The Billionaire’s Desire (His Submissive #9)(4)
Author: Ava Claire

I hiked up my skirt and pulled off my underwear. They were a sticky mess and the thought of tucking them in my purse was unsettling. I dumped them in the trash, washed up and dabbed at my face with a fresh paper towel. The flush of arousal had dimmed, leaving a whisper of red in my cheeks. But I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I tried.

Jacob was waiting in the corridor. Shaking more hands.

My eyes widened when I realized something. He was shaking their hands with the same hand he just touched me with.

His mouth quirked into a smile that was ours alone. Our little secret.

I walked over, turning red as I accepted more congratulations, thinking at the back of my mind that we’d almost had an audience. Truthfully, my embarrassment was a drop in the ocean compared to the tingly proposition of being caught.

After our final round of good nights, we continued down the hall toward the exit, my heart still in my throat.

"Tonight has been amazing, Jacob."

He stepped into the elevator beside me and punched the button for the ground floor with a wink. "The night’s still young, love."

****

I’d been surprised when Jacob turned his car in the opposite direction of the penthouse apartment and officially stumped when we breezed past the exit for the airport. But this…I was nowhere near prepared for this.

The only light filtered from our car, the starless night sky inky and endless. We’d left the city behind. Here there were fields of green instead of people. Trees and old abandoned barns instead of towering buildings. It was hard to believe that a place like this existed two hours outside of the city. It felt like a whole other world.

Jacob had attempted conversation, joking around when I asked for specifics about our destination. But the last hour had been quiet except for the hum of the radio and the thudding hammer in my chest. I had no idea where we were going but when Jacob took a sharp right onto a dirt road, I was more than a little apprehensive.

I threw a worried look in his direction, not that he could catch it in the dark. "Um, Jacob?"

"Yes?"

"I’m getting a very Texas Chainsaw Massacre vibe."

He chuckled, the deep notes bouncing around the car as we took on what I was sure was an infinite amount of potholes. "Where we’re headed is secluded. Abandoned. A little rough around the edges–but I’m 99.9 percent sure it’s serial killer free."

We came up to a cluster of weeds and shrubs and the flash of reflective lights drew my eye. There was a chain-link fence, padlocked with a sign affixed to the wire.

"Keep out," I read out loud before arching my brow when Jacob threw open his car door and stepped out. He went to the padlock and shook the thing, sending a metallic whirring and rustling in through my open window. Were we breaking and entering? My surprise was committing some crime, Bonnie and Clyde style?

But he pulled a set of keys from his pocket, trying each one on the ring until the lock snapped open. I watched him pull back one of the gates, still confused but more and more intrigued by the minute.

Oh I get it, I thought quietly. It’s his retreat. Some sprawling estate tucked away in the country.

"This is your property?" I said out loud.

He eased us through the gate, giving me a sly smile. "It is."

I kept expecting the dirt road to give way to the smooth lines of a paved drive because I couldn’t imagine Jacob escaping anywhere that didn’t scream luxury, but the ride was even bumpier the further we rode. I narrowed my eyes in surprise when we pulled up to a modest log cabin tucked between overgrown trees and brush.

"Well, here we are."

I stepped out of the car hesitantly, completely and utterly stunned. It was sturdy, a working man’s home, without any frills or excess.

And I loved it.

"This is yours?" I asked slowly, half expecting him to look at me like I was crazy and say it was the butler’s cabin and his mansion was a little further up the road.

But the look on his face was one full of memories as he held out his free hand, the other gripping a small flashlight. "It was my grandparents."

I let him lead me over stumps, around fallen objects. The cabin brought some memories flitting through my mind too. Barefoot summers in the country, feeling the earth between my toes and the wind whipping through my hair. The trailer tucked behind overgrown weeds wasn’t much to look at, but I could still hear Aunt Lucille’s radio blaring from the window, foot stomping country music creating a soundtrack for my make believe. Out there, I could wear my cutoffs and not worry about the fact they were from the plus department. It was just me and Aunt Lucille until the mosquitoes ran us inside.

Anyone else might have seen a dated home dying for renovation and a property that could use a landscaper’s touch, but I could see it was so much more. And from the way Jacob squeezed my hand as we drew closer, I knew this was a special place for him.

He flicked the flashlight on and pointed it to the right where a swing danced lazily in the breeze. One of the ropes had long given up the ghost, but the other was still attached, holding onto the branch for dear life.

"I remember when my grandfather built that thing." The light swooped to the left where a shed creaked, weeds trying to bring it to the ground below. "He chopped the wood, nailed it together, and braided the rope." Even in the dark I knew he was smiling–I could hear it in his voice. "I had to try it out first. My grandmother rushed out, still wearing her apron, insisting on pushing me because she knew my grandfather would be too rough."

I tried to imagine Jacob younger, carefree…but I came up blank. He was so guarded, always the picture of cool and professionalism.

We stepped up to the porch, leaves and branches masking the actual steps. Jacob tested them out first then guided me up them.  When I heard scurrying before he even unlocked the front door, I fought the flash of worry that cut through me. It was pretty obvious no one had been out here in a while and god knows what kind of animals could have taken up residence in the meantime.

The door swung open and Jacob turned to me. "Wait right here."

"No problem," I said quickly, with absolutely zero misgivings about standing right there, safely away from anything creepy, crawly, or feral.

The lights snapped on and all the air was snatched from my lungs.

It was just a single room, an open concept space that people paid good money for nowadays. A flowered couch leaned against the wall to the left, a rectangular wicker table in front of it and a deep brown armchair to the right. A wood burning stove was on the far right wall, a retro looking fridge perched beside it. A wooden table sat in the middle of the room, serving as an island of sorts, separating the two areas. But it wasn’t the design of the place that made me gasp. It was the pictures that hung on the walls.