Read Online The Billionaire's Touch (BDSM Erotic Romance) (His Submissive, Part Two) by Ava Claire - Free Book Online
Authors: Ava Claire
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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,
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,
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