Queen of the Knight (Surrender Games Book 2)

by Lydia Michaels

  Startled by how strongly her body reacted to him, she loosened her hold of his clothes and blushed. She was practically panting beneath him, her body tight and needy.

  Embarrassed she’d come at him so desperately, she turned her face away and blinked at the fading horizon.

  “Isadora, it’s okay. I just don’t want to rush anything,” he whispered.

  She shut her eyes and swallowed, not used to acting aggressive. “Sorry. It’s been a while.”

  “How long?” His voice was gentle.

  “Close to a year.” God, why was she telling him that? “Sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. It’s been a while for me, too. I just don’t want to rush things.”

  She nodded, doing her best to quell the pent up need raging inside of her.

  His fingers gently cupped her jaw, angling her face so she faced him again. Slowly, he bent and brushed his lips against hers, cautiously, as if he didn’t want to get swept away.

  Her body shook as she struggled to slow her impulses, not expecting this level of attraction. His hand dragged from her sleeve to her wrist and his fingers loosely entwined with hers.

  He eased over her, raising her arm and pressing it into the blanket. Her breasts lifted, the tips hardening beneath her clothing, shamelessly begging for attention.

  “Slow,” he whispered, dragging his lips over hers.

  He kissed her jaw, her throat, her mouth, never letting his pace turn greedy, but rather, savoring her, learning her quiet responses. She became a quivering mess of anticipation but tried her best to let him set the pace.

  The press of his warm palm burned through the material of her blouse as his fingers curled around her ribs where her cardigan had shifted away. She arched as he kissed down the side of her throat, her legs tangling with his.

  The moment he lowered his weight fully over her she moaned, pressing her breasts into his firm chest and gripping his side.

  He chuckled, moving that curious hand to rest with the other one above her head on the blanket. “Easy,” he said again. “Slow.”

  She blinked at him, unable to recall a time when she’d been the antagonist. His nose teased the hair tangled by her ear until it fell behind her shoulder. He nudged her jaw with his chin, softly scraping her skin with stubble, as his lips traveled to her collarbone.

  Her legs twisted, finding their way outside of his only to have him trap them between his knees again. He pressed into her, the bulge of his arousal abrading the central point where her thighs clamped tight.

  Her breath quickened as she realized he had her completely pinned. She was at his mercy and knowing that made her want him all the more.

  “Please, Parker…”

  His mouth curved against her collarbone where her blouse had loosened. He dragged his body over hers, a slow implication of what he wanted. “Please, what?”

  Never in her life had she asked a man to lay his hands on her. Yet something inside of her demanded she beg him.

  “Touch me.”

  Easing back, he stared at her, dragging a knuckle over her shirt, down the shallow valley of her breasts to her belly. She sucked in and angled her hips toward the earth, lifting her chest.

  His fingers slowly tugged the tie of her blouse and humid air met her heated skin. Her nipples pebbled beneath the lace of her bra.

  Straddling her hips, he brushed a tender finger down her cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” He stared at her body, lines of tension forming around his eyes. “We should wait, Isadora. We don’t have to rush anything.”

  She shook her head. “You’re not rushing me.”

  His touch never left her body. It trailed over her shoulder, straying closer and closer to the slope of her breasts and the scalloped lace of her bra. The back of his fingernails tripped over the material, and she sighed with need as he teased her skin.

  “I want to put my mouth on every inch of you.” He dragged his thumb over the tip of her nipple.

  Please do…

  She was utterly spellbound. Every look, caress, and breath made her want him more than she had only seconds ago.

  Sliding lower, he bent and slowly licked along the edging of her bra and she gasped. He spread little kisses on her warm flesh, and his lips closed over her taut, lace-covered nipple, pulling softly.

  She couldn’t take anymore.

  Pulling her hands from the space above her head, she sifted her fingers through his hair and held him there. His fingers tugged at the strap of her bra, pulling it with her blouse to her elbows, exposing her bare breasts.

  He captured the tip of her nipple in his hot mouth and sucked hard. Her toes pointed as her hips rocked into the blanket, his body grinding heavily against hers. He released her breast and moved to the other—hard, almost greedily groping her tender flesh—sliding his arm beneath her back and lifting her closer to his mouth.

  Her fingers gathered the bulk of his sweater, pulling until she felt the burn of his skin beneath her fingertips. Her nails scraped up his back and he groaned, releasing her nipple and taking her mouth in a deep kiss.

  His tongue dueled with hers as they rolled to their sides. Her legs now free, she hooked her knee over his hip and pressed her body to his. His strong hand cupped her backside as he pressed against her, holding her to him.

  The fingers of his other hand teased the waist of her jeans until the button came undone. Wedging his hand behind the silk of her panties, his fingers traced her wet folds, sending shivers up her spine as he grazed her slit.

  He released his hold on her backside, rolling her to the blanket so she was once again beneath him. He tugged at her fitted jeans, his mouth falling onto her breasts as his fingers found their way past the seam of her sex.

  She could barely part her thighs with the denim bunched around her knees. He seemed content to simply pet her there, hardly penetrating.

