The Billionaire's Desire (His Submissive, Part Nine) Read online

  My back was against the wall but I arched my lower body toward him. I looked him in the eyes, pleading as the kiss deepened. He paid it no mind, so I started rolling my hips, pleading with my body. He was making me work for it, positioning himself so that as soon as I inched close to feeling the part of him just as wild with need as me, he maneuvered just out of reach.

  Oh my god what was he doing to me? His lips crashing into mine, hands digging into my skin; I was dangerously close to coming but I wanted more. I needed it. I let out little breathy moans that I hoped went straight to his crotch.

  Please…please…please…

  My heart ratcheted up to a maddening drum in my chest as his hand moved from the outside of my thigh to the inside. He hadn't even touched me and already I quaked, feeling the need seep from that secret part of me.

  His lips paused, letting me catch my breath. His eyes were locked on me, eyes drifting from my face like it was the absolute last thing he wanted. But he was finally giving me what I wanted, hands detouring to my panties. His fingertips snaked behind the seam of my underwear and pleasure sparked up and down my spine when he brushed my lower lips, finding me wet and dripping.

  His lips curved approvingly and he mouthed what I swear looked like, 'Mercy' and I blushed with the heat of pride. But he gave me none, pumping two fingers inside of me and when I let out a hiss of delight, added a third.

  The sudden, full feeling made me gasp, my muscles contracting and expanding around him. Before, these sensations had names. Pleasure. Ecstasy. Bliss. But his thrusts stretched me to something I couldn’t quite name. The pleasure wasn’t alone--pain sparked like lightning, my body clenching around the abrupt, beautiful invasion. I wasn’t sure if it was too much or not nearly enough.

  And then I was moaning, rocking my hips as each new stroke pushed me closer to the peak. I heard the sounds my body was making, wet and wild like the eyes that bore into me. His fingers built up a rhythm that made breathy, lusty gasps shoot from my mouth. Each one slayed him and more and more of his face released its inhibitions until it was no longer the eyes that betrayed him. Every beautiful inch of him was delighting in watching me spiral closer to climax.

  I was close, unraveling more and more by the second. My moans pitched higher until the rabid sounds that hung on the air around us were unfamiliar. And then he said the words I’d been waiting for.

  "Come for me."

  My body wanted to hold on to that feeling. The indescribable pleasure that only knew how to groan for more. But when he bit his lip, failing to completely silence a low, intimate moan of his own, I surrendered to him. My body was lost, caution thrown to the wind.

  It took a minute to remember that we were in the hall, my skirt hiked up to my waist, juices sticky and pooling. My breathing slowed as he ejected from me then stopped altogether when he calmly took the fingers he had inside of me and brought them to his mouth. He tasted me, closing his eyes and I felt the flutter reignite...just as a group of voices sounded in the hall behind us.

  I quickly pulled my skirt down and whispered that I'd be right back before I skittered to the bathroom. I ducked into a stall, putting both hands on the closed door and drew a shaky breath.

  In.

  Out.

  In…

  Oh my god.

  That was...there were no words. Feeling him, watching him come undone before my very eyes. I had to stop my hands for creeping down to the part of me that was still throbbing.

  I gave my head a sobering shake, remembering the reason I'd ducked inside. I'd just creamed in the hallway and if I didn't get it together, I'd have a very awkward walk to the car.

  I hiked up my skirt and pulled off my underwear. They were a sticky mess and the thought of tucking them in my purse was unsettling. I dumped them in the trash, washed up and dabbed at my face with a fresh paper towel. The flush of arousal had dimmed, leaving a whisper of red in my cheeks. But I couldn't wipe the smile off my face if I tried.

  Jacob was waiting in the corridor. Shaking more hands.

  My eyes widened when I realized something. He was shaking their hands with the same hand he just touched me with.

  His mouth quirked into a smile that was ours alone. Our little secret.

