The Billionaire's Past (His Submissive, Part Ten) (4 page)

“None of it worked,” he sighed. “And then
when I was eight, maybe nine, I came home from school and I
remember feeling this burst of excitement because my father's Jag
was in the driveway. It was weird because he was never home until I
was practically in bed. It was--" His lips tilted into a sad smile.
"--exciting. I walked in the house and my father was in the living
room. Somber. Quiet. His eyes were trained on the coffee table. It
was littered with bottles and a rainbow of pills. Every damn size
you can think of. I asked where Mom was and he said she was tired
and not to be disturbed. When it happened two months or so later,
he told me she was sick. That she tried to hurt herself."

I felt a knot form in my throat that wouldn't
get away. After what he'd almost done with the shotgun...

"I was eleven when she started routinely
harming herself,” Jacob’s voice was hollow and cold. “Interestingly
enough, these urges happened right before long business trips or
after she and Dad had some heavy argument."

I gripped his hand tight. It was impossible,
but I wished I could take away his pain. How she could do that; use
suicide as some ploy for attention, it just...I couldn’t even
fathom it.

He cleared his throat and rose to his feet.
“But that’s in the past. I never should have taken it out on you or
Mia. And if she wants to be our client, I support it fully. I
support
you
.”

I wanted to hug him, to be close, to let him
know I’d never let anyone hurt him ever again, but he made a
beeline for the staircase.

“I’m gonna grab a shower. I’ll see you
upstairs.”

Sec 4

I leaned against the frame of the door,
looking into our dimly lit bedroom, watching Jacob. Blue eyes were
on the screen of his iPad, bright beneath a mop of still damp hair.
My eyes lowered to his chest, bare and glistening from the shower.
I wanted to move closer, to smell the musk of the soap on his skin.
But there was no way I could be that close to a near naked Jacob
and keep my hands to myself. And considering he’d all but dashed
upstairs alone and was reading intently with an invisible ‘Do Not
Disturb’ sign hanging above his head, I didn’t think now was the
time for seduction or submission.

And the glimpse of his past was enough to
make my libido all but shut down. I knew that Alicia Whitmore
wasn’t what she seemed the moment I laid my eyes on her. Her
glossy, manicured exterior was hiding secrets of something dark.
The kind grin she wore as she nonchalantly talked about writing me
a cheek to go away. Talking about her love of Jacob in the same
breath she used to disparage him. Disregarding what he wanted. What
he needed. And now I knew she used the threat of suicide to control
her husband and son.

I looked at Jacob, my strong man who fought
so hard to contain his emotions, who was once different;
happier--until the woman who brought him into the world snuffed it
out. Hardened him.

My mother was no saint. She was flighty,
impulsive and if you looked up ‘overprotective’ in the dictionary I
was pretty sure you’d see her snapshot beside the definition. But
hearing about the things Alicia did to Jacob made me want to hug my
mom tight and never let her go. It made me want to go back to the
Leila who used to complain and say horrible things in the heat of
anger and shake some sense into her.

I was lucky to have a mom like her. A mom
that told me she loved me so much it made me groan. A mom whose
extent of manipulation was things like playing matchmaker and
hiding my flats so I had to wear stilettos to the interview that
changed my life.

Jacob looked up, his eyes curious as he took
me in. “Everything alright?”

I chewed on my bottom lip as I padded across
the room toward him. "I should be asking you that after what you
told me."

His forehead wrinkled in confusion for a
moment before he caught my drift and let out a laugh that avoided
his eyes. “Ah. That.” He flipped his cover over his tablet and
shrugged. “I’m good.”

I was prepared to let it go, climb in bed
beside him and push away anything Alicia Whitmore related. But the
smile on his face looked physically painful, like he was trying so
hard to put on a brave face for me when everything was falling
apart.

I eased onto the bed, trying to keep my voice
steady. “Jacob, you can’t just tell me something like that and...”
I felt the emotion I’d tried to bottle up, stash away to keep from
poking at an old wound rush to the surface. He was sitting there
unblinking, nearly erasing every trace of the moment of
vulnerability. Openness. Well, I was wide open--and I was about to
cry. “And...”

