Submission: Guilty Pleasures #3 (BBW Erotic Romance)

Read Submission: Guilty Pleasures #3 (BBW Erotic Romance) Online

Authors: Adriana Hunter

Tags: #bbw erotic romance, #bdsm erotic romance, #billionaire romance, #Alpha Male, #adriana hunter, #bbw heroine, #curvy heroine, #full figured heroine, #submission, #submissive, #domination, #dom, #dominated by the billionaire

Submission - Guilty Pleasures (#3)
Dominated By The Billionaire
BBW Erotic Romance

Copyright © 2013, Adriana Hunter

All Rights Reserved.

Published by Wet Ink Publishing

Adriana Hunter

http://www.AdrianaHunter.com

Connect via Twitter @
http://twitter.com/spicytales

Join Adriana’s private mailing list at
http://www.SpicyTales.com

––––––––

T
his is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations
and places are solely the product of the author’s imagination.  Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, including events, areas,
locations and situations is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Copyright Page

Submission: Guilty Pleasures #3 (BBW Erotic Romance)

About The Author | Adriana Hunter writes stories for those who live to dream. Her stories run the gamut, from romance, fantasy, paranormal to captivating stories of seductive medieval nights, and wild, adult fairytales.

From The Author | I’ve been creating stories for as long as I can remember. My childhood was a difficult one and I found solace in the beautiful worlds’ and flawless characters that I would create.  As I got older, realism set in and I discovered that the most captivating characters in my mind were the ones that reflected our true nature. Beautifully broken characters.  Imperfect men that have to be unraveled layer-by-layer and complex women who are often desperate to hide the pain that burns inside of fragile hearts, and at times, threatens to possess them completely.

I woke up
before the alarm went off, but remained in bed for a long time, thinking. My
head was a bit clearer than it had been the day before, even if my emotions were
still incredibly tangled and my heart was still aching.

Two men had told me they loved me:
Jake and Chase.
Two men as different as night and day.

And I loved them both...or at least
I thought that I did.

What’s that old song, Abby? Love
the one you’re with?
That’s me. But when I’m away from them, they both tear
at my heart. Selfishly, I wish I could love both of them, not have to choose.
But that won’t work because neither man is interested in sharing me with the
other. And besides, I can’t continue to carry the guilt that I feel when I am
with one, and away from the other. It’s like my heart is split into two pieces,
unable to be fully given to just one man.

Jake is dominant to my submissive
and it’s a perfect relationship, at least on the surface. No strings attached,
no romantic involvement, but the freedom to explore all that comes with a
dominant submissive arrangement.
Pain versus pleasure.
My surrender...his
control. Complicated in its own way, but nothing compared to what happens when
someone steps out of the boundaries of such a relationship. Like Jake.

Jake; gorgeous, sexy Jake. Tightly
wound and under control Jake. Jake, who has secrets...so many secrets that I feel
I can’t really be sure of exactly who he is.

Jake... kind, gentle yet
mysteriously dangerous Jake. The first man to tell me that he loved me.

And then there is Chase.

Chase owns a BDSM club and I’ll
never forget the first night that I met him, and just how much pleasure he gave
to me. The scene was indescribable. Chase tied me up with rope, intricate knots
that took a long time to construct. I was immobile on a table, arms out to the
side, legs spread wide. And completely naked, the kind of vulnerable naked that
would normally throw me into a whirlwind of panic and anxiety yet with Chase I
felt as though I would be okay, and that my body, regardless of its many
curves, was beautiful...from head to toe.

Chase had said not all rope play
ends in a sexual encounter, but it was clear from the moment we started just
how the night would end. The sexual chemistry between us lit up the room,
washing away all concern for anything and anyone else. Including Jake.

Jake said he’d learned something
from our time at the club, from seeing me with Chase. He learned he didn’t want
to—
couldn’t
—share me with anyone because his feelings were deeper than
he realized. He loved me, and when a man loves a woman the last thing he wants
to do is share that love with someone else.

I learned something that night as
well. I learned the power of temptation, the power Chase Thomas had over me.

I don’t remember all of what
happened at the club; toward the end it’s a faded blur of sensations and
memories, contorted and confusing, and then it all goes black. But I remembered
what mattered most.

Because when Chase called the next
day, asking to see me—no, not asking, exactly...Chase doesn’t ask as much as
expect compliance—I went willingly, anxious to see him again.

 So now I’m caught between
two men, each with a stranglehold on my heart, each charming and charismatic...and
damaged in their own way. And neither is willing to share me with anyone, especially
not with the other.

