The Billionaire's Secret (BDSM Erotic Romance) (His Submissive, Part Six) (2 page)

His eyes narrowed over my face, desire turning the cerulean near black. “You won’t be the only one tasting today.”

The table barely creaked as I vaulted my body up and turned until I was trembling, eye-level with his beautiful swell. The first word that came to mind was majestic. It was a strange word to use to describe a cock unless I was from the Regency era, but it just felt right. It was solid as a rock, veins pulsing as his manly musk surrounded me. All I wanted was to worship it. To worship him.

I ran my tongue over my top lip before I took him in my mouth. I hovered at the tip, honey, salty desire seeping from him. His thigh muscles pulled tight as a bow string, sharp hisses echoing over me as he sucked in breaths. Even without words I knew he was enjoying the way I teased his cock.

And then I felt his mouth on me.

He didn’t tease or wait for my body cues. He gripped the globes of my bottom and drew me closer. He didn’t care if it threw me off kilter or prevented me from taking care of him. He rewrote the rules of the position, but I gave no complaints.

He buried his mouth in my secret folds, his tongue on a mission as he went places and sparked sensations that drove me wild. He knew what he wanted and nothing would keep him from it. He was relentless and the maddening pressure built, expanding until there was only the throb. I could come as easily as drawing my next breath, but he hadn’t said so.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice rough. Unfamiliar. “I’m so close.”

He pulled his mouth away but his fingers quickly took its place. He centered on my bundle of nerves, his tongue swirling, propelling me toward the edge. All he needed was to say the word. To release me.

The swirls became slow, methodical licks that made me groan and he sighed against my quivering flesh. “Take me, Leila. All of me.”

He could have asked anything of me and I would have done it. I just didn’t want him to stop.

I leaned forward and reclaimed him with my mouth and he returned to my warmth. I pushed myself, forced myself to take more of him, ignoring the pangs of discomfort at his massive manhood stretching me wider, pushing further. He matched my ante. Tongue swirling wilder. Fingers burrowing deeper.

I felt him tighten before he exploded with a cry of abandon and somewhere in the moans, the curses, he told me to let go.

I melted and I swore I was flying, soaring into the arms of bliss. I didn’t want to come down, to sink back into my bones because in that shimmer, everything else faded to black. It was only our bodies doing the thing that felt so right. So perfect. It was only me and Jacob.

I climbed off him, playing hopscotch around fragments of porcelain. I turned back to him, feeling playful. Feeling like maybe, just maybe we’d be okay. When he refused to look me in the eyes, the smile dropped from my face.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” He walked past, suddenly in a hurry.

I pushed away the whispered voice in my head that said he was consumed by regret. That he wanted to scrub off the feel of me. The taste.

I decided to prove it wrong, taking a step in his direction. Please prove it wrong. “If you want company--”

“I don’t.” He didn’t even stop his ascent. “Please show yourself out.”

****

Saturday morning came streaming through the musty Super 5 Motel curtains despite my best efforts to keep it at bay. I blinked my heavy eyes, gunk and lack of exhaustion turning something effortless into hard labor. Once I pried them open, I realized that I'd really been better off in the dark.

The room was the very definition of sketchy. Cracked walls were unintentionally two toned where someone half-assedly tried to touch the paint up but ended up making it look worse than before. Every piece of furniture in the room had seen better days. The bedside table beside me had an inch thick layer of dust and the rinky dink lamp perched on it had cobwebs hanging from the yellowed shade like delicate, disgusting earrings. The tiny AC unit sounded like it was on its last leg, circulating sour gusts of air that added to the musty, toxic odor that flooded my nostrils. My first thought was too pull the cover over my head so I wouldn't have to look at my last minute digs, but as soon as I saw the comforter was speckled with god knows what, I changed my mind.

It was more than my accommodations that bothered me. Before Jacob, family trips were spent in motels just like this one, sucking it up and enduring because spending lots of money on a room wasn't an option if we wanted an actual vacation. The thing that made me sick to my stomach was the fact that it was a new day, sun beaming, highway buzzing outside the window and all--and my romantic situation was even more pathetic than when I went to sleep.

