The Billionaire’s Passion (His Submissive #3)(8)
Author: Ava Claire

Could he be anymore cryptic? "I don’t get it."

"I have a room here that is suited to the erotic purposes of our arrangement," he explained, his eyes drinking me in, watching me intently. "A space where you can submit to me properly."

"Oh…Oh!" I turned all sorts of red as it dawned on me. A space.

I gulped. "Y-You mean a dungeon?"

His lips quirked into a smile. "Nothing so extreme as that. But it is equipped with certain instruments."

Instruments. My stomach tightened as I envisioned whips and swings and nipple clamps.

He was still staring at me, gauging my reactions. He must have been certain that I wasn’t going to bolt because he continued. "I’m aware that the last four days have been a whirlwind for you."

I gave him a slight nod, even though a tornado, a monsoon seemed more appropriate.

"And I won’t mince words. Submitting to me will be ten times more demanding of you. I will push buttons, take you to your limits and beyond. I will strip you down to the soul. You won’t walk out of that room the same woman you were when you walked in." His eyes darkened. “It can be quite terrifying.”

The things he was saying should have been enough to shake me from the Cinderella-like dream to the brutal reality of bondage and submission. This was more than rough sex. This would be raw. Psychological. Terrified? I was scared shitless.

But I was also intrigued.

I was starved. Like a vegetarian who’d sustained themselves on lettuce and celery then had a juicy prime rib put before them. I was tired of sexual experiences where I knew how the story would play out. I wanted to experience this. Experience him in a way so visceral that there were no words to explain it. I wanted to submit.

“If you’re not ready-”

"I’m ready for this,” I cut in, standing tall.

"Are you sure? Because if you aren’t ready, we can take this slow." I could tell by the way he gnashed the word ‘slow’ that was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. And that made me want him even more, knowing that he would exert self control to make me happy.

I walked to where he stood. "Take me to the room, Jacob."

We stepped back into the main hall, the only sound our feet against the floor. The vibrant walls and tapestries ran together as he pulled me up the staircase to the second floor. I followed him down the narrow corridor, my arm tethered to his, stopping only at a door at the end.

When we pushed inside, the sharp lines and neutral colors that I associated with Jacob were alive and well. The walls were painted a non-descript beige and only a few pieces of furniture were spread across the room.

"Your office," I murmured to myself, glancing around. We had nowhere else to go, but there was no spanking bench or ball gags here.

He strode to his desk and reached beneath it. I heard a metallic click, and the bookcase groaned and opened a few inches. He moved to the bookcase and pulled it back, revealing a darkened stairwell.

He cast a devilish look at me. "You still sure about this, Miss Montgomery?"

I sashayed to the door giving him a wry smile. "Absolutely."

As I descended, I was grateful for the fact that it wasn’t as dark and foreboding as I thought. Recessed lighting sent a warm glow to light every step. But it was more than that–the last time I walked down a stairwell with Jacob behind me I’d been going into the unknown. And while I had no idea what lied behind the door of his playroom, I knew that I trusted him.

I stopped at the landing, an unassuming white door in front of me.

"It’s unlocked," he said behind me.

I twisted the cold door knob and opened the door. Motion detection lighting snapped on as I walked through the doorway and I took in the room.

Gone were the unaffected walls, replaced by a rich navy hue, deepened by stark white crown molding and a pearlescent white mantle framing an oversized fireplace. Once upon a time it might have been the focal point. But with the massive four poster bed and the metal contraption hanging down like a swing on the opposite wall, it was impossible to not be drawn to the piece of furniture like a moth to a flame.

I’d spied a St. Andrews cross on the far wall and an oak chest that was probably full of something of interest, but I couldn’t take my eyes off that bed. It was black, shining like wood, but when I ran my hand along one of the beams, I felt the icy touch of steel.

"Wow," I whispered, dropping my other hand to the mattress. Pillowtop. The softest I’d ever felt. The contrast between the pliable touch of that and the metal chains that hung from each four corners was jarring.

"I figured you’d like the bed," he said behind me, his voice warm and enticing. "Darkly elegant." His hand rubbed the small of my back then dropped to more interesting territory, gripping my bu**ocks. "Well, when the sex swing is detached. But I see no need for pretending this room is anything except what it is."

His firm hands were kneading, massaging, making parts of me gooey with want. On closer inspection of the swing, I saw that there was a contoured center with a zipper. I fondled it and he let out a chuckle.

"That’s for making things interesting."

I let out a laugh of my own at that. One of the most powerful men in the entertainment industry was a secret Dominant–nd he was about to dominate me. We hadn’t even begun and my whole body was a storm of excitement and nerves. Things had been interesting for a while now–ever since I said yes.

He roped an arm around my waist, pulling me tight to him. I felt the curve of him against me and I trembled at the thought of his hands migrating to the heart of me.

"I didn’t expect this to be so…" I felt the word tingling in my throat. "Exhilirating."

"And you haven’t seen the other treats in the room."

I shook my head. "I-I don’t want to." It came out a lot more stubborn than I meant it to and I felt his hold tighten. "I mean, I would like to try the bed. If that’s okay with you."

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, so I turned to him. I saw the same struggle when he told me he’d wait til I was ready. The same conflicting emotions etched in his jaw, his pensive lips, those alluring eyes. I saw the desire to completely ravage my body battling with the desire to protect me.

He licked his lips. "I don’t think you’re ready, Leila. You will have no control in the swing. It is designed as such that you won’t even be able to look at me." His eyes glazed and I knew he was imagining me bound. "You would be completely at my mercy. Total submission and trust. It would be like asking a baby to ride a bike."

God, it was so hard to fight the urge to just tear my clothes off and tell him to just take me. But he made me want to explore. And that’s what he needed to hear.