Beauty from Surrender

"Anything you want. How about the day after tomorrow? Then you can be back to have the weekend to rest before you're in the studio Monday."



"Let's do it."



I've never been to Las Vegas. Until I started touring with Southern Ophelia, Australia and New Zealand had been the extent of my travels—and those were on someone else's dime. I guess this trip is too, but I don't feel quite so dependent. I could afford this trip if Jack Henry would let me pay. But he won't because that's just how he is.



We check into our hotel and of course, he's booked the most luxurious suite they have—the presidential, I'm certain. It's enormous and the decor is extravagant with no shortage of luxurious furnishings in shades of gold and taupe. The bathroom is majestic in matching tones of gold and the frisky girl inside me can't wait to see what Jack Henry comes up with for us to do in the gigantic jetted tub the size of a small swimming pool.



Maybe we should stay more than two days. I can see how this could be relaxing. Maybe I shouldn't be in such a hurry to get back since Jack Henry and I can have way more fun in that double shower with a gazillion faucet heads than in my apartment's small fiberglass tub.



"What do you want to do first?" I'm hoping he'll say we'll soak in the tub together. We haven't done that in so long.



He taps me on the end of my nose. "You, my dear, have an appointment in fifteen minutes."



"For what?"



"A little well-deserved pampering. I scheduled you an hour and a half in the spa for all those girlie things you like so much, and then an hour with a masseuse—a woman, per my request. I don't want any man putting his hands on you, especially your back. That's mine and no other man touches it."



It's a back, not a vagina. "You can be such a caveman sometimes."



"I won't argue with that." He puts his arms around my waist and I feel his warm breath against my ear as he huskily says, "I'm going to have you on that table in my wine cave again one day, but next time, I'm fucking you until you scream."



"I think I recall some screaming at some point," I remind him.



"Yeah, but not the kind I have in mind for next time."



"Promise?"



"Abso-fucking-lutely." He grabs both of my butt cheeks and playfully growls. "Now, get your perfect little bum downstairs for some pampering."



"Yes, sir."



He kisses the side of my face where I'm still sporting a dark bruise. "I have a conference call so I'll be here in the room tending to business back home if you should need me for any reason."



"Okay."



"Enjoy yourself."



As if there's a chance I wouldn't. "Don't worry. I have a feeling I will."



I enter the spa and the receptionist heads me off before I can say a word. "Mrs. McLachlan?"



I'm taken aback by the Mrs. part. I'm used to being called Miss McLachlan, but I like the sound of it so much that I don't correct her. "Yes."



"We are ready for you. Right this way."



I follow the small brunette into a room at the back of the spa. She places a velour robe on the chair as she directs me on what we'll be doing. Once I'm changed, I'm taken to a private room where the magic begins.



I'm mannied, peddied, scrubbed, and buffed to perfection. My hour and a half ends too soon but then I'm taken to another room where I'm placed face down on a table and draped only across my bottom.



I've never had a massage but I see why Jack Henry wouldn't want a masseur for me. I'm all but naked.



The next hour flies entirely too quickly, but I'm feeling refreshed and relaxed when I leave. I pass several shops in our hotel lobby as I'm walking toward the elevator. Something in the window of a shop catches my eye—a showgirl costume.



It's a black bustier, trimmed in red with a bow sitting directly between the breasts. There are black and red feathers forming a skirt across the back and a small matching headpiece. The look is complete with black fishnet stockings. It's hot. He'd love it.



Hmm…I brought lingerie with me but that sort of stops being a surprise when I wear it every time. There's no way he'd be expecting to see me looking like a burlesque showgirl.



When in Vegas…



I go inside the boutique for a closer look and a saleswoman immediately asks how she can help me.



I point to the costume in the window. "How much is this?"



"Umm…I believe it's fifteen hundred."



Shit! Fifteen hundred bucks for that tiny little outfit? I'm still not used to having extra money to spend, so it feels like a lot to blow on something like that. I stand there looking at it and although it's the most ostentatious purchase I'll have ever made, I want it for my caveman. "I'll take it."



