Wild Submission (3 page)

I’ve never looked back.

And now, here I am: acting head of a Fortune
500 company, with everything I could want in life.

Everything,
including
her
.

The views melt away, and all I can see is
Isabelle. Waiting on her knees, naked and trembling with
anticipation for my touch. God, it was my wildest fantasy come to
life. No matter what she thinks or what she’s done, she’s an
innocent. And nothing is sweeter to me than teaching an innocent
the dark pleasures they hide inside.

The things I’ll teach her…

I can picture it now, showing her every toy
and instrument in my playroom. She’ll be spread for me, bent over
my spanking bench. Her long, creamy thighs flexing with pleasure as
I trail my leather crop over that gorgeous ass. I can hear the
whimpered frenzy of her desire already. I’ll mark that flesh with
stripes of red, brand her with my mark. And then, then I’ll show
her the pleasure that matches every beat of pain.

My cock stiffens. Fuck, I can’t wait. I want
to wrap my hand with that silky blonde hair and use it like reins,
tug her head back as I fuck her from behind. No mercy, no release,
just hard deep thrusts until she’s quivering around my cock.

My intercom buzzes, shattering the scene.
Fuck.

“Mr. McCullough?” It’s Jeannie.

“Yes?” I bark.

“Miss Ashcroft is waiting on your three
PM.”

It takes me a second to realize she means
Keely, and not Isabelle. “I’ll be right there,” I snap, releasing
the button.

I clench my fists, willing my body back
under control.

This is your second strike.

Showing up late was the first mistake. Now,
I’m distracted, ready to jerk off again in the middle of my damn
office.

Where the hell is my control now?

I’m not usually like this. When I take on a
new sub, it’s like a business arrangement. We state our terms, and
come to a mutually beneficial settlement. I pick women who know the
deal. No emotion, no messy desires spilling over into my everyday
life. I keep my worlds separate for a reason, and the result is
always satisfying.

But Isabelle…

She has a way of getting under my skin.
Already, she’s blurring the boundaries between my professional and
personal lives. And not just because I knew her from before. I
cannot stop thinking about her. I’ll just have to be extra careful
to keep my walls up and maintain the limits between us—just like
with any other sub.

Except she’s nothing like any of the
others.

* * *

I stay late at work to make up for my
morning laxness: it’s after nine PM by the time I unlock the
penthouse door and walk inside.

Isabelle appears in the hallway. “You’re
back,” she says, something like relief on her beautiful face. “I
didn’t know…” she trails off.

I should have called. “Were you waiting
long?”

“No,” she says quickly. “I just didn’t know
if you’d gone out for dinner, or…”

“I often work late,” I explain, moving to
the kitchen and putting my briefcase down. “But you shouldn’t worry
about me. In the future I’ll let you know my schedule”

I look around, noticing that there are
takeout containers on the counter, and a table set for two.

“You were waiting.” I realize.

Isabelle flushes. “It doesn’t matter,” she
says, looking away.

Damn, this is the kind of thing I didn’t
want to deal with: the emotions that come from a real relationship.
I’ve never lived with a woman before. My time has always been my
own.

“It was a nice thought,” I tell her gently.
And it is. I get a sudden flash of coming home to this every night:
Isabelle waiting, her freshly-washed hair still tousled and damp,
ready to serve me however I saw fit.

She stands in front of me now, and I can see
the nervous anticipation on her face.

I feel a surge of power.

She’s offered herself to me. She’s mine
now—whether she realizes it fully or not. I could hoist her up onto
the kitchen island right now and shove those thighs apart; drive
deep into the slick clench of her pussy,, grinding up to hit her
G-spot just right as I pin her body down and ride her until she
breaks.

“Cam?” Her voice snaps me back to reality. I
look over, and have to hide a smile.

The poor girl is terrified.

“Let me guess,” I murmur, moving closer.
“You’ve spent all day wondering what this arrangement will entail.
That pretty little brain of yours has run riot, hasn’t it?”

Isabelle flushes again, but when I reach out
to stroke her cheek, she relaxes, just a little.

“Maybe,” she admits.

