The Billionaire's Past (His Submissive, Part Ten) (8 page)

And I'd just ripped my brand new chemise.

He was definitely playing hard to get.
Usually my punishment was immediate. I'd already be pressed into
the cushion. Strapping me down would be irrelevant because I
wouldn't be going anywhere. My whole body would be taut, heart
beating in my ears as I waited for the whistle as his hand cut
through the air and collided with my ass.

But right now, I was still upright. Butt in
the wrong direction. Not breathing through the strikes as pain met
molten pleasure. Right now all I felt was frustration.

I had no need of stony faced Jacob, watching
me intently when it was clear I was in need of some hard loving.
Maybe it wasn't clear...so I jerked the other side down, the
material slinking to my waist. Both breasts exposed, chest heaving
as I glared at him defiantly.

Spank me. Punish me. Just
take
me.
"What are you waiting for?"

His cool eyes dropped to his cuff and he
slowly rolled up his sleeves. "This little display was endearing at
first. You know how I love it when you beg. Usually, I'm so caught
up in you I let your obvious attempts at lording your will over me
slide." He leaned in and I closed my eyes, giddy at the thought of
him punishing me, but he reached beside me, tugging at one of the
hooks on the bench.

"This bench is a sign of a lifestyle. One
where a submissive gives control, her being, over to her lover. Her
Dominant." His eyes narrowed. "How have you given yourself over to
me? All I see is a petulant child trying to provoke me. It is a
waste, Leila. You know how this ends, with you on your stomach, ass
in the air. Why force my hand?" He gave me a wilting look when I
remained quiet. "Now you choose to listen? Answer my question."

Because the patience is a virtue stuff is
BS
. I censored my answer. "I just want you, Jacob."

"And I want your submission." He brought his
index finger to his chin, tapping it lightly as he thought
something over. "Perhaps I should send you downstairs to check the
mail as you are. Go for a drive with you wearing nothing at all
beside me."

Heat tingled in my cheeks at the thought of
being naked in public. Being seen. "Jacob..."

"You've forgotten what submission is," he cut
in smoothly. "It's more than rough sex, Leila. More than being tied
up and tied down. It's pushing limits. Exploring your sexuality."
He snapped his fingers. "Get up."

I snapped to my feet, not sure what to
expect. I definitely wasn't expecting him to step around me and
pick up the bench and walk toward the...

Oh my god.

He was taking it outside to the patio.

Memories of touching myself on the wicker
chair, my nerves, and the way it felt to release my inhibitions
rocked me. Touching myself was one thing, but Jacob spanking me out
there? I was rooted firmly in place, the old, familiar pangs of
apprehension back.

He stepped back through the French doors,
wearing an evil smile. “What’s the problem? I thought you couldn’t
wait to try out the spanking bench?” The smile hardened. “Isn’t
that why you disobeyed me?”

I bit my lip, keeping my retort to myself. He
knew better than anyone how self-conscious I got when I thought
anyone was watching.

That’s the whole point, Lay. Pushing your
limits. Jacob taking charge instead of the other way around.

It didn’t help psych me up for what he wanted
to do out there.

I took a few steps forward, bringing my
working strap back up, using my other hand to cover my other
breast. “I shouldn’t have provoked you. I just really want you.
Wanted this.”

He leaned against the doorway, his steely
eyes telling me it was too little, too late. “And I want you. I
plan on spanking you, Leila. Right out there.”

My throat tightened. It was dinnertime and it
was perfect windows open weather. There were probably even people
out on their patios. Before, I worried we might be heard. There was
no longer a maybe. We
would
be heard.

Section Nine

I breathed in and out and moved forward. My
body was already on board. I just had to get my head to catch
up.

He was watching my movements, passion
flickering in his eyes as I came closer. He shifted to the side,
stopping me from stepping outside. His eyes glittered down at me,
heat radiating from him.

He cupped the sides of my face. "Take off the
dress."

