The Billionaire’s Heart (His Submissive #4)(8)
Author: Ava Claire

I pressed tighter against him, relishing his curve of lust beating in time with the uptick of the music. With his fingertips pressing into the scarlet fabric of my dress, every breath was husky as I rocked into him. What started off as romantic, longing moves became carnal.

"I never would have pegged you for a pyromaniac," I teased. "Or someone that gets jealous."

"I think I threw away the rulebook the day I met you," he said, stripping me with his eyes.

I ran my tongue over my lips, remembering his salty taste, remembering the emotion overload of going to bed with him. He was all-consuming and I wanted him to devour me until there wasn’t a single inch left.

Our eyes met and I could have squealed when I saw we were on the same page. My fingers held tight to his as we left the dance floor and made our way to the exit. Sight and sound became one as we breezed to the exit and stepped into the warm Mediterranean night.

He led me to a sleek, black limo where a man in a simple dark suit sat perched on the hood, smoking a cigarette. Even in the near dark I saw the man pale as he snuffed it out and snapped to attention.

"My apologies, Mr. Whitmore." He looked at me in surprise, probably remembering that Jacob went in with a very different woman. "We leave now?"

"Yes," Jacob replied smoothly. The driver opened the door and Jacob stepped to the side to let me pass. "After you, Miss Montgomery."

I gave him a sly grin, feeling his gaze on my rear end as I slid across the cool leather seats. Jacob moved in beside me and I waited with bated breath as the driver took his place behind the wheel and started the car.

Jacob reached over to a panel near the door and pressed a button that sent the partition up, putting a barrier between us and prying eyes.

I knew what he had planned and it sent sticky delight to the part of me that needed him just as much as my heart; the part of me that clenched and quivered when he beckoned me with a finger.

I licked my lips and the words flowed from me like honey. "How may I serve you?"

His eyes were glazed with lust as he leaned back, but there was nothing sweet about the timbre of his voice when he replied.

"Get over here and lay across my lap."

****

I knew it was only a matter of time before his slow, methodical strokes would become the punishment I knew was coming for the events of today. What I wasn’t prepared for was the thrill in the waiting. With each new rotation of him caressing each side, teasing me, I trembled with renewed anticipation.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?” His hand trailed down and when it cycled back up, his fingertips carried up the hem of my dress. Each inch brought the warm night breeze to my skin. I wanted him to spank me. To punish me. Jesus, I never thought I’d voluntarily lay there and wait for someone to wail on me, but I’d never wanted anything more than this. I wanted him to take me to a place where everything, even pain, faded. A place where there was only us.

He gripped one of my cheeks, kneading and pumping it. “You deserve to be punished, don’t you?” He tightened his hold when I didn’t answer. “Answer me, Leila!”

“Yes,” It came out as a whine. A plea. “Yes sir.” Punish me, Jacob. Please.

“When I saw the way you were moving with that man—gyrating, laughing, pressing your body against his—I wanted to drag you from the room. After decking him, of course.” He added.

Regret flared at the thought of that. It would have caused quite a scene, but the idea of him punching out someone over jealousy made me shiver with delight.

“I wanted to take you home and strap you to the cross.” His finger trailed down the seam of my thong, stopping at my pulsing core. “I wanted to flog you until you screamed my name.”

I imagined the fear, the pain, and the perverse pleasure. It made me squirm as he rubbed my heat through the thin fabric. “But I can’t wait until we get home, Leila.” His voice was rough. Rife with lust. “I want to punish you now.”

He stopped stroking me and it took all my self-control to not beg him for more. Before I submitted, I would have tried to get my point across in blatant ways. Throaty moans. Rocking my hips. But I trusted that he knew exactly what I needed—and that it wouldn’t come so easy. Not tonight.

“You will count out every strike,” he commanded. “Every. Last. One.”

His hand came down on my bottom and the crack echoed over my body. It brought more surprise then pain.

“One,” I said breathlessly. “Two.” The second landed over the first. The third expanded the warm discomfort. Fifth, sixth made me grit my teeth. I gripped his calves as I hung suspended across his lap, swallowing the tears that burned my eyes as he blazed through the teens. My bottom became a screeching nerve, exposed, feeling everything and nothing at the same time.

Just when I reached that point, the top of it where the pain would become something savage, the licks stopped.

When I felt the cool touch of his fingers and something wet rubbing over my rear, I couldn’t stop the giggle from falling from my lips. He traveled around with the special cream? “Always prepared, huh?”

“I was a boy scout,” he joked. He took care of me, rubbing the lotion into my skin gently, its menthol properties cooling the heat from the spanking. “Are you okay to sit?”

“Yes.” Naturally, I clamored off his knees as ungracefully as humanely possible, but when I caught a glimpse of the look on his face, I didn’t see bemusement. He was looking at me with awe. Like he was seeing me for the first time.

“You know,” he said finally. “When you walked out of the restaurant at lunch, I wanted to go after you.”

I righted myself, tucking wayward curls behind my ear. “You did?” I turned to him. “Why didn’t you?”

He glanced out his window for what felt like a lifetime before turning back to me. “Because I’d have to admit that learning that you lied to me was devastating. That it hollowed me out.” His eyes held mine intently. I’d have to admit that I let you in and let you get closer than anyone before.”

Guilt crept back in and I broke away. How could I look him in the eye after that? “You let me in and I hurt you. I’m so sorry, Jacob. I had this long list of reasons why, good reasons I thought. But reasons are just excuses. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” His tone deepened to an authoritative command. “How about you look at me and say it.”