Wild Submission
Authors: Roxy Sloane
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #Romantic, #Romance, #Contemporary
Wild Submission
by Roxy Sloane
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Copyright 2014 Roxy Sloane
Cover Design: Louisa Maggio at LM Creations
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places
and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales
or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Submission begins like a seduction. A slow,
careful dance to discover what you really need.
Do you hold my gaze or glance away? Will you
lean into my touch, or flinch from the connection? Does your mouth
fall open in a silent moan when my grip turns rougher; my hands
tugging harder in your hair; my whispered demands pushing you to
the edge of anything you’ve ever tried before—and beyond?
I see it in your eyes. I can read the secret
desire you’ve been hiding. And I know that when I push you back
against the wall and slowly force you to your knees, you’ll go
willingly, a slave to the passion that’s already making you
tremble. Wet. Ready to obey.
Because here with me, you can be free. Free
to admit the craving deep inside you, to be controlled.
Educated.
Mastered
.
Yes, I can tell, you want to submit to my
every command. You’ll get on your knees and part those eager lips
and please me, every way you can. And in that surrender, I promise,
I’ll show you a release like you’ve never felt before.
My control will free us both. It’s the only
thing I need in the world, and the one thing that could destroy me.
Because now that I’ve tasted a surrender like no other, I can’t go
back to how things were before.
Isabelle Ashcroft.
After years of reading women like an open
book, she’s the first to confound me. Who is the real Isabelle? The
gorgeous ice queen she pretends to be in public? A victim in need
of my protection?
Or the temptation I cannot ignore?
Control is everything to me. There’s not a
woman in my life I haven’t mastered completely—and she will be no
different.
She thinks her submission will be on her
terms. Her rules. But she doesn’t know me just yet.
The only rules that matter are mine. My
hands caressing her fair skin. My collar around her throat.
My body pushing her to the brink.
She will surrender, and I will keep my
precious control. The alternative is unthinkable. Impossible.
Isabelle will be mine.
What have I done?
The lights of New York blur outside the
windows of Cam’s Maserati as he speeds away from The Underground,
his secret club. He hasn’t said a word to me since I walked in and
offered myself to him.
Offered to be his sub.
I feel a shiver just remembering how I
waited on my knees for him, naked, my head bent and obedient. He
had no idea that I followed him there tonight. I can’t believe I
was so bold.
Stupid
, a voice in my head corrects me, sneering. But I push it
away. I’m still clinging to the hope that Cam will take me up on my
request. That he’ll introduce me to the world he’s been hiding from
me: a world of dark secrets and thrilling possibility.
The world that fills me with fear—and a hot
desire.
I meant everything I said to him
tonight.
“I want you to show me.
What you do here. What you are. Teach me, Cam. How to please you,
how to feel pleasure for myself.”
I sneak a look at him. His eyes are fixed to
the road, but I can see the tension radiating from under his
designer suit. His strong hands grip the steering wheel, his
muscular body clenched and angry. It reminds me of the last time he
drove me home from the club, the night that started everything. My
adopted brother Brent had taken me there with a business friend of
his. He’d planned for them to play—with me as their toy. It was
only Cam busting into the room that rescued me from Brent’s selfish
abuse, and opened my eyes to just how toxic and damaging our
relationship had become.
For ten years of my life, Brent had been the
center of the world to me. But now I see how he corrupted my
childish adoration, manipulated me for his own pleasure and kicks.
Since our father disinherited him, he depends on me for his luxury
apartment and fancy cars. He thought I was so weak that he could
push me around forever, but that night was the end for me.
I’m finally free.
And it’s all thanks to the man beside me in
the car; the man ignoring me like I didn’t just offer him
everything.
“Cam?” I can’t take the silence anymore.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.” Cam’s reply is short and harsh.
“What did I do wrong?”
Instead of answering, Cam wrenches the
wheel, turning into the underground parking garage of his luxury
apartment building. The car screeches to a stop in the far corner.
Cam shuts off the engine, breathing heavily.
“Cam?” I reach over and touch his arm, but
he flinches away.
“I won’t discuss this tonight.” He says.
“But—”
“Isabelle, no!”
When he turns back to me, his jaw is
clenched, and warning flashes in his blue eyes. “Don’t push me,
that’s an order.”
I catch my breath, feeling the thrill of his
command. This is the Cam that scares and arouses me, the man who is
totally in control of every situation.
My nipples tighten. I feel wet.
“Yes,
Master
,” I murmur, testing
him.
“Don’t call me that!” Cam growls. He shoves
the car door open and gets out. I quickly scramble to follow.
“Why not?” My voice echoes after him in the
empty parking garage. He stops, his back turned to me. “It’s what
you like, isn’t it?”
Cam slowly turns. His fists are clenched at
his sides as his eyes rake over me. Everything about him screams
power and precision, and it takes my breath away.
“This isn’t a game, Isabelle. You don’t know
what you’re offering me.”
