The Billionaire’s Secret (His Submissive #6)(15)
Author: Ava Claire

Jacob’s stony expression softened slightly, but his jaw was still tight with anger. "What does that have to do with the kiss?"

“He was feeling vulnerable, Jacob,” I tried to explain. “And he was drunk. Is drunk. From the way he reeked, he’s going to be drunk for days.”

He relaxed slightly and I felt a little better. I’d been up front, one hundred percent honest, and there was no brawl. I guess this whole straight up thing was a good idea after all.

Jacob turned to me, his forearm muscles flexing as he crossed his arms. "The thought of him touching you, kissing you…" His eyes flashed, the heat of his gaze flaying me alive. "You’re mine."

I brought my hand to his cheek. "And you’re mine."

His body tensed and his gaze flickered to the door. Clearly, he was still considering paying Cade a visit.

“Jacob, please,” I whispered. “Don’t.”

The cold anger melted immediately as he wrapped his arms tight around me, putting aside his righteous fury. “I’m not going anywhere, Leila. Not ever.” He pulled back, tilting my head up so he could gaze into my eyes. “You want me to let this go?”

“Yes,” I sighed, just wanting to forget it. “Just stay.”

“Okay.” He leaned in like he wanted to kiss me, but decided better of it. Like I was traumatized and he didn’t want to shove me off the ledge. That tenderness, his concern did push me over, but not in the way he expected.

I hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him back to my lips. This was what I wanted. What I needed with every fiber of me.

I thrust my tongue into his mouth, begging him to taste me. A moan sounded in the back of his throat as he brought me close, flush with his body until I swore I could feel his beating heart pulsing all over me. My tongue desperately danced around his and I swear nothing had ever tasted so sweet.

There would be time for making love, for rose petals and longing gazes, but right now, I just wanted him to spread me wide and plunge himself so deep that I was breathless. I existed for him; for his touch.

I undid his pants with one hand and surprise flitted across his eyes and smirked his lips. The smirk became something else when I reached into his trousers and gripped his erection. It became something lustful and wild.

I stared into his eyes, lust running rampant in oceans of blue. God he was gorgeous, unraveling as my fingertips danced over every glorious inch of him. His h*ps bucked ever so slightly as I stroked him through his pants.

With a groan he covered my hands with his own, stopping me. “Take it out.”

Every corded, delicious muscle of him made my mouth water and I obeyed. Only a pair of ebony boxer briefs kept me from him and he tented the dark fabric. His c**k begged for my touch, even if the man himself would never, ever beg anyone for anything.

And why would he? I would have begged if he pumped the brakes. But he didn’t grip my wrists or stop me from running my hand up and down his massive length, tingling from head to toe as he grew and bulged even from my slight strokes.

I sucked in air when I felt him pulse around my grip, watching his mouth tremble before he bit his bottom lip, holding back. When I brushed my thumb over the tip, the delicate lust seeping from his head, all bets were off and he let out a moan of abandonment, throwing his head back. His rolling h*ps promised what came next and I was breathless with anticipation.

“Take off your clothes,” he growled. “All of them.”

As much as I hated to remove my hand, I wanted more and that would be slightly complicated considering I was still fully clothed. My hands fell to my liquid leggings and I cursed choosing them because they refused to move at the same pace as my pulse. As need ricocheted over me, I let out a cry of frustration at the material, practically glued to my heated flesh. It refused to go further than my hips.

Jacob came forward, his fingers firm as they gripped the pants. His hooded eyes were dark with want as he brushed his lips against mine. He lowered himself until he was eye level with my waist and his lips pressed against my stomach, kissing my skin. Suddenly, I was just fine with the pants staying where they were and his mouth caressing my abdomen, making me squirm for him.

But he was multi-tasking, his hands peeling the pants down inch by blissful inch until they were at my ankles and only my thong lie between his mouth and my pulsing heat. He hooked a finger through each side of it, sliding the underwear over my h*ps and down. He didn’t even wait for me to step out of them before his tongue scored my throbbing flesh.

I tried to step out of the thong so I could spread and give him more access, but his arm roped around my waist, holding me still as he kept teasing. I opened my mouth to beg, to plead but sensing it, he rose up without a word. He led me to the midnight colored chaise that overlooked the terrace.

He leaned back onto the chair, gripping the base of his erection. It was hard to believe that a month ago the very idea of riding a guy made me break into hives because I kicked my leg over and took the base from him without prompting, slowly guiding him inside. His hands found my br**sts, massaging and tugging my mounds. I drew him in and out, rolling into him as I moved my body to the tune of his moans. I felt nothing, needed nothing but him. I knew he was coming, I felt it in the way his grip tightened.

“Come with me,” he breathed.

Hands, bodies, bliss—I felt the building pressure and surrendered to it. My h*ps rode the waves of passion until the water stilled. Even with my heart raging in my ears, I felt at peace. Like we were finally getting back to the way things were before.

I was on top of the world when he ripped me from the stratosphere, kicking and screaming.

“You’re off the Wallace case.”

I’d heard him, but I just couldn’t believe he would go there when we were still na**d and glistening with sex. “What?”

“I don’t want you working with Cade Wallace.” His voice toughened, leaving no room for debate. “You’re off the Wallace case.”

I had protests, the first being our agreement that my career would be my own. But it was clear that I couldn’t be effective at my job if the client didn’t respect my boundaries.

I traced a figure eight on Jacob’s chest, my cheek catching the stillness of his body beneath me. It was like he was holding his breath. Gearing up for a fight.

“Alright, babe,” I said finally. “I won’t work with him anymore.”

****

My phone zinged to life on my desk and I picked it up, cradling it between my shoulder and ear as I finished sending my email.