The Billionaire's Passion (His Submissive, Part Three)

By: Ava Claire

I was in that fuzzy place between dream and awake. Unicorns flapped their glittered wings as Jacob and I floated down the Grand Canal. Our toes grazed the surface of the turquoise water and the night sky was lit up with fireworks that gobbled up the dark, leaving nothing but light and passion.

Before, I would have held tight to that place where he was mine and anything was possible, but I forced my eyes open with a smile still on my face. I breathed in the warmth of his cologne then ran my fingertips along the dark hair that lined his forearm. Jacob Whitmore had not only given me the best sex I'd ever had the night before, but also hadn’t stolen away as soon as I drifted off to sleep.

Reality was finally better than any dream I could conjure up.

I let my eyes glaze over his sleeping form. The sprinkle of light streaming in from the window turned his golden skin a kaleidoscope of brown, each shade more luscious than the last. I moved my hand up to his muscled bicep, the firmness of it making my body clench with want. Half his face was in shadow, but the part I could make out was beautiful in the morning light. The strong jawline, sharp nose, high forehead--all of it was perfection, like Michelangelo himself had chiseled him from marble. I let my fingers run through his mahogany locks, playing with the soft waves that fell perfectly back into place. He looked amazing and I-

I went rigid. He looked perfect, like he had a group of makeup artists waiting in the wings, but I looked anything but. I didn't need a mirror to know that my curly hair was a knotted mess. I was betting that I had sleep caked around my eyes and a healthy dose of dried up drool around my mouth. And my breath....oh God morning breath...

“This won’t do,” I whispered in a silent panic, almost leaping up until I realized any sudden movement might wake him. And then he'd see he’d gone to bed with me and woke up with the Bride of Frankenstein.

I sucked in air between clenched teeth and tried to calm the nerves that were making me shake. I just had to take it slow. Nice and slow.

I shuffled my hips to the right, stopping when I felt him stir. I glanced back and saw the sash of my nightgown was pinned beneath him. I shimmied out of it, lying there for a moment, butt naked. I counted to sixty twice before I tried moving again, wiggling until I came to the edge of the bed. Now I just had to swing my feet over and I could duck into the bathroom.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I gripped the cover, his question gluing me in place.

Shit shit shit. "H-hey! Just running to the bathroom." I brought myself up, making sure he couldn't see my face. "I'll be right back."

"Not so fast." His voice was thick with sleep but the authoritative tone was crisp and awake. "I want you."

Three words and I couldn't help but look back at him, wondering if he was still conked out. But his eyes were hardened obsidian and when he licked his lips and reached for my arm, I just about melted into him. He wasn’t asleep. He wanted me. Crazy hair, drool, and all. It excited me--and made me even more self-conscious.

"I'm just gonna take a quick shower,” I said quickly. “Five minutes tops.”

"No." Anger gripped the word so tight it sent a pang of fear through me. "You're going to lie back down."


I wasn't sure how a man of his height and weight launched from the bed and towered over me in a blink of an eye, but he pulled it off and I found myself sliding back onto the mattress. His gaze was terse and domineering.

"For once, you're going to shut your mouth and do exactly as I say."

I should have told him that it was too early for him to be pulling this bdsm stuff, but instead, his coarse order made me hot. Hot enough to forget that I wasn’t looking my best. Hot enough that when I opened my mouth, it wasn’t to say something snarky.

“What do you want me to do?” I swallowed, remembering the brief reading I’d done on the plane about being a good submissive. “What do you want me to do...sir?”

I saw the word ripple over him and my eyes dashed over his impressive muscles, down to his pelvic cut. My body vibrated at the realization that he too wasn’t wearing a shred of clothing. My survey continued, dropping to the one part of him that his signature control could not hide. It pointed to me, calling me out. Choosing me.

I licked my lips and it thumped in approval.

"Say it again." His voice was engorged with lust. "Call me ‘sir’."

I parted my quivering lips and obeyed. "Sir."

He beckoned me with a finger and I scooted to the edge of the bed. The nearness of him was intoxicating, his arousal heady and close enough to grip. To suck.

"Look at me."