I kept my eyes on him, letting go of my hold
on the material. Watching him drink it up as I pulled it over my
hips and let it fall the rest of the way. His eyes worked over the
contours of my body and the only thing that kept me from gripping
him or doing some physical version of 'now what?' was the fact that
I saw he was fighting to keep himself from touching me. From taking
me right on the spot.

He stepped to the side and I slid past,
willing myself to look at the spanking bench and not the building
on the other side of the bustling street.

I concentrated on everything else. How the
breeze stroked my naked body, delicious against my alert nerves.
The sounds of the city instead of my heart roaring in my ears. The
smell of the air. Of Jacob coming up behind me. Of his fingers
tracing my spine.

"I wish you could see how beautiful you look,
Leila." His voice was so low, stroking me as gently as his fingers.
"Have you tried out the bench?”

"Yes sir," I said softly, stepping forward
and straddling it. As much as I could anyway. Positioning my body
near the end, leg on each side and lowering. There were a few key
differences. I'd been clothed then. And even though I'd imagined
what it'd be like to ease my body forward until it was flush
against the bench and feel him beside me, fantasy paled in
comparison to reality.

The strokes lengthened, his path angling
toward my bottom until his fingers drew up the rounded curve,
kneading it and making me squirm.

"Are you ready?"

I must have said ‘yes sir’ because there
would have been repercussions if I hadn't. I was in a daze,
lowering myself on the bench.

I strained my neck, fingertips millimeters
from the pavement. Tingling. I was completely exposed but I wasn’t
thinking about any eyes that could be pointed in our direction. The
little voice in my head whispered that my zen at being naked on a
bench on the patio was because no one could see me. And if they
could, all I could see was the cement.

But it was more than that. I trusted Jacob.
And even though I was still coming to terms with the part of me
that seemed to love pushing the envelope, doing things that would
make the old vanilla part of me blush, it was the fact that I was
listening to that side that made me smile. My dark, kinky side. The
piece of me that was counting down the seconds, aching for him to
spank me.

“Do I need to get restraints?”

“No sir,” I said without hesitation. I would
lie there and take it. I wasn’t gonna run. Not that I would get
very far anyway since the railing was only a few inches away.

“Good girl,” he said huskily. I shivered when
his hand rested on my lower back, pleasure vibrating through me.
“You will count...and use your color if you need it.”

The hand was creeping downward, cupping my
cheeks and my eyes rolled back in my head. We hadn’t even gotten to
the main event and already I felt like I could come on the spot.
The hand tightened, a piece of flesh blooming as pain snapped me
from my daze.

“Are you listening?” he asked sternly.

Uh oh. “No sir.” I clenched my fists as the
pinch intensified, grounding me.

“Don’t let that happen again,” he admonished
me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my body tensing.
“I’m sorry.” As soon as ‘sorry’ dropped from my lips he released me
and traded the pinch for tender strokes.

“Are you ready to begin?”

I relaxed my fists, fingers spreading out.
Trembling with anticipation. “Yes sir.”

The first strike was a whisper, lust curling
around me, its slice making my core weep. “One.”

I drew a shaky breath as the second landed,
any fog officially cleared as my bottom tingled.

“Three.” The tickle became a sting, pinpricks
lighting along the surface.

Four spread them, making me bite my lip.

Five...well, five showed me that this was no
game at all. I felt every inch of his hand throbbing against my
skin, even after he retracted.

Six and I bit down on my lip, connecting the
pain on my behind with the new slice of it that clutched my
lip.

Seven and my mouth was open, a silent cry
echoing through me. I felt his need to release, to take me to the
edge with every strike.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

I wanted to hold on, to surrender to the
bliss of pain; that moment where the two stark emotions bled into
one another. Between my legs I knew I could go there and beyond. I
was already spiraling out of control, my climax a word away. But
the rest of me was on fire.

“Yellow,” I said hoarsely when we hit
seventeen.
Louder
. “Yellow.”

