by Sky Corgan
I think I'm about to faint. What in the hell is going on?
“Mrs. Miller, I know you don't want an asshole for a son-in-law, but I came to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage.” Xan turns his attention back to me, opening the box to expose the glittering diamond ring inside. “Christiana, I'd like to offer you a promotion to be my wife.”
It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. Everything starts to fade around me. Before I know what's happening, my legs buckle, and the ground rushes to meet me. I'll hit the floor and wake up later realizing this was all just some strange dream.
That's what I expect to happen.
Strong arms swoop in to stop my descent. I'm pulled against hard muscles, cradled as hands brush across my face. Xan's voice is distant—full of concern.
It takes several minutes for the veil of unconsciousness to drift away, but when my eyes are finally able to focus again, I see an expression on Xan's face that's never been there before. Worry. He's panicking.
“Christiana, are you alright? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” he asks.
My mother is hovering over me, too.
I try to gather up my strength, but I don't want to leave Xan's arms. Instead, I just curl against him.
“Did you just propose to me?” I'll feel like a moron if the answer is no. The memory is way too fresh for it to have been imagined, though.
“Did my proposal make you faint?” He quirks an eyebrow, but some of the concern leaves his features.
“I think it did.” I nod, forcing myself to find my footing.
“He's cute. You should marry him,” my mom whispers loudly enough for us to both hear. I'm not sure if she remembers his story or if she's just excited about the thought of me getting married.
“You should listen to her, Christiana.” Xan winks at my mom, which seems to absolutely delight her. “Neither of you will ever have to worry about anything for the rest of your lives.”
I huff, pulling myself out of his arms to stand on my own. “Is that the only reason I should marry you?” I give him a sarcastic look.
“No. You should marry me because of what's in this letter.” He pats his pocket. “Because you love me.”
“And do you love me?”
He grins. “Longer than you even knew I existed apparently.”
I have so many questions for him, but his answer suffices for now. To think that he loved me all this time; that I tortured myself over nothing. But why was he so cold towards me?
“Can we discuss this outside?” I glance at the door.
“I think it would be better if we discussed the details of your promotion back at my place.” There's a twinkle in his eyes that has a distinct hint of sexuality to it. Thankfully, my mother can't tell. Maybe no one else would be able to see it but me because I know him so well.
Almost on queue, Dorothy walks in. She gives us a queer look when she sees us all together.
“Yeah, let's go.” I kiss my mother goodbye and don't even bother offering Dorothy an explanation before we leave. Maybe my mom will tell her what happened; maybe she won't. It will be interesting to find out how much she was able to retain. More than likely, Dorothy will just think she made the whole thing up.
We crawl into the limo, though I leave all my belongings behind because I'm still not sure what's going on.
“So what say you?” Xan asks, moving to sit beside me in the limo.
“This is all so sudden.” I blush, feeling my affection for him blossom as if being around my mother was the only thing keeping it at bay.
“You tried to leave me. I had to do something drastic to get you back.” He rests his hand on top of mine, entwining our fingers.
Alarm fills me as I look back up at him. “Does that mean you only proposed because I quit?”
“No.” He places a tender kiss on my forehead. “I'd had it planned for a while. You just...didn't really give me much of an opportunity to do it right. And I knew that if I didn't do it now, I would lose you.”
“But what about last night? You were so cold towards me.” I sulk from the memory.
“Last night was the final piece of the puzzle. It was the last thing I needed for us to do to make sure you were right for me. But I was scared of what I was feeling and how perfectly everything went. I'm not a vulnerable person, Christiana. Being with you makes me feel things I'm not used to. I suppose that was just a defense mechanism.”
“But why? Why would you feel the need to be that way when you had planned to propose to me anyway? I can only assume you already had the ring.” I highly doubt he went and bought one after his meeting. All the jewelry stores should be closed at this hour, not that I don't think he has connections.
“Because, like your mother says, I'm an asshole.” He lets out a short laugh.
“You can be sometimes,” I admit.
Xan turns to me, his expression serious. “I have to be honest with you, Christiana, being with me isn't always going to be easy. I hate to think that I'm anything like my father beside a good business man, but I can be a selfish, demanding prick sometimes.” He slides his hand across my cheek, gently gripping the hair behind my ear to draw me to him. “I want what I want, and I won't hesitate to make demands.”
My breath hitches from the dirty implication of his words. I know exactly what he means, and I'm more than happy to serve him.
“What might you demand of me?” I ask coyly.
“Filthy things.” The s hisses off his tongue. “Like right now, I want you to wrap that pretty little mouth of yours around my dick.”
My cheeks turn about fifty shades of pink. “Your driver might see us.”
“Good. I want him to see. He better get used to seeing, because I plan on fucking my wife in this limo every chance I get.”
Wife. That one word spurs me to action. It elevates the hunger I already had for him—the desire to please him.
My hand finds the front of his slacks, and his erect cock pushes at it crudely. It appears that the dirty talk has him aroused, too. Or maybe it's the thought of doing something naughty with me that we haven't done before.
