Declaration to Submit (16 page)
Words spilled from him, punctuated by passionate kisses. “I love you. I’m sorry. Don’t ever leave me. Shit, Nell, say something.”
“I love you too, and damn it, don’t stop.” She pulled his head down and pressed her mouth to his.
He broke the kiss and tore at her clothes. Which didn’t matter because she was plucking at his. His words were like an aphrodisiac. “I wanted to come and drag you home, but I hurt you. I don’t deserve you. I’ll never deserve you.”
She stopped her frantic undressing and pressed her fingers to his mouth. “I never want to hear you talk about yourself that way again.”
“Nell. My love. Mine.” He kissed her gently at first, but the heat and need took over. Her bare skin against his was perfect, absolutely perfect. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”
Could she? Of course she could. “I know it’s silly, but I’ve always wanted you to…” She bit her lip. It was silly.
“Tell me, Anelda.” God, she loved it when he used that stern, hard tone.
“I’ve always wanted you to want me so much that you swept everything off your desk and fucked me hard.” Heat flushed her face, and she couldn’t meet his gaze.
He tipped her head up and kissed her. “I can’t believe I’m so lucky. I’ve always wanted that too.”
“Really?” She blinked. “Are you sure? Because—”
He cut off her words with his mouth, his tongue, the domination of his body. He used one arm to sweep away everything on his desk, causing a satisfying crash of office supplies and a flurry of paper.
He lifted her by her hips until she sat on the edge, their mouths still fused together. Then he bore down on her, and she was surprised to find that they could lay lengthwise with him on top. He pinned her wrists over her head, and his mouth moved below her neck to feast on her aching nipples.
She was so hot and wet that she knew she was getting her cum all over his desk. He kept traveling down her body until he slid off the end of the desk, landing on his feet. He yanked her toward him until her ass was on the edge, and he spread her legs, resting them on his shoulders. As he bent down to claim her pussy with his mouth, she moaned and twisted beneath his touch.
His tongue flicked over her sensitive clit. She was needy and desperate as she arched toward him. His hands cupped the soft flesh of her ass, reminding her of the times he’d disciplined her before he fucked her.
But this was more than that. This was raw, aching sex filled with love and need and desire. It was everything she’d dreamed of and so much more than she’d hoped. When he sent her over the edge, she screamed the one word she could still say. “Sir!”
He pushed her back on the desk and covered her with his body. They locked gazes as he thrust inside her, filling her, stroking her inner walls with his rhythmic dance. She clasped her ankles together at his lower back and urged him deeper. He growled and cupped her face in his hands.
She reached up and gripped his shoulders. Nose to nose, neither looked away as he continued to drive them both higher. Finally, she arched and let go, every muscle involved in her exquisite release. He shouted her name in a sexy, guttural tone she knew she’d never forget, and streamed his hot cum into her. Nothing could have felt freer or more wonderful.
She floated, held by his strong arms and anchored by his protection and love. He rained soft kisses on her face. “I don’t deserve you.”
Her heart clenched, and she cupped his face. “How can you believe that? You’ve given me so much.”
He stared at her. “I hurt you. I love you, and I shouldn’t have lashed out at you.”
She held him closer. He loved her. “You were hurt too. I knew that.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “Forgive me, Nell. Forgive me for doubting you.”
“I do, Mark. I do.”
He held her gaze. “Practice saying those words. A lot.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He smiled, a deliciously wicked lift of his lips that made her heart pound. “Tell me, Nell, do you want a wedding or a collaring ceremony?”
“A collaring ceremony?”
“Yes. It’s like a wedding with one very nice difference.” He kissed a spot below her ear, and she had difficulty concentrating.
“What difference?”
He lifted his head and grinned. “You’d have to be naked.”
For some reason, that didn’t sound crazy to Nell. “What do you want, Sir?”
His smile died away, and he pressed his lips to hers. “I’ve got exactly what I want. You gave me your declaration of submission.”
“But I resigned,” she protested and shivered as he moved his mouth over her skin.
“I didn’t accept it.”
“So I’m still your secretary?” She gasped as he captured one of her nipples between his teeth.
He stopped his delicious torture of her body and raised his head to meet her gaze. “You’re mine. Forever. Always. Mine.”
“I belong to you,” she said with a sigh.
“You were right,” he said quietly and stroked her hair. “I promised to communicate, to trust you, and I didn’t do that. Give me another chance, Nell.”
It was typical of him that he gave her a way out, an opportunity to renegotiate if that’s what she wanted. Hadn’t he done that from the beginning? “I want to stay with you as your secretary submissive. And I want a collaring ceremony. I don’t need a piece of paper to prove that I’m yours.”
“But your parents might.” He kissed her gently. “Let’s see how you feel in six months. You could change your mind.”
“I waited a long time,” she said. “I can wait a little longer.”
He groaned. “You don’t make it easy to resist you, do you?”
“No, Sir.”
His stern look made her pulse pound. “Perhaps you need a reminder to keep you in line.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Loose Id Titles by Jennifer Leeland
Declaration to Submit
* * * *
The MARKED Series
Marked for Pleasure
Marked for Desire
Marked for Danger
Marked for Surrender
Jennifer Leeland
I never considered myself a writer…
I loved Harlequin romances when I was little and used to sneak them from my mother's bookshelf. But my father influenced me with Agatha Christie, Ngiao Marsh and Arthur Conan Doyle. I loved to write but never thought about becoming an author.
It has been a fabulous journey. I have a special relationship with my characters, who both annoy me and inspire me. And yes, they talk to me. In the shower. In the car. When I’m trying to sleep. Many have asked me why I write erotic romance. Believe me, it would probably be easier to write something my mom could tell her friends about. But I love the emotion, the conflict, the possibilities contained in erotic romance. When I read, I want to indulge in fantasies. I hope I can do the same for others.
I live with a Redneck, who loves to brainstorm with me on occasion, and my two dirt-faced Okie kids in the Northern California boonies.
Links where you can find Jennifer Leeland:
Web site:
http://www.jenniferleeland.com/
