Complete Submission: (The Submission Series, Books 1-8) (57 page)

—I’m going to put my thumb on your clit, then move it up to your asshole until it’s wet—

— In one move, you put your whole shaft down my throat—

—I’ll lean my wet thumb on your asshole until it yields to me—

—I flatten my tongue on the base of you as you pull out of my mouth—

—My thumb will enter you and you’ll groan and strain against your ties—

—I look up at you and open my mouth for you to fuck it again—

—I’ll kneel and lick your cunt until you beg for me to fuck you—

—You tighten your grip on the hair at the back of my head—

—I won’t—

—and press your cock into me until my tongue touches your balls—

—I’ll spank you until you can’t do more than sob—

—Cruelly, you fuck my mouth and I love it because it pleases you—

—When you least expect it I will enter you and fuck you. Hard. Two strokes, then pull out and rub my wet dick all over—

—Spit drips down my chin and onto my chest—

—Your asshole will be fresh and wet and ready for me to slide into it. You will scream—

—oh—

—Then you will moan—

“I heard it,” I said, pulling off my headphones. “The click.”

“Me too,” said Darren. “Okay, all I have to do is—”

“Slide over, I have to get out.” I bumped him, and when he didn’t move fast enough because he was wound around the equipment, I stood on the back of his seat and climbed over him.

The bathroom was probably nicer than anything I’d ever seen, and I didn’t care. I didn’t have to pee. I slapped open the door and Jonathan was right behind me, closing it behind us. I put my arms around him.

“Behind your back,” he growled and laced my hands behind me. My back was against some kind of counter, I felt more than saw cabinets, a toilet to my left, and a tile floor. Mostly, I saw Jonathan. His hands were on the cabinets, his face an inch from mine.

“Touch me, Jonathan. Please.”

“Commit yourself to me.”

“Oh, God. Don’t—”

“Commit. Yourself. To. Me.” He said it softly and firmly, half whisper, half scream.

“I’m yours. Touch me.”

“You don’t even know what you’re promising.”

“Yes, I—”

“I cannot watch you walk away again. If you commit yourself, you’re mine. You will set your limits, and I will honor them. You will be exclusive to me. You will submit yourself to me sexually. Completely.”

“Yes.”

“People will know.”

I thought I would have agreed to do anything for him, but that stopped me dead in my tracks. “Why can’t we be discreet?”

“I want everything. I want to take you out. I want us to be tied without worrying about who sees us, and I don’t want men looking at you like you’re single.”

“Fine, then Carnival’s going to put me on stage in a collar.”

He raised an eyebrow as if he found that interesting, not repulsive. “You crossed that off your list.”

“Figurative collar. If everyone knows already, I might as well let them have their way and put one on me. But it won’t be your collar; it’ll be theirs.”

“Tell them that’s not acceptable.”

“I’m not in a position to negotiate.”

He bent his knees a little to get his face level with mine. “You don’t know the power you have.”

My hands were still behind my back, but my shoulders sagged. I was uncomfortably aroused, and though I was happy my pussy remembered sex fondly enough to moisten, the sweet physical desire was in opposition to the shitstink in my heart. “I just want us to be secret for a while.”

“No secrets.”

“Oh, you know what? Mister No-Secrets-Sir. Mister Your-Honesty-Is-Beautiful. Tell me about when you were sixteen. WestonwoodAcres?”

If I’d held out any hope of him putting his hands on me, I’d dashed my chances pretty cleanly. He removed his hands from the cabinets and leaned against the opposite wall. I flushed red.

“It was Gabby,” I said. “You didn’t know her deal. She wanted to know everything about everyone she thought could help her. People with money or connections or both. Westonwood Acres came into my hands the day of her funeral.”

“Those records were sealed.”

“Everything was blacked out but the institution, your name, and the date.”

He scanned my face, his eyes flicking back and forth, then he cast them downward. “I took a handful of pills. The Adderal was mine. TheOxycontin and the rest were my mother’s. I don’t even remember all of them.”

“Why?” I reached for his hand, but he pulled it back, still obeying the rules. Damn him.

“Do I have to talk about this in the bathroom of a Gulfstream?”

“Commit, Jonathan.”

“Are you sure you never considered law school?”

