Kingdom Fall: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (Kingdom Come Book 2)

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Kingdom Fall: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (Kingdom Come Book 2) Page 10

by Terri E. Laine


  That stubborn hand of hers hadn’t gone done. I finally nodded.

  “So this is about you and not her?”

  “Fair question. The answer to that is obviously no. As I stated before, there is a negotiation at the beginning. We have to understand each other’s wants and needs before we agree to enter this relationship. It’s not enough to be attracted to someone. Also, in truth, the submissive holds most of the power. It’s my job to listen and understand her wants even if she can’t fully express them. She controls the boundaries, and that’s why there is a safe word. Also, relationships evolve over time. Just like eating, what I hunger for today may not be what I want tomorrow. Same goes for her.”

  I nodded when her hand went up again. “You don’t live with your submissive, so is a D/s relationship only about sex for you?”

  “No. Most of the time, it involves sex, but it can be more. Especially if my sub wants to play house and cook and clean for me.”

  “You just don’t sleep with her?”

  I didn’t answer because she’d broken the rule. She stared at me, waiting, and even went as far as narrowing her eyes until I arched a brow.

  “That gets into punishments. I’m not a sadist. I don’t get off on causing pain that exceeds pleasure. But when a rule is broken, one must be punished. For example, you’ve broken the rules three times.”

  “What? Are you going to spank me now?” she asked, her chin up and obviously daring me to say yes.

  “No. I think you’d enjoy it too much. Go stand in the corner.”

  That obstinate chin didn’t drop. “You can’t be serious?”

  I wasn’t one for a persistent rule-breaker submissive. Some defied because they craved the punishment. Others were masochists. And some dominants thrived with such submissives, but I wasn’t one of them. “You wanted to know what it was like being my submissive.”

  “I did. I do. But I’m not going in the corner. Next thing you’ll want me to call you Daddy.”

  Everyone had limits. I’d hit mine.

  “Don’t mock what you don’t understand.” I headed for the door. “I’ll be back.”

  “Wait,” she called, but I didn’t stop.

  I was done.

  Sixteen

  Lizzy

  Apologetic a hundred times over couldn’t completely describe how remorseful I was. I’d asked him to open up and I’d mocked him. At first, I’d assumed he was kidding. When I realized he was serious, it was too late.

  It was true I had been bucking his rules and testing his limits. Being a brat to bring out the man I’d seen on the stage with the whip in his hand ready to use it. He’d looked dangerous, and I’d always craved a powerful man. The clash of our destructive sides called to me in a way I didn’t fully understand. There was more kink in me than I’d realized. Or was it just this man who brought this out of me? I needed to find out, and there was really only one way to do that.

  Appearing weak or vulnerable went against everything I’d used to rebuild myself since high school. My past forced me to be strong, but to be with him, I had to be the opposite. I’d used his lie about who he really was to force myself free of his hold over me those many months ago. And here I was ready to cry because he’d left. What did that make me?

  I dropped on the sofa like a stone, feeling the petulant expression of a child take hold of my face. I bit my lip to force myself not to poke it out. Then and there, I made a decision. I got up and prepared. When I was done, I waited.

  Darkness fell hours before I heard footsteps and scrambled to get in position. When the door opened, I was on my knees, facing the corner he’d told me to go to before. I wore nothing more than a sexy pair of underwear and a matching bra that had been packed for me.

  Only time would tell if it worked.

  His footsteps stilled. Knowing him, he was trying to figure out if I was mocking him again or ready to play for real. He didn’t come to me as I hoped. I heard his movement continue past and into the bedroom. Distantly, I heard the bathroom door close, yet I didn’t move.

  When he came out, hope sprang in me—only to falter. Once again, he made no move toward me or even spoke to me. I forced myself to stay put and wait. I owed him this. More than that, I owed us. I couldn’t let him walk out of my life forever without knowing if we could find common ground.

  All relationships involved compromise. There were unspoken rules as to who would lead.

  I had to admit, I’d enjoyed him tying me up, whether it was the belt from my robe or binding me to the obedience chair. Watching him whip that woman had turned me on more than I’d been willing to admit. Wasn’t one of the reasons Hans and I hadn’t worked out because I found him too nice? I wanted a man to manhandle me in bed. Toss me around and shove his huge cock inside me.

  This man was that. Check, check, check…

  Consumed by my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed his approach. A tug—almost to the point of pain—pulled my head back and I stared into blue eyes that were black in the shadowy darkness of the room.

  “You want to play.” He smelled of whiskey, but hadn’t slurred a word.

  Unable to completely nod with my head bent back as it was, I gave a short bob of my head. Suddenly, I was free, and I bowed my head forward, biting back the instinct to fight back. This was what I wanted.

  Footsteps retreated but not far. He didn’t immediately speak after I heard him sit—likely on the sofa.

  “Come,” he said.

  The word was dark and stroked every inch of my skin. I shivered.

  As I started to get to my feet, he said, “Crawl, don’t walk.”

