Deep Surrendering (Episode Three) by Chelsea M. Cameron Page A

watch
Casablanca
in pajamas with you? More difficult.
    “I’m sure. Let’s just enjoy our time, okay?” I leaned my head on his chest and breathed him in.
    He didn’t answer, but I felt his fingers in my hair and he didn’t have to.
     

     
    For a Tuesday, the place was busy, with a line of people out the door and spilling onto the sidewalk. Everyone was dressed in their dancing best. There was lots of skin and lots of sparkle, even on some of the guys.
    Fin exited the car and held his hand out for me, and I slid out of the car, grateful for the shorts I had on under my skirt. I thought we would walk toward the back of the line, but Fin had a quick word with one of the bouncers. I swore I saw money exchange hands, and before I could take a breath of outside air, Fin was taking me inside.
     

     
    Everyone took notice of Fin. It wasn’t just my imagination. The crowd parted for us as he towed me toward the bar to get a drink, and the bartender served him immediately, despite there being several other patrons begging for his attention.
    Seeing people react to him did give me some validation that I wasn’t alone in being affected by him. Maybe it was some sort of magic. A spell put on the men in his family by a witch hundreds of years ago. There wasn’t another way to explain it. He was gorgeous, yes, but it was something more than that. Something commanding about his presence. Impossible to ignore.
    He ordered me a Blue Hawaiian without even asking me what I wanted.
    “You remembered,” I said as he handed me my drink and sipped at his Whiskey Sour. “You remembered what I ordered the first time we went out.” I had to yell a little bit because the techno beat was so strong and the bass was cranked all the way up.
    “Of course I do. I remember just about everything about that night. What you were wearing and what we talked about. I don’t think I could forget it if I tried.”
    “I know exactly what you mean,” I said, and he leaned down to hear me.
    “What?”
    “I said, I know exactly what you mean.”
    He nodded and someone bumped me from behind, and I almost spilled my drink down his front. He grabbed my arm and held me close.
    He leaned down and put his mouth to my ear. “Don’t want you getting bruised. At least not by anyone but me.” His voice was low, but I heard it, even over the insanity of the club.
    “Kidding. I was kidding,” he said quickly, but I wondered if he really was. He’d spanked me and fucked me hard, but I knew enough about the type of activities he’d done before to know that bruises and welts were par for the course. Light spanking was one thing, but I didn’t know if I was ready for bruises and welts. How could that be pleasurable? I didn’t get it.
    “Marisol?” I’d been lost in thought for a moment.
    “Sorry, just thinking.” His forehead creased in concern and I gulped my drink, nearly choking on it.
    “You okay?”
    I nodded, wiping my mouth with the napkin provided with the drink.
    “Are we going to be dancing? Or do you just like the atmosphere?” I asked. Fin moved well, but I hoped that would translate to the dance floor. Plenty of men seemed like they would be good dancers, but when push came to shove, those expectations were shattered by reality. And not in a good way.
    “Do you doubt my dancing abilities?”
    “I wouldn’t dare.” Tipping my head back, I downed the rest of my drink and slammed my empty glass on the bar. He did the same, but this time I led him through the crowd toward where bodies crushed and gyrated against one another.
    Confident in my dancing ability, I backed up until my back was up against his front, and his hands held onto my hips, his fingers digging into my skin through the fabric of my skirt. My face grew hot from the combination of the alcohol and the contact with Fin.
    He tucked himself around me, and the song changed as if it had been waiting for us.
    The beat was blindingly fast, and Fin waited for me to set the pace