Saving My Submission BN (7 page)

“No. Not yet. He’ll be arriving later.” Turning his
head, Christian tossed his nose in the air with a dramatic lift. “Come. You’ve
got to see all these incredible pieces.”

Following him into the gallery, I felt my mouth fall
open. The enormous room showcased dozens of phenomenal works, both large and
small. Each piece was painstakingly displayed beneath a network of lights
designed to highlight the intricate detail of Joshua’s amazing talent.
Awestruck, I stood in one spot turning slowly, attempting to absorb the vast
splendor before me.

Guests mingled, their murmured voices buzzing like
bees in a hive. A life-size piece in the center of the room drew me like a
magnet. Edging closer, I stood enamored at the breath-taking harem girl.
Wrapped in scarves that appeared to flow on an invisible wind, she stood poised
on tiptoe as if in mid dance. A mischievous glint seemed to reflect in her
eyes, leaving the impression that a seductive smile lay hidden beneath the veil
draped over the lower half of her face. The piece was so stunning it nearly
took my breath away.

Abbas would kill for
this piece.

Turning, I locked gazes with Christian who’d been
watching me with a boyish grin, and I gave him a slight nod. Laughing, he
scurried away, returning moments later with a black leather folio tucked under
his arm. Over the next hour and a half, I procured eight exquisite pieces for
Abbas.

Christian disappeared to process the financial
transaction, and I wandered the gallery one last time eyeing the pieces I’d
chosen for Abbas. I lifted a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing
waiter and stepped to the back of the gallery, indulging myself with a private
toast for a job well done. Raising my glass, I spied a piece of art tucked away
in the corner that I’d somehow missed. Stepping closer, I stopped. Frozen in
shock, I stared at the piece, totally mesmerized.

Situated on a tall pedestal was the tiny figure of a
naked woman, kneeling. Her face was upturned toward the heavens and her long
slender neck banded in a wide metal collar. My breath caught in my lungs as I
stared at her hands resting on her splayed thighs—palms up—her pose undeniably
submissive.

Tears burned the back of my eyes and my heartbeat
quickened. The statue called to me in a way so powerful and primitive, I
couldn’t stop staring. How had the man managed to transform a lump of clay into
such a powerful reflection of submission? The enthralling piece of art seemed
to have been crafted as a tribute from the heart.

The intricate details were so painstakingly exact that
meticulous tears clung to slivers of her eye lashes. So realistic, I could
clearly see the lines on her palms and whorls carved into each fingertip. Even
the pads of her heels had been etched like the living. Long hair fell in soft
curls over her slender shoulders and cascaded down her back, kissing the apex
of her ass.

Studying her oval face, her prominent cheekbones,
narrow nose, and full lips bore a disturbing resemblance to my own. A shiver
slithered up my spine. The longer I studied the piece, the more convinced I
became; she wasn’t gazing toward the sky. No, the girl was focused on the face
of some unseen Master—seeking approval, pleading for Dominance, or begging his
mercy.

Entranced by the lifelike figure, memories bubbled to
the surface, igniting a blistering fire of longing and neglect. Seduced by the
smoky images filling my mind, I could see myself—through the eyes of an unknown
voyeur—kneeling before the man who once held my heart, mind, and soul. Lost in
reminiscence, the ghostly sound of my own submissive voice resonated in my
ears, while sheltered surrender warmed my empty soul. My days had been bound to
unfulfilling duties and tasks, but my nights…
oh,
my
nights had been spent liberated in the bliss of submission. Every cell in my
body ached to re-live that glorious feeling…for one more night.

The sensation of hot tears sliding down my cheeks
brought me back to the present. Quickly brushing them away, I lifted the
champagne to my lips with a trembling hand. The bubbly liquid fizzed over my
tongue and I swallowed tightly, unable to look away from the work of art.

“She’s quite beautiful, isn’t she?” A deep voice asked
in a smooth, velvet whisper.

Even the stranger’s question didn’t lure my gaze away.
I absently nodded. “Yes,” I murmured.

“She speaks a language you seem to understand. I’ve
watched you stare at her for over half an hour,” the whisky-voiced man noted.
“Tell me, why the tears?”

