The Billionaire Submissive (Billionaires in Bondage) (33 page)

“Do you enjoy restraint, Jen?”

She nodded. “Oh yeah.” She felt like she should say something more, something about their mutual friend, even, but the time for intelligent dialogue was either past or yet to come, at least on her end. Drake was talking just fine, but maybe it took longer for hormones to shut down his extra-smart brain.

“Would you enjoy a lot of restraint? Rope bondage, maybe?”

She nodded again, unable to speak. Her eyes felt like they were as wide as a cartoon character’s, taking up her whole face. Avi had experimented on her with rope back in college—just practicing a few ties on her, nothing more—and she’d gotten a kick out of it. With Drake in charge, and actual sex involved, it would be heaven.

“Excellent.” Drake chuckled, and it was the kind of chuckle you’d expect from a supervillain whose evil plan was coming together.

Maybe she was in a bit over her head.

Hurray! Over your head was fun.

And she had it on good authority that he was an ethical perv, not an ax murderer.

“Right now,” he said, “I think we’re both feeling too impatient for rope. Which means we should do it anyway, once we’ve gotten a few things out of our system. You need to learn patience and order. Luckily, I’m here to help you.”

Jen’s head spun. She knew how to sprinkle kink into sex, like a touch of brilliant color to set off clear glass. Still, beyond playful spanking and casual bandana-and-stocking bondage, beyond flipping a coin to see who’d take tongue-in-cheek charge in bed on a particular night, she hadn’t explored very far since rooming with Avi in college. She’d looked at Web sites, especially ones Avi had recommended on her own site, and she’d listened to a few erotica audiobooks, but she was definitely a beginner.

Drake wasn’t. Even if she wasn’t already clued in, she could guess. It was in the way he’d been touching her ever since she’d told him she liked a firmer touch, but more than that, it was in his voice. In his eyes.

She strove for words, tried to say the words that hovered on her lips:
You’re a dom.
Not just a guy who liked to dabble in kink once in a while, but a serious dom. But she couldn’t make the words come out.

You can’t keep a bad girl down…at least not without restraints.

Irrepressible Jasmine

© 2014 Sami Lee

Wild Crush, Book 2

After an affair with a Dom turns sour, Jasmine Campbell returns to Leyton’s Headland to build up some good karma by keeping her sister’s business afloat. For that, she needs help from real estate developer Aaron Sanderson—an old school mate who’s grown up movie-star handsome.

When Jasmine knocks on his office door, Aaron can barely contain his triumph. In high school he had an unrequited crush on Jasmine, but ten years on he’s better at close encounters with the opposite sex. He thinks he knows just how to handle Jasmine—with an aloof demeanor and a firm hand.

Little does he know just how firm a hand Jasmine needs.

Jasmine figures a fun vanilla fling will cleanse her sexual palate. Yet her lover proves himself surprisingly adept at satisfying her submissive desires. And soon she’s in serious danger of doing the one thing she swore never to do: fall in love.

Warning: Contains casual sex, intimate sex, slow sex, fast sex, rough sex, roleplay sex and spanking. So basically, lots of sex and spanking.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Irrepressible Jasmine:

Aaron was on the phone when he glanced out the window and saw Jasmine Campbell striding across the street, making a beeline for his office. His gut clenched, his pulse rate leapt and he totally lost the thread of the conversation he’d been having.

Fortunately, the estate agent on the other end of the line loved the sound of his own voice and continued to drone on when Aaron fell silent. He was too focused on the sight of Jasmine walking toward him to participate in their discussion any longer.

She wore a sheer blouse in deep purple teamed with a miniskirt that barely came to mid-thigh—no stockings—and knee-high leather boots. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders, and the morning sun glanced off the dark strands, making them shine well enough for a shampoo commercial. Her striking eyes where hidden behind a pair of large-framed sunglasses. Her strides were bold, purposeful, as though she was a woman who’d just realized what she wanted and was determined to get it.

Christ Almighty, she was a knockout. She’d left him with a killer hard-on last week, and every male instinct he possessed had screamed at him to ask her out afterward, but he’d refrained by force of sheer will. He hadn’t wanted to come off too eager. Desperation was a major turnoff to women, especially women like Jasmine.

“I’m free for meetings right now, Vera.”

It was Trevor Long, one of Aaron’s best estate agents who spoke to the receptionist. Aaron had his own glassed-in office, but he kept the door open. His dad hadn’t done that, had always believed in keeping a separation between himself and his employees. But Aaron had never been overly comfortable playing the hardass, unless it was absolutely necessary. The open-door policy meant his staff felt free coming to him with issues or advice. It also meant Aaron could hear everything that was going on around the office.

Right now, Trevor had his ravenous attention fixed on Jasmine. He slicked back his already jelled-into-submission blond hair and fairly licked his lips in anticipation.

A wholly unearned sense of territoriality gripped Aaron. He covered the phone mouthpiece and called out the open office door. “Vera, when Ms. Campbell comes in, can you show her to my office?”

Vera Wilmington—a woman in her late forties with four kids and a twenty-year marriage under her belt—turned and looked at Aaron over the top of her half-frame glasses. Her gaze slid from him to Trevor and back. Her lips twitched. “Sure thing.”

Trevor’s face fell. “Oh come on.”

“The boss’s prerogative, Trevor.” Aaron grinned. “And she’s an old friend of mine who would, I guarantee, eat you alive.”

