Authors: Ava Claire
Tags: #billionaire love, #alpha male romance, #ava claire, #billionaire romance, #billionaire erotic romance, #alpha male, #billionaire
Copyright © 2014 Ava Claire
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
The Billionaire’s Wife Series
The Billionaire’s Wife (Part One): November 2014
The Billionaire’s Wife (Part Two): December 2014
The Billionaire’s Wife (Part Three): January 2015
The Billionaire’s Wife (Part Four): February 2015
The Billionaire’s Wife
series is a spin off from the
series. You can find the His Submissive series box set at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iTunes and Kobo.
E-book License Edition Notes
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I met his steely blue gaze instantly. There was lust flickering there, dancing in his eyes. My heart sprang to my throat as I quivered with excitement. The fact that we were on the terrace, mid morning, and had literally just been talking about work barely entered my mind. Jacob Whitmore was a man who got what he wanted.
And he wanted to see all of me.
It had been a year since he took me into that stairwell; a year since the billionaire Dom had awoken the secret desires inside me.
The days melted into weeks that poured into months, but I felt the same electric need, turning me inside out.
I rose to my feet, drinking in his handsome, stoic face. He was forged from marble and stone, perfection and power in the flesh.
He'd uttered a single word and the rest of the world was forgotten.
I uttered two: "Yes Sir."
I had no time to run through the kinky possibilities that awaited me. A smile fluttered across my lips as I fingered the silk knot of my robe.
I had no choice but to obey.
It was my destiny to be Jacob's.
It felt like a lifetime since he'd first commanded my body like it was made for him, and him alone. But I still came alive just like it was the first time he had dominated me.
I was captured by his piercing blue gaze and I shed my robe. He saw it all—the thickness of my thighs and softness in my middle that long hours at Whitmore and Creighton and a fondness for white chocolate mochas had spawned. Yet he still looked at me like I was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. He looked at me like I was his fairytale ending.
His eyebrow arched, and the longing in his eyes became lethal. Those delicious lips of his became a tight line of impatience.
Geez. We were out on the balcony at 11am on a bright Saturday morning. I was his, in body, heart, and name—but I still felt those invisible eyes burning as hot as the sun.
After all this time he still made me feel weak in the knees
like a hot mess. There were moments that I still felt like I was tripping in my heels in that lobby. Completely out of my league in the presence of the hottest man alive.
But I kept that to myself. He had only asked one thing of me. To strip.
My robe melted to the ground and my body unfolded for him effortlessly. I stood taller, my neck a quivering, bare line that longed for his lips. I breathed in through my nose and out my trembling lips, but my chest still rose and fell with every gasping breath.
My breasts were swollen, nipples hardened and aching like his fingers were pinching them tight. I was silk between my thighs, my core throbbing in time with my racing heartbeat. My legs tingled as he beckoned me to come closer.
He dropped his cell unceremoniously on the table beside him and retrieved a slender white box I hadn't even noticed. My eyes dropped to the sharp lines of it, its rectangular shape holding something that made one side of his mouth lift, a devastating smirk teasing the fire inside me.
He slowly lifted the lid. I could almost feel his fingertips digging into me, his lips racing toward my wetness, the bite of his teeth as he—
"Oh my," I whispered, taking in the neatly folded black strips inside. There were four of them, and one smaller bundle. They looked so soft, so delicate in his powerful hands. He unfurled the smallest bundle in a single movement. For a brief moment, heat rushed my cheeks and I thought it was one of the g-strings he loved on me, even though I was still a little self conscious about my curves. It wasn't a g-string, but the warmth sizzled a red path across my face nonetheless.
It was a blindfold.
He was on his feet in a single, fluid movement and an involuntary moan rose in my throat. Looking at Jacob was a sensual journey. From the cropped, ebony hair that intensified the sharp angles of his handsome face, to the sky blue eyes that drank me in like I was the best kind of sin. The best kind of delicious. And his lips; he'd only spoken one word, and I was already liquid and aching.
It was the only word he needed. He was my Dominant and I was his submissive. It had taken me almost as long as we'd been together to learn that my submission was just as powerful as his dominance. Even more so in some ways. He could have my body, every which way, but I gave him the key with my obedience.
He held the blindfold as he took my face in his hands. His smile deepened as he leaned in close, brushing his lips across mine. "I love you, Leila."
Those words would never, ever get old. I was so filled with love, with lust that I felt like I could burst, raining cupid's arrows and whips and chains all over the place.
"I love you too."
The smile dimmed, the dark lash of my Dom pushing the romance stuff to the back burner. Whatever he had planned for me wasn't meant to be heartwarming; the things love songs were written about. This song would be a series of bleeps on the radio. A tantric mix of moans and pain and consuming bliss.
He was still waiting. I needed to say the words. Truly give myself to him.
I stood tall, like I wasn't butt naked. Like I didn't care that the whole world could see.
Let them watch our erotic scene.
Let them see how beautifully our bodies moved together.
"I'm yours," I said, hands by my side. Eyes locked on him for further instructions.
He softly traced the line of my cheekbone and his fingers swept my chestnut curls over one shoulder. He slipped the blindfold over the crown of my head and I took one last look at my husband before I shut my eyes. The loss of sight magnified my other senses. I could feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. I could hear the buzzing of the city around me—and a ripping sound. I frowned when I heard it again and realized that it was Velcro.
