Authors: Sam Crescent
A Total-E-Bound Publication
Belonging to Him
ISBN # 978-1-78184-451-9
©Copyright Sam Crescent 2013
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright August 2013
Edited by Eleanor Boyall
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
This story contains 34 pages, additionally there is also a
at the end of the book containing 7 pages.
BELONGING TO HIM
He won’t take no for an answer.
Simon Allen is a billionaire and a dominant. He takes what he wants and to hell with the consequences. From the moment Hope Pattern enters his office as his personal assistant, Simon knows he is going to have her.
Taking Hope as his sub is the easy part. She gives him everything: her body, her trust and her heart. But she refuses to be his wife. Simon will not give up until Hope wears his ring. He hasn’t become a billionaire by giving up. Hope will be his.
She is crumbling under his domination. What will happen when she gives Simon that last part of herself? Will he be done with her or will he finally prove to her what it means to be his woman?
Thank you to Eleanor for choosing my story for her anthology.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmark mentioned in this work of fiction:
“Be my wife,” Simon Allen said to the woman bound to his bed.
Hope Pattern bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. He pressed a finger on her clit, making it hard for her not to beg him to continue. She wanted him to give her the orgasm he’d been denying her. Simon had been tormenting her for the past few hours. Every single time he touched her, he only made her want him more.
She knew what he was trying to do. For the past few weeks he’d constantly asked her to be his wife and every time he asked she gave him the same answer. They’d been together for a year, but she refused to give in to his one final demand.
“No,” she said.
He glared at her before moving away from the bed. Hope lay back on the sheets, happy for the small reprieve on her body. He’d not done anything to hurt her. Simon was not the type of man to harm a woman, but a rest from the sexual teasing was a welcome break. She closed her eyes while taking deep breaths to calm her erratic heartbeat.
“I’ll be back shortly. I mean it, Hope. By the end of this weekend you’ll consent to be my wife and that will be the end of it.” Simon slammed out of his bedroom, leaving her tied to his bed.
The bed was luxurious. The Egyptian cotton sheets were a pleasure to have under her naked skin. The rope that tied her wrists and ankles to the bed was soft against her skin. Simon was a dominant, not a sadist. He loved bringing her pleasure and the pain he used was only ever intended to heighten her arousal.
She’d never known a man like him. The moment Simon entered a room he commanded attention and respect from everyone present.
Hope opened her eyes and gazed at the mirror on the ceiling. She stared at her body, seeing the red marks from his lips on the tops of her breasts. Simon had forgotten to shave before kissing, licking and sucking her body. It was unlike Simon to forget even such a minute detail.
Since the moment she’d met Simon he’d taken over her whole world. Their meeting had been unique to say the least. The start of their relationship would stick with her always.
With the economy being in chaos, Hope had lost her job and she’d been searching for a new place to work. Allen International had been the first company to offer her an interview. The position had been for the personal assistant of the manager of the building. What she hadn’t realised at the time was that the leading CEO was in fact the owner of the whole branch of Allen International. Hope had been shocked to get such a high-ranking and well-paid job.
At the time of her hiring, Simon had been away for the first six weeks on some important foreign business deal. He’d spent the entire six weeks helping her get used to his system over the phone. His voice alone could melt her knickers away from her body. She would pay good money to listen to him read erotic literature aloud. The six weeks of talking with Simon hadn’t prepared her for the true impact of meeting him. Their first meeting would forever be embedded in her mind.
Staring at her reflection, she recalled the first time she had come face to face with her boss.
* * * *
Hope was running late. The first time she was supposed to meet her boss and she wasn’t going to be there to receive him. Simon would be pissed with her. He’d made a point of informing her over the phone that he hated tardiness. Checking her watch, she saw she had a few minutes left.
“Come on,” she said to herself, trying her best to keep her feet moving. The busy city street and all the people bumping into her didn’t help matters. She spent most of her time apologising to people who’d bumped into her.
