Venice Nights (His Submissive #4.5)(3)
Author: Ava Claire

I brushed off the rush of discomfort, remembering that something terrible did happen. My boyfriend announced to the world that we were together, and when the paparazzi did the inevitable and asked an inappropriate question, I lost my shit. Jacob Whitmore dating a nobody was news. Jacob Whitmore dating a nobody that nearly punched out a photographer? That was gold.

Not now, I thought sternly, pushing aside the latest events of the crazy saga that my life had become. I was dating Jacob Whitmore, the drop dead gorgeous businessman, the only person from his field to be crowned People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive. The only guy that could bring me to the edge of beautiful, tear inducing pain—and make me beg for more. The only man that told me he loved me and unlocked some secret part of me; the hopeless romantic who believed in happily ever afters and thought maybe, just maybe, we could last forever.

Forever. That word was as heavy as the L word.

Before you start singing songs about going to the chapel and naming your future children, you should focus on now.

This moment. My hand in his, walking inside his breathtaking home.

Finally alone.

Jacob closed the door behind us. “Now about that kiss…”

He turned to face me, his bright eyes rounding with surprise. The tunic I’d worn was already flung across the room, the leggings next in line. I held his gaze, my fingers running down my fevered skin. Over my knees, skating my calves. I bent at the waist, loving the way his eyes shifted to my br**sts, caressing every contour.

When he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous.

“What are you doing?”

I kicked the leggings away, goosebumps rippling over me like wildfire. “I’m submitting to you.” The only thing that kept me from being completely na**d were my bra and panties. I sunk to my knees, waiting expectantly.

He said nothing, his face impassive as his eyes slowly raked over my body.

Oh my god…my still clothed body! Memory pierced me and I shot back to our first encounter in his special BDSM room, in this very house. I had flaunted my lingerie then too and he had ordered me to remove it, showing him every part of me.

I reached around my back, unhooking my bra. I blushed from head to toe as I wiggled out of my thong. When I spied my clothes flung around so carelessly, I gathered them in my arms. I flashed him an apologetic smile that he did not return. Another thing I had forgotten. I felt just as embarrassed as I had then, crawling to pick up my hastily discarded clothing.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, returning to my knees. I pushed away the punch of discomfort as my knees made contact with the hardwood floor. I looked up, expecting Jacob to bark out some command or smile with pleasure that I was ready to be his.

All his.

When he did not say a word, silently crossing his muscled arms against his chest, a fluttering erupted in my stomach.

I was na**d and on my knees, practically prostrating for him. Why had he not taken me?

He inhaled deeply, the exhale soundless. I bit my lip, my arms growing tired from the unnatural position. My knee caps were calling me all sorts of names.

What was he waiting for?

He finally spoke, his voice filling the empty room. “I’ll ask you once more. What are you doing?”

I peered up at him in confusion. “What am I doing?” I felt the warmth of embarrassment flood me as his cool eyes waited for my response like he had all the time in the world. And he does. He’s not the one kneeling on a hardwood floor!

My voice picked up some of the warmth that turned me beet red as my shame transformed into anger. “What am I doing?” When he didn’t answer, or even register how upset I was, I faltered. “I’m…submitting?”

“Submitting?” His chuckle was dark and unnerving. Still, there was something about the danger in it that made me clench with want. Turned on by the fear.

“You walked through the door,” he continued, circling me. “Stripped your clothes from your body—”

“And dropped to my knees,” I cut in. I unhooked my arms from behind my back, holding them out in case he missed the gesture. “I was trying to show you I’m ready for you.”

“But you’re not ready for me.” His tone was eerily calm, but his face was far from zen. Anger whipped across every feature, the lash of it making my throat knot.

“Five seconds ago, you interrupted me.” His eyes narrowed in displeasure when my mouth opened defensively. “And even now, you’re about to mouth off, aren’t you?”

I snapped my lips together, swallowing my retort. Heck yeah, I was about to mouth off! I tried to be what he wanted me to be. What more could I do?

He took a step toward me, reaching out to fondle my curly tresses. “And now you chose to be silent—when I ask you to speak.”

Before I could blink, he grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking my head backward. Tiny sparks of pain lit up my scalp.

“You want to submit to me?” he growled. “When I ask a question, you answer.”

My nostrils flared defiantly, and his grip tightened.

“Okay!” I cried out, wincing. “I’ll answer you.”

His hold slackened, but his eyes were just as fierce and unyielding.

“I thought…” I trailed off, frustration building in my chest. With it came tears; tears I couldn’t keep in my eyes. “I just wanted to do this for you.”

His eyes softened. His fingertips moved to my cheek, brushing away my tears. “I know. And I’m trying to teach you. Rule number one: you are submitting to my will, not vice versa.” He stroked my cheek. “You came in this house with one purpose: to f**k.”

He swallowed, and the mask he wore was askew, showing me a man that was far from controlled. A man who wanted to ravage me. Needed to ravage me.

“Trust me Leila—I want to f**k you. There isn’t a square inch of this home that I haven’t thought of taking you on.”

He cleared his throat, composing himself. Once he had put the wall back in place he held out his hand. I took it, letting him pull me to my feet.

“But here’s the catch. I will be the one to tell you when to tear off every shred of clothing. I will order you to drop to your knees, open your mouth, and take every inch of me. I will have you, every which way I want you, because submission is about relinquishing control.”

Tears evaporated, and my heart thumped in my throat. The way he said that word, ‘mine’, claiming me…it was like he was already inside of me. Thrusting so deep that he touched my very soul.

His fingers hooked my chin, holding my gaze steadily on his. I counted every blue swirl in his eyes, spinning, possessing me. I just wanted to dive deeper, to feel him so wholly, so completely, that there was no room for anything else.