The Billionaire's Passion (His Submissive 3)

by Ava Claire

  I brought my hands to the sides of his face. "Do you know how much I want to take your hand and stuff it down my panties and show you how hot the idea of the two of us on that thing makes me? Not just because the idea of being bound and completely yours makes me weak at the knees, but because I see past the mask you show to everyone else. I trust you fully and completely." I still couldn't see what way he was swaying. I cast a look at the swing then forced my back to it, turning to the corner where the St Andrews cross perched. As much as I wanted the swing, that wasn't what submission was about. Submission was about trusting him to know what I needed.

  I let out a resigned sigh, shoulders slumping. "But if you say I'm not ready, then I'm not ready."

  He took stock of me, his eyes indiscernible as he crossed his arms against his muscular chest. "Interesting."

  I frowned. I'd just wrangled in the desire to jump his bones on the spot, whether he liked it or not, and all I got was one word. That paltry descriptor again? Interesting.

  His face broke into a wide grin. "Leila Montgomery, the spitfire that gives me lip and headache at every turn, finally giving herself over to me." He breathed in deep and exhaled with a moan that rippled over me and in that moment, I knew I'd let him strap me to a cross or any other medieval torture device. Anything he wanted.

  "So what's the verdict?" I said, my voice a husky whisper. His hands gripped my waist and my body instantly responded to his.

  His eyes bore into me. "We will use the swing." His voice hardened to stone. "Be careful what you wish for, Miss Montgomery."

  ****

  "It's very important that you listen and understand everything I'm about to say."

  I finished stepping out of my skirt, wringing my hands in excitement as I turned to him. I wanted him to get the full effect of the black lingerie number I'd snagged at the boutique. I knew that one's boobs weren't supposed to practically spill out of the cup, but I felt as sexy as any Victoria's Secret angel. "What do you think?"

  "Take them off." When I opened my mouth, he gave me a look. "You should be naked. Then get down on your knees, hands behind your back. And you will address me as ‘sir’ or ‘Master’.”

  “Yes sir.” Well then. I reached behind and unhooked the bra and tossed it over where my skirt and blouse were bundled, then my panties. I bent my knees to go down to the floor when his voice snapped like a whip.

  "Stop."

  I froze. I'd already screwed up. "S-Stop?"

  He cocked his head to where I'd thrown my clothes. "Fold each piece of clothing then put them on top of the dresser in the corner." He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "Then come back and assume the position."

  Embarrassment sent a red blush spreading across my face as I padded to the tangle of my things. I felt like I was being scolded, but this was different that the dynamic between a parent and a child. The fact that I was stark naked and could feel his eyes watching me bend and stoop turned something simple into an erotic act. I could feel my breath quickening, my skin buzzing, the heart of me clenching in rhythm with my racing heart beat. What the hell was happening to me? I should have felt objectified, diminished, but having him order me to do this chore made me quiver.

  I moved to the dresser and placed the folded clothes on top then returned to where he stood and dropped to my knees, drawing my hands behind my back.

  "Good girl," he said huskily, smirking at me with approval. "When we play, things can get kind of intense. Many use a safe word, but I find it's best to use a system most can remember. When I'm balls deep inside you or pushing you to the point you're delirious with pain and pleasure, remembering some obscure color or item can be problematic." He made a slow circuit around me. "The colors we will use are green, yellow, and red. Green means you're good. More, if you will. Yellow means that things are approaching the point of being unbearable. Ease up, rearrange. Less. And red means that you've hit the wall. No more. Stop." He stroked my hair. "You have no need of using green and yellow unless I ask you what your color is intermittently. You will use red whenever you need to. Understood?"

  I nodded.

  The hand locked in my hair tightened. "Verbal communication is key, Leila. Understood?"

  "Yes sir," I replied, the feel of him tugging my hair then releasing making me throb. Green.

  "Are you ready to begin?"

  "Yes sir."

  "Get on your feet and walk to the side of the bed." His voice was husky and crisp as I rose up on wobbly legs and obeyed, walking to the bed and waiting for further instruction.

  "On the bed. Spread eagled."

  I crawled onto the bed, the canvas swing rubbing against my bare skin. I spread out, jolts of pleasure sparking all over me. I heard him move to my left and let out a hiss of longing when I felt his fingers tracing up and down my back.

  "In this room, you belong to me. Understood?" he said sternly.

  "Yes sir." The waiting, the building pressure in me that I couldn't release was all part of submitting wholly to Jacob.