  I shifted onto all fours and slowly moved toward him. I made the mistake of meeting his eyes until I remembered and shifted my focus to the floor ahead of me. I stopped when I was close enough to touch his feet. There I faltered, unsure if I should remain or kneel. I waited, sure he would tell me what to do next.

  “This isn’t a game,” he said. “This is your last chance to get up and go to the bedroom and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

  I shook my head.

  “If you stay, I expect complete obedience.”

  When he said nothing after I shook my head again, I dared look into his face. He licked his lips and damn if I wasn’t soaking wet.

  “Sit on the sofa there.” He indicated the spot opposite him. “Spread your legs.”

  It had been years since I’d been shy about my body. It wasn’t perfect, but I’d owned my skin for quite some time. This would be the easiest of his requests of me.

  I crawled over even though he hadn’t specified, and I could tell he was pleased when I finally positioned myself in the corner of the sofa with my legs spread. If the lights had been on, he could have seen how wet I was. Suddenly a click, and he aimed the gooseneck lamp at my pussy.

  “Pleasure yourself as if I wasn’t here.”

  There may have been hesitation. Yes, I’d played seductress before. But I hadn’t fully gotten myself off in front of a man, especially not one like him.

  His appraising eyes watched as I wet two fingers in my mouth before drawing a line to my clit. I circled it before applying any direct pressure. When I finally made direct contact, I couldn’t stop myself from hissing and tossing my head back. I took a slower journey south, picturing his tongue dancing between my legs.

  Self-exploration had never felt so good. With my eyes closed, I still felt his heated stare as I dipped first one then two fingers inside. I moaned because it felt damn good. I wanted him to be touching me. So far he resisted, but maybe if I let go and showed him all I was thinking and not saying, he’d join me.

  My pumping action had crescendoed to a fever pitch when he said, “How close are you?”

  I eeked out, “Close.” It sounded more like a breath than a word.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I want you to fuck me,” I unabashedly replied on a moan.

  “How do you want me to fuck you?”

  Just hearing the man
say fuck sent me hurdling closer to the edge. “I want you to take that big fat cock of yours and shove it in my pussy. I want you to fuck me like you want to hurt me. I want you to slap my ass and pull my hair and tell me when to come.”

  Just speaking the unadulterated truth brought my orgasm on like a runaway freight train. I might have squealed and squirmed, but damn if I didn’t come hard. I could have passed out from the sheer force of it. I lay back, waiting for my breathing to slow. It helped that his hand had taken up stroking my leg. Though I’d just gotten off, I was ready for more.

  I opened my eyes, ready to beg, when he said, “Go to bed.”

  My mouth opened and air escaped, but I managed to hold back the words. I’d sworn to myself I would see this through from beginning to end. I found myself mentally chanting, don’t stare at his cock as it strained against his pants when I got to my feet and dutifully went into the bedroom.

  I didn’t close the door because the invitation was open for him to join me. Though I knew he wouldn’t. I cleaned up in the bathroom and did all the normal things to get ready for bed. When I came out, I almost said something.

  How did it work? When was what I’d orchestrated over? Then again, that was clear. His last order was for me to go to bed. So I did. I lay there a while, replaying the adventure in my head. Nothing we’d done was much different from any other couple. Only the compulsion to do as he asked without question was unique to a D/s relationship. Then again, I was certain there were other couples who had the same dynamic. They may not call it that, but it was.

  I woke in the morning to bright sunshine, the soothing sound of waves, and the smell of delicious coffee. I got out of bed and wandered into the living area, which included the small kitchen. I hadn’t stayed in a place this small since college, and I found I kind of liked it.

  “Morning,” I said, still not sure of protocol.

  “Morning.”

  On the table were two steamy mugs of coffee. Greedy, I sat and brought the heavenly aroma to my mouth. “This is the best part of waking up.”

  I waited for him to say something, as I’d left an opening for a witty reply, but he didn’t.

  “I’m not sure when the game ends,” I said, softy feeling shy.

  “In the terms you’re speaking, it’s called a scene. And yes, it’s over.”

  I wanted desperately for the discord to be over as well. “Are you still mad?”

  “I’m not mad, Lizzy, but that doesn’t mean anything’s changed.”

  He set a plate with eggs and bacon in front of me before sitting across from me. I walked over to him and straddled his lap. It was becoming my favorite position to be in when I was around him.

  “Elizabeth,” he said hoarsely.

  “Don’t do that. I don’t call you Connor. Don’t call me Elizabeth,” I said, searching his eyes to make sure I hadn’t completely lost him yet. “I want you, and I’m not giving up without a fight.”

  “You don’t know what you want,” he said as his hands slid up my thighs to grip my hips almost to the point of pain. He seemed to know just how far to go and when to stop.

  “I do. Last night—”

  “Last night, you did what I thought I wanted.”

  I glared at him. “Is that why you didn’t fuck me?”

  “I told you it’s not a game.”

  “It wasn’t a game to me. I know what happened earlier, and I’m sorry for that. Sometimes I speak without thinking. But all of that was for me. I needed to know if I could.”

  “And?”

  I leaned forward and bit his lip. “And it would have been nice if it hadn’t ended.”