When I unzip his pants, his dick practically springs into my hand, ready to be palmed and stroked. I slide down onto my knees, my long skirt making it hard to move in the cramped limo. My lips find his glans, and I inhale his musky scent before placing kisses all over his tip and down the length of his shaft. Then my tongue follows suit, exploring him for the first time ever. He admittedly tastes better than I thought he would, more like skin than anything else.
When I pop his thickness between my lips, he lets out a moan that makes my clit throb. My jaw aches as I make a few passes up and down his length. Then he fists his hand in my hair and takes control, force-feeding me his cock until I'm gagging and choking. It's amazingly hot, though, that he prefers to be in control. When he's in control, I feel like I don't have to worry about whether or not I'm doing it right. He angles me exactly how he wants me, goes so deep that his groans of pleasure say it all.
“Oh fuck, Christiana. Your mouth is so hot. I want to nut in your cunt, though. I'm going to fill you with a baby and make you mine forever.” He urges me off of him, helping me up off of the floor and immediately gathering my skirt.
I can't help but smirk, wondering if he was secretly trying to get me pregnant all along. There's no mystery behind his actions now. He just spelled it out for me.
I crawl on top of him, needing him inside of me to feel complete. When he pushes past my threshold, the pleasure is just as much emotional as it is physical. We gaze into each other's eyes as I writhe on top of him, my hands seated on his shoulders for leverage. And all I see is love. All I feel is my elation from finally owning all of him.
“Yes,” I cry out as I pick up the pace, bouncing on him so rapidly that the friction is quickly driving me to climax. “Yes, I'll marry you.”
If he approves, I can't tell. He's too busy panting, and it's not long before I feel the delicious pulsing sen
sation that sends me over the edge. He's coming. I'm coming. We're coming together.
I squeeze my muscles around him, milking out every drop. Wanting it all inside of me.
There will be no hasty shower. No trying desperately to push his seed out of me. I want it marinating in my womb because I want to have his baby. I don't care if I have to walk down the aisle in a maternity wedding dress; I can't wait for us to start a family together.
He stays inside of me until the limo pulls up to his mansion, his arms wrapped around me, his head nestled against my chest. I stroke his hair, so in love, still in disbelief that this is how the day turned out.
I wrote my peace in that letter and left. I was never supposed to see him again. We were over. Done.
Never in a million years could I have imagined that he would offer me another promotion. Now he can demand these filthy things of me for the rest of my life. And I'm going to love every minute of it.
THE END.
Not His Submissive
CHAPTER ONE
It was one of the saddest yet happiest days of my life. In a few short hours, I would be flying to meet the man I had been promised to, multibillionaire Jack Kemble. He was practically a movie star—a man of every woman's dreams, with a chiseled physique and a smile that could stop you dead in your tracks.
It wasn't all happy times, though. As I sat in my room, my gaze darted to all the memories on my bedroom walls, avoiding the eyes of the man in front of me. Liam and I had been best friends since kindergarten, and as the years turned us from innocent children into adults, it had been clear that he wanted something more. Still, my arranged marriage had kept any feelings that I had for him at bay, and he had suffered through it, just content to be by my side.
Now I would have to say goodbye to him forever, and I could almost feel his heart breaking as he stared at me longingly.
“Please reconsider, Melita. You know you don't want this.” His voice was strained, and I could hear the crisp pain in his words.
“You know that I have to do this for my family.” I let my eyes fall to my hands, and then they instinctively crossed my lap to his. His thick fingers twitched, and I couldn't help but remember all the times those same unsteady hands had held me in my moments of darkness. How would I ever survive without those strong hands to comfort me?
The tears began to flow, despite my resolve not to cry. Crying would only weaken both of us, and I didn't want to hurt him any more than I already had.
“What if you don't love this man?” he asked.
“People don't always marry for love,” I reminded him, trying to recall the lessons my mother had taught me.
Coming from a wealthy family wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. Often times, marriages were arranged so that two families could join assets, making them both even wealthier. My parents were deeply enriched in the oil business, while Jack's family was into everything else. If our marriage went through as planned, my family would give Jack a large sum of money to expand his business to overseas markets, and my father would become CFO of Jack's corporation. It was a win/win situation for all involved.
If not for Liam, it would have been a win for me as well. What girl didn't want to marry a handsome billionaire? But the ties that bound me to Liam were strong, and there were definite secret feelings there. Leaving him would break my heart.
“It's time to go,” my mother said through the bedroom door.
“I'll miss you,” I told Liam, taking his hand into mine.
“If he doesn't treat you well, you come back to me. Do you understand?” His voice commanded my attention, and I allowed myself to gaze into his silvery-blue eyes a final time. So beautiful and soothing. I would miss them, too, the way they seemed to look at me with all of the gentleness and affection in the world.
We embraced, and I worried he might never let me go. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I wanted him to let me go. But then my mother was at the door, opening it and giving us both her best impatient glare.
Liam walked me out to the limo, and I watched him through the back window as we drove out of sight and I left the life that I loved behind.