“And what?” he said finally, studying me.
“You want me to start sobbing about how devastating it was to
actually wonder if she’d actually go through with it? That the maid
would be a few minutes too late? A few seconds? I’d pick the wrong
day to go over to a friend’s? Or maybe I’d be on the other side of
the world, too far to save my mother from herself?” He grit his
teeth in disgust. “This was why I didn’t want to say anything.”

The tears evaporated as I cocked my head to
the side. “You don’t mean that.”

He massaged his temple and let out a tired
sigh. “You’re right. I don’t. I don’t want secrets between us.” He
gave me a reluctant smile. “I just don’t want it to be a
production. I don't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing
she affects me. So I act like I don't feel anything at all.”

I relaxed, feeling the smile pull at my
mouth. “You don’t have to be Big Bad Jacob. Not with me.”

He licked his lips and I followed the hot
trail he made, tongue sweeping left before it flicked right.
"What's wrong with big, bad, Jacob?"

His eyes glittered dangerously. It was the
smallest of movements, but it was like someone doused us with
pheromones. Some eau de Whitmore that made my heart speed up in my
chest and the tingle of warmth build in the pit of my belly.
Nothing could scratch that itch but him.

I swallowed hard as he drug his fingertips
along my arm, sending an electric jolt to my system that fried the
serious conversation I was trying to have with him.

The smile that played on those lips weren't
messing around now, drawing my eyes back to them. Filling my head
with all the things he could do. The places he could touch and
lick.

"Jacob..." His fingers were drawing up,
rounding my shoulders, skating my neck. Cupping my chin.

"Say it again."

You're not okay, are you?
The reason
eating at me when I climbed the stairs, screaming when he snapped,
tickled the haze that had taken up residence in my head. But that
wasn’t what he was talking about. Jacob was using the dominant
voice. That dark, authoritative, dangerous thing that used to scare
the crap out of me but now it made me melt.

He wanted me to say his name.

I looked into his eyes. I was lost to
him.

"
Jacob
."

The smile broadened as he pulled me toward
him and wrapped his lips around mine. He was warm, his touch
imploring. Sensual. His tongue didn't command, not yet. He swept it
over mine, flicks as he kissed me, deep moans of satisfaction
echoing through me as he cradled my face.

I remained still, savoring, loving the way I
could feel his passion and desire rippling through his kiss.
Washing over me. Possessing me. Everything was heightened. The way
my fingertips trembled as I moved closer, tossing aside the sheets.
My arms drew up; taking in the way his muscles flexed as I locked
them around his neck and pulled him in. He let out a chuckle at my
actions. Me thrusting my breasts into his chest like I had any
control over any of this. Like I could up the ante. The fact that
my body belonged to him, snapping to life when he gave me a single
look was proof that he was in control. I was Jacob’s. His
alone.

His lips swept over mine, slow, teasing as he
pulled back. Not far enough that I would protest, but far enough
that my lips quivered and missed his touch.

“You have no idea how sexy that is,” he said
huskily, blue eyes darkening with heat. His fingertips spread along
the line of my neck, fanning out before they tightened. Not tight
enough to hurt or cut the air from my lungs. Breathing was
irrelevant anyway. I stopped breathing as soon as he started
stripping me down with his eyes.

He still had that effect on me. Even after
all this time.

His fingertips branded me, making an
invisible impression as he brought his lips down to kiss the trail
he made with his hand.

“Seeing you like this. Wild--” He drug his
teeth along the sensitive strip of flesh. “--All mine.”

My skin was on fire and when he started
tracing lines, swirling his tongue, I threw my head back with
abandon, dark curls dancing down my back.

“Oh Jacob.” I moaned, a long, lusty thing
that poured out of my mouth. He reclaimed my lips, like he needed
to taste me again. Taste my need. His hands locked in my hair,
taking a handful, tugging as his tongue no longer hinted at what he
wanted. It dove between my lips, slicking over mine before it
dueled, daring me to go faster and demand more.

