that he likes me to call him Sir when he touches me. I’d drop to my knees if I thought it would please him.

  I freeze in front of the bathroom mirror and bring my palm to my forehead. Duh. How naïve could I possibly be? Davis is a Dominant. Like BDSM. Like someone from the fetish community. How did I not realize this sooner?

  Do I care? Not really. It’s hot. He’s so…bossy, and I love it. I don’t know what all he expects from his women, but now I understand better why he keeps putting me off and insinuating there are things about him I don’t know. He’s a Dom.

  At least I understand now. I might need to do a bit of research to fully grasp what’s expected of me, but I’m willing to go down that path, especially if it means Davis will be pleased with me and want to take me completely next time.

  After using the toilet, brushing my teeth and hair, and washing my face, I finally let my gaze roam to the clothing on the counter.

  Pink.

  I smile. Of course, it’s pink.

  I lift the dress from the vanity and hold it up. The material isn’t the soft cotton of yesterday’s dress, the one I’d bought from a thrift store, but it’s obviously expensive and well-made. I finger the row of t
iny white roses along the V-neck and smile. It’s dainty and sweet and pure and everything I never had growing up.

  I set it down to grab the panties first, noticing they are also pink with a tiny white bow in the center. I feel very feminine when I pull them up my legs, and then I sigh as I slide the dress over my head.

  Once again there is no bra, but the spaghetti straps of this dress like the other one would require a strapless bra. That’s not been provided either.

  The row of tiny white roses dips between my breasts. From there begins the pleated pink material that flows out wider until it ends a few inches below my butt.

  I spin around to look at myself in the mirror on the back of the door. It’s so revealing. Sexy. Also youthful. My nipples stiffen with every move that causes the pleats to rub against them. When I bend forward more than a few inches the front of the dress dips to reveal the swell of my breasts. I don’t really have cleavage. At the same time, the hem of the dress lifts too far, exposing my panties.

  I’m going to have to watch myself wearing this dress. No leaning forward. My hair reaches almost to the hem. I’ve never owned anything like this. I feel decidedly feminine and young. As I reach for the bathroom door, I notice a pair of matching pink ballet flats and slip my feet into them. They fit perfectly, of course.

  I feel self-conscious as I slip from my room and shuffle toward the kitchen, the smell of bacon wafting down the hall.

  Davis is standing at the stove, his back to me, but he must sense my arrival because he glances over his shoulder. He’s smiling, but his expression freezes, and he quickly lifts the pan off the burner and sets it aside before spinning all the way around and approaching me.

  I’m nervous and flushed for no good reason. Except that he’s clearly inspecting me from head to toe. Oh, and he saw me totally naked last night and made me come. There is that.

  When he reaches me, he tips my chin back and kisses my lips lightly before releasing me and circling me.