I relaxed as I felt the first around my wrists, both were bound and secured. My ankles followed suit.
I let out a little gasp as one of the wrists were tugged, and Jacob's hand steadied me, then turned me 180 degrees. My wrists were pulled again. He was leading me in the wrong direction. Panic flared in my chest. Our balcony wasn't
big. That fact was confirmed when I reached out and my fingers gripped the iron railing.
The strike was immediate and I had no time to prepare as his hand met the round curve of my ass. I knew my offense before he even spoke.
"Hands at your side."
The bitter sting vibrated over my body and I bit back my scowl. Not even all this time as his sub could dull my innate sense to fight. From his chuckle, he was glad that it hadn't.
"Do you trust me, Leila?"
I tilted my head to the right, toward the sound of his deep, rich voice. "Do you mean do I trust that you won't throw me off the balcony?" I licked my lips. "Yes, I trust you."
His hand smoothed over my behind, caressing the spot where he spanked me. "Good girl."
My wrist was tugged forward, doing the very thing he scolded me for moments earlier. I bit back the urge to address the contradiction. When my second was brought to the railing as well and my body was pulled forward, I had bigger concerns.
Was he tying me to the railing?
"Spread your legs."
Brain functioning slowed to a crawl as I stepped out wide. My body was electric, from my toes curling against the cement, to the goosebumps that rushed up my calf, and the welcome ache of the chilly air against my erotic flesh. And then there were his fingers, tracing up and down my spine, silent torture as he worked his way toward my behind.
"I'm going to spank you, Leila." The fingers tightened, kneading as he moved closer to the moist heat at my center.
"B-but..." My protest became a moan as he spread my cheeks. One of yearning. Suddenly, I didn't care that I hadn't done anything that warranted a spanking.
His fingers dove inside me, granting my plea, sending pleasure shooting to every nerve receptor in my body. My world, my existence was the rhythm of his touch. The way he drew in and out, the way I felt whole with him inside me.
And then he stopped.
My eyes sprung open, the darkness giving nothing away. His voice slashed through the silence.
"You're wondering why I stopped—and why you're being punished."
I dipped my chin to my chest, then quickly answered, "Yes sir."
"I owe you no explanation, but the sun is shining and you look especially beautiful tied up. Helpless."
I sucked in a gasp as I felt the muscular lines of his body—and the hardened length of his cock.
"I'm punishing you because there's nothing like watching your perfect skin blush for me." I couldn't help but tilt my head back and he rewarded me by brushing his lips along the line of my neck. When he drew back to my ear, the gentle kisses were a distant memory. He seized my earlobe between his teeth. He bared down until I let out a shuddering breath.
He released his hold, his voice thick with desire. "I'm spanking you because I long to take you to the place of bliss between pleasure and agony. I'm spanking you because I want to make you cry and come all at once."
Anyone else saying that would have been appalling. I wouldn't let them touch me with a ten foot pole. But what Jacob and I had was the lushest taboo. No one controlled my body like him. No one else could make me melt with a single touch. He got that I needed to surrender, to submit to be free.
My body exploded with pain as his hand collided with my skin. I grit my teeth and opened my mouth to keep count, but he rubbed the spot instead. His voice was just as soft and soothing as his touch.
"Counting is unnecessary. I want you to feel the strikes—and then you'll feel what you do to me."
If I wasn't immobilized, I would have melted right to the floor. When the second blow landed, I was liquid. Putty in his hands to mold as he saw fit. Even in the darkness the world exploded in a rainbow of sensations. The burn of pain met the soft kiss as his hands caressed the havoc he wreaked.
When I felt him untying my wrists, my ankles, I still gripped the railing. Tears burned my eyes, matching the stinging that pricked my bottom.
In an instant the world rushed up to meet me, the brightness overwhelming, sight and sound too much to bear. I squeezed my eyes shut as he spun me around to face him and I moaned into his mouth as our lips met. We spoke our secret language, his kisses tentative at first, asking me if I was okay. If I was still his.
I brought my arms up and circled his neck, bringing him closer. Even with my eyes closed I saw him. His love, his passion, the rock hard erection that pierced through his jeans, still taking my breath away.
When my eyes fluttered open I saw him staring back at me, that delicious smirk lighting up his face.
"You see something you want?"
My eyes dropped to his crotch, then shot back up to the blue. "Oh yes." I gasped. "Oh yes
"I'll forgive your slip because you're so adorable when you let out those little gasps." He brushed a curly tendril behind my ear, his fingertips trailing up and down the line of my neck. "And I think you know what your moans do to me." He gripped my wrists and brought my hands down until my fingertips brushed the hard impression of his arousal.
I was memorized by it. Salivating for it.
"Bend over the chair,” he ordered. “Ass facing me."
I obeyed, my hands flat, presenting myself to him. Trembling with anticipation.
"Spread your legs."
I thought you'd never ask.
I didn't hear him unzip, toss aside his jeans. But I felt his hands grip my waist, teasing me. He'd take me rough. I'd feel the ache of this all day and when I woke up in the morning, hot twinges would thrust me back to these moments when we belonged to each other.