Convincing Leah (Surrender Book 9)

  Convincing Leah

  Surrender, Book Nine

  Becca Jameson

  Copyright © 2021 by Becca Jameson

  Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. And resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Newsletter

  About the Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Author’s Note

  Also by Becca Jameson

  About the Author

  Join my newsletter to stay up to date on all things Becca Jameson!

  Becca’s Newsletter Sign-up

  About the Book

  Leah

  A childhood reprimand has caused me to be extremely hard on myself.

  To this day, I never misbehave.

  But even my thoughts require absolution, and I get that at the club.

  My favorite release comes in the form of impact play.

  Two nights a week. That’s all I allow myself.

  Many of my friends are little. I get it, but it’s not for me.

  I can’t be little. I was never little.

  I became an adult when I was five.

  I don’t know how to be young. What if I do it wrong?

  Craig

  I’ve wanted Leah from the moment I first saw her.

  I don’t care that she’s not little.

  But I’m a Daddy, through and through.

  After two months of playing exclusively with her at the club, I want more.

  Can I set that part of me aside and be what she needs?

  Her world gets flipped upside down by a crazy fan.

  She needs to tap into her inner little to escape and hide.

  And she needs me to protect and nurture her.

  Can she see I’m here to pick up the pieces no matter where they fall?

  Chapter 1

  Leah

  “You realize he doesn’t scene with anyone else, right?”

  I take a sip of my tea and shrug. “That’s his business,” I tell my best friend Eve.

  Eve chuckles. “You don’t scene with other people anymore either. I’d say your relationship now falls under the umbrella of exclusive.”

  Luckily, the waitress picks this moment to slide our lunches onto the table and ask if we need anything else. It buys me a moment to come up with a response to Eve’s unnerving observation.

  Eve is staring at me with her mischievous grin as the waitress walks away.

  I roll my eyes. “Craig and I aren’t anything. We aren’t in a relationship. We’re both members of Surrender. We meet there once or twice a week and do a scene together. That’s it. Nothing else.”

  “You have chemistry,” Eve points out. “You were a favorite to watch even before Master Craig joined the club. The two of you together are magical to watch.”

  It doesn’t escape my notice that she intentionally called him Master Craig, probably rubbing it in that my relationship with him is more than Dom and sub if I would dare refer to him by his first name. “Thank you. I enjoy our scenes,” I respond.

  “Okay, let’s assume for the sake of argument that you’re not fooling yourself and your relationship is strictly Dom and sub a few hours a week. Why can’t it be more?” Eve stabs a bite of her salad and dips just the corner of the lettuce into her salad dressing.

  I decide to comment on her food habits since I’m about to lift up my burger and take a giant bite, which will have more calories than her entire plate of food. “Your eating habits are beyond fascinating. Do you need to take a picture first to prove to Colton that you got today’s ten servings of vegetables at lunch?” I tease.

  The unfortunate part is that chowing down on a burger won’t do me a bit of good. No matter what I eat, I remain ridiculously skinny. Some people may roll their eyes and groan, wishing they could eat anything and not gain weight, but I’d gladly trade them places for a few curves and some boobs.

  She sets her fork down while chewing her bite to pull out her phone. “Good idea. Maybe he’ll let me have chicken nuggets and mac and cheese for dinner if I prove I hit the rest of the food groups at lunch.”

  I laugh. “I don’t think chicken nuggets and mac and cheese are food groups.”

  “If you’re five they are,” she points out before taking another bite.

  Colton is her Daddy. They have a complicated dynamic, but their agreement concerning food is the most fascinating. Ever since they moved in together—and now recently bought a house together—she is usually little at home. It’s easiest to meet her during her lunch break when she’s in full accountant business attire if I want to speak to her adult self.

  Basically, Eve agrees to eat the healthiest food imaginable at lunch so she can eat like a five-year-old at dinner. She was already living this way before she met him, so nothing really changed except who’s in charge.

  Eve clears her throat. “You dodged my question.”

  “That’s because you already know the answer. Craig is a Daddy through and through. He humors me by doing scenes with me at the club, but we’d never work out long-term because I don’t need to remind you that I’m not little.” I dig into my hamburger.

  Eve swallows another bite. “I think you’re cheating yourself out of an experience. The man is beyond interested in you. It wouldn’t kill you to give his way a try just for giggles.”

  I shudder. “Pretending to be five is not just for giggles, Eve. It’s a serious commitment. I don’t mind turning over my control and submitting to someone for an hour on a Friday night, but outside of that, I prefer to be fully in charge of my life at all times.” I cringe at the thought of someone dominating me in my apartment. Not gonna happen.

