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

I brought my hands to the sides of his face. "Do you know how much I want to take your hand and stuff it down my panties and show you how hot the idea of the two of us on that thing makes me? Not just because the idea of being bound and completely yours makes me weak at the knees, but because I see past the mask you show to everyone else. I trust you fully and completely." I still couldn’t see what way he was swaying. I cast a look at the swing then forced my back to it, turning to the corner where the St Andrews cross perched. As much as I wanted the swing, that wasn’t what submission was about. Submission was about trusting him to know what I needed.

I let out a resigned sigh, shoulders slumping. "But if you say I’m not ready, then I’m not ready."

He took stock of me, his eyes indiscernible as he crossed his arms against his muscular chest. "Interesting."

I frowned. I’d just wrangled in the desire to jump his bones on the spot, whether he liked it or not, and all I got was one word. That paltry descriptor again? Interesting.

His face broke into a wide grin. "Leila Montgomery, the spitfire that gives me lip and headache at every turn, finally giving herself over to me." He breathed in deep and exhaled with a moan that rippled over me and in that moment, I knew I’d let him strap me to a cross or any other medieval torture device. Anything he wanted.

"So what’s the verdict?" I said, my voice a husky whisper. His hands gripped my waist and my body instantly responded to his.

His eyes bore into me. "We will use the swing." His voice hardened to stone. "Be careful what you wish for, Miss Montgomery."

****

"It’s very important that you listen and understand everything I’m about to say."

I finished stepping out of my skirt, wringing my hands in excitement as I turned to him. I wanted him to get the full effect of the black lingerie number I’d snagged at the boutique. I knew that one’s boobs weren’t supposed to practically spill out of the cup, but I felt as sexy as any Victoria’s Secret angel. "What do you think?"

"Take them off." When I opened my mouth, he gave me a look. "You should be naked. Then get down on your knees, hands behind your back. And you will address me as ‘sir’ or ‘Master’.”

“Yes sir.” Well then. I reached behind and unhooked the bra and tossed it over where my skirt and blouse were bundled, then my panties. I bent my knees to go down to the floor when his voice snapped like a whip.

"Stop."

I froze. I’d already screwed up. "S-Stop?"

He cocked his head to where I’d thrown my clothes. "Fold each piece of clothing then put them on top of the dresser in the corner." He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "Then come back and assume the position."

Embarrassment sent a red blush spreading across my face as I padded to the tangle of my things. I felt like I was being scolded, but this was different that the dynamic between a parent and a child. The fact that I was stark na**d and could feel his eyes watching me bend and stoop turned something simple into an erotic act. I could feel my breath quickening, my skin buzzing, the heart of me clenching in rhythm with my racing heart beat. What the hell was happening to me? I should have felt objectified, diminished, but having him order me to do this chore made me quiver.

I moved to the dresser and placed the folded clothes on top then returned to where he stood and dropped to my knees, drawing my hands behind my back.

"Good girl," he said huskily, smirking at me with approval. "When we play, things can get kind of intense. Many use a safe word, but I find it’s best to use a system most can remember. When I’m balls deep inside you or pushing you to the point you’re delirious with pain and pleasure, remembering some obscure color or item can be problematic." He made a slow circuit around me. "The colors we will use are green, yellow, and red. Green means you’re good. More, if you will. Yellow means that things are approaching the point of being unbearable. Ease up, rearrange. Less. And red means that you’ve hit the wall. No more. Stop." He stroked my hair. "You have no need of using green and yellow unless I ask you what your color is intermittently. You will use red whenever you need to. Understood?"

I nodded.

The hand locked in my hair tightened. "Verbal communication is key, Leila. Understood?"

"Yes sir," I replied, the feel of him tugging my hair then releasing making me throb. Green.

"Are you ready to begin?"

"Yes sir."

"Get on your feet and walk to the side of the bed." His voice was husky and crisp as I rose up on wobbly legs and obeyed, walking to the bed and waiting for further instruction.

"On the bed. Spread eagled."

I crawled onto the bed, the canvas swing rubbing against my bare skin. I spread out, jolts of pleasure sparking all over me. I heard him move to my left and let out a hiss of longing when I felt his fingers tracing up and down my back.

"In this room, you belong to me. Understood?" he said sternly.

"Yes sir." The waiting, the building pressure in me that I couldn’t release was all part of submitting wholly to Jacob.

His hands diverted to the arm closest to him and I shivered as I felt the cool lick of metal then the warm lining of the binds as he clicked a shackle around my wrist. He made a slow circuit around me, securing both legs and the other wrist. I tugged a bit, the rational part of me flaring. Even if I wanted to run now, there’d be no way to free myself.

He must have picked up on it because his hands returned to my back. I couldn’t turn my head far enough to see him, but it lined up with what he said. I had to trust him.

"What is your color, Leila?"

Yellow was on my tongue, but I knew it was mostly not being in control. I didn’t think he’d hurt me–it was just the unknown. And as his hand drifted down, caressing the curve of my bottom, I knew there was no way in hell I wanted him to stop.

"Green," I murmured. I gasped as his hand collided against my cheek, sending pain ricocheting across me. Another hit the other cheek. Then a third. He just spanked me…but instead of being appalled, it made the place between my thighs clench.

"Louder, Leila!" he barked. "What is your color?"

"Green," I said, with more volume. God don’t stop now.

"Next time I have to ask you twice to obey or you forget the rules, you’ll get six. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Good girl."

It was just two words but there was something about the way he said that made me writhe against the bed like something in heat. The authoritative snap wrapped in the smoky passion that curled around every order.