The Billionaire Submissive (Billionaires in Bondage) (12 page)

“So I’m allowed to stroke you.” His fingers glided so softly she barely felt more than a whisper against her skin. “I’m allowed to kiss you.”

“Of course. I allowed you to kiss me today, didn’t I?”

“I don’t want to overstep my bounds too quickly, Lilly. I don’t want to lose you out of ignorance or, worse, arrogance.”

Now her heart was starting to ache as much as her starved body. “Oh, Donovan, there’s no big red line that’s going to make me kick you out if you cross it. And even if there were some line, I’d be no Mistress if I didn’t inform you of the limit first. You picked me to be your Mistress. You hired a PI and tracked me down despite my best efforts to hide my identity. And yet I’m here with you now because I want to be. I can’t imagine what else you might be worried about.”

“From the beginning, you surprised me. Time after time, I was wrong. I was wrong about your other clients. The scope and work involved in my windows. What you’d be like in person. Everything.” Lulled by his words, she wasn’t prepared for him to suddenly roll her over onto her back. “But I don’t think I’m wrong about this.”

“This is far from wrong.” She arched against his thigh and slid her hand down his bare back to grip his buttock.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I think you’re a fabulous, incredible Mistress in all areas except one.”

She stilled, all her senses on full alert. She didn’t say anything, but merely waited for his answer, although she did tighten her hand on his ass, letting him feel her nails again. Regret tightened her throat, but she didn’t let it show on her face. Not yet. That’d be for later when she was alone in her own bedroom once more and Mr. Morgan had returned to one of his many luxurious homes to run his numerous businesses.
With so much wealth at his disposal, he’ll find a new Mistress. Someone who can actually give him everything he wants.

“As Mistress, I don’t believe you’re comfortable ordering your own pleasure.”

She relaxed her grip on him slightly and gave him a nod. “Not for my own need, no. I’m not that kind of Mistress. I would never order you to give me pleasure.”
I can’t.

Gone was the anxious, even nervous, submissive who’d been too excited to take his pants off while she watched. This was the sexy, confident man who’d won hundreds of businesses from his competitors all over the globe. And this time, he’d set his sights on her.

“Then I guess if I want to hear what sounds you make when you climax, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.”

For once, he had the Mistress on the ropes and he wasn’t going to let her escape. He couldn’t fathom how she would dedicate herself so thoroughly to ensuring he got exactly what he wanted so desperately, and then completely neglect her own needs. It made him furious to think about how many times a week she met her clients and helped them with their secret needs, over and over and over, while she went home to nothing but a vibrator. Granted, he was relieved she wasn’t sexually involved with all those men, but the thought of her aching, needing, as empty as him all these years…

It made him furious.

And when Donovan Morgan got furious, it wasn’t pretty.

“You’ve made me come twice. I’m not going to come again until you’re caught up.”

“That’s very sweet but completely unnecessary.”

“Wrong.” He narrowed his eyes and leaned down to give her his best intimidation glare. “It’s
completely
necessary. Just because you’re the Mistress—”

She pressed her fingers against his lips, silencing him. “You don’t understand. It’s very hard for me to give up control. It’s why I’m not usually good in bed with submissives. You tempted me enough to try and I’m hoping we can work out something to keep us both satisfied, but ordering you to catch me up is not going to work.”

“You mean you physically can’t give up control enough to climax with a man?”

She blew out a sigh. “I didn’t say that. I can climax just fine, thank you very much. But since I have to give up control to do it, I don’t typically allow myself to climax in any scene with a submissive. I’ve talked to other dominants at the club and they all wrestle with this problem to some extent, but I seem to be especially challenged.”

“Why?”

She dropped her gaze to his chest, her fingers lightly swirling through his hairs again. At least she didn’t tug on them again, which would get his mind going in the wrong direction. He was determined to figure out what she needed this time. Every bossy arrogant instinct he possessed demanded he order her to tell him right this very moment. His blood pressure was through the roof already; waiting for her to answer only drove his fury higher. She didn’t cook for herself. She neglected her car and barely knew how to drive according to her own words. Now to learn she couldn’t—wouldn’t—see to her own needs…

When she was a luscious, obviously extremely sensual woman with a voracious appetite. She ate and enjoyed her food unapologetically. Yet she wouldn’t let him wallow in her pleasure? It didn’t make sense.

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he waited silently for her to figure out the best way to tell him.

“When I climax, I give up all control, Donovan.
All
control. I can’t release and then still be the Mistress, calm and completely in control once more. I’m out of my mind, wild, lost in my own desire. And if I can’t get back the control of myself, I can’t control you either. I’m still dominant, don’t get me wrong. I’ll tell you exactly how hard to thrust or take you in the position I want—which is why I don’t last too long with vanilla men either, men who can’t deal with a woman taking what she wants without hesitation—but I won’t have control of myself. Don’t you see the problem with that?

“Submissives need to know that no matter what happens, the dominant’s control isn’t going to ever waver. I can’t trust myself to be able to stop mid scene if I’ve already climaxed and given up my control. Say I’m totally fucking you like crazy and I start to do something you’re not into. You give me your safeword, which we still have to discuss, by the way. What if I can’t stop? So I guess there is a red line to worry about when it comes to me, but it’s not something you need to worry about crossing. It’s me. It’ll be much safer for us both if I wait as long as possible and only come near the end of each scene.”

All of her careful rules were making more and more sense. No sexual contact with the Mistress. Ever.

Because once she’s crossed into sexual territory…once she’s climaxed…she’s out of control.

The thought was enough to make him rock hard again, as if he hadn’t already blown his load twice.

