Boxed Set: The His Submissive Series Complete Collection (Part One-Part Twelve) (18 page)

I pulled my mouth up the throbbing length of him, nice and slow, gazing at him with coy innocence. There was a position I’d always wanted to try but let the mirror in my head keep me from initiating it.

“May I ride you, sir?” I asked softly.

His breath caught sharply as he stared down at me.

His reply was urgent, any sense of calm a distant memory. “You may.”

I pulled up my skirt and shimmied out of my underwear. Shaking, I put aside the silly notions that I’d crush him, that I wouldn’t do it right, and focused on the natural chemistry between us. I spread my legs and straddled him, finding his lust ready and solid. I held it steady and slowly brought my body down.

He pushed into my moist layers, stripping me down to the bits and parts that hungered for this.
Needed
this. I closed my eyes, wanting to savor it.

“No, open your eyes. I don’t want you to miss a thing.” He pulled me close, his lips trembling as he held my waist and guided himself out.

In.

Out.

I stared into his blue eyes, waves crashing as his forehead scrunched. He grit his teeth as he thrust his hips upward and I felt the full length of him inside me. I let out moan after moan as I moved in time, letting go like I never had before.

I forced my mouth onto his and breathed his desire, his pleasure into me. One hand was steady at my hips and the other was at my breast. His insistent gropes turned my nipples into swollen peaks that revolted against the lacy fabric of my bra. I slowed our rhythm, going to my zipper, wanting my dress off. Wanting to feel his hands all over my naked body.

His fingers curled into a vice. “Do you have permission?”

I brought my hands back to his shoulders, his words sobering. Reminding me that I broke a cardinal rule. “No, but I-”

“Looks like someone needs a little more training.”

I had no time to protest before he’d spun me around. He was still buried inside me as he pushed me back onto the chair. He grabbed my arms and pinned them above my head. “Who’s in charge, Leila?”

“You are, sir.” My chest heaved up and down, my heat clenching him once then waiting. My whole body seemed to hang in suspension, waiting for his next command.

His free hand traced my jawline then held my chin tight. “And you do nothing without my permission, correct?”

He rocked in and out of me, nice and slow. Didn’t he know it was hard to respond, to think, to do anything with him inside of me? “Y-Yes sir.”

He drew from me slowly and my body sighed, feeling his absence immediately. He thrust back forward, slamming into my warmth with a grunt. He did it a second time and I felt the inner contractions that came before the release.

Jacob’s lips curled into a sinister smile. “You like it when I pound in and out of, don’t you? When I use your holes as I see fit?”

He did it again and I let out a moan of frustration. I wouldn’t be able to take much more of this delicious pleasure without coming.

“Answer me, Leila.”

“Yes sir.” Oh god I was close. “
Jacob
.”

The sound of his voice flipped some switch and his movements became wild and furious. I clutched him tight, digging my nails in his back.

“Mine,” he said in the throes of release. “You’re mine, Leila.”

“Yours,” I answered. I felt so happy, so complete. “Forever—if you’ll have me.”

My words were nowhere near as hardcore as the big 3, but he still withdrew from me, going quiet as the grave.

I fixed my dress and ran my shaky hands over the front of my skirt. “What is it?”

He glanced over at me hesitantly. “I’ve given you grief at every turn.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I basically gave you no choice but to become my submissive.”

I bit my lip, remembering the blatant wording of the contract. “Yes, but that was then-”

“This whole time I’ve kept you at a distance—except when we were in bed.”

“Yes, but-”

“You deserve better,” he said finally, straightening his tie. “Not someone that gives you crumbs of attention. Who would rather send you packing than admit his feelings.”

I remembered the story Allegra told me about the man she loved who couldn’t give her more and the price everyone had to pay.

I took Jacob’s hand, gripping it tight. I waited until he looked at me before I began. “Allegra told me about your dad. The summers. His choice.” I hesitated when I saw the surprise and hurt spread across his face. “Don’t be mad at her, Jacob. I practically had to pull teeth to get it out.” He still looked ready to punch something. “She was just trying to help me understand. And I think I do.”

