Surrender & Salvation

Ten years ago Skye Monroe left St. Francisville and David Kincaid just as his career was taking off. Now she’s back to take photographs of the bad boy Country superstar on sabbatical as he tries to rehab his image and career. She could have turned down the assignment, but she didn’t. Was it curiosity, the need for closure or something more that brought her home? Whatever the reason, she can’t deny the fire he still ignites within her with just a look, but is she willing to give him another chance?

David Kincaid’s life started to unravel the day he got his record deal, which also happened to be the day Skye Monroe walked out on him. Since then no amount of fame, fortune or women can fill the void she left behind. When she suddenly appears on his door step for a magazine shoot, looking and sexy as ever, he realizes he’s willing to do whatever it takes to win her back. But is it too late to salvage their relationship and what’s left of his career?

Read Part One - Homecoming - here
Read Part Two - Revelations - here
Read Part Three -Memories - here
Read Part Four - Declaration - here
Read Part Five - Surrender - here
Read Part Six - Reciprocity - here
Read Part Seven - The Proposal - here

 

Surrender & Salvation

by

Fiona Summerville

Mine

Santa Monica, CA – One month later.

David glanced at his watch as he stepped off the elevator. Shit! He was late. He should have been home an hour ago. How anyone got anywhere on time in this traffic nightmare of a city, was beyond him. The fact that Skye had survived out here for ten years impressed him. She was one tough, beautiful girl, but the sooner he could talk her into moving back home, the better. She didn’t belong here anymore than he did. He rushed down the corridor towards Skye’s corner unit and slipped the key in the lock, pausing to drop his purchase from Harry Winston into the larger shopping bag from the Western wear store he had discovered in the San Fernando Valley. He smirked as he pushed open the door. She would never look in a bag full of jeans… at least he hoped.

He shut the front door and tossed his keys on the hall table as he called out to her. Getting no response, he heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d beat her home. Unfortunately, his relief was short lived. As he neared the bedroom door, he heard the shower water running, and cursed. Damn! Hastily he deposited the shopping bag in the corner of the closet and smiled softly. Tonight, after they returned from her friend’s birthday party, he’d replace that poor excuse of an engagement ring he’d purchased ten years prior with one that was truly worthy of its recipient. Maybe then she would stop calling it a “promise ring” and make their engagement official. He undressed quickly, and made his way to the steam-filled bathroom.

She hadn’t said “no” when he asked her to marry him last month, but she hadn’t said “yes”, either. It was more of a “let’s play it by ear” maybe, which frustrated the hell out of him. She agreed to take the ring with her, but as he found out when he arrived on her doorstep unannounced two weeks ago, she wasn’t wearing it. She tried to explain it away by saying it would have seemed odd to her friends and co-workers for her to have returned from a short photo assignment in the swamps of Louisiana engaged. After all, when she’d left she hadn’t been seeing anyone, and they knew nothing of her previous relationship with him. He accepted her explanation, but it still smarted, and he convinced himself that it was the size of the diamond and not the “awkwardness” of how the engagement happened that prevented her from wearing the ring. So, the first opportunity he had, he made an appointment with the jeweler at Harry Winston and picked out a proper engagement ring for his beautiful, Skye.

“You’re late,” Skye murmured as he pulled open the shower door.

 “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just not used to driving around in this damned traffic,” he nuzzled her neck, letting the shower water wash over him. “I thought we could save time if I shared your shower.”

He reached around her for the soap, lightly brushing the side of her breast. His cock hardened on contact and Skye gasped as she felt his length press up against her backside. He pulled her back against him and lathered up his hands, then slowly ran them over her breasts, cupping one in each hand as he teased and pinched her taut pink nipples into peaks before continuing down her rib cage.

“David, we’re going to be late,” she whispered, as she leaned into him.

“I know, but I want everyone at that party to see that rosy cheeked glow you get when you’re freshly fucked. Is that so wrong?” He growled into her ear as he rubbed a slick finger over the scorching point of her need before slipping two fingers into her core.

He moaned and bit down softly on her neck as her body tightened around his fingers. He worked them in and out, curling and extending, stroking the most sensitive part of her core, all the while his thumb continued to work her swollen clit. Her stuttering breath told him she was close.

“Come for me, Skye,” he whispered huskily, before thrusting his fingers in one last time. He felt her bear down on him, and she cried out as the orgasm racked her body. He pulled her close, intent on holding her until the spasms of ecstasy subsided.

“David, please. Inside me, now,” Skye whispered, her voice ragged. He smiled.

“Put your hands up on the wall.”

He smirked and gave her a wink as she complied and glanced over her shoulder at him. He leaned forward covering her body with his, stroking his cock as he guided it to the entrance of her core. She hissed as he slowly slipped the broad tip in, pausing for a moment and then withdrawing. He bit back a chuckle when she whimpered at his withdrawal.

“What’s the matter, baby girl? I thought you were worried about us being late,” he whispered as his cock teased and throbbed against her entrance.

“For God’s sake, David. Fuck me. NOW.”