  I walked over, turning red as I accepted more congratulations, thinking at the back of my mind that we'd almost had an audience. Truthfully, my embarrassment was a drop in the ocean compared to the tingly proposition of being caught.

  After our final round of good nights, we continued down the hall toward the exit, my heart still in my throat.

  "Tonight has been amazing, Jacob."

  He stepped into the elevator beside me and punched the button for the ground floor with a wink. "The night's still young, love."

  ****

  I'd been surprised when Jacob turned his car in the opposite direction of the penthouse apartment and officially stumped when we breezed past the exit for the airport. But this...I was nowhere near prepared for this.

  The only light filtered from our car, the starless night sky inky and endless. We'd left the city behind. Here there were fields of green instead of people. Trees and old abandoned barns instead of towering buildings. It was hard to believe that a place like this existed two hours outside of the city. It felt like a whole other world.

  Jacob had attempted conversation, joking around when I asked for specifics about our destination. But the last hour had been quiet except for the hum of the radio and the thudding hammer in my chest. I had no idea where we were going but when Jacob took a sharp right onto a dirt road, I was more than a little apprehensive.

  I threw a worried look in his direction, not that he could catch it in the dark. "Um, Jacob?"

  "Yes?"

  "I'm getting a very Texas Chainsaw Massacre vibe."

  He chuckled, the deep notes bouncing around the car as we took on what I was sure was an infinite amount of potholes. "Where we're headed is secluded. Abandoned. A little rough around the edges--but I'm 99.9 percent sure it's serial killer free."

  We came up to a cluster of weeds and shrubs and the flash of reflective lights drew my eye. There was a chain-link fence, padlocked with a sign affixed to the wire.

  "Keep out," I read out loud before arching my brow when Jacob threw open his car door and stepped out. He went to the padlock and shook the thing, sending a metallic whirring and rustling in through my open window. Were we breaking and entering? My surprise was committing some crime, Bonnie and Clyde style?

  But he pulled a set of keys from his pocket, trying each one on the ring until the lock snapped open. I watched him pull back one of the gates, still confused but more and more intrigued by the minute.

  Oh I get it, I thought quietly. It's his retreat. Some sprawling estate tucked away in the country.

  "This is your property?" I said out loud.

  He eased us through the gate, giving me a sly smile. "It is."

  I kept expecting the dirt road to give way to the smooth lines of a paved drive because I couldn't imagine Jacob escaping anywhere that didn't scream luxury, but the ride was even bumpier the further we rode. I narrowed my eyes in surprise when we pulled up to a modest log cabin tucked between overgrown trees and brush.

  "Well, here we are."

  I stepped out of the car hesitantly, completely and utterly stunned. It was sturdy, a working man's home, without any frills or excess.

  And I loved it.

  "This is yours?" I asked slowly, half expecting him to look at me like I was crazy and say it was the butler's cabin and his mansion was a little further up the road.

  But the look on his face was one full of memories as he held out his free hand, the other gripping a small flashlight. "It was my grandparents."

  I let him lead me over stumps, around fallen objects. The cabin brought some memories flitting through my mind too. Barefoot summers in the country, feeling the earth between my toes and the wind whipping through my hair. The trailer tucked behind overgrown weeds wasn't much to look at,
but I could still hear Aunt Lucille's radio blaring from the window, foot stomping country music creating a soundtrack for my make believe. Out there, I could wear my cutoffs and not worry about the fact they were from the plus department. It was just me and Aunt Lucille until the mosquitoes ran us inside.

  Anyone else might have seen a dated home dying for renovation and a property that could use a landscaper's touch, but I could see it was so much more. And from the way Jacob squeezed my hand as we drew closer, I knew this was a special place for him.

  He flicked the flashlight on and pointed it to the right where a swing danced lazily in the breeze. One of the ropes had long given up the ghost, but the other was still attached, holding onto the branch for dear life.