  There was something considerably erotic about his gentle touch, the steady brush of his masculine fingers over feminine softness. The longer he teased her, the more she wanted to feel him inside of her.

  The broad tip of his finger grazed her clit and she moaned with need. Frantic with wanting, she slid her hand into the back of his pants and gripped his hip. He groaned and finally slid his finger deep inside of her.

  She gasped, arching, as he slowly pumped. Her hand withdrew from the back of his jeans and searched anxiously for his zipper, finding the button already undone as his arousal pressed hard against the constricting waist of his pants.

  She fed her hand into the cramped space and closed her fingers around his thick flesh and he froze.

  His finger remained buried deep inside of her, hers wrapped tightly around his arousal. He blinked, his pupils larger than usual. They seemed to be on the verge of something significant.

  “We should stop,” he rasped.

  “What if I don’t want to?” Would he become another man deciding for her?

  “I wouldn’t be upset if you wanted to stop, Isa. It would suck, but if we slowed down I’d understand. It’s up to you.”

  He’d never know how much she appreciated hearing him say it was her choice. But at the same time, she suffered such uncertainty she had no clue how to decide for them.

  This was their first date. She’d waited for something like twenty dates with Tyrian. Maybe they should stop. But she didn’t want to stop. Everything they were doing felt incredible and she wanted more.

  Recklessly, she whispered, “Do you have a condom?”

  His lips tightened for a moment. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His gaze shifted away. “I want to be with you, but not because we have everything we need. I’d rather it be because it’s something we both want. Don’t rest your decision on the availability of a condom.”

  Here she was trying to have sex and he was being all logical about everything—and ridiculously sweet. “The closest store’s only about ten minutes from here. It’s probably open.”


  He laughed. “You’re a determined little thing.”

  She smiled. “I’m not usually like this. It must be you.”

  His nostrils flared, his eyes—back on her—darkened and he kissed her hard. His finger pumped and she moaned into his mouth, her hand stroking purposefully.

  Sliding another finger deep, he stretched her, more than she was used to, but she liked it, didn’t want him to stop.

  It had been so long since anyone touched her. Her body seemed ultra-sensitive. The strum of his thumb over her clit had her gasping, rolling toward a fast finish with little effort.

  He scooted lower, freeing her hold on him as he kissed her hip and pushed her jeans to her ankles. She kicked them away and he opened her thighs, his mouth lowering. Using both hands he parted her folds, spreading her wide as his tongue speared into her.

  “Ah, yes!”

  He kissed and licked her tender flesh, pressing a finger deep with forceful thrusts, as his mouth closed over her clit. Her knees lifted as she moaned, her cries lost in the wind racing over the vacant beach.

  Her feet pressed into the blanket, lifting her body to him. Her hands burrowed in his soft hair as she greedily took the pleasure he expertly gave.

  Faster, his fingers pumped, the damp slide of his touch an erotic tempo that egged her on. His mouth tightened as he doubled his efforts, crooked his fingers, and then—bliss.

  Her hearing buffeted, deafened by the beat of her heart, the crash of the ocean, and her sobs of pleasure. Her vision winked against the hazy sky as her entire body quaked in a release so strong it shook her to the core.

  Tiny aftershocks trembled through her as she caught her breath. Parker’s soft hair teased her belly as he pressed his cheek to her stomach and panted.

  “Isadora,” he whispered after a few minutes of recovering.

  “Hmm?” Her voice was hoarse and her throat dry. Granules of sand clung to her damp skin.

  “I have a condom, but I think we should wait. I don’t want to spoil whatever this is.”

  Now that the burning fever had somewhat broken, she was thinking a little clearer. Perhaps sleeping together on their first date wasn’t the wisest choice. They should know each other better.

  She was grateful he had the honor to remind her several times that there was no rush and it was her choice. She wasn’t sure what was right and what was wrong when it came to healthy relationships, so she decided to wait—at least until their second date.

  “That’s probably a good idea.”

  He kissed her belly and drew the edges of her blouse together. Reaching for her jeans, he untangled them, separating the silk from the denim and slid her panties up her still unsteady legs.

  His cheeks were flushed as he smiled at her, his hair windblown and wildly sexy. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss over the silk at her apex and stood.

  “I’m going to walk down to the water for a minute to cool off.”

  She glanced at him, feeling like the most selfish lover in the world. “Are you sure you’re fine with waiting?”

  He bent and brushed a kiss to her lips then laughed. “The right choice is usually the most difficult. So, yeah, I’m sure. Just give me a couple minutes.”

  She watched as he walked to the wet sand, pausing where the water rushed at his feet. The tide had risen and was nearing their moat.

  She stood and brushed off the sand that had transferred from the blanket to her legs then stepped into her jeans. Righting her blouse and sweater, she watched him as he stared out at the fading horizon.

  His unkempt brown hair and broad shoulders formed a perfect silhouette against the skyline. His jeans were worn and wrinkled and the hem of his shirt stuck out beneath his sweater. She definitely preferred this Parker to the one in a tuxedo.

  More than the interesting conversations they shared or the fact that he’d planned a perfect date, there was something undeniably unique about him. Special. Every moment she spent with him seemed to prove that again and again.