So I did. I rose up on my knees, raking my
hands through his hair, my hair spilling down as I buried my tongue
in his mouth. My body ached because I was straddling him, wanting
other things to be buried. To spread wide. To give him all of
me.

I could feel his curve of approval, snug,
fighting against the slip of cotton that did nothing to hide his
bulge. I rolled my hips and he let out a groan that said I wasn’t
playing fair.

Punishment was swift and delicious.

He spun me around, bucking me down onto the
mattress. I looked at all the tight lines and squares of his chest
and abdomen, eyes racing down to the dark curls that angled toward
his erection. He speared through his boxer briefs, promising that
he wanted and needed this as badly as me. I brought my hands to the
band of his underwear, hooking my thumb inside and started pulling
it downward. He stopped me, gripping my wrists and vaulted them up
and over my head.

He leaned down, eyes flashing with all the
things he wanted to do to me.

“Not yet.”

I let out a muffled whine that fluttered
behind my lips, giving him my best puppy dog eyes.

His eyes twinkled with mischief as he clucked
his tongue. “Cute, but ineffective.”

He released my hands, knowing that I’d keep
them where he left them. Even when he started trailing his hands
down, fingers sliding over my collarbone before they drew between
the valley of my cleavage. He cut toward my breast, stopping before
he returned to the center, stroking the seam. Close to my
curve...back. Alternating sides...back. When I hitched a breath, I
saw him looking at my lips.

He was listening for those little gasps.

I stuck my tongue out at him and one side of
his mouth tipped upward. He kept his eyes on my lips and I let out
as sigh as he cupped my breast in his palm. The sigh changed into a
loud gasp when he pinched my nipple. Nothing compared to that slice
of pain that vibrated through the delicious pleasure. The wetness
that grew, my juices coating my lower lips. Making me writhe.

But his hands weren’t done. Jacob smoothed
down my abdomen before his hand rested solidly over my sex.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he murmured, looking
down at me, the smirk nowhere and in its place, nothing but fire.
An animal desire flooded me as he split the lips of me and thrust
his finger inside. The abrupt invasion sent shockwaves sizzling
through me and I vaulted my body upward to meet the next stroke,
savoring the way my body clenched around his finger. I closed my
eyes as he added another, my body adjusting to him.

“Your eyes, Leila.”

I popped them open and he stared down at me,
lips parted, trembling as I hitched a breath when he went deeper.
It was more than just his hand. His eyes rocked in and out.

He drew his hand out and drove his pelvis
into me, showing me that I wasn’t the only one losing it. Showing
me what came next. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to touch him.

He arched a dark eyebrow, giving me a look
like he could see inside my head. “What do you want, Leila?”

“You,” I whispered.

His eyes glowed. “Show me.”

I yanked my arms down and wasted no time
pulling off his boxer briefs, eyes taking in the veiny, thick bulge
of him as it snapped free. I took him in my hand, sweeping my thumb
over the slit in the head, licking my lips when I felt the desire
seep from him. I gazed up at my lover, my fiancé, and slowly slid
my hand up and down his length.

His eyes closed and I saw the lust ripple
across his face.

I tightened my hold and his eyes popped open
and he growled. Literally growled.

And it was the sexiest thing I’d ever
heard.

He threw my legs wider, moving in the space
between them. Muscular arms flexed on both sides of me as he leaned
forward and I could feel him pulsing at my entrance.

He watched me intently as I squirmed beneath
him. Feeling how close he was to being inside. How close I was to
being whole.

He moved one hand to his groin, holding it
steady. Right there. So close that I was practically begging.

His eyes pinned me in place. “Tell me you
want me.”

My mouth was dry from all the moaning and it
came out as a croak. “I want you.”’

“Louder.”

“I want you!”

He entered me and I clasped him, those three
words everything, filling me as completely as every new stroke. He
looked down at me as he went deeper, the wildness racing across his
features, settling on his lips.

I didn't wait for him to say the word to
release me. How could I with him so deep, his gaze penetrating me
in time with his body?