  "I remember when my grandfather built that thing." The light swooped to the left where a shed creaked, weeds trying to bring it to the ground below. "He chopped the wood, nailed it together, and braided the rope." Even in the dark I knew he was smiling--I could hear it in his voice. "I had to try it out first. My grandmother rushed out, still wearing her apron, insisting on pushing me because she knew my grandfather would be too rough."

  I tried to imagine Jacob younger, carefree...but I came up blank. He was so guarded, always the picture of cool and professionalism.

  We stepped up to the porch, leaves and branches masking the actual steps. Jacob tested them out first then guided me up them. When I heard scurrying before he even unlocked the front door, I fought the flash of worry that cut through me. It was pretty obvious no one had been out here in a while and god knows what kind of animals could have taken up residence in the meantime.

  The door swung open and Jacob turned to me. "Wait right here."

  "No problem," I said quickly, with absolutely zero misgivings about standing right there, safely away from anything creepy, crawly, or feral.

  The lights snapped on and all the air was snatched from my lungs.

  It was just a single room, an open concept space that people paid good money for nowadays. A flowered couch leaned against the wall to the left, a rectangular wicker table in front of it and a deep brown armchair to the right. A wood burning stove was on the far right wall, a retro looking fridge perched beside it. A wooden table sat in the middle of the room, serving as an island of sorts, separating the two areas. But it wasn't the design of the place that made me gasp. It was the pictures that hung on the walls.

  I walked to the first, hanging near the door and larger than life. A woman was holding a baby swaddled in a blue blanket. Her mahogany hair was stark against luminescent skin, but it was her eyes that drew you in. They were a soft gray, the delicate color of a cloudy sky. But there was this sunshine radiating from her. The happy glow of a new parent. When I studied the woman, things started jumping out at me. The strong jaw. The feline, slightly predatory curve of her lips.

  I knew the answer, but I still asked. "Is that you and your mom?"

  "It is," he said gruffly, the floor creaking beneath him as he moved away from it. I glanced at him, not missing the angry set of his body before I looked back at the picture. She looked so happy. It was hard to believe this woman wearing a genuine smile was the same one I’d met. At what point did she change?

  I turned away from it, knowing that I may never get the answer to that question since she had no intention of opening up to me. She made the choice to turn her back on her son and spat on my attempt to start over. That was on her.

  The second picture was of a young boy at the beach, smiling up at the camera from behind a mop of dark curls.

  "Aren't you adorable!" I gushed, eating it up when his cheeks darkened and he fought to not smile back at me.

  When we hit the third, I knew this one was different. He was older in this one, lanky arms and legs sticking out of his polo and shorts and his dark hair was a little less shaggy. He was looking up at the sky and an older woman in a sundress was grinning at him with a love that radiated from the frame.

  "That was the first time I'd seen Nan in person in years,” he explained. “She and my mother had been at odds because I was shipped off to a boarding school on the other side of the world. My grandmother said that her son didn't go to some fancy European school and turned out alright and my mother said that no child of hers would go to some second rate private school stateside and public school was absolutely out of the question. My father sided with his wife, wanting to keep the peace." His voice wavered. "My grandmother wrote me every week. And when I saw her..."

  He didn't finish and the sorrow that clutched him broke my heart.

  "She sounds amazing," I said softly. "I'm glad she was there for you."

  "It was so much more than that." He shed his jacket, draping it across the arm of the couch before he lowered himself onto the cushion. "I had so much darkness, Leila. So much anger. But when I came here--" He nodded around us. "--everything was different. Away from the materialism, the fake friends and fake smiles, away from my mother and father." He let out a tortured laugh that made me wince. "Alicia Whitmore refused to step a foot out here. But my grandmother never spoke ill of her or anyone else. She was a good person and I lost count of how many times she told me she loved me."

  "I wish I could have met her." I walked to the couch, lowering myself onto the cushion beside him. Before, it was hard to envision anything besides the stoic powerhouse I knew and loved, but now, I could almost see a young Jacob, joking around with the kind woman from the picture, helping her in the kitchen, tinkering around outside with the rough-house looking man in the metal frame on the side table.

