The Billionaire's Touch (BDSM Erotic Romance) (His Submissive, Part Two)

The Billionaire's Touch
(His Submissive, Part Two)

Ava Claire

Copyright 2012 Ava Claire

Be sure to check out Part One in the His Submissive Series,
The Billionaire’s Contract
.

 

****

 

“You deserve this,” I told myself quietly as I pulled the slinky number over my sweaty skin. I didn’t sound too convincin
g, so I tried again. “You deserve
this.”

I smoothed the front of the last dress, the chiffon tight in the bodice and the hips until it flared out at the hem. The color reminded me of red wine and when I spun, it swished around my knees.

Each dress I’d stepped into over the last hour was more beautiful than the one before and every
one fit me like sin. But the excitement of
wearing dresses I’d only seen in
magazines paled in comparison
to how I felt when I displayed them for Jacob’s approval
.
His deep blue eyes drank me up,
inch by inch,
and in his long stares, I saw myself. I felt beautiful.
Desired. I was his.

We
’d
shut down
Le Magnifique
on Fifth
street
because Jacob Whitmore, the billionaire at the helm of Whitmore and Creighton PR agency, co
uldn't shop among mere mortals and before we headed to Venice for the film festival, I had to have a new wardrobe.

I'd stolen glances at the price tags so I knew the tally, but I still couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe there were people out there that could spend hundreds of dollars on a bolt of fabric and I
definitely
couldn't believe that I had
an allowance for such things now
.
All because I’d tripped in my stupid shoes.

I brought my chocolate curls off my neck, biting my lip as I remembered the fear
bubbling in my gut
as he ma
rched me down the stairwell
after our run in. Who knew
that the guy I’d lusted after since I decided to study
public relations
was not only
tena
cious when it came to business
but also when it came to needs of the flesh?

I rocked slowly from
side to side to the classical music humming from the overhead speakers, letting the memory of his hands do their work. This dress wasn’t meant for board meetings, after
all. It was made to set fire to
the dance floor. Jacob would
own the moves as we spun and every twirl, dip, and heated gaze would tell me
all th
e ways he would make love to me when we
were alone.

Jesus. Make love?

I dropped my hair and gave the wide eyed girl staring back at me a stern look. I had to stop thinking like that. It was clear that ‘love’ had nothing to do with our arrangement. I agreed to be his submissive. To submit to him sexually. And hell, two hours ago I could barely do that.

I heard his deep voice filtering through the door and the area between my thighs immediately came a
live.
Instead of focusing on the fact that I was being given a prime opportunity to take the fast track as far as my career was concerned, I couldn’t think about anything except the things I wanted him to do to my body
when he was near.

I kept kicking
myself for dragging my feet in his offic
e earlier when I saw that look in his
eyes. That look
said he wanted to fuck me until
I couldn’t even walk straight. To possess me. N
ow I was just biding my time until I got another chance to say yes.

Snap out of it
, I admonished myself.
He’s just a guy. A rich, incredibly attractive guy with a sexual appetite that
intrigues you, but
in the end,
he’s just a guy
. But there was no explaining away the number he’d done on me.
He
had
me off kilter. Off balance. And I had a feeling that I had to be on my A game with Jacob Whitmore.

“M
iss Montgomery?” The haughty voice
of the attendant assisting me,
Skye
, brought me from the ramblings in my head back to the mirror.

“Yes?” I said, not even bothering to hide my wariness.

“Do you need any help? Zipping something up, clipping something together if it’s the wrong size?”

I rolled my eyes at the last bit befor
e I did a twirl, the dress
more beautiful in motion. She wasn’t goi
ng to ruin this moment for me--n
ot this dress. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Naturally, she took it as a ‘come on in’ and burst into the dressing room.

"Just making sure everything fits-” The word hung in the air as the door clicked shut behind her and her heavily mascaraed eyes popped from her head. “-Perfectly."

Skye
had been making backhanded comments about my figure al
l day, going on and on about
how I filled out every inch. She was th
e kind of woman
that
looke
d at anyone who wasn’t a size 0 like they had a
predisposition toward laziness
.

She'd also been making googly eyes at Jacob since we’d walked into the door. It made me angrier than I liked to admit, but I took a measure of comfort in the fact that he seemed completely uninterested. Instead of taking t
he hint, she just bat her
eyelashes even harder. It
was obvious she wasn’t convinced of th
e spell he was under.

Well
, I thought deliciously as I stood a little taller,
until now
.

She cleared her throat and did a slow circuit around me. She was probably looking for some love handle or thread pulled too tight. "The dress is positively lovely on you, Miss Montgomery!"

I smiled at the compliment that wasn’t really one, choosing to ignore the utter shock she'd bundled it in. "It's definitely my favorite."

"And rightfully so," she said with a nod. She stepped up behind me, her eyes burning into mine. "How long did you say you've been working for Mr. Whitmore?"

"I didn't," I replied
cryptically.