Eighteen didn’t come and when I heard his
footsteps retreat I almost leapt up and told him that I took it
back. I missed it. I felt like that was crazy, the rational,
thinking part of me wondered what screw was loose that made me
entertain the thought of him coming back and wailing on me until I
went numb. To abandon everything but the count. To focus on nothing
except us. But I didn’t move from the bench, using the moments to
breathe, to stretch out my fingers and toes.

His feet reappeared beside me, a finger
stroking a curl before I heard the click sound of a top being
flipped.

“This may be cold.”

I sucked in a breath behind my teeth as I
felt the chill of the medicated lotion, the stuff tingling as it
warmed, smoothing away the last tendrils of pain. He bent down
beside me, his face level to mine. Blue eyes searched me, the
concern making me smile.

“You alright?” My smile broadened just as a
tear sprung free and he leaned forward, cupping my cheek as he
paled. “God, Leila if it was too much you should have--”

I shook my head adamantly. “It wasn’t. I used
it when I needed to.” I felt my nipples aching, the place inside me
unfulfilled. “In fact, I, uh...”

His fingers drew to my chin, thumb sweeping
across my bottom lip. “You want more, huh?”

I clenched between my legs, nodding
enthusiastically. “Yes sir.”

He smirked, his eyes dark with mischief. “You
are insatiable, Leila Montgomery.”

I bat my eyelashes at him boldly. “Have you
seen yourself lately? I didn’t stand a chance.”

He stood up, gesturing for me to join him. My
limbs should have felt like jello but I was so into him, into
feeling him that I practically leapt to my feet, feeling sure.
Confident. How could I not be with him looking at me that way?

“For curiosity's sake, if I let you take the
reins, what would be next?”

My eyes darted to his groin then back up
before I asked him coyly, “May I show you?”

“By all means.”

I reached forward, slowly pulling his belt
loose and holding onto his heated gaze as I pulled down the zipper.
I slid my hand inside his boxers, moaning behind my lips when I
gripped him, hand barely able to fit around the engorged bulge. His
jaw tightened, still fighting to maintain control but when I
started sliding up and down the shaft, his mouth opened as he
looked down at me, a low moan hanging in the space between us.

“I want to take you in my mouth,” I said
softly.

His lips trembled but his voice was steady
and authoritative. Just like I liked it.

“Then get on your knees.”

I lowered my body slowly, bringing his pants
with me. They pooled at his feet and he stepped out of them,
offering me some barrier between my knees and the cement. Not that
I would have felt discomfort. I was focused on nothing other than
the way he twitched and throbbed in my hand.

I took him firmly in one hand and leaned
forward, tongue dancing over the slit, the velvety taste of him
coating my tongue. I let my tongue roam around the mushroom tip,
lingering when his muscles flexed and his cock thumped in approval.
I brought my other hand to the base of him, pumping in tandem with
my mouth. His hand knotted in my hair as he drug me up and down the
length. His grip reminded me that even though he was wildly
thrusting his hips, a slave to my mouth, he was still running
things.

He brought me back to my feet as his balls
tightened, heart lurching to my throat. "Inside."

We barely made it back through the door. My
fingers were flying down the row of buttons, not stopping until I
saw his hardened chest. It was discarded, the boxers next as we
dashed up the staircase. He spun me around and slammed me against
the wall, inches from the bed. We were so close but he was already
spreading me, fingers plunging inside like he was tired of waiting.
I leaned back against the wall, neck fully exposed as I swirled my
hips. The fingers were so deep that I was gasping for air, hands
clawing at his chest as he filled me before retreating. Eyes
watching. Love burning in the blue.

He drove his digits in me, voice deep as sin,
speaking the fact of my state of climax. “You’re close.”

I couldn’t speak so I shook my head and
moaned.

He pulled me from the wall and threw me onto
the bed, chest heaving. Every beautiful, hardened vein popped
beneath the skin of him.

When I brought my knees up his eyes devoured
the heat between my legs before he rushed into the divide,
spreading me as he gripped my hips and thrust inside of my sex.

The feel of him moving, pounding me into the
mattress coursed as wildly as the blood in my veins. Every inch
brought a new sensation.