The flight to New York was grueling, despite first-class accommodations. I spent most of it nauseous, though I couldn't tell if it was from altitude sickness or nervousness. I tried to distract myself by imagining what Jack would be like, but I think that only made things worse.
He would be waiting to greet me at the airport, and hopefully, he'd be considerate enough to leave the paparazzi at home. They tended to follow him around like dogs, looking for any juicy tidbit that they could present to their papers or news stations. From what I could tell, Jack didn't have a personal life. Every woman he went out with, every good or bad thing he did, was quickly aired across the nation like dirty laundry. It was sickening to know that my life would soon be like that simply because of my association with him.
When I stepped into the NYC airport terminal, I didn't have to scan the crowd long to realize that Jack wasn't waiting for me there. In his place stood a large, intimidating-looking man in a suit holding up a cardboard sign with my name printed on it. Maybe it was for the best that Jack wasn't there in person, I thought with a sigh, a bit relieved that the butterflies in my stomach could have a rest. At least this way, I didn't have to worry about the paparazzi.
The man greeted me and escorted me through the airport. He seemed nice enough. Obviously, one of Jack's bodyguards.
After picking up my luggage, he led me outside to a waiting limo. Courteously, he opened the door, and I stepped inside, nearly tripping on myself as my eyes landed on Jack Kemble sitting coolly with his legs crossed.
He leaned forward and extended a hand to guide me into my seat. “Miss Rickard.”
“Mister Kemble. It's a pleasure to finally meet you.” I put on my best smile, trying not to blush.
It felt like sitting across from a celebrity. Jack Kemble was wearing distressed jeans and a stylish t-shirt with a black dress coat. His dark disheveled hair was accented perfectly by a large pair of sunglasses, which were completely unnecessary for the dimly lit limo. After a moment of being intrigued by him, I began to realize that the whole get-up was a bit silly, as if he had gone out of his way to try to impress me. Perhaps he was just as nervous as I was.
“The pleasure is all mine.” He bent forward to kiss my hand before releasing it back to me. “I apologize for not meeting you inside. I figured you would probably be exhausted coming off of your flight and wouldn't want to be bothered with the media.”
“How considerate of you.” I nodded in thanks.
“We're going to my parents' house for dinner right now. They're greatly looking forward to meeting you as well.”
“It sounds lovely.”
“Would you like some champagne?” Jack leaned towards the built in wine glass holder to take out a glass before I had even responded.
“No, thank you. My stomach is still a bit unsettled from the flight.”
He straightened himself, looking ever collected. My nerves were on fire, and I only hoped I seemed half as calm as him.
“So, tell me a bit about yourself. I'm to marry you in six months, and I don't even know anything about you,” he said.
“Well,” I searched for things to say. In all honesty, there wasn't much to tell. “I just graduated from UTSA with an Associates in Mathematics. After we're married, I plan on going back to school to get my bachelors and then my masters and PhD.”
“Very admirable. What do you hope to do with your degree?”
“I'd like to be a calculus professor at Yale or Harvard.”
“Impressive ambition. I like a woman with ambition. And hobbies? What do you like to do for fun?”
“Painting and playing the harp.”
“I would love to hear you play some time, and see some of your artwork.” He sounded genuine, but I was almost certain it was only out of respect for our upcoming marriage. “Is there anything you would like to ask me?”
&n
bsp; I couldn't think of anything. To be honest, I had researched him thoroughly before my flight, spent every moment of the last few days that I hadn't been packing or spending time with Liam to learn everything I could about the man whom I'd soon call husband.
Fresh out of high school, Jack Kemble had become immersed in business, forgoing college for a hands-on education. His father schooled him in all matters related to running a multibillion-dollar corporation, and whenever Jack had gotten up to speed, his father had handed over the reigns, going into early retirement. He still coached Jack on the more difficult aspects of business, but for the most part, Jack was on his own, handling things with the grace and professionalism that were rare in someone his age.
“Your hobbies are fly fishing, hunting, and golf. You have a dog named Brownie and a horse named Winnie. When you were eighteen, you began learning your father's business and had taken over shortly after turning twenty-four. Your birthday is March sixth, and your favorite food is peanut butter sandwiches with bananas,” I rattled off all that I could remember.
A wide grin spread across Jack's face. “Very impressive. I see you did your homework.”
“I did,” I giggled.
“Now I feel like I came completely unprepared.”
“I'm afraid you won't find out much about me on Google.”
“Then I get a free pass for not knowing your favorite food.”
I enjoyed his lighthearted humor, and he was surprisingly easy to talk to. Maybe things would be alright after all.
At dinner, Jack's family was more than courteous. They seemed genuinely interested in my life back in Texas, and of course, they asked plenty of questions about my father's oil business. I did my best to answer as accurately as possible, never one for giving out misleading information.
When dinner was over, I was shown to my room. It was generously large. Even bigger than my bedroom at home. Before I unpacked, I took a few minutes to lie on my bed, looking up at the cream-colored ceiling and going over the night's events in my head. All was going well so far. Jack was incredibly polite and very handsome. It seemed like he would make a good husband.