The Billionaire’s Desire (His Submissive #9)(3)
Author: Ava Claire

But he only let the contact last for a moment that slipped through my fingers. He gripped my wrists and pulled them down to my sides, his hold firm enough to snap me from ogling his chest. I stuck my lips out stubbornly because I knew the gesture, well versed in the silent order he was giving. He was telling me all in good time. It was obvious he wanted this, wanted me so badly that he couldn’t wait one second more to have me. To trust him.

And I did trust him. I willingly submitted to him more times than I could count. But tonight, with the proposal and him so deliciously close, it was hard to obey and keep my hands at my side. My fingers tingled at the thought of touching his jaw, trailing down the hard ridges of his abdomen, dipping toward the dark tangle that led to the solid, bulging part of him.

Or maybe my fingers were tingling because his grip tightened, decreasing circulation.

I expected to see him glaring down at me sternly, seconds away from reminding me that I was his to do with as he pleased. But it was longing that turned his eyes molten, melting the mask he worked so hard to hold onto. He was turned on by my feistiness. The spark of disobedience in my eyes. And if the way he was staring at my chest was any indication, he didn’t have a spanking in mind.

He released my wrists and even though I ached to wrap my hands around him, I kept them at my side as he reached for my chest. When he rounded the curves, my ni**les pierced their lacy bondage. They were a slave to arousal, unable to listen to any command other than the lust he invoked.

He spoke, his voice low and sexual. “I want to rip your clothes off. Take one of those beautiful…” His voice trailed off, but his actions filled in the blanks. His thumb flicked my swollen peak and it pulsed against the stimulation. There was something savage in the way he gazed at me and it made my pulse quicken, wondering if he’d actually tear my clothes to shreds.

But his hands drew up until he cupped the sides of my face, pausing to look at me with something indiscernible in his gaze.

He commanded my vision. I took in his aquiline features: his aristocratic nose, the perfectly chiseled jaw, eyes impossibly blue. In that blue he showed me what all those deep, soulful looks we’d shared since he popped the question meant. He made love to me with his eyes and I parted my lips, turning his name into a fevered prayer. For strength. For more.

"Jacob…"

He took the sides of my face and his full lips gripped mine. The characteristic Whitmore restraint was on a vacay as he forced his tongue into my mouth. He didn’t try to coach or goad mine to movement. He gave it no other option. He swirled around it, sweeping me up in a cyclone of passion. His lips consumed me, pulling and tugging, intermixing tingles of pain and a dizzying pleasure. If that wasn’t enough, I felt the low rumble of a moan at the back of his throat and it coursed through my body, gathering between my thighs.

And then there were his hands. The powerful, commanding things, nothing like the ones that trembled by my side. There was no suggestion found in his grip. His body didn’t hint at what he wanted. They were all over, staking their claim. Demanding my total submission.

My back was against the wall but I arched my lower body toward him. I looked him in the eyes, pleading as the kiss deepened. He paid it no mind, so I started rolling my hips, pleading with my body. He was making me work for it, positioning himself so that as soon as I inched close to feeling the part of him just as wild with need as me, he maneuvered just out of reach.

Oh my god what was he doing to me? His lips crashing into mine, hands digging into my skin; I was dangerously close to coming but I wanted more. I needed it. I let out little breathy moans that I hoped went straight to his crotch.

Please…please…please…

My heart ratcheted up to a maddening drum in my chest as his hand moved from the outside of my thigh to the inside. He hadn’t even touched me and already I quaked, feeling the need seep from that secret part of me.

His lips paused, letting me catch my breath. His eyes were locked on me, eyes drifting from my face like it was the absolute last thing he wanted. But he was finally giving me what I wanted, hands detouring to my panties. His fingertips snaked behind the seam of my underwear and pleasure sparked up and down my spine when he brushed my lower lips, finding me wet and dripping.

His lips curved approvingly and he mouthed what I swear looked like, ‘Mercy’ and I blushed with the heat of pride. But he gave me none, pumping two fingers inside of me and when I let out a hiss of delight, added a third.

The sudden, full feeling made me gasp, my muscles contracting and expanding around him. Before, these sensations had names. Pleasure. Ecstasy. Bliss. But his thrusts stretched me to something I couldn’t quite name. The pleasure wasn’t alone–pain sparked like lightning, my body clenching around the abrupt, beautiful invasion. I wasn’t sure if it was too much or not nearly enough.

And then I was moaning, rocking my h*ps as each new stroke pushed me closer to the peak. I heard the sounds my body was making, wet and wild like the eyes that bore into me. His fingers built up a rhythm that made breathy, lusty gasps shoot from my mouth. Each one slayed him and more and more of his face released its inhibitions until it was no longer the eyes that betrayed him. Every beautiful inch of him was delighting in watching me spiral closer to cl**ax.

I was close, unraveling more and more by the second. My moans pitched higher until the rabid sounds that hung on the air around us were unfamiliar. And then he said the words I’d been waiting for.

"Come for me."

My body wanted to hold on to that feeling. The indescribable pleasure that only knew how to groan for more. But when he bit his lip, failing to completely silence a low, intimate moan of his own, I surrendered to him. My body was lost, caution thrown to the wind.

It took a minute to remember that we were in the hall, my skirt hiked up to my waist, juices sticky and pooling. My breathing slowed as he ejected from me then stopped altogether when he calmly took the fingers he had inside of me and brought them to his mouth. He tasted me, closing his eyes and I felt the flutter reignite…just as a group of voices sounded in the hall behind us.

I quickly pulled my skirt down and whispered that I’d be right back before I skittered to the bathroom. I ducked into a stall, putting both hands on the closed door and drew a shaky breath.

In.

Out.

In…

Oh my god.

That was…there were no words. Feeling him, watching him come undone before my very eyes. I had to stop my hands for creeping down to the part of me that was still throbbing.

I gave my head a sobering shake, remembering the reason I’d ducked inside. I’d just creamed in the hallway and if I didn’t get it together, I’d have a very awkward walk to the car.