  His hands diverted to the arm closest to him and I shivered as I felt the cool lick of metal then the warm lining of the binds as he clicked a shackle around my wrist. He made a slow circuit around me, securing both legs and the other wrist. I tugged a bit, the rational part of me flaring. Even if I wanted to run now, there'd be no way to free myself.

  He must have picked up on it because his hands returned to my back. I couldn't turn my head far enough to see him, but it lined up with what he said. I had to trust him.

  "What is your color, Leila?"

  Yellow was on my tongue, but I knew it was mostly not being in control. I didn't think he'd hurt me--it was just the unknown. And as his hand drifted down, caressing the curve of my bottom, I knew there was no way in hell I wanted him to stop.

  "Green," I murmured. I gasped as his hand collided against my cheek, sending pain ricocheting across me. Another hit the other cheek. Then a third. He just spanked me...but instead of being appalled, it made the place between my thighs clench.

  "Louder, Leila!" he barked. "What is your color?"

  "Green," I said, with more volume. God don't stop now.

  "Next time I have to ask you twice to obey or you forget the rules, you'll get six. Understood?"

  "Yes sir."

  "Good girl."

  It was just two words but there was something about the way he said that made me writhe against the bed like something in heat. The authoritative snap wrapped in the smoky passion that curled around every order.

  His hand was soft as he rounded my bottom, dipping down towards the part of me that wept for him.

  "You’re soaking wet for me, aren’t you?" he breathed.

  "Yes," I said, wanting him to dip inside. To feel his fingers plunge into me. But I realized my mistake too late and his hand came down on my backside. The first stung and each one after increased times two. By the time we reached four, I yelled in pain.

  "You're nearly there," he said, bringing his hand down twice more with the same intensity. "When you break the rules, you will be punished." He paused. "Yes what?"

  I felt the tears spilling down my cheeks. "Yes sir."

  "That's right." His hand gently stroked my bottom. "Your color?"

  My bottom still hurt, but his fingers were venturing toward my secret place. He was fondling, teasing me with fingers and with every pulse, pleasure latched onto the pain, leaving nothing but ecstasy.

  "Green, sir."

  With that. he thrust several fingers inside me, my body taking them in and out with thirsty smacks. He ground into me, one hand on my bottom, gripping and stroking, the other fanning the flames of passion inside me. I wanted to buck against him, to take him deeper, but the restraints didn't allow me the luxury. All I could do was moan over and over as my inner muscles squeezed his fingers.

  I knew I couldn't do anything without his permission, but the onslaught of him was making coherent thought near impossible and with that, the ability to keep my climax at bay.

 
"Don't you dare come," he commanded. But he must have felt that my body had a mind of its own because he let out a growl and a few choice words as he increased the rhythm. "God you're so beautiful. So beautiful."

  "Oh god," I said hoarsely. "I want to hold on s-sir, but it feels so good."

  He ejected from me immediately, but my body was still shaking, still ready to release it all. I let out a squeak as I felt the swing lift and I was hanging a few feet off the mattress. I was floating, feeling my juices drip and gush. I heard him unbuckling, unzipping and he was behind me.

  "Don't you dare come until I say so, understood?”

  The pressure in the heart of me was threatening to explode at any minute. “Yes sir!” Please say it soon. Please.

  As soon as I replied, he thrust into the wet, filling me up and leaving not one part that wasn't possessed. I was his. All his.

  He jackhammered in and out and both of us cried out together. With abandon. Screaming. Cursing. My body was shuddering, vaulting to the precipice of ecstasy.

  "Please sir," I said in between pants. I never talked dirty, but the words fell from my lips as easily as breathing. "Please let me come on your cock. Please."

  He kept slamming in and out of me furiously and I wondered if he heard me. He was like a thing possessed, completely unlike the controlled man outside of this room.

  Finally, he let out a roar that reverberated around the room. Through me. "Come, Leila. Come NOW!"

  I didn't think it was possible to climax on command, but as soon as he said the words, I felt every part of me shake violently. I could do nothing but remain suspended, a slave to him and the dark desires he stoked as passion consumed me. I could feel the intimate parts of me squeezing him with rhythmic need and just when I began to come down, the warmth of him finding his release swept me back up in the torrent of ecstasy. It was as close to heaven as I would ever be.

  When he released me from the bondage system, I slumped against him, more tired than I had ever been. Physically, parts of me I never even knew existed ached. Mentally, my head spun with my actions.