I pried my eyes from his erection and looked up into his penetrating eyes. The look he gave me stripped me to the bone, his eyes burning with want.

He gripped my hair with one hand, a firm tug sending pangs of discomfort dancing over my scalp. "Who's in charge?"

My lips trembled. "You are."

"Good girl."

I licked my lips again, preparing to taste him, wanting to taste him, but he released his hold on my hair. His hand connected with my shoulder and he pushed me back onto the mattress. Before I could reorient myself, he gripped my legs and vaulted my body forward. My rear hung off the bed, but he held my thighs firmly, towering above me.

His eyes washed over me and he breathed in deep before exhaling. The feel of his breath on my naked body turned my peaks into solid rock. When he lowered himself to his knees and I realized what was to come, the nerves I’d forgotten came rushing back. I'd only been given oral once, and the guy's insistence on me showering right before came screeching back to mind.

I tried to close my legs, but his hold was iron.

"Who is in charge, Leila?" he barked.

I tried to sit up and explain, but one look at his stern expression froze me halfway. "You, but-"

His fingers dug into my thigh and memories of humiliation dulled in favor of the slight pain. When I stopped fighting, he slackened and the fingers that ground into me now stroked the tender flesh.

"Lay back down," he said, the edge smoother. Gentler.

I let myself fall back into the bundle of covers, swallowing back my reservations. He was trying to show me that he wanted me and I couldn't let my hang-ups go long enough to enjoy it.

"You're a stubborn one," he said softly. "But I want you to do nothing but listen to what I'm about to say." He paused. "You can respond."

I gulped. "Yes sir."

"When I am with you, there is no one else." I closed my eyes as his fingers moved dangerously close to the slit of me. "When I touch you, there is only the feel of your skin." When a moan escaped from my lips, he let out a deep chuckle. "There's only those beautiful little moans you make and finding out just when to linger-" My moan went up a couple of octaves when his digit pushed just inside me. "And when to deny you." He pulled the finger out and went back to teasing my opening. "The only thing I ask is for that same courtesy." His other hand gripped my thigh and squeezed. "Well, that, and your obedience. So when I say that I want you-" The warm, wet sensation flicked over the opening of my sex and I gripped the sheets. I held them even tighter when he blew on the trail he made with his tongue.

"I want you,” he said, his voice filled with heat. “All of you. All of the time. Is that understood?"

The blowing was making speech difficult, but I forced a "Yes sir" between my lips.


His tongue went back to probing me, dipping in before darting back out, leaving me panting and completely at his mercy. There was nothing but the flicks and long strides as he took stock of me--and from the moans he released, I wasn’t found wanting.

Just when I got used to the rhythm of his mouth, he pulled back, his lips running along the inside of my thigh. His fingers took the place of his tongue, tracing up and down my labia.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice full of yearning. But when he gripped my thighs, prying them open wider, there was urgency. Like if he didn’t have me, all of me, it would be the end of him.

I fell into the pillows, drunk off of him, knowing now without a shadow of a doubt that it’s the same for me. If I didn’t give myself completely and utterly to him, the world would stop turning.

He dove back between my legs, burying his mouth inside me and I felt my flesh beating against his movements. He drug his tongue along one wall, then the other, until the trails meet. He circled around my nucleus of pleasure, purposefully inching close to it before his tongue darted away. He turned it into a hardened knot, throbbing with anticipation. Begging to feel his kiss.

The rules went out the window and I tried to turn the tables, vaulting my hips to get my point across, but he just moved his mouth away with a deep chuckle.

He ran his hands along my thighs. "Is there something you want?"

"You," I panted. He plunged his finger back inside me and mixed it with his thumb, running over and around my knot. The sensations were divine, but I'd gotten a taste of heaven. Heaven was his mouth on me. Heaven was his tongue. "I need your tongue there."

He ejected his finger and placed it on top of my nub. "Here?"

"Mmhm," I sighed. "I need it right there."

Two fingers circled it and I let out a gasp as they became pinchers, squeezing it. I wriggled, futilely trying to close my legs as he brought me to the edge of agony and then released. But just as soon as I took a breath, he reclaimed the knot, pressing and tugging before beginning the cycle all over again.

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