His question finally broke the statue’s spell and I
jerked my head toward the stranger. Startled, I found myself gazing into the
same striking green eyes from the article about the tragedy that befell Joshua
Lars. No longer haunted with pain, the artist’s eyes held something far
scarier… awareness.

CHAPTER THREE

Joshua Lars—the
Joshua Lars—stared at me like a hungry wolf evaluating a lone rabbit miles from
the safety of its burrow.

“Oh!” I gasped, extending my hand to him. “Mr. Lars,
it’s an honor.”

A modest smile crawled across his lips and my heart
tripped over itself as it skittered in my chest. “Please, call me Joshua. And
trust me, Mellie, the pleasure is all mine.”

He knew my name?
No doubt he spied my surprise, as a warm chuckle rolled from the back of his
throat, sending a streak of arousal igniting within me.

“Abbas has quite a penchant for my work. I made it a
point to find out about the woman he’d sent on his behalf.”

“Oh.” I
nodded,
stunned that
Joshua would bother with such mundane details.

“You never answered my question, Mellie,” he reminded
me.

Joshua stepped close into my personal space. I glanced
back at the alluring woman, trying to ignore the decadent heat emanating from
his long, lean body. Quickly averting my gaze—for fear the sub statue might
pull me beneath her spell again—only to be snared by Joshua’s intense
appraisal.

“Actually, I’m a bit embarrassed by my reaction to the
piece. I was brought to tears by the sheer beauty and detail of your work,” I
fibbed.

“I see.” His expression suddenly turned somber.
“My mistake.
I thought perhaps she’d swayed you on some
other level.”

“Oh? What level is that?” I feigned confusion.

“It’s not important,” he replied with a wave of his
hand. “Listen, I was just on my way outside to get some air and I’d like some
company. Are you up for that?”

I swallowed tightly. “Yes. Thank you, I’d be honored.”
I smiled,
then
tucked my purse beneath my arm,
gripping my champagne glass to keep it from shaking.

“Come.” He smiled.

His word sounded like a command and I hesitated as he
extended his elbow. He arched an inquisitive brow as I forced my hand to grasp
the crook of his arm. His muscles felt strong and sturdy, and I wondered how
his flesh would feel, naked with me beneath him.

Joshua led me through the gallery and out the back
door. Without a word, we walked down a stone pathway surrounded by fragrant
rose bushes that did little to soothe my frazzled nerves. Though the gentle
breeze from the night air was a welcome change from the bustling, stuffy gallery
teeming with prospective buyers, it too didn’t help calm me. Nervous energy
zipped through me with a level of anxiety so foreign I didn’t know how to sort
or suppress it.

Seated on a padded bench beneath the stars, I glanced
at the foliage surrounding the courtyard, slowly sipping my champagne. I could
feel Joshua’s intense, hot gaze piercing through me, producing awkward and
unsure emotions that were so out of character for me that I tipped back the
glass and drained the contents in one big gulp. Placing the flute down, I
glanced over at him. He smiled, and I all but melted.

“It’s a beautiful night,” I blurted out nervously.
“The roses… they smell so sweet.”

“Yes,” he murmured, staring at me for a disturbingly
long time.

Darting my gaze away from him, I felt awkwardly unsure
and perplexed.

Get a grip. What the
hell is wrong with you? You act like you’re never talked to a damn man before.
Yeah, yeah, it’s Joshua Lars, big deal. Grow a set and snap out of it.

Gathering up my courage while trying to ignore the
fact that I was sitting next to one of the most talented artists of the
twenty-first century, I gathered my courage and turned to face him. It was time
to nip this shit in the bud.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m memorizing every gorgeous contour of your face.
I’m going to capture your beauty in clay.” He skimmed a single finger up my
cheek, sending a tremor of excitement rippling through me. “You’re so damn
beautiful. I can already feel you coming to life beneath my fingers.”

Images of dissolving beneath his masterful hands
flickered through my brain. The erotic visuals, coupled with the champagne,
melted all my inhibitions away. Acting on impulse, I leaned in and kissed him.
Joshua started, but didn’t pull back. Instead he cupped a hand around my nape,
he laid siege to my mouth and stripped away my attempted control. He brushed
his tongue over the seam of my lips, enticing me to yield beneath the kiss.
Opening, I let him in as a voice inside from long ago
sighed
a contented
‘yes.’