“Oh.” She glanced away, nothing cryptic in the way her face scrunched in concern. “I see.”

I turned to face her, getting the feeling that she had something on her chest. "
Not that it’s really any of your business, but
I was
promoted a few hours ago."

"And you're already getting the VIP treatment?" The smile on her lips didn't get near her olive eyes. "You must be something special."

It was obvious that she meant another word that started with an 's'. Before I
could open my mouth to respond,
she dropped her volume to a low, confidential level. "If you want a piece of advice, enjoy the perks while they last."

My nostrils flared as I crossed my arms against my chest, sud
denly feeling bare and exposed
in spite of my pricey frock. "I don't remember asking for anything from you."

She held her hands up, feigning innocence. "I'm just trying to help, sweetie. I thought you'd want to know that Mr. Whitmore's assistants don't have a very long shelf life and to stuff your swag bag while you can."

Now, I'm a simple girl who generally has a 'make love, not war' view as far as violence goes. I've only been in one fight my whole life and it lasted all of ten seconds when I bitch
slapped Mindy Kennedy for ripping the head off my
Barbie
in the second grade. But this woman had me imagining all the ways I could wipe the smug satisfaction right off her face.

"Get. Out." The words came from behind clenched teeth which I thought should have been a
dead
giveaway that she was approachin
g the danger zone. Infuriatingly enough, she just stood there, like she didn’t understand English.

"Is there a problem, Miss Montgomery?"

"I said, GET OUT!"

With
an
hmph,
she finally got the message and turned to exit--but not before Jacob threw open the dressing room door. I was clot
hed,
but my arm
s still wrapped around the front of my body
instinctively. Sleek and composed, only his eyes moved, narrowing in displeasure.

"What the hell is going on in here?" He looked back and forth between us like a parent scolding naughty children.

Neither of us said a word.

“I said, what is going on in here?”

What could I say without sounding juvenile? That I’d fallen for her ploy to get a rise out of me? That I was screaming like someone with no class because she hurt my feelings? I felt the anger seeping from me like air from a balloon and hung my head.

When
Skye
stepped forward, I expecte
d her to throw me under the bus,
but instead, she tried to smooth everything over. "Just a small misunderstanding, Mr. Whitmore." She gave me a smile that said, ‘play along’. "Maybe we should give Miss Montgomery some time to-"

"That'll be all," he snapped, dismissing her without another look. He turned to the side and allowed her to leave before shutting the door and turning his ire back on me.

"What was this misunderstanding about, Leila?"

"N-Nothing," I mumbled, still not looking him in the eye.

He snapped his fingers. "When I talk to you I expect you to look at me. I will have your respect."

I raised my chin, shooting daggers his way. "Respect? Like you snapping at me like a dog just now? Or how about your revolving door policy?"

His jaw tightened. "Excuse me?"

"
Skye
told me how you change your personal assistants like underwear. I better enjoy all of this before you throw me out like trash, right?"

His cerulean eyes flashed with something that looked a lot like hurt before they hardened to sea glass. He blazed forward and I gasped as he backed me against the wall, essentially pinning me in place.

I wanted to say something smart, but my brain couldn’t work with him so close to me. The heat of indignation melted and arousal
quickly
took its place.

His tone was harsh
but I felt his lust thump from behind its Armani prison. "I don't appreciate being talked to as if
I
were the one in
your
employ."

Staring at him, feeling these powerful, damnable feelings made me want to drop to my knees
and submit wholly to
him,
but the bullheaded part of me wouldn’t let me back down.

"W-Well, I don't appreciate being treated like being in your employ is tantamount to p
rostitution.”

The side of his mouth crept upward. "Prostitution? I never called you a prostitute, Leila."

"So all of this-” I attempted to move my hand and make a grand gesture, but his hands found my wrist
s
and held them
firmly at my side. “-almost two
thousand dollars in clothing isn't because I signed your little contract and agreed to be your submissive?"

Turned on or not, I could tell I was starting
to grate on his nerves
as he let out an impatient sigh. "All of this is because the woman beside me shouldn't look like something out of the bargain bin."

"The bargain bin?
" I said incredulously, my voice rising. "Just who do you think you’re-"

"Lower your voice," he said coolly.

“You think just because I signed some document you own me? That you can just...” My words trailed off as
he released my wrists and moved his hand to
my hip, finding the zipper and quickly pulling it downward. I wasn't sure what was worse--that he obviously felt entitled to my body, or that I was thoroug
hly turned on by it
.

It
really
didn't matter in the end because the feel of
his hand on me
turned all brain functioning off. There was only the desire that made my breath come in gasps as his fingers spread out inside the front of my underwear. His hands were right against the lips of me and I could've exploded on the spot.

Ohmygod he's gonna finger me right here. Right in the dressing room
.

Gone was the girl who let her head do the thinking...I just listened to the words of my body. And it was screaming for him.

"Don’t stop
,"
I whispered
.

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