With only minutes to spare, she charged through the reception doors and ran towards the elevator. She tried to use her willpower to force the damn metal contraption to move faster. She hated elevators. They scared her—she’d watched
one too many times.
Biting her lip, Hope kept her gaze fixed firmly on the white light showing the change of floors. When the elevator stopped, she tapped her foot while leaning against the wall of the stall. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm her breathing to stop herself from panicking.
The bell sounded and she brushed past the sea of bodies in the small compartment to make it to her floor. Several people gave her odd looks, but she ignored them.
Without slowing her stride, she made her way to the staff room and quickly made Mr Allen’s coffee just the way he’d described on the phone. He liked it hot with two sugars and no cream.
A quick glance at the time. She saw she had a few minutes to spare. “Please don’t let him be here yet.” She was too flustered from almost being late. Hope didn’t want Simon to see her like this.
She stirred the hot liquid and rushed towards his office. A quick glance at her office saw the mail resting on the top of her desk. Breathing a sigh of relief, Hope figured he hadn’t made it into work.
In that split second of checking her desk, Hope didn’t see the figure standing at his door.
The hot coffee spilt on the floor and down her front as she careened into a hard male chest.
Hope jumped back and stared up at Simon Allen.
She knew it was him the moment she saw the heated look in his eyes. Her pristine white shirt was pressed against her skin with the brown stain of coffee. The coffee scalded her skin but Hope was unable to look away. Simon was much taller than her. She knew he was older by a good ten years. She was twenty-five years old.
His dark black hair was neatly cut to his face and his features were always so serious, which she’d seen from the magazines he graced. The hard square of his jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth together. His eyes were a dark brown and almost black from the angle she was staring at him.
“Miss Pattern, I assume?” he asked. His voice was clear without any quiver of uncertainty.
“Mr Allen, I’m so sorry.” She pulled out of his arms. Simon must have reached out for her to stop her from falling farther.
Instead of firing her on the spot, he pulled her into his office and closed the door. He lifted her face up for his inspection with a finger under her chin. Hope could do nothing but wait for his assessment of her.
“You’re the woman I’ve been talking to?” he asked.
She nodded as her words failed her. What could she say?
Simon turned her face this way and that. She wondered what he was thinking as he stared at her.
His finger moved from her chin to stroke her cheek. “I’ve never seen a hair colour like this. It is like pure golden sunshine.”
Hope felt the blush fill her cheeks. She’d never been complimented for her hair before. With her full curves, many men had overlooked her, preferring the slimmer and more perfect woman. She’d seen the evidence in several bars she frequented. No one was looking for a woman with curves.
“Sir, I don’t think this is appropriate.”
“I like the way you call me sir,” he said.
She smiled. There was a hell of a lot that her boss didn’t know about her. “I’m sure you do. May I go and get you another coffee?”
“I think that would be best.” Simon took one last look at her before stepping back. Her heart was hammering inside her chest as she turned and opened the door.
She turned to look at the man who was the sexiest man she’d ever seen.
“I’m looking forward to working with you.”
* * * *
Hope pulled out of the memory as Simon walked back into his room. Their first meeting had been electric. What was to come with their relationship had been so much more.
Simon wore a black robe and he sat on the edge of the bed. His hand moved over her body, caressing her skin.
“Will you be my wife?” he asked.
She bit her lip. Hope didn’t know where his demands for her to be his wife had come from, only that he’d done nothing but ask her for the past few months. Every time he asked her, her answer was still the same.
He sighed, removing his hand from her body. “Why are you fighting me?”
“You have every part of me, Simon. Why are you determined to have that?”
“I told you, Hope. You’re mine and you’ll have my ring on your finger. All you need to do is stop fighting me.”
“That’s not going to happen. I’m not a toy for you to play with and put me away when you’re done,” she said, pulling on the rope that kept her bound to the bed.
Simon glared at her. “I’ve never treated you like a toy and I wouldn’t treat my wife like that. Why do you have these thoughts about wives? I think you’re forgetting who I am.”