The Billionaire’s Promise (His Submissive #8)(9)
Author: Ava Claire

“Oh we are,” he said, getting the gist of my unspoken words. “I’m going to have you, Leila. And I’m going to have you right here.”

The pulsing between my legs intensified, but I couldn’t stop glancing at the door. I knew there was no window to the outside and the lock engaging automatically illuminated the ‘closed’ sign, but even the growing exhibitionist in me couldn’t shout down the part that would be more comfortable somewhere that wasn’t a hundred feet away from staff.

“Don’t look at the door,” he said curtly. “Look at me.”

I glanced at him, but I still stole peeks at the door, hearing phantom sounds. What if Missy was crouched there, ear pressed to the wood so she could talk crap about me? Why else would she march out without a final death glare unless she was hiding behind a potted plant outside, ready to spring?

“Jacob, I would really be more comfortable if–”

“That’s of no consequence to me,” he interrupted, silencing me with a stern glare. His hand went straight to my zipper. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you during the meeting, wanting to bend you over my knee and at the same time, needing to take you in my arms and tell you how much I love you.” He unzipped my skirt and I shivered as it sunk to my ankles.

His eyes roamed over my lingerie and I didn’t miss the tick of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard. I’d picked well. Almost like I’d been hoping for this reconciliation.

There was something about seeing the effect I had on this devastatingly attractive man that emboldened me. I chewed on my bottom lip seductively, twirling a brown lock around my finger. “So, which is it? Am I getting spanked or are you going to kiss me?”

My brazen remark made his jaw tighten, but it wasn’t a look of disapproval coloring his golden features. It was conflict–like he wanted to do both. Ravage me and leave me breathless.

He ran his fingers through my hair, watching the curls stream between his fingers.

He leaned in, his breath swirling with mine and I was so lost in him that I closed my eyes, wanting to hold on to the moment forever. Just as I slipped my tongue into his mouth, he slipped his hand inside my underwear, cupping my sex.

My heart raced to my throat and fluttered back to my chest when I let out a groan of sheer bliss. Jacob was everything. Nothing else registered but him; the way our lips fit together, tongue dancing to the sensual twirl of his, savoring the taste of spearmint and power. And then there was his hand, making it crystal clear that what Jacob Whitmore wanted, he got. His fingers pulsed at my intimate slit, dancing just inside, making me grind my h*ps into him until I heard the sound of my wet lust filtering up like sensual music.

He pulled back, his lips diverting to my neck. “I’ve barely begun and you’re already wet to the bone. You want to come, don’t you? You’re so close.”

“Yes,” I hissed, my hair creating a wiry curtain over my face as I pushed my body forward, wanting to let go. To give into the release. His finger entered my slick tunnel easily, but when he added a second, then a third, I felt my body rushing to accommodate the girth. But with his mouth on me, feeling his c**k thumping as he struggled to keep control while teetering on the edge, all because of me…there was no catching up. I found myself arching up to meet him and at the same time, feeling so weak, so incapable of doing anything but succumbing to my cl**ax. How could I keep it together when I looked into his eyes, seeing a beautiful truth?

It was me. It had always been me.

“Jacob…” I groaned, assaulted by the sensations. I was losing my mind. “I want to hold on…but I…I…”

He stopped, his finger retreating as his crystal eyes glittered mischievously. “You’re almost there.”

I was still recovering, thighs rattling from the aftershocks of his touch, but I turned toward one of the cafe tables and bent at the waist until my chest was pressed against the tabletop and my ass was in the air.

A long pause followed my submissive gesture and before, I might have made that trust irrelevant by looking back and seeing what he was doing. Unbuckling his pants? Pulling out some studded paddle to wail on me?

But I maintained my position, knowing that when he was ready, he’d continue. And when I least expected it, he would give me the spanking that both excited and worried me.

The air around me hummed, gooseflesh racing up and down the back of my thighs as he moved closer. I tensed, sensing his hand hovering above my bottom. But when he made contact it wasn’t the crack of my first lash. He was rubbing my bu**ocks, massaging it slowly, making me tingle between my thighs.

“You know why I’m doing this?” He paused, adding, “Beside my obvious predisposition toward domination.”

“Because I didn’t answer your calls,” I squeaked, feeling pangs of guilt undercut my arousal.

“It’s a little deeper than you dodging me,” he said, hooking my panties and slowly pulling them down. He didn’t finish until they were at my knees. “I’m not punishing you.”

I couldn’t help but snicker at that. I was bent over with my lily white behind in the air. If this wasn’t punishment, he could have fooled me. Still, I was glad that he didn’t catch the sound.

“If I wanted to punish you, I would have ended my day early and took you home. Strapped you to the cross. But right now, all I want is for you to feel and know that you are mine. This isn’t some infatuation for me. It’s not something I can just switch off. I wouldn’t recover if I lost you–and honestly, I wouldn’t want to.”

The first last landed before I could promise him it wouldn’t happen again. The sting spread over me, magnifying when the second settled on the side of the first. The third made me cry out and I clamped my mouth shut. The fourth made me close my eyes and wish that I had a time machine so I could knock some sense into myself. By the time the seventh happened my rear was on fire, my tender flesh nearly to the point of no return and I was so close to using the color that would end the pain. But when the eighth didn’t come and there was time to feel something other than the sharp edge of my bottom incisors as I ground my teeth and my body pulled to breaking point, I realized that I was wetter than before, my juices coating my inner thigh. If he asked me my color five seconds ago, I was pretty sure I would have said red. But now that my pulse echoed over my heated flesh, want dulling the sting of the blow and my ni**les pierced the tabletop, I wasn’t so sure I wanted him to stop at all.