The Billionaire's Submission (2 page)

One
of my hands wandered down his body, feeling the rippling of his
stomach before it came to rest on the bulge threatening to break free
from his sweatpants. “You seem to be enjoy this already,”
I teased.

“
It's
not that bad, yet.”

“
Yet
is always the keyword, isn't it?” I ran my index finger across
Garret's lips before crawling down his body, trailing fluttering
kisses as I worked towards his manhood.

With
my fingers hooked around the waistband of Garret's pants, I slid them
over his erection, stopping so that his cock and balls hung over the
side. Very sexy.

“
Mm,”
I moaned warm breath on his glans.

Garret
wiggled beneath me, waiting for my mouth to claim him. Tonight wasn't
about him though. It was about me and my desires, and I greatly
desired to make him beg for my attention . . . or my mercy. Either
would be fine with me.

“
I'll
be right back,” I told him as I slid off the bed.

“
Where
are you going?” Garret's eyes were wide with fear that I would
leave him tied up to the bed indefinitely.

“
To
the kitchen. I need to get something for our playtime.” I
smiled sweetly at him.

As
I rounded the corner, I heard him mutter, “Hopefully not a
knife.”

It
was hard not to let Garret's negative attitude spoil my mood, and I
couldn't help but wonder if he had felt the same when he was teaching
me to love myself again. There had been so many times when he touched
me that I had pulled away. Sometimes, even when he just looked at me,
I'd fight to cover myself. It couldn't have been very arousing for
him either. Patience was a virtue—one I hadn't been naturally
blessed with. But if he could take things slow with me, then I would
have to tolerate taking things slow with him, no matter how
irritating it was.

When
I returned to the bedroom, Garret's body relaxed with relief. His
eyes flitted down to the glass of ice cubes I held in my hand. “What
are those for?”

“
You,
if you misbehave. And even if you don't.”

“
That
doesn't quite seem fair.”

“
There
are other unpleasant things I can do to you besides spanking and
whipping.”

“
So
I see.” He smirked.

I
sat down on the side of the bed, pulling an ice cube from the glass.
Garret's eyes followed it as I placed it on his chest. A hiss escaped
his throat from the cold, and I watched as his body heat went to work
melting it.

My
tongue lapped up the water as it ran down the side of Garret's chest,
blowing warm air where the cold had teased his skin. Slowly, I worked
the ice cube around one of his nipples, watching it quickly become
erect from the stimulation.

“
It's
so cold.” He shivered slightly.

“
I'll
make it better,” I whispered, encasing his wet nipple with my
mouth as I went to rub the ice cube over the other one.

My
tongue flicked and teased over the tiny nub, drawing moans from
Garret's throat—a mix of pleasure and discomfort. I sucked his
nipple between my lips and then closed my teeth around it, pressing
until I felt his body jerk in pain. Then I did the same to the other,
letting the ice cube slide down his stomach and form a pool of chilly
water in his navel. Garret's breath hitched in fear that I'd allow it
to wander further down south, but I kept the coldness in place,
running it over his stomach as I licked and nibbled on his other
nipple.

Finally,
I kissed the moist trail the ice had made down his stomach, stopping
at his navel to lap up the water that had set there. Garret giggled
when I stuck my tongue in the shallow indention, but it was short
lived when the ice finally made its way to his glans.

“
I
don't like that,” he said, flinching as the ice slid down the
length of his shaft. “Mia, get it off.”

I
withdrew, gazing down on Garret in disappointment. The look he gave
me was far from the pleasure he had been experiencing just moments
ago.

“
It
burns,” Garret told me, as if I'd see reason in that.

“
It's
not supposed to be pleasant.”

“
Well,
it's not.”

“
I
could always stick it somewhere worse,” I teased, trying to
lighten the mood.

“
Is
there somewhere worse?”

“
I
could put it inside of you.”

This
seemed to displease him even more. “I've never had anything
inside of me back there, and I'm not going to start now. I think I've
had enough of this for one night,” Garret's voice was stern,
demanding release.

“
Fine,”
I sighed, sliding off the bed to get the keys to the handcuffs.

As
soon as I unchained him, Garret rubbed his wrists as if just being
handcuffed to the bed had somehow injured him.

“
I
think I'm going to go,” I said, unable to handle the tension
between us anymore.

“
Why?
Just because I don't like to be chained down?” Garret gave me
an incredulous look.

“
You're
not happy. I'm not happy. Two miserables don't make a happy.” I
glared at him, letting him know I was in no mood to argue about it.

“
I
wish you wouldn't,” Garret's tone softened, but I couldn't
stand to be around him any longer. I needed to go home and evaluate
what was really important to me. If Garret wasn't going to submit to
me, then I needed to consider if it was going to be a deal breaker.

“
I'll
talk to you later,” I told him after I had finished putting my
shirt back on and was heading out the door.

A
range of unpleasant emotions attacked me during the drive home. Anger
at Garret that he didn't seem receptive to trying new things. Anger
at myself for forcing him to. Those few moments in bed together could
have ruined our entire relationship. And then there was depression
from that thought.

This
was going to be a challenge for both of us. Taking it slow seemed to
only be easy for me when it was I who was making a change. Garret's
reluctance was frustrating me to no end.