  “It’s so liberating,” Eve tells me for the millionth time.

  “It totally suits you. I get that. But whatever is between Craig and me isn’t going there. I hope he doesn’t think if he waits me out, I’ll decide to give age play a try.” I take another bite, but now I’m concerned.

  Eve shrugs. “It’s obvious to everyone that he’s into you, so I’m betting more than likely he’s trying to be what you need, a regular Dom.”

  That may be. I can see her point. The problem is that I don’t need any sort of Dom, not outside the club. Not full-time. I’m a weekend kind of gal. My cravings where BDSM are concerned mostly center around getting spanked so hard that I slide into a delicious headspace that ends with a satisfying orgasm.

  Secret truth—vanilla guys don’t do it for me. They’re too gentle. I get bored. I want more. I want to come home after a scene, slide into bed with a sore butt, and wake up the next morning still feeling the impact.
>
  As far as sex is concerned, I’ve had sex with a few men at Surrender but not often. I haven’t slept with Craig. I’m not opposed to the idea. In fact, I’ve thought about it more than once, but he hasn’t asked me to. He arranges for us to play, spanks me, and gets me off with his fingers. It’s amazing and fulfilling. What more do I need?

  Another truth—I often grab my vibrator the moment I get home and give myself at least two more orgasms to the memory of Craig’s hand on my ass. It’s not difficult since my cheeks are still red hot and stinging.

  Eve waves a hand in front of me and I realize I’ve been in my own world. “Sorry. My mind strayed.”

  She smiles. “I bet it did. Probably to that amazing orgasm Craig gave you Friday night. I saw. It was hot. Has he ever asked you to get together outside of Surrender?”

  I take another huge bite to occupy my mouth, but she smirks the entire time. Eventually, I have to respond. “We talk.”

  Her brows go up. “On the phone?”

  “Yeah. Or FaceTime,” I admit.

  “Oh. Now we’re getting to the juicy parts.” She leans forward, setting her fork down. “You’re holding out on me. Have you met him outside of the club?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “But he’s asked you to and you’ve turned him down. Am I right?”

  I squirm a bit on my chair. “What is this? An inquisition?”

  She laughs. “I know I’m right. So he’s an incredibly patient man who’s willing to wait you out. You better not make him wait too long. Eventually, he’ll give up.”

  She’s right. I’ve thought of this several times. It makes me nervous because I really like him. I wish there was a way to freeze things exactly as they are now. A world in which I meet up with the perfect Dom at Surrender two nights a week, I fulfill my impact play kink, receive a fantastic orgasm, and go about my life as usual.

  Committing to more than that makes my palms sweat. Eve should know this better than anyone. Until she started seeing Colton, she didn’t take her kink out of the club.

  Well, that isn’t entirely true, I remind myself. She did take her kink home. She lived as a little at home all the time, but she didn’t take a Dom or Daddy to her apartment.

  What would I do if Craig decided to give up on me? It would definitely hurt, but I have to expect one day soon he’ll find a little at the club who enjoys submitting to him as a Daddy. That will be the end of our relationship.

  By the time lunch is over, I feel depressed.

  Chapter 2

  Craig

  “How was your lunch with Eve?” I ask Leah as I watch her struggle to get an errant curl clipped on top of her head. We’re on FaceTime. I wonder if she’s aware of how often she attempts to subdue her curls to no avail. Another one just falls forward to replace it.

  Leah’s hair is one of my favorite things about her. It’s long and curly and totally out-of-control. The Daddy in me would love to wash it just so I could comb it out and see how long it is wet. I’d also enjoy braiding it away from her face or putting it in high pigtails that would bounce around her shoulders.

  I shift my weight as the thought makes my cock hard.

  “It was good. Fine.” She shrugs. “It was lunch.”

  I’d love to know if they talked about me, but I won’t ask. There are a million things I never ask Leah because I’m afraid if I say the wrong things or push her, I’ll lose her.

  I’m not delusional enough to think she’s mine in the first place, so I have nothing to lose, but whatever little piece I do have is important.

  “Did you get a lot of writing done today?” I ask to make conversation. Leah is an author. She writes fantasy and sci-fi under a mysterious pen name she hasn’t shared with me yet.

  She sighs. “Not enough. I’m still struggling with the world-building for my next series. I spent most of the day plotting and planning.”

  “Did you pick a title yet?”

  She chuckles and shakes a finger at me. “You think you’re sly and I’ll accidentally fall into one of your traps one day and tell you something that makes it possible to google me. Not gonna happen.”