And now I need to make a choice. Both
Jake and Chase were finally honest with me about their pasts. Each told me
things that were hard for them to talk about, much less describe in such detail
so that I completely understood.  I know it was terribly hard for them to
reveal these secrets that they had kept hidden for so many years, but they
trusted me...they both knew their secrets were safe with me. And they are. I will
forever guard them with my heart for the pain behind their eyes is something I
never want to see again.

But I still have questions, of
both men...and of myself. And I need to find the answers. This limbo we’re all in
is killing me, hurting them and I’m the only one who can get us out of
it.  I just don’t know where to begin.

––––––––

L
eslie found me mid-afternoon the
following Wednesday. I’d gotten to work early; sifted through the rubble on my
desk that I’d left behind the day before and managed to make a dent in my
overflowing inboxes, paper and email, respectively.

“Hey, you. Feeling better than
yesterday?” She set a large Styrofoam cup of coffee in front of me. She carried
a much smaller one in her other hand, obviously meant for herself. Apparently I
looked like I needed the industrial-sized coffee cup.

I glanced up quickly, motioning
her to sit down. “Just give me a minute, let me finish this.” I typed a
sentence, hit send and pushed the keyboard away.

The coffee smelled wonderful,
hazelnut mocha if I had to guess.

“What’s this for? Do I still look
like hell? Or whatever you said it was I looked like yesterday?” I’d left work
early, almost no sleep the night before. The last night I spent with Chase.

“ ‘Fifty shades of hell’ was what
you looked like the last time you pulled an all-nighter with Jake,” she replied
teasingly. “Yesterday you looked horrible after your all-nighter with Chase.”
She pushed the cup across the desk toward me.

“It’s an apology and a gift, all
rolled into one. I wasn’t really fair to you yesterday. This must be hard...this...
situation
.”
She waved her fingers in the air.

“Yeah, it is.” I took a swallow of
coffee, hot, caffeinated.
Just what I needed.

“So, what’s next? You have a plan?
Something you can share? I know how big you are on secrets these days.” She
grinned at me over the edge of her coffee cup.

I set the cup down, watching the
steam drift from the coffee.
More secretive than you know, Leslie.

“I don’t know, Leslie. It’s really
complicated.” I suddenly felt awkward discussing my relationships with Leslie
even though she was my closest friend. It felt like I was trading secrets.
Secrets both Jake and Chase had trusted with me.

Leslie nodded sympathetically,
settling down in her chair. “I can imagine.”

I took another fortifying swallow
of coffee. The chime of an incoming email distracted me for a moment. Leslie
was still watching me.

“Do you think if you talked about
it, it would be easier? I’m always here, Abby. You know that.”

I fidgeted in my chair. Did I
really want to go into all the details with Leslie? I felt a pang of guilt; for
Jake and Chase and their secrets. And a pang of guilt for my best friend,
because right now, I really needed her, needed to not feel so alone with this
situation.

“Leslie, this is hard. These guys
trusted me with their secrets, some pretty serious stuff. I don’t know...” I
played with my pen, drawing aimless circles on my notepad.

I looked up at her. And realized I
needed to talk about this, even if it was hard. To save my own sanity, maybe.

“There’s someone I think I need to
find. Jake had a sub before me. Her name is Jane.” I took a deep breath.

“She apparently had some kind of
breakdown while they were having a session, something triggered a memory of
abuse by her step-father.”

“What would happen in a session
that would do that? I thought you said these were safe sessions?”

I could see the concern on
Leslie’s face.

“They are safe; they should be
safe. But Jane was being disciplined by Jake; he was spanking her for
disobeying while in submissive role.”

Leslie scowled. “Wait. He was
spanking her? And she let him? I don’t get this.”

“I’ve been spanked. By both of
them.” My voice was low. “Once as discipline, by Jake. And once...” I hesitated,
my voice almost a whisper.

“And once by Chase...at the club.
The first time I saw him.”

Leslie’s scowl deepened. “Oh, Abby,
you’ve been holding out on me. You never told me that. Was it hard? I mean,
after Jake?”

I nodded.  “But I want to
talk about Jane now, not what happened with Chase or Jake.” I took another
swallow of coffee. At this rate, I’d be up all night again.

“Anyway, the spanking for
discipline was apparently just like what her step-father did before he, well,
did whatever he did. Jake didn’t go into details. He said she’d never gotten
help for whatever happened. So she ran out and he never saw her again. She just
vanished.”

Leslie let out a breath. “Wow.
Heavy stuff. So what’s your reason for wanting to find Jane? Doesn’t what Jake
told you sound like the whole story?”