  "She would have given you a working over," he smirked. "And she would have loved you." I slid my hand toward his and he brushed my knuckles with his fingertips. "About what Rachel said--"

  "Whoa!" I cut in quickly, snapping from the Hallmark moment. "Neither of us should be paying attention to anything that comes out of her mouth. I know I'm not."

  "Yes, but about the ring--"

  "I don't need a ring."

  "But I want you to have a ring," he said firmly. "And it's very important to me that you have my grandmother's ring."

  His passion meant a lot to me and I felt honored that he wanted to give me a piece of history, a piece of his grandma, but Alicia had been pretty clear about her feelings about Jacob marrying me. “Your mother just isn’t on board, Jacob.”

  When I looked at him I had second thoughts about stating the obvious.

  "She's going to give it to me," he said, his tone low and dangerous. I've never asked her for a damn thing. And this is important to me."

  I cupped his cheek, trying to diffuse the situation. "I would love nothing more than to wear that ring. To respect the memories that come with it and create new ones." I bit my lip, hating that his mother had controlled him all of his life and still had power over this situation too. "But I don't think Alicia is budging."

  The stubborn glare in his eyes didn't dim. "She will. She has to. Because my grandmother did more than love me, Leila. She saved me."

  I figured he was speaking figuratively, but the way his jaw trembled with emotion, I wasn't so sure. "What do you mean?"

  A long, pregnant silence hung on the air and I dropped my hand to the couch. He was looking past me and I could tell from the way his eyes darkened that he was about to share a painful memory.

  "I'd spent my summer with Nan and my grandfather and she'd just gotten off the phone. My mother was on her way. I had been gone for two months and barely a word from her or my father. And I just couldn't. I couldn't get into that limo. I couldn't go back to that house, to that life. I knew it was changing me.” He gestured around the room. “I was noticing things around this place. How worn everything was. How small. How dated. And I felt horrible about myself. About who I was becoming.” He stopped, his nostrils flaring as emotion raced across his face. “So I took my grandfather’s gun and decided I was gonna end everything."

  ****

  My mouth fell open. "Jacob..." I didn't know what else to say. Suicide? Jacob almost
killed himself? Even though I knew that the story had a happy ending, my heart was racing. My mouth was bone dry.

  "There was no fence back then," he continued, not looking at me. "Just this knee high grass as far as the eye could see that my grandfather was too tired to mow. How long did they have? They'd leave me and I'd have nothing. I'd just have my mother...and I'd be as miserable as my father.

  So I sat down, the rifle trembling in my hands. It wasn’t a bulky thing but it felt heavy. So goddamn heavy. And then I heard the crunch behind me. I tried to hide the rifle, but I knew she'd seen it. That was the worst part—looking into her big brown eyes and seeing that she knew.” He paused, the pain of it as fresh on his face as if it were yesterday instead of years ago. “You know what she said to me? 'I'm not gonna be here forever, Jacob. To keep you honest and make sure you know that you are loved. To tell you that as bad as things may seem, they'll get better. And you'll be better. You have to believe it. You're gonna set the world on fire someday—and don't let anyone, ever, turn your light off.'

  I didn't even realize I had a hand covering my mouth until tears splashed onto my skin, meeting the wall and going no further.

  "She held out her hand and I gave her the gun,” he continued. “Her other one helped me from the ground. She put it back in their bedroom then called me in the kitchen to help her make dinner." His eyes shot over to me, and I didn't miss the sheen of emotion before he glanced away. "If it hadn't been for that accident, some drunk redneck t-boning them one night after they left a late movie, she would have given me the ring herself. She would have met you and known that I loved you and wanted to give you the world—and some diamond that took up half your hand," he said with a small chuckle. "And Nan would have reminded me that love was about more than money."

  He brought a shaky hand to my cheeks, wiping away my tears. "She saved me once, Leila--but you saved me too. You showed me that it was okay to let you in. That it was okay to love someone."