“And I suppose you are going to do what years and thousands of dollars of therapy couldn’t?” He let out a bitter chuckle. “Are you going to fix me, Miss Montgomery?”

I flinched at the cold way he said my name, but I pushed away the fear that said I was digging where I didn’t belong. With Jacob was where I belonged. And if I didn’t say this, if I couldn’t convince him, all of this would have been for nothing.

Jacob reached toward the panel. “I’ll get the driver to drop you at your hotel and-”

“No,” I cut in firmly. “You’re not going to run from me.”

He did a double take. “Excuse me?”

“Your father ran from the love of his life,” I said, not backing down even though his eyes flashed. “I’m not going to let you run from me.”

“What the hell do we have in common with my father and Allegra? You’re just a secretary.”

Before I would have slapped him. I would have written him off as another entitled jerk with a chip on his shoulder. But I knew him. This was just bricks in the walls he put up to keep from getting close.

When I didn’t cringe or sulk away as far as possible, he tried again. “Is this about what I said before? Don’t mistake lust for something else, Leila.”

“And don’t mistake my tenure with Whitmore and Creighton for naiveté,” I fired back. “The way you look at me, the way you are with me when you let me see the real pieces of you is the real you. The condescending, unaffected thing might have worked before, but I know you.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes it is,” I threaded my fingers through his, unwavering. Not letting go. “You’re not your father, Jacob.” His jaw twitched, so I said it again. “You’re not your father. You can be an ass sometimes, but I see past all that to the man who could have pressured me into doing something I wasn’t ready for because I agreed to a contract. But you waited. I see the man who chose me over Rachel Laraby and made me feel like there was no contest in the first place. I see the man who saw something in me that I didn’t even see in myself.”

It would have been the perfect time to tell him I loved him, but when he scooped me in his arms and kissed me deep, I just held tight to him, never wanting to let go.

****

I
woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs. My stomach let out a throaty grumble of hunger as the rest of me adjusted to the new day. A glance at the clock on the wall read 11am which meant I’d gotten ample sleep, but I still felt exhausted.

Last night, one glass of wine became two bottles as Jacob bared it all. He talked about living a charmed life. Toys, trips, clothes, servants—but feeling utterly poor in the affection department. His mother only came alive when his father was around, but that was such a rare treat that most of his memories starred his nanny instead of the woman that brought him into the world.

And then his father took him to Venice. His memories of picnics, making breakfast with ‘Aunt Al’, even grocery shopping, were adventures as he recounted happier days. And then it went back to the loneliness. His father was around more, but it was different. His father’s unhappiness was like poison, breeding an environment of resentment. Suddenly, my complaints about my overbearing mother paled in comparison. At least I knew she loved me and didn’t secretly wonder if my existence was the point where her marriage began to crumble. And my father would have rather cut off a limb than let me go a day without knowing that he cared about me more than anything.

I kicked off the covers and rubbed my eyes as I padded to the bathroom. I twisted the faucet and splashed water on my face, grinning at the t-shirt and chiffon skirt folded neatly on top of the hamper. I decided on a quick shower before slipping into fresh clothes.

I walked down the stairs, pausing in the doorway as I watched Jacob. He was dressed down in a heather gray tee and jeans, his dark hair still wet from the shower. His face was bright and warm as he scooped eggs onto two porcelain plates.

He glanced up and cracked a grin. “Mornin’.”

“Good morning. It smells delicious in here.” I walked to the island, taking in the plates with surprise. “This was you?”

“Yep,” he said, smile broadening.

“Handsome, filthy rich, and can cook? Color me impressed.”

He picked up the plates and moved to a table beside the window. With the light streaming in, the dishes look like something out of a gourmet magazine.

“Had to have some way to entertain myself while my parents were busy avoiding each other.” He pulled out a chair for me then sat down in the one beside it. “My nanny made sure I could cook. She told me that even if I could afford Michelin star restaurants every night of the week, there was nothing sexier than a man that can cook.”