“Yeah, but what a way to go,” Trevor mumbled, returning to his desk with a serious case of the sulks.

Aaron worked at finishing up with Bill Leadbeater as he watched Jasmine walk into the reception area, perch her sunglasses atop her head and ask for him by name. Aaron’s heart performed a ridiculous little flip. She’d come to see him specifically. That was interesting.

When Jasmine walked in, Aaron nodded in acknowledgment. She took a seat in the chair across from his desk and crossed her legs, causing her black skirt to ride farther up her thighs. Aaron couldn’t help the way his attention snagged on the exposed length of supple flesh. Damn, she had great legs. Too easy and too damn fun to imagine them wrapped around his waist as he pumped into her. The images accosted him, and the stirring in his loins became more of a frenzy.
Jesus. At least pretend to be professional, dickhead.

Seeing the direction of his gaze, Jasmine uncrossed her legs and squeezed them together, sitting up straighter in her chair with her hands in her lap. The pose said “good Catholic schoolgirl”, something which Jasmine had never been. At least not in any way that wasn’t thoroughly filthy.

And now he was picturing her in a short checkered skirt and knee-high socks. Man, he really had reverted to schoolboy thoughts.

“Anyway, a client just walked in, Bill. I gotta go.” Aaron waited while Bill wound up the conversation, using the time to cleanse his mind of dirty imaginings involving the woman sitting across from him. It was bad enough last time that she’d seen how strongly she affected him. If he let her see it again, she’d know he could be reduced to putty in her hands, if she was so inclined.

But then, maybe Trevor had a point.
What a way to go.

At last he got rid of Bill and hung up the phone. He turned his full attention to Jasmine. “Well, hello again.”

“How are things, AJ?”

AJ.
It was what his pop had called him when he was a kid, what some had called him in school, so it always made Aaron feel about twelve years old. Considering he felt a little like a pubescent boy with his first boner, Aaron figured he probably deserved the assignation right now. “All good with me, Jas. You?”

“Good. Great.” She drummed her fingernails on her knee and bit her lip. “Actually no, I’m not that great.”

Aaron’s smile dropped a little as her words sunk in. “Why—what’s wrong?”

“Business is slow.” Jasmine gestured through the glass, where they could both see Summer’s Retreat. “My sister’s business.”

“We’re heading into the cooler months. Everyone’s business slows down a bit.”

“Not yours,” Jasmine noted. “I hear AJ Sanderson’s is booming.”

“I wouldn’t say booming, not in this property market.” Aaron tried not to be thrilled that she’d apparently been asking about him. “But we do okay.”

“I hear you’ve turned into a savvy businessman. Like your father.”

Aaron was sure she’d meant it as a compliment, so he didn’t deny it even though every cell in his body wanted to protest the comparison. He’d taken over AJ Sanderson’s when his father retired last year, he sat in the same office his father had inhabited for much of his career. The comparisons were inevitable.

Usually he let them roll off his back like water. For some reason it bugged him that Jasmine, of all people, thought he was like Andrew Sanderson, even though she could have no concept of the man’s faults.

“I prefer to think I’m my own man.”

Jasmine’s face fell. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Aaron realized he hadn’t masked his irritation well. He held up a hand. “Sorry. The comparisons get a little old sometimes.”

“I can understand that.”

Aaron remembered how people—people like his mother and her friends—used to say what a shame it was that Rex Campbell’s eldest daughter showed no signs of the same ambition or intelligence that her father or her sister possessed. He felt like a spoiled prick. His dad hadn’t been perfect, but despite what went on behind the scenes people generally admired him. By association, Aaron had been afforded the same level of respect. The comparisons to his father might bug him from time to time, but at least they didn’t have the power to demoralize him.

Aaron wondered if Jasmine had ever been demoralized by what people said. If she had, she’d never shown it. But as Aaron well knew, people put on fronts all the time.

“So the thing is, I came to ask for your help.”

From the way she clenched her hands together in her lap, Aaron could tell that had been a very difficult sentence for Jasmine to utter. He sat forward and put his elbows on his desk. “What can I do for you?”

The Billionaire Submissive

Joely Sue Burkhart

Lesson one: She makes the rules. Lesson two: Refer to lesson one.

Billionaires in Bondage, Book 1

The Billionaire.

Donovan Morgan rules his billion-dollar international company with an iron fist. But in the privacy of his bedroom, he hungers for an iron lady to rule his body.

The Mistress.

Lilly Harrison helps her clients tame their personal demons by taming
them
. Lots of men—blue collar to white collar—enjoy female domination. But the ultra-rich and powerful CEO is alpha to the core. In public, that is. The challenge will be to teach him that bossy isn’t always better.

The Contract.

Donovan selects his potential Mistress as carefully as a prime investment opportunity, and negotiates a contract as tight and binding as any corporate takeover. He must ensure his privacy at all cost—even if he has to resort to a little blackmail to ensure her full cooperation.

His First Lesson.

When the indomitable Miss Harrison laughs in his face, tears his contract up, and walks out without a backward glance, it seals the deal. Donovan will have her. Even if she makes him crawl to her side.

Warning: A billionaire used to buying everything he could possibly want—except in the bedroom; a Mistress determined to bring him to heel with her sexy red stilettos; inappropriate use of cherry pie and silk ties; and a steel-clad contract that will keep him exactly where she wants him.

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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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The Billionaire Submissive