I ease the door open and hold it as it closes. I want to sneak inside the suite without Jack Henry knowing so I can hide my purchase. I hear him talking in the living room, so I tiptoe past the doorway and then make a run for the bedroom. I quickly look around, searching for the perfect hiding spot. Rats. There's not a lot of hiding places so I opt for putting it on the shelf in the closet. Maybe he won't have reason to go digging around in there.



I nonchalantly walk out of the bedroom into the living room and Jack Henry notices me. He's talking to Clyde from the Chalice Vineyard but motions with his hand for me to join him on the couch. He inspects my nails and removes my sandals so he can see my toes better. I giggle when he brings my foot to his mouth and sucks my big toe, all while never missing a beat as he talks business.



That is so damn hot.



I feel that familiar stirring deep down in my groin when he gives me those eyes—the ones that tell me he wants to do something very naughty to me as soon as he's finished with his conference call—but I want to save it all for tonight when I'm wearing my surprise for him. I turn my head from side to side and give him the I don't think so finger shake.



He counters with a slow nod and a look of determination. He hates when I tell him no, but he's just going to have to not like it because I'm saving all my love for tonight. I want his anticipation to be at its highest. "No," I whisper. "There will be none of that until later."



"That sounds good, Clyde. I'll call you in a few days and we'll discuss it further."



I know he's cutting off his call sooner than he would have because of my rejection. "And just why not?"



"You're not the only one who can come up with surprises. I have plans for you later tonight, mister, and they don't include getting it on right now."



"Getting it on," he laughs. "I call it getting off."



"Getting on. Getting off. Whatever you want to call it, we're not getting any right now. You're waiting."



"I don't like waiting," he whines, still sexy as hell.



"Well, tough. You are because I said so." I must remain firm and resist anything he throws my way. "But just think…it'll be so damn good when you finally get it."



"I don't want to think about how damn good it'll be. If I do, I'll get hard with no relief in sight," he complains.



"You're right. Don't think about it." I kiss him quickly. "I'm going to get ready."



"So I can't join you in there?"



I knew he'd try. "No."



"Shit, Laurelyn. You're being pretty cold to the guy who just had you pampered for two and a half hours."



"It'll be worth it. I promise."



"I'm holding you to that." And I have no doubt he will.



"I would expect nothing less."



I walk into the suite's living room, ready for the night. I'm wearing a black one-shouldered minidress and mile-high fuck-me pumps. Yep. They're definitely devil shoes but I'll gladly take the discomfort because I love the way Jack Henry looks at me when I wear them.



I'm also wearing my diamond star pendent because I never take it off and the diamond stud earrings he gave me the night we went to the opera. I reach up to touch them as I enter the room and I'm reminded of some fond memories at the Opera House.



"Baby, you look so fucking hot." See? Another example of how he adds fucking to a sentence and makes my panties want to melt away.



"Thank you."



"But you're missing something," he hints.



I've fallen for this trick in the past, but I know what it means when he says that. He has a gift for me—an expensive one—and I feel the little girl in me jumping up and down impatiently to see what her present is. "What do you have for me?"



He walks over to the coffee table and picks up a long skinny black box. "I had this made for you." He pops it open and inside is one of the most beautiful diamond bracelets I've ever seen. "It's beautiful."



It's a continuous pattern of diamond stars, identical to my pendant, alternating with infinity symbols. "It's beautiful."



"Do you want to guess the significance?" He does that—always giving me jewelry with significance.



"I understand the stars but I don't know what the infinity sign is about."



"It symbolizes two different things. First, you always use your finger to trace an imaginary infinity symbol when you're nervous about something."



I had no idea I did that. "I do?"



"Yes. And the second part symbolizes my love for you. It's infinite—limitless and impossible to measure." I run my finger over one of the infinity links.



He doesn't have a lot of competition but this is by far the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me. "My love for you is endless and you never cease to amaze me." I suddenly feel very guilty for denying him what I know he wants. "I'll get naked for you right now if that's what you want. I won't make you wait until later."



"I didn't take you for one to bend so easily to my will, Miss McLachlan," he laughs.