“Maybe I do.” I take a step towards him.
“Maybe being your sub is the one thing that makes sense to me right
now.”
Cam shakes his head. “You’re still confused
about Brent—”
“No!” Now I’m the one to
angrily cut him off. “This is about
you
. You’ve showed me a new side of
myself. I never knew until I met you. Until I saw your playroom,
and realized… I want this.”
Pleasure and power. Submission and control.
They were just words to me until I discovered Cam’s secret life as
a Dom. Now, it’s all I can think about.
“This is my choice,” I vow, taking another
step toward him. I’m closer now, close enough to see the lust in
his eyes, and how close he is to the edge. “This is what I want.
I’ve spent my life pleasing other people, and now I want to please
myself.”
“Do you even hear what you’re saying?” Cam
tries to be dismissive. “You want to please yourself by becoming my
sub?”
“Yes.” I stand my ground. “That’s what you
told me about the scene, isn’t it? That I would find freedom in
surrender. That submitting to you would show me a pleasure I’d
never known before.”
“I wasn’t talking about you,” Cam scowls. “I
meant other women. Women who have experience in this world. Who
know the rules.”
“So teach me. Show me. Give me that
experience.”
I close the final few paces between us, and
stare boldly into his eyes. The old Isabelle would have turned and
fled in humiliation by now, having her advance rejected. But I
won’t be so easily pushed around.
For once, I’m going to fight for what I
want.
Cam inhales a ragged breath. “You aren’t
ready.”
“That’s my decision to make,” I counter.
“It’s unprofessional,” he tries to argue.
“Your father—”
“Is dead,” I finish. “He was your mentor,
but that has nothing to do with what’s happening between us.”
“And what’s that?” Cam asks, still trying to
keep the upper hand.
I reach out and place both hands on his
chest. I can feel the muscles beneath his crisp shirt. I slide them
slowly lower.
“This,” I whisper, not breaking eye contact.
“Can’t you feel it?”
Cam stares back. The electricity between us
is pulsing, dangerously hot. My fingertips stroke over the ridge of
his abs, coming to rest on the tip of his belt.
“Tell me what you want me
to do,” I murmur, wetting my lips. He’s close to breaking point, I
can feel it. I just need to push him over the edge, and make him
see how good this could be. How right. “Tell me what you
need,
Master
.”
I push too far. Cam jerks away at the word,
breaking the spell.
“Stop!” he barks angrily. “If this is going
to work, you will obey me.” I follow him to the elevator and get in
quickly when it appears.
The ride up to the penthouse is tense. He
won’t talk to me, won’t even look in my direction.
The doors open. “Go to bed, Isabelle,” he
orders me roughly. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“But—”
I stare at the man before me, the one I want
to dedicate myself to. The doors slide shut behind me and all I can
do is wonder, holding on to a small flicker of hope.
Does this mean he’s considering it?
I arrive at my penthouse floor and swiftly
head to my master bedroom suite.
The minute I’m alone, I spin around and slam
my fist into the mirrored wall of my walk-in closet.
Fuck!
The glass shatters beneath my knuckles, but
I don’t feel the pain. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the
splintered glass. I’m wild-eyed and furious.
Totally out of control.
The reality shocks me back to myself. I reel
back, breathing fast. My hand is bleeding now, glass broken on the
floor. I couldn’t even look at her in the elevator; I wanted her so
much I didn’t trust myself to even glance in her direction.
I lock the door behind me and go to the
bathroom, taking down my first aid kit. I run cold water over the
wound, then bandage it tightly, focusing completely on the task to
block out the memory of Isabelle back at the club.
Her gorgeous body, naked and waiting for me.
Her lips parted in submission, her eyes begging me for the control
I long to demand.
She would be the perfect sub.
The thing most men don’t realize is that the
best subs aren’t meek, passive women. A girl who agrees with every
word and leaps to your command from the start is no challenge at
all. Surrender given so freely is no prize to me.
No, the best subs are fighters. Women who
cling to their control even as they submit, struggling for the
upper hand until the delicious moment that you break them
completely: show them the true sweetness of their surrender.
And Isabelle…she would fight me every step
of the way. I can see it in her bold proposition, the glint of
defiance in her eyes even as she bent her head and called me
‘Master.’
My blood boils, remembering the soft moan of
the word on her lips. I want to hear it screamed out loud, begged
and whimpered as I school her with my whips, my chains.
My cock.
From down the hallway, I hear the front door
close. She’s here. Her footsteps tap lightly on the floor,
approaching my bedroom. They pause by the door.
Silence.
I can picture her there, her hand raised to
knock. Her body straining at the silk of that sinful dress, her
mouth wet and ready to pleasure me.
All I want is her, and I vow: if she asks
again, if she knocks, then to hell with everything.
I’ll throw the door open and fuck her right
there in the hall. Claim her body, thrust deep between those satiny
thighs, pin her wrists to the floor, spreading her legs with my
knee, tease and tantalize her until she’s screaming.