  “Liking rough sex isn’t the same as D/s.”

  “No, it isn’t. But it means my limits aren’t as firm as I thought. When I saw you on stage that night with that whip in your hand, I wanted it to be me,” I finally told him, and I gave him the rest of my truth. “I’ve never subscribed to a man tying me up. It’s different with you. I know if you do that, you won’t take advantage.”

  His eyes dilated and I felt his cock hard and ready against my core.

  “I wouldn’t.” He leaned forward and bit my lip this time.

  “Fuck me,” I begged.

  I wouldn’t ever know if he would have because his phone rang.

  Seventeen

  Lizzy

  Not seven seconds into whatever he heard on his call, he helped me off his lap and paced while muttering a yes or two. His face lost color at one point and he ran a hand over his head.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked when he finally ended the call.

  “Eat. A car is on its way. We’re leaving.”

  “I don’t want to eat. Just tell me what’s going on.” A million scenarios played out in my head.

  “I have to go home. Now.”

  “Why?” I pressed.

  “My father—just eat. We leave in ten.” He left me in the kitchen without explaining himself and closed the bedroom door.

  I couldn’t eat anything. The look on his face had me envisioning the worst. I had no idea what it was like to lose a parent, but I got that sometimes you needed space from everyone to process. Though I wanted to keep at him, I stayed silent.

  While he did whatever in the bedroom, I cleaned up the kitchen. I hadn’t unpacked—we’d been here less than a day. I had no idea whose place this was and what rules they had about what condition to leave it in. Besides, I needed to stay busy.

  When the bedroom door opened, Striker was all business. Both our bags were in his hands.

  “You can check to make sure I didn’t leave anything. I’ll take these down to the car,” he said, leaving me to wonder if he was avoiding me.

  I couldn’t do much other than comply. He’d gotten everything. I took one look out the windows, wishing I had my phone. I would have loved a picture to remember the stunning view. Instead, I let the door close behind me and went downstairs.

  The car was waiting, so I got in the back. Striker didn’t look at me. I reached over to where his hand rested on the seat, but before I could cover his with mine, he moved it to his lap. Without knowing what was going on, how could I possibly judge him? Instead, I faced the window. I cracked it, enjoying the feeling of the air on my face as my emotions raced around curves. I dug deep for the strength that had done me so much good over the years.

  The drive was short, and soon we were at the bottom of the plane’s stairs, bypassing most of security since it was a private jet. Grant was there to greet us, along with a customs agent. After our passports were checked, Striker waved me up the stairs.

  After he shut us in, Grant said, “I wasn’t expecting to take you guys home.”

  “Yeah, it was unexpected,” I said, glancing at Striker. Grant’s smile fell some and I put on a brave smile. “I hope your stay was good.”

  He brightened, and his grin was infectious. “It was. I slept a lot but had time to get to the pub for a pint.”

  “You were dying to say pub and pint, weren’t you?”

  “Am I that easy to read?” He laughed and took the bags. “I’ll put these away and get ready for the journey home. It looks like the winds are in our favor. We should make it to New York in a little over seven hours.”

  I’d made up my mind to give Striker the space he needed, so I was headed toward the last row of seats when Striker caught my hand. I looked down into his pleading eyes and let him tug me into his lap. His arms wrapped around me so tightly, I burrowed my head in his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. I bobbed my head, and he placed a kiss on the top. “I didn’t know how to handle the news that my father’s heart had failed him again. He’s in surgery and they don’t know if he’ll make it.”

  I placed a hand on his cheek, my heart breaking for him. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same. I have no idea how I would have reacted, given the same news.”

&n
bsp; “I feel helpless. And if he dies because I couldn’t be the son he wanted…”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “He wanted my help with the business, and I refused. He was at work. They found him unconscious in his office. If I’d been there…”

  What he didn’t say was that he’d been with me instead. Even if he hadn’t thought of that, I felt guilty.

  “Strap in,” Grant said, peeking his head out of the cockpit door with a grin.

  When I tried to get up, Striker didn’t let go. He took one hand and worked the belt around the both of us. It barely fit. Grant said nothing, only turned. I guessed no rule was unbreakable on a private flight.

  We didn’t speak, we just held each other. I had questions about who might have been after me, but it wasn’t more important than Striker getting back to his father.

  Striker was intuitive though. “Kalen suggested I leave you in Ireland, but I’m a selfish bastard. I want you with me. You can stay at Dad’s. No one would suspect either of us of being there.”

  “I want to be with you too,” I said. “Is Kalen coming?” Bailey and Kalen were supposed to be on their honeymoon.

  “Funny enough, he is. They’re on the way back.”

  It was unlikely my kidnapping had anything to do with the either of them since the man after Bailey had been found. No one would put me at Connor’s father’s house.

  Grant’s voice came through the speaker. “You are free to move about the cabin.”

  Not long after, Striker said, “I need you.”

  I nodded because I wanted to give him everything he needed. The seat belt was quickly freed, and he got up, stooped because of the height of the ceiling, and managed to carry me to the back. The bed was folded back into a sofa, but that didn’t stop him from laying me across it.

 

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