From the start, he’d burned to know what it would take to make her lose her calm control. The control that allowed her to be saucy and smart-mouthed, to lie to his face, and stand up to him no matter how mean and bossy he tried to be. If he threatened her, she laughed in his face. If he tried to blackmail her, she tore up his contract and stomped out of his office. Even at his worst, she hadn’t backed down from him.

So I’m not going to back down from her. Ever.

“I only see one option, then.” He waited until her gaze came back to his. Resigned, and yes, embarrassed. It pissed him the hell off to see his luscious, sultry Lilly ashamed of her desire. The very thing he wanted the most. “I guess I’m going to have to eat you out until you can’t move a muscle. Then it won’t matter whether you have any control left or not.”

“Donovan…”

He slid down her body, accidentally knocking the china bowls off the bed to clatter on the floor.

“The pie…”

On his knees beside the bed, he grabbed her hips and tugged her down closer to him. He could smell her desire already. If she’d been wet this morning flirting in his office, then she had to be throbbing with need now. “I don’t give a damn about the pie.”

“You will if you have to clean cherries out of your carpet.” Despite her attempt at calm and reasonable words, her voice trembled. Her thighs quivered too, but she didn’t open to him immediately.

“You forget that Donovan Morgan doesn’t do anything as inconsequential and menial as
cleaning
. I’ll hire a team to burn the whole damned bed if I have to. I’ll buy new carpet. Hell, I’ll just buy a new condo if we end up putting holes in the wall.” He gripped her knees and looked up at her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes big and dark with desire. “Tell me to stop, Mistress, and I will.”

She trembled in his grasp but still didn’t let him in, and he wasn’t the kind of man who’d force her thighs apart. She knew it. He knew it. “I’ll be crazy. Wild. I won’t be able to stop.”

“God I hope so.”

“I don’t want to scare you off,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Not so soon.”

“How on earth could your desire scare me off? I want you wild and crazy with lust. I’ve had the Mistress and she’s everything I could have ever dreamed about, but now I want Lilly. I want you. I want this,” he said, kneading her knees in a gentle reminder that he couldn’t begin if she didn’t allow him to.

She still hesitated, her eyes desperate, her hands fisted in the comforter and her thighs clenched so hard he could feel the muscles vibrating beneath his palms. She was fighting herself, denying herself, and it made him say one of the most difficult words in his vocabulary. “Please.”

Shuddering, she opened her thighs. Not slow and shy, not Lilly. She opened as wide as she could, drawing her knees back high to spread herself. Her pussy glistened, open and flushed with her desire. Now it was his turn to shake, breathe deeply and remind himself he’d had his turn.
I’m not going to rush this. I’m certainly not going to simply bury myself in her and come again no matter how much my little head thinks that’s a terrific idea.

He dragged his gaze away and located the container of homemade whipped cream. He sampled it, making sure to display his tongue as boldly as she’d done. “It’s still good, but runny, like you said. Next time let’s ask him for a quart of cream. I’ll keep it in the refrigerator.”

Her breasts heaved, pushed up high out of the corset. Her chest and throat were a delicious hot pink as if she’d been the one to take a spanking. “Is this place soundproofed?”

“Don’t know.” He tipped the container to dribble cream down her knee. A thin river ran down the inside of her thigh, puddled in the crease, and spilled down the curve of her buttock. “Don’t care.”

“You’ll care if someone calls the police.” She closed her eyes and arched her hips off the bed. “More.”

Happy to comply, he poured more cream down her other leg and then tipped the remainder directly over her groin. “We’re on the top floor and the closest neighbors are below us, probably separated by a foot of concrete. Be as loud as you want, sweetheart.”

“Remember that,” she panted, straining her hips higher. “Later. When…”

He licked her knee, dragging his tongue down the inside curve of her thigh. She let out a low, fierce growl and fisted both hands in his hair.

His scalp prickled, the sharp pain stirring him as much as her blows from the spoon or her tiny tugs on his chest hairs. He didn’t even have a lot of hair, but if it felt this good, he’d grow a mullet to give her a good handful to hold onto.

Instead of dragging his mouth deeper, she forced his head up so she could look into his eyes. “Give me a word, just in case.”

His mind went blank.

“Not red, that’s a bad word for me if you’re trying to make me stop.”

“I suppose cherry pie won’t work?” He tried to lighten the mood but her glare seared him, so hard and cold that goose bumps broke out on his arms. Quickly, before she could change her mind and lock him out, he suggested, “How about glass?”

“That’ll do. Glass. Let’s just hope I don’t shatter it with a misplaced cut.”

He tried to lower his head, fighting the pull on his hair until he had to grit his teeth to keep from cursing out loud. She finally relented and let go.

Burying his face between her thighs, he sank his tongue deep, licking through cream until he tasted what he was really after.

Her.

Then her thighs clamped around his head and he forgot to breathe.

Chapter Eight

If she’d been the greedy sugar addict eating pie off his dick, he was a purring Bengal tiger determined to find the juiciest, most tender bits and eat them all for himself. He hadn’t dared put his fingers inside her this morning, but he sank his tongue deep without a single hesitation. Rubbing his entire face against her, he let out a low, eager hum that worked better and faster than any vibrator she’d ever had the pleasure to use. She didn’t even have time to think before her muscles convulsed so hard her vision went black.

By the time she regained enough of her senses to worry about him, she was half afraid she’d suffocated him. Unlocking her ankles, she let her legs slide back down to the mattress. He took it as invitation to slide up and latch onto her clit with his teeth. The first climax didn’t end. It just rose in intensity, driving her head back on a shaking shout that probably cracked a window or two.

Panting, she jerked his face up because he gave no indication of stopping anytime soon. “That was two.”

“The hell it was. I’m just getting started.”

He’d said the image of the Mistress forcing the sub to pleasure her on his knees had been appealing. Now she knew it hadn’t been a joke or random comment on his part.