I could have cracked a joke, denied it, or even demanded an answer, but he was stalling. I wouldn’t give him something to answer with another stall. I folded my arms.

As if understanding the gesture, his mouth curled in a wistful smirk. “Now you know why I ran to you when your friend killed herself.”

“I thought it was because you cared about me.”

“That too. Believe me, that too.”

“What was so bad you’d try to take your own life?”

He nodded and slipped down the wall until his feet were wedged against the opposite counter. He put his hands in his pockets. “Remember Rachel?”

“I’ll never forget that story.” I slid down as well, leaning my feet on the opposite wall, a mirror of his posture.

“It wasn’t just the once, her and I,” he said. “It was a thing. I was infatuated, and she was fucked up. It was intense. All encompassing. My father wasn’t in the picture then, but we snuck around. Tough to do when you’re fifteen, but enough money makes it easier. I got my license and a car as soon as legally possible.” He smiled as if some uncomfortable, yet pleasant memory flooded his mind. Then he shook his head. “Anyway, drunk driver. Meaningless loss. Devastation. A family I couldn’t lean on or they’d know the truth. Et cetera, et cetera.”

“I don’t think you can ‘et cetera’ any of that.”

His laugh was short and humorless. “No. I shouldn’t.” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “I have a big family. I know, we’re loaded, so it’s not like we all lived in a one-bedroom apartment, but someone was always around. It wasn’t until she died that I realized I was surrounded by seven sisters and two parents and all these friends, and I was alone. Very, very alone. My dad said, ‘Oh, son, by the way, I took care of her family, so don’t worry.’ Like that was all it was about for him. Or not. Maybe he was hurt and didn’t want to show me because he was in denial? Or she really didn’t mean shit to him, which disgusted me, because I knew it was true.”

“Your dad sounds like a charming guy.”

“You have no idea just how charming he is.” He looked at his feet, then continued. “I felt like I came from shit, and that was what I was. Rachel, for what it was worth, understood the dynamic. She made me feel less isolated. And when she died, I felt worthless and alone. A handful of pills seemed like the best way to take care of it.”

We watched each other for a second before I said, “I want to hold you.”

“Commit yourself to me.”

“Yes.”

“Will you be okay with people looking at you, knowing you’re submissive to me?”

I swallowed. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t think I’d ever be.

“From your face, I can see that’s a no,” he said.

A buzzing noise came from the speakers, shocking me straight and alert. Jacques’s voice came soon after.

“Mister Drazen and passengers. Please buckle in. We’re landing in a few minutes.”

Jonathan snapped open the door and let me go out first. He pressed himself to the doorframe as I passed so our bodies did not touch.

MONICA

W
e piled into the limo, exhausted. Night time in Vancouver looked much like night time anywhere else. Though I was excited to be outside the U.S. for the second time in my life, my body, mind, and heart had been through too much in the last six hours.

“We’re at the Travel Lodge,” Darren said. “I assume you’re not staying there.”

“Neither are you,” Jonathan said.

“Jonathan,” I grumbled.

“I own a hotel practically on top of the museum. Don’t be stupid. Staying in Richmond’s going to waste time and money. Separate rooms, in case you’re concerned.”

“I’m not,” I said.

“Thank you. That’ll be great,” Darren said.

I wanted to kick him. Why was it okay for him to accept an expensive hotel room, but whenever I accepted a gift, I was whoring myself? I tried to give him a look, but he just dicked with his phone. Then he smirked a little and glanced over at me. Then I realized that in his mind, by accepting it himself, he was saving me from doing so. Thus, I was no whore.

Men.

“Boxes arrived this afternoon,” he said.

“Have you heard from Kev?” I assumed he wasn’t invited to Hotel Fancypants, and he’d need to know where we were.

“Nope.”

“I’ll arrange food sent up to your rooms, and an early wake up call,” Jonathan said. “When’s the earliest you can get in for set up?”

“Seven,” I said. “It’s gotta be done in time for the preview at four.”

“It’s tight,” Darren said.

“And we have zero experience doing this kind of thing, so Kevin needs a wake up call, too.” I kicked Darren. “That’s you.”

I noticed Jonathan’s silence, but I didn’t look over. I didn’t want to see his reaction.