Joshua sucked in an energized breath so deep it stole
the air from my lungs. Empowered by my surrender, his kiss turned urgent and
demanding. Our tongues dueled in a frantic dance as he slid his hand from my
neck and palmed my aching breast. Swallowing my soft moans, he gently brushed a
thumb over my turgid nipple. Gripping the jacket of his tuxedo in my fists, I
held on as he ate at me like a hungry animal.
 

 
Abruptly Joshua
pulled back, and in the moonlight I saw the gravity of desire blazing in his
eyes.

“I want you in my bed, Mellie,” he whispered in a
raspy, edgy rumble.

Jerking his head upright, he blinked, seemingly
startled by his confession. Joshua scrubbed a hand through his golden hair, and
exhaled a deep sigh. “Christ, you must think I’m a bastard. One kiss and—”

“No,” I blurted out. “You’re not… yes. Take me to
bed.”

What the hell are you
doing? You don’t even know this guy. He’s not even asked you out to dinner, and
you’re going to fuck him? You know what’s going to happen after.
Right?
Shame, remorse, and guilt.
Tons and tons of guilt.
Remember what happened the first
time you thought you could handle a one-night stand? For the love of god, don’t
be stupid and set yourself up for that mental shit-storm again.

A sensual smile tugged one corner of his mouth, effectively
wiping away the reprimanding voice in my head, and all my rationale. Leaping
from the bench as if he’d just won a trip to Tahiti, he clasped his hand in
mine. Pulling me to my feet, Joshua all but dragged me across the stone walkway
and back inside the gallery.

Bending close to my ear, his warm breath had me biting
back a moan. “I have to mingle for a few minutes. Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” I murmured, turning to gaze into his
twinkling green eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispered. Flashing me a quick wink,
he hurried away.

My pussy fluttered at his praise and I swallowed the
lump of lust lodged in my throat.

You’re really going to
do it again, aren’t you? You’re going to wish you hadn’t when you’re crying and
beating yourself up, feeling like a ten cent whore...again.

Lifting a flute of champagne off the tray of a passing
waiter, I downed its contents in two gulps. I wasn’t aiming to get drunk; I
simply needed some liquid courage, and hoped it would silence the righteous
voice screaming in my head.

Meandering toward the back of the gallery, I caught
Joshua glancing my way while he chatted with his fans. It was impossible to
miss the lustful flicker in his eyes or the knowing smile adorning his erotic
mouth. Anticipation had those damn butterflies dipping and swooping in a
gut-churning freefall. Turning away from his enticing glimpses, I once again
found myself staring at the alluring woman on her knees. Just as before, she
held me hostage while my tattered and bruised submission stirred to life.

“You please me, girl,
and make me happy.”
The familiar voice from long ago echoed in my head,
dragging with it the warmth of pleasing a Master.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I clenched my jaw as my body
grew taut.
No. He wasn’t a Master, he was a
fake, and you were a fool to believe his lies.
Even as I tried to
convince myself the submission I’d experienced was a farce, I couldn’t deny the
contentment yielding had brought to my soul. I couldn’t rationalize away how
utterly complete I’d been beneath the command of a Dom. Even one who was a son
of a bitch and had little regard for a collar. Master wasn’t all bad. There
were moments when his command had been simply divine, and something special
blossomed inside me…or at least I’d thought so at the time.

I missed my submission. Even admitting there was a
missing part inside me, I knew I could never allow myself to sink back to such
a vulnerable position again. It would be emotional suicide. I had to drive away
the beguiling memories—slam the lid down tight, and seal them away—fast. This
was definitely not the time or place to toss my yearnings into some emotional
blender and start whipping up dysfunctional submissive smoothies.

Opening my eyes, I had every intention of suppressing
my inner submissive, but all that was shot to hell the instant I gazed at the
imploring expression on the figurine’s face. I’d been that woman…
Haunted by the same compulsion to please reflecting on her
beautifully etched face.
Yearning for that fulfillment sliced deep,
opened me up with a raw and unforgiving blade.

