The Billionaire's Trust (His Submissive, Part Eleven) (4 page)

If my skirt gave me any trouble I'd
already decided to grab the scissors in my cup and cut myself free.
Luckily, my hand slipped under the material easily, fingertips
straining until I brushed the crotch of my panties. I pulled them
to the side and sunk two hands in and a long, desperate moan poured
out of my mouth.

"How wet are you?" He asked, his
voice tight.

"Sopping," I eked out, feeling my
delicate folds quiver as I went deeper.

"Don't stop," he ordered thickly. "I
wouldn't--not before I got to feel how hot and wet you are with my
cock."

"Oh Jacob," I sighed in between
moans. In between thrusts. My legs were splayed open but that
wasn't enough. I threw my leg up on my desk, pen cup, folders
flying.

"You know what you do to me?" he
said, his voice no longer controlled but unhinged. Wild. "I need
you. No one else. No one else...don't stop, Leila. Not until you
come."

I was rolling my hips, thrusting the
air wildly. When I used my other hand to touch that knot of nerves,
the swollen button that would set me free, I knew I was close. But
I didn't want to go there alone. I needed him too.

"Come with me," I begged, hoping for
an answer soon because my whole body was alive, nerves tingling
with the electric current that shorted everything but the two of
us. Everything except this pleasure.

"I'm close," he said brusquely. "Are
you ready?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, my body
tilting precariously on the edge.
"Yes...I...
I
..."

"Come."

The pressure was
unbearable.

Beautiful.

Agony.

Release.

I knew I was groaning, crying out
for him.
Jacob
. And he said my name, pulling together the
pieces of me. Making me whole again.

"Fuck a few days," he said with a
rumbling laugh. "I'm taking no prisoners." His voice deepened,
making me grin because I knew what it meant. "Get some
rest."

He didn't need to say more than
that. When he got home, he was going to blow my freaking
mind.

I grinned, pushing aside the
whispers about the w
edding.
Bring
it on.

****

"I guess this means I'm out of the
dog house."

I rolled my eyes so hard they
practically rolled out of my head. It would have just made things
worse if Mom would have seen it, but she was preoccupied with
trying to figure out how to sit her seat up.

At least I could roll my eyes in
peace. I had a feeling peace, calm and lack of drama would be non
existent for the next few hours.

"You feel the lever on the side?
Pull it up to bring the chair up and push it down to
recline."

"Well I'm certainly not going to
recline," she huffed. "If I recline anymore I'll be
horizontal."

I watched as she brought the seat to
an awkward ninety degree angle before I put the car in drive. I was
trying to keep my eyes on the road, but she kept fidgeting and
squirming in her seat.

"Everything alright,
Mom?"

"It's just the leather is so stiff."
When I gave her a wary look, she tacked on, "Not that it's not a
beautiful car, honey. I'm just not used to all these
frills."

You'd think we were riding in a
Bentley instead of a ‘13 Hyundai Sonata. I knew she was just being
herself, ornery with a smile, but I couldn't help but take offense.
This was the first car that ever had my name on it. I put down the
hefty downpayment myself and signed the dotted line and upgraded
from my rust bucket to something shiny. And
mine
. I felt so
empowered. Proud.

When I came over and presented it
with a flourish, she took every ounce of air from my sails by
asking if it was a gift from Jacob.When I told her I bought it with
my salary she gave me this pointed look that all but said that
wasn't that different. And then there was her lackluster ‘Awww’
when she saw the ring. I was totally unprepared for it since she’d
hounded Jacob, trying to figure out why I didn't have a
ring.

I’d been looking forward to seeing
her, sharing that OMG moment, but now I felt guilty because I was
regretting this dinner already and we hadn’t even made it to the
restaurant. There was something else that was bugging me. Mom was a
talker. There was no such thing as silence when she was in the
vicinity. She’d complain about the dogs or the news or
something
, letting me off the hook from trying to actually
have a conversation.

She was notably quiet, looking out
the window like I did as a kid when I was trying to illustrate just
how mad I was after an argument.

“What’s wrong?”

She faced me, eyes wide and
innocent. “Everything’s fine, Leila. Perfect even--I get to go out
with my daughter and celebrate her engagement in her brand new
car.”

Both of those occasions should have
been things to be happy about and I almost believed she was okay
until she flashed me the fakest smile I’d ever seen on her face. If
I wasn’t barreling down the freeway, I would have slammed on my
brakes.

My mother was a lot of things. She
was loud, brash, tactless, giving, and overly excitable. She’d
never met a stranger and was fiercely loyal to her family and
friends. She was a little celebrity crazy, but who wasn’t these
days? Entire careers were built on the public’s voracious need to
know everything about the rich and famous.

But she didn’t have a phony bone in
her body and when I looked at the curve of her lips, I knew
immediately that she wasn’t being honest with me.

I had a couple of options. I could
drop it, like she obviously wanted me to, or I could find out what
was going on. I stared out at the highway, cars rocketing past us
as I weighed out each one. The first meant we could pretend
together; turn up the radio and let the music fill the silence
until the conversation was kickstarted and we were too busy
catching up to remember the lie that started it all. Option two was
sure to annoy her which would in turn annoy me and this
Mother/Daughter thing would be officially a bust.

I tapped my fingers on the steering
wheel, deciding on the easy route. I was getting entirely too good
at going with the flow. Fear of rocking the boat was throwing me
overboard. Drowning me.

I pressed the volume up button and
some upbeat pop song flowed from the speakers. Mom sung a few bars
and I had no choice but to smile. She was always talking about my
voice, how I could have made it as a singer if I wanted, but I knew
I was just ordinary. I could carry a tune and stay on key, but her
voice MOVED you. It was deep and full and powerful and at the same
time, you could hear the vulnerability and rawness in every note.
Only Mom could turn a Kesha song into something deep.