With
the slow and steady method not working, it was time to come up with
something else. Perhaps a reward and punishment system would work
better for him. Light on the punishment and heavy on the reward. It
was certainly worth a try. Anything was, at this point.

When
I arrived at the mansion the following afternoon, it was obvious
nothing had changed in regard to the unsettling feeling between us.

“
We
need to talk about this,” Garret said almost before I had even
stepped in through the front door.

Into
the living room we went, back on the same sofa we typically had group
therapy sessions with Dr. Iserman. He faced me on the sofa, taking my
hands in his, and my heart ached with anxiety from the strange look
he gave me—so cold—so not Garret.

“
Mia,
I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?” he asked.

“
Of
course I do.”

“
I
don't like this weird tension between us. It's been there ever since
I proposed. I know that we've only been together for two months, and
there's still a lot that we have to learn about each other. But you
need to understand that marriage is about compromise. And if I don't
like something, then I'd hope you wouldn't force me to do it.”

I
laughed incredulously, cutting him off. “What do you know about
marriage? You've never been married. I have.” My eyes met his
with a slicing glare. He was ticking me off, talking to me like I was
a child—like I knew nothing about marriage. “Marriage is
largely about doing what you don't want to in order to keep the other
person happy. If you don't understand that, then maybe you're not
mature enough to wed.”

The
tension in the room instantly kicked up about ten degrees. I expected
him to come back with something snarky, but instead, he simply said,
“Well then, maybe I'm not.”

We
sat there in silence for several minutes, avoiding each other's gaze.
I could feel my blood simmering beneath my veins with anger and
desperation. I was about to lose him; I could just feel it. And over
what, some stupid fetish I had. Was it really worth it? The sex
wasn't bad. It was just . . . vanilla . . . and boring. I had been
married to a man like that before. The passion had died out within
the first three months of our marriage. Sex became a chore, not a
pleasure. I didn't want to relive that nightmare again.

“
How
about we try some stuff out, keep what you like, and we won't do what
you don't like,” I suggested.

“
Well,
I don't like pain, so that probably destroys your entire agenda for
me,” his tone was strained.

“
You
liked the ice cubes until . . .”

“
I
don't even want things to get that far again. And you obviously have
no perception of what would be unpleasant for me.”

Now
he was really ticking me off. “You know what? Fine. I don't
want to marry you after all. You're such a stubborn ass.”

“
Fine
with me.” He shrugged.

“
Ugh!”
I stood, giving him one last look of anger. Garret simply sat there,
staring straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge me, which only ticked
me off more. “Goodbye, Garret Fabel,” his name spilled
from my lips hatefully as I walked away. My pace was slow, silently
beckoning him to come after me, despite my anger, but he simply sat
there like a statue—cold and unmoving.

Heavy
sobs belted out of my throat as I drove home. My relationship with
Garret Fabel was over. I had ruined it.

No
amount of pillow snuggling in the entire world could have given me
comfort that night. I cried and cried and cried, and then got up to
eat ice cream, and then cried some more. It was like a never-ending
sea of tears. A rain that would never cease.

As
much as I didn't want to go to work the next morning, staying home
didn't pay the bills. If I had said yes to marrying Garret—gave
up on my fantasies, then I might not have had to worry about such
things. Garret made enough money to support us both about ten
lifetimes over. But I had thrown it away, all because of some kinky
fetishes I couldn't let go of. My heart ached at my own stupidity and
regret. It was back to square one. I hated myself again.

With
puffy eyes, I took my seat at the receptionist desk, avoiding my boss
and co-workers at all costs. “Good morning,” they would
say, and my brain would silently respond with, “What's so good
about it? Nothing, that's what.”

All
day long, I hoped and prayed for Garret to walk through the door to
our PR firm. Maybe he'd have flowers, begging my forgiveness. Maybe
he wouldn't, just wanting to talk things over. It didn't matter as
long as he still wanted to marry me. But he didn't come, and my mood
became more dismal with each passing hour.

By
the end of the day, I was dragging. My car wanted to go in the
direction of Garret's mansion, but I forced it towards my empty
apartment.

The
next few days weren't much better. Every waking moment was consumed
with thoughts of Garret Fabel and what I had lost by being stubborn.
I had been so sure he would bend to my will. What a fool I had been
for thinking such things. Garret was attractive and wealthy beyond
words—used to getting what he wanted from women. I was easily
replaceable. Hell, he probably had a different woman in his bed
already. Someone more attractive than me who didn't have such
eclectic tastes. She would bend to his will, satisfying his need in
whatever manner pleased him, the same as I had done in the beginning.
There would be no thoughts towards her own pleasure. Just being with
him would be enough.

After
a week without Garret, I was almost back to normal. My hatred of men
returned, as well as my hatred for myself. Men were nice to look at,
but useless otherwise. Garret had proven that—been a painful
reminder of something that I had already known as fact long before
him.

When
I told Mrs. Eddison, my boss, that Garret and I had broken up, she
simply sighed, realizing that he'd definitely never be a client of
ours now. Not that he would have switched from his PR firm to begin
with.

Charlise,
our perky young intern, feigned sympathy. But I knew she was secretly
happy knowing that Garret was back on the market, despite the fact
she probably would never have him. Stupid little bitch, I thought
hatefully, though my anger was unmerited.