by Tara Quan
Bear’s wet nose bumped his forearm, the contact shattering Luka’s daydream. The dog’s immaculate coat reminded him of the deeper differences between Naomi and his ex. Ivanna had petted Bear once or twice, but she’d never fed, played with, or helped groom the dog. She’d forbidden him from bringing his own pet inside the house and had dropped multiple hints about replacing the mutt with a pedigreed animal.
He scratched Bear’s floppy ear. “I didn’t consider it for one second, I’ll have you know. Not even when she withheld sex.” The dog slurped at his palm, nuzzling closer as Luka’s brain insisted on a walk down memory lane.
Lust could blind a man. So could the urge to start a family. He’d tired of returning to an empty house, of doing scenes with different lovers night after night. Watching his mother and father grow old together had filled him with a hunger for someone to call his own. He’d wanted a partner, a woman with whom he could share his home.
Ivanna had seemed the perfect choice. They’d been about the same age. He worked as an architect and she an interior designer. Their families frequented the same country club, shared acquaintances, and attended similar charity events.
She’d set her sights on him not long after they’d bumped into each other at his cousin’s wedding—a meeting he’d later discovered had been orchestrated by two sets of scheming parents. According to her friends, she’d boasted about him eating out of her palm. She hadn’t veered far off the mark.
Over the course of several hours, he’d ogled her boobs, admired her butt, and yawned while she’d rattled off list after list of possible mutual acquaintances. When she’d batted her eyelashes and invited him into an empty guest room, he hadn’t objected. After all, she’d seemed like the perfect woman, one who’d wanted nothing more than to quit her job, settle down, and raise beautiful children.
He hadn’t pursued her after they’d parted ways, in large part because he’d detected no hint of submissiveness. They’d shared a robust, enjoyable, but far-from-fulfilling night together. But, two weeks after the fateful encounter, he’d bumped into her at a BDSM club he frequented. Dressed in a corset and thong, she’d fallen to her knees, plumped up her breasts, and told him she’d try anything.
He should have trusted his instincts and turned her down, but his penis had called the shots. She kept on showing up on his regular nights, and, like an idiot, he’d topped her each time. After months went by without incident, asking her to marry him had seemed a no-brainer. He’d found a woman who shared his tastes in bed, one whose social standing and life goals complemented his.
After he’d broken off the engagement, she’d sued him for emotional distress, prompting him to retain the best attorneys he could afford. Their private investigators discovered her so-called compatibility with him to be a sham. She’d shown no interest in the lifestyle prior to the day they’d met. Financial records indicated she’d hired someone to follow him, before and after the first night they’d fucked. She’d had her PI question the other women he’d slept with, providing her with a list of preferences and limits.
Even though she’d researched him, stalked him, and played him like a fiddle, his lawyers had nonetheless advised him to settle the civil suit. He’d refused, and the nasty smear campaign that accompanied the trial had turned his ordered life upside down. Perhaps because of his parents’ wealth, his interest in BDSM had captured the attention of both the local press and tabloids. The stuffy architectural firm he’d worked for had responded by booting him out the door.
Instead of wallowing in self-pity, he’d recruited the assistance of his best friend, a daring if somewhat unorthodox attorney, to sue his former employer for discrimination and his ex-fiancée for slander. Somehow, they’d managed to win both trials. He’d come out of the experience a richer man and had used the windfall to start a company of his own.
Reaching sideways to rub Bear’s soft, white belly, he contemplated chasing after Naomi. But, conniving bitch or not, Ivanna had taught him a valuable lesson. Their relationship had crashed and burned in large part because of her unhinged mental state, but also because she wasn’t a submissive.
His ex’s reticence to scene in public had increased the longer they’d stayed together. Soon after he’d proposed, she’d asked him to cancel his membership at the club. His perversions, as she’d liked to call them, risked damaging her image.
When he’d refused her request, she’d thrown a hissy fit. After lobbing dishes and glassware, she’d crossed the line and kicked his dog. The brutal attack had resulted in a moment of complete clarity. Less than a minute later, he’d shoved the queen bitch out of his life.
Shouts from their last fight echoed around him, the past leaking into the present in a paralyzing rush. “I’m not a submissive, you perverted bastard. If you want to fuck me again, you’ll screw your head on straight and become the man I want.”
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Submissive on Display by Tara Quan