He arched a brow. He’d never heard her growl. He liked it. And, he was more than happy to oblige with her wishes. He plunged into her, pumping her hard and fast. He reached around, and stroked her clit, her muscles tightened around him, and she cried out as she came. She convulsed around him as he continued to pump, once, twice, before reaching his own tempestuous climax. He grasped her around the waist with one arm while bracing himself against the wall with the other as he felt his knees buckle. David rested his head against the cool tiled wall, holding Skye, who was rag doll limp, tightly against him.

When they were both able to stand on their own again, they took their time showering. Once finished, he wrapped her in a towel and carried her to the bed where he fucked her again until he was satisfied that rosy, “just been fucked” look would last the night.

                The party was in full swing by the time they arrived at the pub on Main St. For his part, David was happy they had arrived late. Skye had been sensitive to the fact that the party was being held in a bar and had made it clear that they were just putting in a quick appearance to wish her friend, Linda, a happy birthday before grabbing a late dinner at Il Forno. He had assured her that it was not a problem. Still, the less time he spent in an atmosphere where the pints and shots were free flowing, the better. At least until he was sure he had a handle on his drinking.

                Skye smiled and laughed as she made the rounds and introduced him to her friends. Although she never used the word fiancé or boyfriend when she introduced him, he decided to let it slide, when he noticed she was wearing her engagement ring. Granted, she was wearing it on the middle finger of her left hand and not the traditional ring finger, but he’d take that over her not wearing it at all.

                The time flew by quickly, and when Skye squeezed his hand to signal their imminent departure, he nodded. “Let me just buy a round of drinks and then we’ll head out. Ok by you, baby?” He whispered against her ear.

                “Thank you,” she smiled up at him. “That’s really nice of you to do, David.”

                “Your friends are my friends, and since it seems my friends are intent on nursing one hell of a hangover tomorrow, I feel obligated to contribute to their delinquency,” he chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose before making his way to the bar.

                As he waited for the bartender, David nodded politely at an older, curvaceous redhead on the barstool next to him. She beamed an unfocused smile back at him and turned to face him, leaning forward in an awkward attempt to expose even more of her rather large breasts than were already on display.

                “You’re David Kincaid, aren’t you?” Her words were slurred, but her salacious tone was unmistakable.

                “Yes, ma’am, I am,” he replied, leaning away from her slightly.

                “We met once in Dallas. Actually, I did you once in Dallas,” she tittered loudly enough for the people around them to turn and stare.

                David blanched and shifted uncomfortably as he glanced over his shoulder at Skye who, thankfully, was so engrossed in a conversation with Linda, she completely missed the redhead’s comment.

                "I know a nice little corner of the bar where we can go, and we won't be disturbed while we get…reacquainted,” she reached up and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck as she slipped off the barstool and fell into his arms, knocking over her wine glass in the process.

                David caught the woman as she fell forward and gently set her back on her barstool, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “Ma’am, I think you’ve had a little too much to drink. Can I get you a Coke or something?”

                The redhead shook her vehemently, her hand shooting out and grabbing his crotch. “No, I don’t need a Coke. I just need your coc-.”

                David winced as he slapped the intrusive hand away, and looked up to see Skye staring, slack-jawed at him. Even in the dimly lit bar he could see her eyes welling up with angry tears. His eyes pleaded with hers. Baby, please. It’s no big deal. Just trust me. He crossed the bar to reach her, but she turned and walked away, threading her way to the front door.

                “Skye! Wait!” He yelled over the din as the crowd swallowed her up. Fuck! Not again. She was walking out on him again. He scanned the crowd for her once more. Screw it. This time he was sober, and he was going after her. She had to get over this phobia. Granted the woman just now was way out of line, but he couldn’t have her freaking out every time a woman flirted with him, especially when he wasn’t flirting back.

                He started to move towards the door only to have the troublemaking redhead pull him back. “Let her go, honey. She can’t hold a candle to what I can do for you.”

                “Lady, the girl that just walked out of here because of your stupidity is my fucking universe. Now, let go of me and get out of my way,” he growled as he moved to disentangle himself from the redhead who seemed suddenly to have turned into an octopus.  

                “Seriously, honey. Forget her. Let’s you and me get reacquainted over a couple of shots.”

                “I have a better idea,” Skye’s voice rang out as the crowd parted to let her through. Skye grabbed the woman by the shoulder and spun her around “Why don’t you back off and reacquaint yourself with your barstool?”

                “Piss off, Barbie,” the redhead slurred as she waved Skye off. “Mr. David and I have history.”

                David watched in stunned amazement as Skye cocked a fist and landed a solid left cross on the redhead’s chin, sending her flying. The redhead shrieked as she landed unceremoniously on the sticky barroom floor.

“Whatever drunken bump and tickle you consider “history” means as little to me as it did to him. Now, I know it may be a stretch, but dust your drunk, sorry ass off and try to act like a lady. Oh, and while you’re at it, find your own man,” Skye sneered, before turning to lock eyes with David. “This one's mine. He always has been, and he always will be.”