I grin. “Did you think I would chain you up
and paddle you? Lead you around with a collar on?”

Isabelle laughs nervously.

“Relax,” I tell her, feeling protective.
“Tonight is about getting to know each other.”

Because only once I start to strip away her
perfect façade will I be able to truly dominate this woman.

I draw her closer and kiss her softly on the
lips. She shivers and nuzzles into me, her body fitting perfectly
against my side.

We’re wearing too many clothes.

“It’s been a long day,” I tell her, smiling.
“We’re going to take a shower.”

I take her hand and lead her through the
apartment, all the way to my master suite. I spared no expense with
the decorating of this property, and my bathroom is a sanctuary
now. Glossy black Italian marble tiles line the walls, and there’s
a deep sunken Jacuzzi tub and walk-in shower with a long bench: for
relaxing under the tumble of water…or for less relaxing
activities.

I push a few buttons and hot water cascades
from the rain shower spray heads mounted in the ceiling.

“Take off your clothes,” I tell her in a low
order.

Isabelle slowly meets my eyes and peels off
her T-shirt and jeans, revealing a matching lacy lingerie set.

God, she’s a masterpiece. High, full
breasts, a flat stomach, and those long legs that are just begging
to be wrapped around my waist as I shove her back against the wall.
She holds my gaze as she runs her hands down her thighs, peeling
off her lacy thong. This is better than Christmas. I could eat her
up right now, she looks so good.

I strip off my clothes, erotic tension
charging the air between us. My cock springs free, already hard,
and I see Isabelle’s eyes widen in appreciation.

“Go ahead,” I say, gesturing to the steaming
spray. “Ladies first.”

She twists her hair up and steps into the
shower. The water hits her body, running in rivulets between her
breasts and down over her thighs.

I could watch her forever, but there’s a
more important plan tonight.

I join her and pull the door closed. Now
we’re alone with nothing but the thrum of water and hot, wet
skin.

I move closer.

Isabelle’s breath quickens. She wets her
lips, and reaches toward me, but I grab her hands and pin them to
her sides.

“No,” I say softly. “There’ll be plenty of
time to touch me later. Believe me, I have plans for these hands.
But now I want to discover your body. What you need, how your body
feels. Tonight, it’s all about you.”

Isabelle goes still. I wonder if anyone’s
shown this body the worship it deserves. If any man has even taken
the time to explore every inch of her, touching and teasing her
soft skin until she’s so aroused she can’t take it anymore.

Her asshole ex didn’t, that’s for sure. Men
like him only take. They never give.

“Relax,” I order her. “Close your eyes, and
just feel.”

She obediently lets her eyes fall shut.
Slowly, her breathing settles, and I can see her sink into the
sensual bliss of the shower jets.

I reach for the detachable shower head and
slowly tease the stream of water down Isabelle’s body.

I start at her shoulders and the top of her
gorgeous breasts. Using the spray of water, I brush her nipples
until I see them pert and ready to be sucked. I continue down her
chest, her stomach, and stop at the top of her pussy. I adjust the
pressure on the showerhead so that it’s harder. I know she wants my
hands on her, and fuck, I want to touch her all over, but the
anticipation will be worth the release. I will relish the feel of
her skin, trembling under my hands. But until then I will tease
her.

I use the water to massage her in slow,
deliberate strokes, directing the pounding pressure against that
delicious mound. She moans.

I turn her around and lean her against me so
I can get between her legs with the handheld. I slide my hand in
between her legs, spreading them apart. I put the shower head at
her pussy and move it back and forth, the spray tickling her clit
and lips.

She rests her head against my shoulder as I
slide it back and forth, getting her ready for me. I can feel her
body stiffen now with a new kind of tension, and when I glance
down, I see her nipples pebble tight with desire.

I hold back, resisting the urge to bend her
over and fuck her now, teasing her with the head of my cock,
bending her over and pounding into her. . She’s so slippery and
damp, I know she’s needy there, too. Wet and tight and ready for
me.

I put the shower head back with one hand and
pull Isabelle back to me, tracing slow circles over her stomach and
hips with my fingertips. “Tell me about yourself,” I murmur,
slowing down the pace of my strokes. “What was your life like,
before you were adopted by Ashcroft?”