  With Tyrian, there had been an ease that didn’t come with Sawyer—the convenience of acceptability. He fit appropriately into her life, so much so that even when she no longer wanted him there she felt like the bad guy for breaking up with him. No one understood why she’d prefer to be alone than with a merely adequate partner.

  Then there was Sawyer. Sawyer was everything taboo and hungry inside of her, all the things others never suspected she felt. But he was also her secret—just as she was his. And over the years that secret changed to a dirty one, tarnished and bent where it had once been beautifully flawless. They rarely went on dates and, on the few occasions they did venture out, it was always to some obscure place off the grid.

  She felt herself frown. Her thoughts of Sawyer seemed altered, like a treasured keepsake suddenly tarnished beyond repair.

  Since meeting Parker, the idea of Sawyer and her relationship with him seemed tainted. Was that because of Parker or simply timing?

  Parker wasn’t like Tyrian or Sawyer. He wasn’t going to be easily accepted, but she didn’t care—neither did he.

  He seemed genuinely interested in her as a person, like she was her own entity, already interesting enough. He had the ease and the hunger, all in one. But he was also clever and sweet, and somehow sturdier than what she was used to.

  Last week, when her brother threatened him, he’d been about to back off, but then decided against it, implying she was worth pursuing, opposition be damned. And Lucian was no minor threat to brave.

  The fleeting thought drifted through her head that this might all be to spite her brother, but she shoved it away, feeling ridiculous for even considering such a notion. Her brother was an obstacle, not a provocation.

  Parker saw something in her worth going after, even if it meant confronting the indomitable Lucian Patras. And that was probably the first time a man ever made her feel truly worthwhile. In a way, it was sad he was the first to do it.

  Parker slowly walked back to the blanket, inspecting how their castle was holding up along the way. He grinned when their gazes snagged. Wearing a pleasant smile, he strolled closer.

  “Better?” she asked, sitting up on the blanket and finishing the last of the wine.

  He looked so adorably casual, like a candid picture that perfectly captured his easy demeanor. “Better.”

  “I had a really great day with you, Parker.”

  “I had a great day with you. I’d like to take you out again. Soon.”

  “Please do.”

  He stole another grape and they bagged up the remainder of food. Strolling down to the bank, they rinsed all the sand tools and packed them away.

  On their last trip back to the blanket, they stilled as a large wave smacked against the shore and rushed up the beach. She grinned widely as water funneled into their moat and traveled rapidly along the path they’d carved, filling the trench.

  “We should take a picture before it washes away.”

  He reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone. Finding the perfect angle, he snapped several shots, catching the fading sky in the backdrop.

  “The pictures do it no justice.”

  She crowded close as he thumbed through the images, showing her each one. “Will you send them to me?”

  “Of course, but we need a selfie to go with them. A memento of our first date.”

  “I hate pictures of myself.”

  “Why? You’re gorgeous.”

  Her cheeks heated. “That’s sweet, but I’m plain.”

  “No, you’re not. Here.” He held out his phone and snapped a picture of her, but she wasn’t ready. “Look at you.” He turned the screen toward her so she could see.

  She hadn’t had enough time to smile. Her eyes were cast upward and her lips were slightly parted. Her hair was a straggly, windblown mess and her nose and cheeks wore a splotch of new freckles from the sun.

  “You’re breathtaking,” he whispered, placing a kiss on her temple. “I’m keeping that one for myself
.”

  Her chest warmed again as he draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer, this time standing beside her when the flash shuttered.

  But she wasn’t looking at the camera that time either. No. She was staring up at the man who made her feel things she couldn’t recall ever feeling before.

  Chapter Five

  “There could not have been a lovelier sight;

  but there was none to see it except a little boy”

  J.M. Barrie

  Peter Pan

  Parker didn’t give her time to wonder if he was interested. He showed her in every gesture, every call, and every kind word.

  They didn’t meet on a specific day of the week or even put much thought into the routine of their plans. He contacted her often, inviting her with him to run an errand or grab something to eat, but she was more than just filler in his free time. She was a spontaneous part of his days, an ever-present thought in his mind, just as he was in hers.

  They often did things she wasn’t sure typical adults did. They walked the zoo, fed the ducks in the park, and randomly visited pet stores to play with orphaned puppies. She loved being with him, unsure if she’d ever felt so alive and free with anyone else.

  With Parker, things never went as expected and that was, for once, a good thing. The most endearing quality he had was his playful side.

  He loved to tease her, something she wasn’t used to but grew quite fond of. Every day with Parker was full of laughter and the nights… The nights were always riddled with wanting, making every date a lesson in anticipation.

  “I will have the filet, medium rare, and the lady will have a lemon.”

  Isadora paused from perusing her menu and glanced from Parker to the confused waiter. Did he just order me a lemon?

  “A lemon, sir.”

  “Yes, one lemon—as a matter of fact, make it three.”

  The waiter blinked at him with evident misunderstanding. “Will there be anything with the lemons?”

  “Just the steak and lemons for now.”

  It was amazing that he could keep a straight face. Isadora wasn’t as gifted at holding her composure so she covered her mouth with her fist, trying not to laugh.