“She’s right,” I said with a wink. I scooped up a forkful of fluffy eggs and let out a moan as they went down.

I didn't realize how hungry I really was until I took a break in between bites and saw that Jacob was watching me with amusement.

A glance at my plate made my eyes widen in horror. I must have been literally shoveling food in my mouth because there were only a few bites left!

I snatched up the napkin beside me and dabbed at my mouth in embarrassment. His raucous laugh didn't help matters.

"If I just wanted beautiful women to pick at my creations I would have become a chef," he smirked. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

I was still recovering and decided to flip the tables and watch
him
eat. "So how many angry voicemails did Rachel flood your inbox with last night?"

He swallowed and took a swig of his juice before answering. "Not a single one."

A chill ran over me, leaving goose bumps up and down my arms. Like someone was saying my name—while planning something especially horrific.

Jacob gave me a knowing look. "After her last stunt, I think she knows the score."

I ran my finger along the rim of my glass, the flutter making my heart ratchet up to a speed that was dangerous. After last night, there had been moments that I saw those three words screaming in his gaze. Searing in his touch. "So what
is
the score?"

His face dimmed. "That if she tries to come after you, after me; I'll handle her in Darwinian ways even she can't imagine."

I pursed my lips and sipped my OJ. Seeing him go to bat for me, for us, was hot. Completely. But I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't hoping for something more tacked on the end. For him to give me that look that undid me every time. Instead, he looked like he was ready to step in the ring.

He pushed his food around his plate with angry scrapes. "I still can't believe she actually played the blackmail card. Unbelievable." He stabbed at the bacon with his fork. "She was smart enough not to dial my number. I will ru-"

The sound of the word hanging unfinished was a stamp of approval. I'd slid onto the table, giving him my best 'come hither'. When I had his full attention, I pushed his plate out of the way, and took its place. The last thing I wanted to talk about was the gall of Rachel Laraby.

I leaned forward, fitting my mouth over his. His lips were warm and malleable and the groan he breathed as I drew him closer brought a smile to my lips. I stroked his cheek, waiting for him to make the next move.

His eyes took me in, lips curving deliciously. "Why Miss Montgomery, are you hungry for something else?"

Feeling bold and so horny I couldn't sit still, I eased back forward, gripping his curve through his dark wash jeans. “Absolutely.”

"Well," he said with a husky edge, "If you want it, then take it."

I practically spilled into his lap. I tore at his jeans, tugged at his shirt. He was up, his mouth against mine with urgency, breaking only to remove my shirt. He moved to my zipper but I just hiked my skirt up, chiffon billowing all around me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and drew him in.

"I need you," I panted. "Right now. Just like this."

He pressed his mouth against mine and I pushed back as we breathed in and out together. When he thrust inside, he filled me so completely that I cried out. He studied me, slowing his thrusts.

"Are you ok?" he asked tenderly. There were no orders, no power plays now. His slow strokes turned the flash of discomfort into something molten. I looked up into his face, strained and taut with passion. I wanted to tell him that I was better than okay. That I'd never felt so free, so wild. I was the personification of every sappy love song. But every new thrust made talking difficult. There were only grunts. Boisterous moans until I exploded around him and he in me.

Lying on the table with bits of egg in my hair and a grin that said he could go another round, the words just came out.

"I love you."

The grin withered, all color draining from his face. His mouth opened and closed and in his eyes I saw the absolute last thing a woman wanted to see in the eyes of a man she'd just poured her heart out to.

Horror.

Oh God.

I kicked my legs over the edge of the table, the thud of my landing the only audible sound. Inside, my heart was breaking.

I knew the next few moments were crucial. I could go with the overwhelming desire to scream and flip the table WWE style or the equally strong pull to sink to the floor and ball my eyes out. Both reactions would ensure that the awkward level would zip off the charts. But the other option, pretending like his silence wasn’t a big deal, would be just as devastating.

I was so certain he’d say it back and the gravity of him not saying it back made the delicious breakfast he prepared rise in my throat like some bitter soufflé.