Isabelle’s whole body goes rigid with
tension. But as her Dom, I need to know her mind as well as her
body.

I drop a gentle kiss on the back of her
neck, encouraging her to trust me with her body and her secrets.
Sliding my hands lower, I tease at the apex of her thighs, swirling
my fingertips in the slim strip of hair. She’s still tense, so I
move one hand to her breast, toying lightly with her peaked
nipple.

Isabelle stifles a moan.

“Tell me,” I order her softly, as my fingers
dip deeper between her thighs. I find the swollen nub of her clit,
and gently circle.

She shudders. “I was adopted when I was
thirteen. Before that, I lived with foster parents and in a group
home.”

“What about your birth parents?”

Isabelle hesitates. I stop stroking.

“I never knew my dad,” she says quietly. “My
mom was an addict. She got busted too many times. They took me away
from her when I was just a kid.”

I feel a surge of anger, but I fight to keep
it hidden. She’s opening up more to me than ever before. This is
all part of her initiation, to belonging to me.

“Do you remember her at all?” I ask,
whispering in her ear.

Isabelle shakes her head. “Not really. I
don’t even have any pictures.” She pauses, and her voice is quiet
and wistful. “Maybe it’s better that way.”

“How did you come to be adopted by Charles
and his wife?” I ask. I don’t want to push her too hard, too soon,
but I have a burning desire to know the truth. I can tell she’s
uncomfortable revealing so much about herself, so I make sure to
keep my touch light and soothing, distracting her from the ugliness
of the story she’s telling.

“I was bounced around different foster
families and group homes for years. Some of them were OK, but the
others...” Isabelle pauses, and I feel her body tense again with
the memories. She shakes her head. “Then I got lucky, I guess. I
was in a group home when a social worker came one day. Said there
was a couple, looking to adopt. I guess they’d seen my photo on the
website. Even back then, I was pretty,” she adds, with a note of
self-loathing in her voice. “They came to meet me, and that was it.
They took me home with them the same day.”

“How did you feel about it?” I ask.

She shrugs. “They were good people. And I
was lucky, I know. The money, the houses… They gave me everything
money could buy.”

There’s a lot she’s not saying. I realize
that the Ashcroft I knew: so ruthlessly ambitious, always working,
on trips abroad and in the office, wouldn’t have been a perfect
father. I probably saw more of him in the past eight years than she
did.

I turn Isabelle to face me, and catch the
flash of lonely vulnerability on her face. That’s why I kept her
back to me this whole time—so she’d be as open as possible. I want
to scoop her up in my arms and make love to her. Drive out all that
sadness and isolation. Make her feel adored and treasured.

“Lie down on the bench,” I tell her softly.
Isabelle lets out a breath of relief. She clearly thinks our
conversation is over, but it’s only on pause for now.

She follows my command, draping her perfect
body on the low, wide platform.

“Spread your legs for me,” I continue. She
flushes, self-conscious, but she does it all the same.

I take a razor from the shelf and kneel down
in front of her.

“I said I’m going to get to know every part
of you,” I tell her. “Look at that gorgeous pussy.” I smooth a
handful of foam between her thighs.

Isabelle wriggles.

“Be still,” I order her. She stops moving. I
push her thighs further apart. Her pussy lips part gently, giving
me a tantalizing glimpse of her swollen clit.

I slowly draw the razor down over her mound.
I rinse and repeat until she’s cleanly shaven and bare. Then I
lower my head and drop a light kiss on the smooth skin.

She shivers, arching her hips up against me.
I can’t resist trailing my tongue lower, until it’s dancing over
her clit.

Isabelle lets out a breathy moan.

God, she sounds so good. I lick lower,
tasting her sweet, fresh taste. She parts her thighs wider, a
silent invitation to take everything my body is straining to
claim.

But I pull back. I get to my feet, and offer
her a hand to help her up. She’s a little unsteady, swaying against
me as I lead her out of the shower and wrap her in a soft robe. I
take her out to the bedroom, and gently set her down in the middle
of my huge king bed.