She stopped, noticing that I was
watching her. “You better keep your eyes on the road.” She was
blushing.
Blushing.
She was far too confident to be so red,
especially around me.

I switched over to the right lane,
putting the car in coast so she couldn’t use speed or speeding cars
as an excuse. “What’s going on, Mom?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve already
told you I’m fine.”

“Something’s going on with you.”
When she made a face and repositioned in her seat, I let out a
sigh. “Is this about the car?”

She dropped a sigh of her own. “I
wish you’d let your dad go along with you to make sure you got a
good deal, but I know you’re an adult. To answer my question, she
finished, “This isn’t about the car.” When I opened my mouth to say
‘Aha!’, she added, “And there is no ‘this’. Because nothing’s going
on!”

“You’re mad or bothered by
something.”

“Well, if you keep insisting that
I’m mad, I probably will be!”

I took the exit for downtown, but I
wasn’t going to just drop this. We never talked or saw each other
now that I was working full time and living in the city. As crazy
as she made me at times, I loved her. We’d gone through so much,
but I wanted to be at a place where we could at least talk to each
other. I needed that connection.

We came up to a light and I looked
over at her. “Please, Mom.”

She looked genuinely uncomfortable
and when she met my gaze, there was no pretending that she wasn’t
bugging out about something. “It’s not nearly as big a deal as
you’re making it.” Her voice sharpened. “Or at least it’s not a big
deal to you.”

I was happy the charade was over and
annoyed because we were already arguing and we hadn’t even been
together for 15 minutes.
Of course it was my
fault.

The guy behind us laid on his horn
and if she wasn’t in the car, I would have flipped him off.
Instead, I gritted my teeth and put the car in motion. “Just tell
me what’s going on.”

“You know I keep up with the news.”
She didn’t mean world events. She hated how depressing the news
was, filled with up to the second stories about crime and politics.
She preferred light, entertainment news. Gossip.

I still wasn’t sure what the news
had to do with her weird behavior. “Okay...?” I glanced at her
quickly before returning my attention to the road. “Is this about
me and Jacob?”

“Yes,” she said tersely.

I was even more confused. All of the
recent pictures of me and Jacob were happy ones. Hand in hand,
lovey dovey, perfectly boring shots of our day-to-day
life.

The heated glare she followed up
with nearly made me swerve into another lane. She was freaking
pissed.

“So you know exactly what is wrong
with me. What hurt me.”

I shook my head no. “I honestly
don’t, Mom.”

“I only have one child, Leila,” she
bit off.

“I know--” I started, but she
didn’t let me get anything else in.

“And you know how excited I am
about you and Jacob getting married,” she continued. “So imagine my
surprise when I read that Alicia Whitmore was quoted saying how
happy she was that you and Jacob are letting her handle the
planning process.”

I literally swerved and the car in
the next lane slammed on their brakes, the driver honking
angrily.

“She said
what
?” Mom
repeated it and I nearly ripped the wheel from the column,
imagining doing un-daughterly things--like wringing Alicia's neck.
“Mom, that’s news to me.”

She wasn’t buying it. “So that
wasn’t you and Jacob meeting his mom and a wedding planner for
lunch last week?”

I faltered. “We did, but that was
more a courtesy than anything else.”

“I’m your mother, Leila. Don’t you
think I deserve the courtesy of being a part of your big day?” Her
words were angry, but I heard the tears coating each one. I slowed
and pulled into a parking garage. We were still a good ten minute
drive form the restaurant, but no way would I get us there in one
piece if she started crying. Just looking at how hurt she was made
tears burn my eyes.

I put the car in park, trying to get
myself together before I looked at her. No amount of deep breaths
or silent mantras prepared me for the strong hurt all over her
face.

“Mom,” I squeaked, anguish
throttling me. “I swear it’s not like that. It was just supposed to
be me, Jacob and Alicia. She sprung the planner on us.” When she
didn’t look convinced I told her the whole truth. “We wanted
nothing to do with her until a few weeks ago. She’s been against
our relationship, but she apologized and she’s been trying to start
over. The thing is, her version of ‘I’m sorry’ includes taking
over.” I fell back against the seat. “Jacob and I haven’t even
talked about what we want for our big day. Nothing has been
decided.”

Her voice was unsure and barely
above a whisper. “So you wouldn’t plan anything and keep me
out?”

I unbuckled my seat belt and threw
my arms around her. Sure, it was awkward and surprise kept her from
hugging me back right away, but once she took me in, stroking my
back like she did when I was little, everything was forgotten.
Despite our faults and issues, she was my mom and I was her
daughter.

I moved back, sniffling as she wiped
her eyes with her hands. “I know we’ve been at odds since you came
back from Venice, so I just thought...”

It was pretty obvious what she
thought and not nearly as ludicrous as it should have been. We had
been kinda...distant. It started with her unauthorized press
conference at the house, was exacerbated by the whole Cade thing
when she met Jacob, and it reached a fever pitch at the engagement
dinner. It hadn’t even crossed my mind to ask for her input about
the wedding. On one hand I thought that was because I was still
trying to figure out a way to talk to Jacob about it, but that was
just an excuse. I didn’t call and ask for her input because I was
still a little miffed about where we stood.

I finger combed my curls away from
my face, looking down. “I guess I haven’t completely forgiven you
for all the things that have happened.” I winced, expecting her to
rip me a new one and tell me to get over it, but she just gave me a
nod.