Hotel C looked like all of Jonathan’s hotels, a sleek, modern building no one would mistake for home. The long front drive had a marble fountain, and the entire hotel seemed to be made of glass and steel. Staff descended upon us immediately with Mister Drazen this and Ma’am and Sir that. Darren stayed outside to manage the equipment unloading. We got through the door and entered a lobby done in black and brown, wood and matte surfaces, with a cement floor and warehouse ceilings. A woman with her brown hair in a French twist and a black leather skirt handed Jonathan a clipboard. She looked lovely despite the fact that it was after ten p.m.

“Mister Drazen, happy to see you back.”

“Thanks, Marsha. Can you call Kristin for tomorrow’s meetings please? There were some changes.”

“Of course.”

“Should we go check in?” I asked Jonathan, who was signing a bunch of papers.

“Done already.”

“Must be nice.”

“I admit it,” he said as he handed the clipboard back to Marsha with a smile. “It is. Where’s Darren?”

“Getting the processor and mixer out. His life is those computers.”

“Are you and I having a drink before bed?”

A drink. I’d agree to anything after a drink. I’d beg for anything, even without it, and he’d deny me just to make a point. “I’m wiped out.”

“Come on then. Marsha will sort Darren out.”

I looked back at my friend and found him talking to Marsha earnestly while indicating equipment. My guess was he wanted to take it up himself and sleep on top of it, and she wanted to put it in with hotel security. That argument could go on indefinitely.

A man appeared behind Jonathan. “Mister Drazen?”

“Anthony.”

“Can I help you with anything? Take you up to your room? Get you a table at the bar?”

Jonathan turned to me and asked, “Do you need something to eat?”

I didn’t answer right away. I don’t know what my expression said, but something about it caused Jonathan to turn to Anthony and say, “We’ll let you know.”

“Very good, sir.” He spun on his heel and walked away.

“What is it, Monica?”

“I have a problem.”

“Say it.”

“I know I’m tired and hungry, and I have a lot to do tomorrow. But I can’t play this game with you. I’m not good at it. I want you. I want to be naked with you right now. The fact that I’m this close to you and I can smell you, feel you, hear you… Fuck, I’m going crazy.”

“It’s entirely reciprocated.”

“You don’t look like you’re going nuts.”

“Self-control. That’s all it is.”

“I can’t sit across a table from you. I barely made it through the plane ride. The past few weeks have been dead for me. My body shut off. Then you came along. I want it shut off again because I’ll agree to anything right now.”

He leaned into me, not touching, his hands in his pockets. “I’ll only let you commit to me if you mean it. I won’t let you make a mistake because I won’t tolerate you walking away again.”

I leaned toward him a little. I felt the warmth of his breath, and his open jacket brushed my shoulder. “That first time we met, in your office, I threatened you with a lawsuit.”

“You floored me.”

“You handed me Sam’s card. I brushed your finger with mine.”

“Yes.”

“I wish I hadn’t done it,” I said. “I wish I’d just walked out.”

“It was too late way before that.”

“I need to go to my room alone. And I need to not know where you are.”

He smiled. “I’m right next door to you.”

“I just told you not to tell me.”

He chuckled and shrugged.

Darren came up to us, a valet rolling the hardcase behind him.

“I have some things to do here,” Jonathan said. “I’ll have Anthony show you to your rooms.”

With that, he strode off to meet Marsha by the counter.

“Handsome guy, I’ll admit,” Darren said as we watched Jonathan move across the floor as if he owned the joint. “And not half the asshole.”

“But Kevin’s better?”

Darren shrugged. “Kevin’s my friend at this point. And so are you. So for me, it seems natural.”

“Not to me.”

“I’m getting that.”

MONICA

T
he room wasn’t a room. It was one of two suites on the top floor. I saw the skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows in every direction. The décor matched the lobby’s; matte blacks and dark matte woods with textured grains stained for contrast. I traversed the corners and expanses of the living area and bedroom, every step further proof that I was alone. The black leather couch was too big. Seating for six. Closet space for a family or clothes horse.

Something was missing. After the second time I circumnavigated the rooms, I realized that I didn’t feel as though I was being watched. I hadn’t realized the feeling stayed with me when I locked my door behind me, but in its absence, I grasped that it had.