  I'd given Jacob complete control of me. He decided when I needed to be "discliplined". I still didn't understand the erotic pangs that echoed over me at the very word. He decided when I needed his touch and where. Savage and possessed or heartrendingly gentle. He even decided when I could let go and give into the bliss of the things he did to me. And in turn I got the most powerful romp....well, ever. Curling up beside him, my body still rocked with aftershocks.

  "You did well," he said, his low voice soothing. He brought an arm around me protectively, breathing in and exhaling like this was his heaven. Exactly what he needed. "I've got some cream for your bottom. So you won't bruise from the spanking."

  I perked my head up, grinning from ear to ear. "Jacob Whitmore: dominant and bedside nurse."

  He leaned in, lips grazing mine until he gave me a kiss as soft as a whisper. "Watch it."

  He turned to leave the bed, but I tugged his arm. "Can you hold me for a little while longer?"

  He slid back to me, face to face. There was a look in his eyes that made my temperature rise all over again. Like he could go another round or two. Like he just couldn't get enough. When he opened his mouth I was expecting a question that was along the lines of, "Again?", but he said something else entirely.

  "You asked me a question yesterday." When I scrunched my face in confusion, he elaborated. "About me and Rachel."

  I shook my head. "You don't have to answer it."

  "I do," he insisted. "She tried to start a scandal with you at the center, Leila. I owe you an answer."

  He wouldn't get any further protests from me. If he was ready to talk, I was ready to listen. "Alright."

  "It was about a year ago. And it was over before it even began." His eyes were blue as the sky, ever changing, like he was reliving those moments. "I lost someone very close to me. Lost him before I could square things between us."

  I wondered if it was his father, but didn't want to interrupt this rare moment of seeing the man behind the curtain.

  "She was coming out of some fresh crisis herself and needed almost constant supervision,” he continued. “We spent a lot of time together."

  I bristled at the idea of them being this intimate. Her body strapped in the swing. Beside him. In this very bed.

  A smile softened his face as he caressed my cheek. He was reading my mind. "I never brought her here, Leila."

  My mouth formed an 'o' of surprise. "I just assumed..."

  "She's unaware of my extra requirements in the bedroom,” he said, still smiling. “I can count on one hand the amount of times I shared my bed with her and each time was more vanilla than the last." He let out a sigh. "We had zero chemistry and I ended it."

  I could imagine him saying that to her--and the ensuing temper tantrum. "I’m guessing she didn't go quietly into that good night?"

  "You'd be right," he said with a bitter chuckle. "She seems to have built this elaborate romance, turning the two of us into star crossed lovers. But that's not our story."

  I propped my hand under my chin. "And what's our story, Jacob?"

  He swept my bangs from my eyes, his fingers lingering. "Well for starters, you're not the latest in a long line of submissives. I've had a similar arrangement twice before."

  I couldn't believe it. "Only two others? But I thought..." I remembered the sly jabs of the woman from the boutique, the flight attendant.

  "I know." He brought a single finger down, tracing the line of my jaw. "And just to be clear, this-" He gestured between us. "Talking, being near one of another afterwards, you are the only one."

  Oh my god. I was definitely blushing now. I tilted my head down, but he brought my chin back up gently.

  "Don't do that," his eyes sparkled playfully. "You're so beautiful when you're embarrassed." I gave him a look and he let out a raucous laugh. "And when you're being stubborn. Just like the day we met."

  I bit my lip, the memory of the nerves and the thrill skating over me. "I wanted you so bad."

  "You and me both," he said, his voice taking on the husky edge that drove me wild. "More than I ever wanted anyone."

  It was exactly what I wanted to hear, but I hesitated when he brought his lips to mine. Jacob cared about me, but I knew something now with certainty. Something that could complicate everything.

  I was in love with Jacob Whitmore.

  ###

  About the Author

  Ava Claire is a sucker for Alpha males and happily ever afters. When not putting pen to paper or glued to her Kindle, Ava likes road tripping, karaoke, vintage fashion, and searching for her own brooding billionaire.

  More about the His Submissive Series:

  The His Submissive Series will be released in a serial format, with a new part of Jacob and Leila’s story being released every 3-4 weeks. Stay tuned to Ava’s blog for more info!

  http://avaclaireromantica.blogspot.com

  Table of Contents

  The Billionaire's Passion (His Submissive, Part Three)

  Midpoint