Page 16 of The Billionaire's Lust

And that was just the way he wanted it.

He stroked his chin as he moved closer, circling me like a hawk hunting its prey. “You don’t want to talk about how beautiful you looked tonight? How every pair of eyes in the place made love to you in that dress?” He reached out and stroked the nape of my neck then swept over my collarbone, his touch making me tingle all over.

My lips trembled. “None of them matter.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes,” I murmured softly as my heart stomped around in my chest. “What you want, what you need is the only thing that matters to me. You’re the only one that matters.” I found my zipper and pulled it down, relishing the feel of the fabric retreating and the way he followed every movement. I couldn’t tell if his eyes were heating with approval or with the delight at punishing me for undressing without his permission. That unanswered question thrilled me and I knew that I was hoping he disproved, hoping that he’d do something erotic and delicious that danced on the thin line between pain and pleasure.

The dress was a silver, glittering puddle at my feet and I stood with my breasts round, nipples swollen and pulsing. The only thing that stood between me and total nakedness my underwear. Whatever coy game he’d been playing was over when he put his glass down on the counter and his deep, stern tone put equal measures of fear and excitement in me.

“Did I tell you to undress?”

My voice shook, but my hands were sure and knew exactly what they were doing. What they were provoking. “No sir.” I had a thumb hooked under each string. I started pulling them downward, peering up at him from behind my thick eyelashes.

He stepped closer, his body tense. “You’re asking for it.”

No, Jacob. I’m begging for it. He watched me pull them down, drinking up the tease of the dark landing strip that marked the way to my heat before he reached out, gripping my wrists.

“You forget your place, Leila.”

I hadn’t truly submitted since we were back in the office, after we got into it about my promotion nearly a month ago. What I planned to say next had the power to show him I needed this, that we needed this, or to push him further away.

“I need my dominant.” I looked at him unabashedly and spoke from the heart. “And you need your submissive.”

His hold slackened and those eyes, the fierce blue that had the power to turn those unfortunate enough to spark them to ice, softened. “You think you know what I need?”

“What we need,” I corrected softly.

He let go of my wrists and turned on his heels without another word and I felt the tears in my chest boiling to my throat. He wasn’t ready. “Jacob--”

HIs back was still to me and he was clear across the room, but his words were clear, slicing back toward me and echoing in my ears. “You will address me as ‘sir’ until told otherwise.”

I closed my eyes, holding tight to the sound of him letting me back in. I wanted to cry out in elation, to pump my fists with joy, but I lowered my trembling hands to my side. “Yes sir.”

When he faced me, power and passion flickered in his gaze as he beckoned me with a finger. “I think you know what’s next. I don’t take lightly to my submissive disobeying me.”

I had to physically make myself take slow, measured steps and not run to him. It was probably a good thing since my legs were gelatinous and trembling in anticipation for what he had planned.

I followed him into the bedroom and stood near the bed, but whatever he had planned wouldn’t be taking place there since he walked to the blank wall directly in front of it. There was a small black table sitting off to the side and he opened a drawer, pulling out a tiny remote. I took a step back in surprise when the seam along the center of the blank wall separated and retracted, revealing a dark St. Andrews cross in a hidden compartment. Recessed lighting cast an ominous glow on it that made my mouth go dry.

“Come forward,” he commanded.

I moved forward slowly, remembering how I’d barely blinked the last time I’d seen a St. Andrews cross, enthralled instead by the four poster bed back in his villa. But now I couldn’t take my eyes off the thing before me. The wood was a dark mahogany color with O-shaped metal rings affixed on each corner. Once I was strapped to it, I’d be completely at his mercy.

There was a time that the thought of having no control was terrifying and even though I was no longer that cautious person, human nature turned fear into a tangle lodged in my throat. But I trusted Jacob. I knew he loved me and would never subject me to more than I could stand.

I swallowed and stood tall, marveling at the craftsmanship of the cross, the fear dwindling and in its place, fascination at being splayed out for him. I was so entranced by the cross that I didn’t even notice that he’d retrieved something else until I heard a metallic clink, like a wind catcher dancing in the breeze. But there was nothing whimsical about what he held.

My eyes widened as I took in the harsh gray cuffs and silver links. “Shackles?”

He didn’t confirm the obvious, kneeling and locking the first cuff around my ankle. I shivered at the coolness of it. The wariness must have been written all over my face because after he secured the final one over my last free wrist, he tilted my chin up so he could ask me the million dollar question.

“What’s your color, Leila?”

I gave him a small nod of reassurance. “Green, sir.”

He leaned in and pressed an electric kiss against my lips. “Good girl.” Still, he gave me a moment to adjust to the weight before he continued. “The chains will be attached to the cross now—the process is done electronically.” He caressed my cheek. “Use your word if you need to.”

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