  I laugh. “I don’t see what the big deal is. Are you ever going to tell me your pen name?” My deeper questions are more intense. Are you ever going to go on a date with me? Are you ever going to tell me where you live? Are you ever going to come to my house? Are you ever going to try being little with me?

  That last question is the million-dollar question and the reason I haven’t pushed her further. Leah insists she isn’t a little. I would never presume to pressure someone to be something they’re not, but in the kink world, people are often a bit flexible about at least trying new things.

  Not in this case. And in my opinion, Leah protests a bit too much. There’s just something about her that makes me think she’s either lying to me or lying to herself. Perhaps it’s just wishful thinking and I’m a fool, but I’m biding my time with her, hoping one of these days she’ll open up more and possibly even give age play a try.

  I’m super clear that I’m a Daddy. But I can dominate Leah or anyone else for that matter any way they enjoy at Surrender. It’s no hardship to lower Leah over a bench and spank her fantastic ass. It’s also no hardship to run my fingers through her pussy every few minutes so that by the time her bottom is on fire, all I have to do is thrust into her and flatten my thumb on her clit to get her off.

  She’s beyond heavenly when she submits and otherworldly when she comes. She has no issues with doing so in front of an audience at Surrender, and that’s a good thing because every time she performs, people gather.

  I rejoined the club a few months ago after Roman asked me to come play bouncer for a few nights to keep an eye on the women, especially the littles. Before that, I hadn’t been going to any club for several years. I’m pretty sure Roman had an ulterior motive. We’ve been friends for many years. He’d been trying to get me to come back to Surrender ever since my divorce five years ago.

  The first night I was there, I watched Leah perform with another Dom. She took my breath away. The woman wrapped me all the way around her finger that first night, and I never even spoke to her.

  It took me a few weeks to ask her to submit to me, and the rest was history. She hasn’t submitted to another Dom since then, nor have I dominated another sub. We don’t have a verbal agreement. It’s just how things have been.

  Leah picks up a pen and chews on the end of it. She does this often. It’s a cute nervous habit that I don’t mention. I wonder if she does it when she’s trying to think of what happens next in one of her novels. I wonder if there are pens all over her apartment with teeth marks on them.

  I wonder if I’ll ever be invited to her apartment.

  “I don’t tell anyone my pen name. Hell, I don’t tell most people what I do for a living,” she points out.

  “Eve knows, right?”

  “Yes. But Eve’s my best friend. She knows a lot of things.” Leah stands up, taking the phone with her as she moves around her apartment. She’s holding the screen in front of her face, but it jiggles enough for me to get an occasional glimpse of her chest.

  I can’t help but look. She’s wearing a white tank top and no bra. She often goes without a bra at home. She doesn’t really need one. She’s about five-six but slender with perfect, pert breasts that fit right in my palm. I know because I have cupped my hands over them many times when she’s restrained to a bench at the club and squirming with need near the end of a scene.

  As she drops down onto the couch and props the phone against her thighs, I get a better look at her chest. Her nipples are hard points straining against the tight tank top.

  I lick my lips and try not to moan. I’m pretty sure she’s oblivious to my plight.

  A moment later, she spins so that she’s lounging longways on her couch, holding the phone up higher and ruining my view. “How was your day?” she asks. “Did you make headway on the hardwood floors?”

  “Yep. I
rented a sander and managed to strip the hallway. Tomorrow I’ll stain and seal it. I’m getting too old for this kind of labor. Not sure why I didn’t just pay someone to do it.” I’ve been retired from the military for two years. I’ve done a few odd jobs now and then to keep busy but I’ve mainly been focused on remodeling my home. I left the hallway for last, choosing to rip out the carpet and refinish it this week.

  Leah giggles. “You’re not old, and I know you love doing the work. That’s why you don’t pay someone else.”

  I smile at her. “I’m old compared to you. Forty-five. Fifteen years your senior.” But she’s right. I enjoy working with my hands. The remodel has been satisfying and keeps me busy. I’m not sure what I’m going to do to occupy my time now that I’m in the home stretch.

  It’s been so gratifying learning all about home remodels that part of me feels like I should sell the house, buy a fixer-upper, and do it again. It’s not a bad idea. On the other hand, I love this house now that I have it exactly how I want it.

  She rolls her eyes. “Forty-five is not old. Stop it. Even if you are old enough to be my father,” she jokes.

  I can’t restrain my reaction. My eyes widen and there’s no way to stop my next words from sliding into the conversation. “Though I did have sex with my high school girlfriend, I was eighteen, practically a late bloomer. Not fourteen. I have no interest in being your father, but you know if you’re ever looking for a Daddy, I’m your guy.”