“No. Or yes...or maybe it’s Jake’s
version. I was so happy he’d finally let down his guard, let me in on why he’s
so controlled all the time. He’s convinced he’d hurt Jane, that if somehow he’d
have been less...aggressive...she’d have been okay.”

I was circling a phone number on
my scratch pad. “Apparently their sessions were quite intense, on all levels. Jake
wasn’t the restrained dominant I know.”

“So you think he’s a ticking time
bomb? Like tie you to the bed and then go all wild on you?”

I shook my head. “No, not so much.
Or if he did, I’d probably like it.” I felt myself blush.

“Chase is a lot like that. Not the
tie-me-to-the-bed part...um, but the wild part. He’s quite...aggressive in his own
way.”
But he did tie you to a table. In public. Don’t forget that.

“Yeah, but why do you want to find
Jane? Do you think she has answers you’re not getting from Jake?”

“I’m getting there. Chase knew
Jane...or knows of Jane.” I waited. That was too big of a bombshell for Leslie to
pass up. I was right. I cringed again. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“You’re kidding? Really? Like,
from the club?”
Smart girl.

“Actually it’s Chase’s office
manager, or assistant manager, or assistant something, Stacy, who knew her. They
worked at the same dance club. Stacy told Chase that Jane told her that Jake
abused her, beat her and treated her badly. Something like that. Not quite what
Jake told me.”

“Oh, man. So you’ve got two sides
but you want it direct from the submissive’s mouth?” She leaned forward, a
little too intense, a little too interested.
This was what I wanted to
avoid.

“I guess that’s it.” And it was,
pretty cut and dried.

“So call Stacy. She must have
Jane’s number, right?” Leslie sat back, sipping her coffee. I heard the chime
of another incoming message. I tapped my mouse, bringing up an email from my
boss, Burke.

“Well...I don’t know. I mean, Jake said
Jane disappeared. Cell phone disconnected, family hadn’t heard from her. I don’t
know that Stacy would know anything else, but she’s the only connection left I
can think of.”

“So what are you waiting for? Call
Stacy.” Leslie is pretty much straight to the point on things.

“I am...I will. But I don’t want to
call the club if Chase is there. I feel like I’m checking his story or
something.”

“You are! And you’re checking on Jake’s.
You have a right to know the truth, don’t you? If you’re in doubt, you need to
know, Abby.” Leslie reached across the desk, her hand resting on mine, squeezing
it briefly.

“This has gone past just who
you’re going to be fucking in the future. It kind of involves your safety in either
relationship, doesn’t it?”

––––––––

T
he number I’d been circling on my
notepad was the number to Chase’s club. I’d written it down in what seemed like
an eternity ago, on the day Jake had said we’d gotten an invitation to the
club. To Chase’s club. To a club he’d been to before, with Jane.

My mind went back to the
conversations we’d had about visiting the club. How he’d heard that we’d need
an invitation from the club’s owner in the first place.

How he’d had things in storage he
needed to put in the tower room.

And his first message to me, on
the dating site that brought us together.

I clicked open the dating website,
risking bringing the Human Resources department down to my office for accessing
a personal site...and a personal bondage dating site at that...on a company
computer. But I didn’t care.

I clicked through to the first
message Jake had sent me:

To: Venus247

From: Dom Meyers

‘Hello Venus247,

I saw your profile tonight and
it interested me a great deal. If you’d like to chat, please reply. I’m new to
this site, and new to the BDSM world as well. I get the sense you are too.

Dom Meyers’

There it was, in black and white.
New
to the BDSM world as well.

It wasn’t until now that I’d put
all these pieces together. They didn’t fit. And it bothered me.

––––––––

I
mpulsively I dialed the number
for Chase’s club.
It’s Wednesday; the club is closed.

But the phone was answered on the
first ring. By a female voice, a voice I recognized as Stacy’s.

The conversation was brief. I
explained that I wanted to meet her. There was the briefest hesitation on
Stacy’s end. I wasn’t sure if she was going to agree to see me.

“I finish up here at midnight.
There’s an all-night diner on I-45 South. You can’t miss it. Big red sign on
the right, just before the exchange. I’ll meet you there.”

––––––––

S
tacy was at the diner before me,
waiting in a booth at the very back. She had a breakfast platter in front of
her: eggs, pancakes, sausage, hash browns, along with juice and coffee. I slid
into the booth across from her.

“Hope you don’t mind that I
ordered. I’m famished.” She tucked a forkful of pancake into her mouth.

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