No matter how desperately I wanted to deny it,
Joshua’s mannerisms conveyed his Dominance. I’d have to be deaf, dumb, and
blind not to notice. Like a slippery eel, apprehension slithered within. I’d
successfully hidden my real desires when he’d questioned me about my reaction
to the statue. But what if he got past my defenses? Would he expect me to kneel
at his feet… hand over my control so he could mold me into a perfect statue?
Then what? Dangle me like a puppet until a younger, inexperienced submissive
blipped his radar? How long would it be until he snipped the threads and set me
free, only to sink his talented hands into the flesh of another to sculpt and
mold
her
into a flawless sub?

No more champagne for
you,
chicky
. You’ve known the man a whole five
minutes. If he expects you to hand over your control without trust, he’s
nothing but another big fat fucking player. Besides, none of it matters. All
you’re going to do is have a nice hot tumble in the sack with him. That’s it.
No Dom/sub nothing! So get a grip and for the love of god, stop torturing
yourself by looking at the damn sculpture!

Snapping my head up, I found Joshua staring at me with
a gaze so intent I suddenly worried that I’d let my mask slip. My cheeks grew
warm and began to mentally draw up my crumbling shield. My only saving grace
was that the man couldn’t read my mind. Quickly pulling bold and brazen Mellie
to the surface, I flashed him a seductive smile. I had no intention of letting
him see how quickly he unraveled me.

Seduction,
not
submission.

Joshua inched closer toward me, never missing a beat
of conversation with the crowd of people pressing in around him. Hyper aware
that his methodical movements were aimed in my direction, the room felt hotter.
My nipples ached and my pussy wept and all I could think about was having him
put out the five-alarm fire he ignited within me.

I couldn’t stop staring at the curve of his lips or
the memory of how his fervent kiss had possessed me. Watching the unconscious
sweep of his hands as he talked, I studied each long finger before dropping my
gaze to his feet. I couldn’t help it, I was curious. I’d spent enough
horizontal time in the sheets to know the old adage;
big hands, big feet… big cock
was true, and
Joshua Lars had a massive cock hidden beneath his pants. My palms itched to
caress, grip, and stroke it to life. Subconsciously, I slid my tongue over my
teeth, hungry for a taste.

“You must be extremely proud.” A deep-voiced man shook
me from my sexual musings.

Turning, I peered over my shoulder and was startled to
find a stunning piece of eye-candy standing beside me. Dressed in a gray suit,
his dark eyes matched his coffee-colored hair and the well-manicured scruff
adorning his chiseled face.

“I beg your pardon?” I asked, confused by his remark.

“I said you must be extremely proud. Joshua captured
you impeccably in this decisive piece of erotica.” The man nodded toward the
statue.

“Oh!” I blinked. “No. That’s not me.”

He tipped his head to the side as if trying to decide
if I were telling a lie. Darting several glances between the sculpture and me,
he pursed his lips in a frown. “It certainly looks like you.”

“Coincidence, I guess.” I shrugged.

“
Hrm
,” he grunted in
disbelief. “That’s
some
coincidence, and
a pity, really.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I think you’d look stunning on your knees
before me,” he quipped with a wicked smirk.

My mouth fell open in absolute shock.

“Ah, Ian.
Glad you could make
it, man,” Joshua announced as he slapped the other man on the shoulder with a
broad smile.

Snapping my jaw shut, I welcomed his interruption,
because Ian had left me speechless.

“You know I wouldn’t miss this,” Ian chuckled.

“Melinda Carson, Ian Stone. Ian, Melinda,” Joshua
introduced.

“Not Melinda.” I cringed. “Please call me Mellie.”

“Mellie, I’m enchanted.” Ian replied with a wolfish
grin. Lifting my hand to his lips, he brushed a kiss over my skin.

“Back off, bro,” Joshua warned. An unmistakable tone
of jealousy resonated in his voice.

“Seriously?”
Ian asked,
arching his brows. “I should have known.” Turning, he pinned me with an
accusatory stare. “I almost believed you when you said you weren’t the model
for the statue.”

“I’m not,” I gasped.

As if putting the pieces of our conversation together,
Joshua peered down at the kneeling woman then turned and studied me with a
razor-sharp gaze. “That’s truly amazing.”