I'd text and called Jacob and absurd amount of times since he kicked me out of his place, swearing I wouldn't go to sleep until we talked this through. Instead, my inbox was filled with one-sided, borderline psychotic texts. My ‘or else’ ultimatum didn’t inspire him to finally talk to me and I woke up with my phone in hand, cheek drenched in drool.

A double tap echoed at the door and I kicked off the covers, glad for the excuse to get out of bed, even though I put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ tag on the knob.

I flung open the door and my jaw dropped. "Megan?"

She looked just as shocked as I was, her bright green eyes taking me in. "Oh my."

Megan Scott was the kind of person who would go toe to toe for those she cared about. It made her a hell of a teacher and the best friend anyone could ask for.

Her strawberry blond hair was held back with a pair of oversized glasses and I could tell from the dark, puffy semicircles beneath her eyes that she hadn’t gotten any sleep. I didn’t think it was possible, but I officially sunk lower. Apparently after I got tired of drunk texting Jacob, she was next on the list.

I picked at my dingy, crumpled blouse before I stepped aside so she could come in. “I’m so sorry, Meg.” For some bizarre reason I started scooping up trash. “If I knew you were coming--”

“You would have disposed of the evidence?” She held up an empty Bartles and Jaymes carrier. “Even if you didn’t text me at one in the morning, I was planning on camping out in front of Whitmore and Creighton until you finally talked to me.”

My parents weren’t the only people I texted from the car on the way to Italy. My mother’s response was a mixture of shock and glee when I told her I was leaving the country with Jacob. Megan’s was more along the lines of, ‘WTF?!’

I’d been planning on meeting her for coffee once things quieted down. Apparently a wine cooler or six gave me the guts to reach out to her and explain the whirlwind my life had become.

She walked to a rusty chair beside the dresser then thought better of it, standing awkwardly beside the bed. “I’m glad you’re back stateside. With a famous boyfriend apparently.”

I raked a hand through my hair, pushing my wild, curly locks from my eyes. “Not so sure about the boyfriend thing.” I glanced in her direction, expecting to see annoyance at the fact that he was my boyfriend at all and she was the last to know. Instead, her patrician features were soft and empathetic. That sent my shame-o-meter into overdrive. I had no right to have friends like Megan or a boyfriend like Jacob.

I dropped my body onto the mattress. “I screwed up.”

She hesitated, clearly wanting to avoid contact with anything in the room. She drew a breath, steeling herself and surprised us both by sinking onto the bed beside me. She folded her hands in her lap. Ready to listen--if I was ready to talk.

I still wasn’t sure I was. With my thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of my nose, I tried to hold back the tears that lay waiting, threatening to rush past my defenses. I knew if I laid out all the dumb choices I made in the past twenty-four hours, there’d be no stopping them. Once I started crying, I’d be no good to anyone.

So I decided to go further back.

“I barely had time to catch my breath before I was whisked to the airport.” I paused, letting the subject change sink in. If she tried to steer us back on the road to why I was in a budget motel surrounded by Doritos and booze, I’d reluctantly veer back on course. I owed it to her because she was here on Saturday morning, there for me even when I was so wrapped up in Jacob that I kept her updated via scarce texts.

But she didn’t push. “You flew without having hours to psych yourself up?” She shuddered.

My mouth twitched, remembering our first (and probably last) flight together when she unwisely let me hold her hand whenever the plane hit turbulence. She’d compared the pain to having your hand run over by a car and my shrieks to a woman in labor.

“I know. But it was nothing like flying commercially. It was like a really big, comfortable car. Or a flying hotel.” And awesome metaphors like that were why I was NOT in marketing.

Still, she nodded like she could somehow picture it as I talked about the plush chairs that molded to the contours of your body and the sleeping chamber, leaving out the almost R rated activities Jacob and I engaged in.

I talked about falling in love with Venice. I even told her about Rachel Laraby and her mission to make my life miserable until I flat out told her that Jacob just wasn’t that into her.

She made a face. “You know, I never liked her. Even when she played a jilted bride or a survivor type, she just had this bad news vibe about her.” She gave me a grin of solidarity. “‘America’s Sweetheart’, my ass.”

