The Billionaire’s Desire (His Submissive #9)(2)
Author: Ava Claire

Claudia followed my line of sight then leaned in, lowering her voice. "Good riddance."

I gave her another squeeze, shaking the last remnants of the negativity off and concentrated on being happy. This was how you were supposed to feel after the love of your life asked you to marry them. Like you were bursting at the seams with awesomeness and incapable of doing anything but smiling.

She pulled back, giving me a toothy grin that rivaled the gold comb that held back her chestnut hair. "I’m so happy for you, dear!" She held my gaze, searching and making sure I heard every word that came next. "And you deserve this–don’t let anyone tell you any different."

I could seriously hug her again and not let go. A bunch of people that could barely spare more than a nod in my direction before tonight had been gushing about how happy they were and while I’d thanked every single one, finally happy to have a few precious moments where I wasn’t on the outside looking in, it was a bittersweet kind of joy. If Jacob hadn’t popped the question here, would they still breeze past like I didn’t exist?

And there I was being negative again. I didn’t want to think about the what if’s…not when the actualities were much more pressing. Like the fact that I was engaged. "I’m just…overwhelmed…and elated…and in complete shock!"

She nodded with a knowing gleam in her eyes. Paired with her wedding ring and a plethora of pictures in her office with a smiling man who looked like she was the sun, moon, and everything in between, I knew she was married and knew all too well the rush of emotion I was flooded with. "It was a lovely proposal, Leila–and I’m sure the wedding will be amazing too."

The wedding…oh my gosh! Would we do something big and over the top? Something small and intimate? Something in the city or something destination-y? And then there was the guest list…I was out of breath just thinking about it.

She laughed at my wide eyes. "Just enjoy being engaged. Let the wedding planner worry about everything else."

It was a little too late for that. I couldn’t help but run through my mental checklist. I had to call my mom and Megan and tell them. I doubted anyone at the party would let it slip to the paparazzi, but Rachel would delight in it, probably spinning some ridiculous reason on why I didn’t have a ring. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to ward off the headache that I knew was on its way.

But an electric current shot through me instead, silencing the nerves as Jacob glanced in my direction. Those thick, perfectly shaped lips curled into a smile that melted me into a sticky puddle on the terrace.

We were getting married.

He kept his eyes on me, shaking hands as he made his way through the crowd, turning my worries into whispers and my insides into jelly. I knew that look. It stripped me down without lifting a finger. It made thinking about anything but our na**d bodies doing naughty things together all but impossible.

I bit my lip as he stepped up beside me, flashing Claudia a smile that was a little more genuine than the one he’d been passing out to everyone else.

"Congratulations Mr. Whitmore," Claudia said brightly.

"Thank you Claudia." Jacob put a hand on the small of my back and I shivered, turning red for a whole different reason. His fingertips pressed into the paper-thin silk of my blouse and my body hummed in anticipation of getting back home and having our own private celebration. But when he drew his fingertips up and down my spine, I found myself entertaining wild thoughts like dropping my hand to his crotch and stroking him. Teasing him like he was teasing me.

"Could you excuse us?” Jacob said, already steering me toward the door. “I still have another surprise for my fiancé."

My heart swelled at the sound of the word. Fiancé.

He led me back into the building, making a sharp left down the hallway that led to the elevators. Each stroke of his hand made it harder to walk because the lust whipping in my belly was getting impatient.

When his hand dropped to my rear end, my mouth flew open in surprise. "Jacob–"

What came next was cut off as he yanked me down a side corridor and pushed me back against the wall, claiming my mouth. My eyes were open, shock leaving me rigid. We weren’t that far from the terrace. Eyes wouldn’t even have to pry to see us.

I put a hand on his chest, our lips separating. I could still taste him there and it threw gasoline on the need flaring inside of me. We didn’t have concrete and brick separating the executive floor and muffling the sounds of our activities. There was no locked door or an unspoken order that told people to mind their business. I wanted to make sure he knew what he was getting started before we reached the point of no return.

“Here?” I asked in a tiny, breathy voice.

It was just us down a side hallway, right around the corner from the festivities. Jacob’s hand was up my skirt, fingertips digging into my thigh. His bright blue eyes narrowed in displeasure at the fact that I’d tapped the brakes at all.

I wanted him; needed to feel his mouth on me as his fingers roamed over my body, but the gossips at Whitmore and Creighton already had something new to whisper about. If someone stumbled on us getting it on…

He didn’t answer my question the first time so I asked again, swallowing hard. "Jacob, are you sure because–"

"Look at me."

I knew I was in trouble before I even tipped my eyes to his. In his glare I found my answer–along with the steely irritation of a man who knew exactly what he wanted…and didn’t like to be questioned.

"I want you. I’m going to take my fingers and sink them inside of you right here because you are mine. Period."

The ragged edge of his words spread over me, the tingle of need settling between my thighs.

Well, if you insist…

****

Jacob’s gaze laid my concerns about teetering too close to full-out exposure to rest. Worrying about someone cutting around the corner, getting an eyeful of the two of us christening the wall? Please. Jacob Whitmore could care less if we were a little close to the festivities. As far as he was concerned, the apocalypse could be going down just outside, the whole world burning around us and it didn’t matter. We were on fire. Him and me. And when the lust built to a fever pitch, taking me over, I didn’t care either.

He came forward on a mission, pressing me backward until I was pinned to the wall. Even behind his two-piece suit I knew the lines of his body. They were committed to memory, tucked safely away and ready to play on loop whenever he moved. Drawing the eye to the part of him that I knew well.

I reached out, my hands running up and down the front of his button down shirt. My lips quivered with the rise and fall of his chest. The tightly corded muscles I grazed…it was mine. All mine.