I matched the grin, not fighting the better mood that was quickly taking the place of the rotten one I’d woke up in. That was the thing about Megan. It was impossible to stay blue when you were around her.

“You know what’s funny?” I continued. “I almost forgot about the rest of the world--until we went to the city and there were photographers everywhere, shouting questions, cameras flashing. It was a literal circus. I was so ready to be back, stupidly  thinking that maybe things would be closer to normal in the states,” I picked at a stain on my skirt. “But my mother made sure that the paparazzi knew where I lived.”

Her emerald colored eyes glittered with surprise. “She didn’t.”

“She did,” I sighed. “And it’s been one thing after the other since then.” And we were back to the latest catastrophe. “Including Cade Wallace.”

“I remember good ole’ Cade.” She stretched her arms as wide as they could go. “Huge, life sized posters of this ‘roided up guy in your dorm room.”

“He’s not ‘roided up--” I stopped myself. Why was I defending him?

Megan looked at me sideways. “You and he didn’t…” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“No!” I exclaimed, my cheeks reddening. “I’m with Jacob! Or I was until I forgot to tell him I was meeting Cade for coffee.” I dropped my volume for the kicker. “And there was a photographer, snapping all kinds of pictures that made things look all kinds of bad.”

“By ‘forgot’ do you mean ‘conveniently forgot to mention’?” she smirked, proving she knew me, probably better than anyone.

“Well I didn’t lie if that’s what you mean.”

“A lie by omission is still a lie,” she said, shaking her head at the fact that such things needed to be said.

“It was just as friends,” I offered weakly.

She gestured around the room pointedly. “You’re not in some skeevy motel because you forgot to tell your boyfriend about meeting a friend for coffee.” She laid it out, not leaving one sad excuse untouched. “And as hardcore as your mom is, this isn’t about not wanting to face her. You don’t want to risk shots of going back to your humble beginnings with your tail between your legs.”

I opened my mouth to tell her it wasn’t true, but saving face was pointless. I was humbled, brought low, and there was no reason to pretend otherwise.

“I thought you were making mega money as his assistant,” she said quietly. “Enough that you could at least stay somewhere decent for a few days.”

I dropped my gaze to the floor. “I shouldn’t overspend.”

“In case of what?” She held up a hand as it came to her. “Hold on a second. You think he’s going to fire you over this?” She didn’t wait for my reply. “You said you were in love with him, Leila. That he was in love with you. If that’s true, there’s no way he would fire you.”

“Even if I deserve it?”

“To be fired or to lose Jacob?”

And there it was. The real reason I’d text him an unholy amount of times and got crazier by the minute. The thought of losing Jacob was enough to burst past my defenses and send tears streaming down my face.

Before I met him, I thought I was living. Happy. And I suppose I was. But when he said those three words, it was like unlocking hidden and unknown parts of me. Losing that and losing him was like my heart was being carved out of my chest. I’d give back the job, the check with entirely too many zeroes, the clothes and I’d never wanted the fame at all. I just wanted the man.

I just wanted Jacob.

“I’m sure he just needs some time, Lay.”

“He’s Jacob freaking Whitmore,” I spat. “A guy like that falling for me in the first place was so out of the realm of possibility. And then I went and ruined it.”

“And you’re Leila freaking Montgomery,” she said firmly. “You’re no consolation prize.”

I bit my lip, swiping away a tear. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, moving from the office chair and squeezing onto the mattress beside me. “Any guy, Jacob Whitmore included, would be lucky to have you.”

‘But after what I did--”

“You’re human and you made a mistake,” she interrupted. “You didn’t kiss him or anything, right?”

I shook my head, though the angle of the pictures could tell another story. “But Jacob has been hurt in the past, trusting people is really hard from him and I want him to know he can count on me.”

“How many texts did you send him?”

“Just a couple.” Liar. “Like...maybe fifteen or twenty.” Ish.

Megan whistled. “And I’m sure somewhere in there you told him how sorry you were?”

“Among other things.” Like how unfair he was being by not answering me then apologizing for calling him unfair. Demanding he text me back, then apologizing again. Definitely not my finest hour.