by Skylar Cross
Capitol Submission
Book 1
of a filthy Washington, D.C. serial
with lots of political scandal,
some homeland intrigue,
and hot dominant sex
with a dirty-talking military commander
who occupies a very high office
by
Skylar Cross
Copyright 2015 D2Rev Publishing / Skylar Cross
First Edition
April 21, 2015
Editing: Missy Borucki (missyborucki.com)
Cover design: Letitia Hasser at Romantic Book Affairs (designs.romanticbookaffairs.com)
Promotion: Julia Summers PA at Nook Books and More Blog (https://www.facebook.com/summersnookbooks)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
All characters depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
SPECIAL THANKS
I’d like to send special thanks out to Missy Borucki for helping me with sanity issues (not to mention being the best editor under the sun!), Lucee Lovett for amazing support and much love, Julia Summers for rocking my promotion world in such an unbelievable way, Skylar’s Undercover Agents for your awesome online shenanigans (woo-hoo!), Michelle Spiva for all things Smexy, Corie Weaver for introducing me to 15-minute sprints, Elena Rave for all the <3’s, Frank Pavlica for a ton of chuckles, and Angela Chen-Shui and Wendy Beasley for such enthusiastic comments.
INTRODUCTION
I recognized you the moment our eyes met in the dark room with the velvet curtains at the club.
By day, you’re in charge of the world. You’ve worked hard to get where you are. You’re in charge, responsible, and people depend on you. You’re good at what you do, and you know it.
But I know your secret.
Here in this dark room you can let go of all that.
Here with me you are free.
Free to feel the longings deep inside you.
Free to be commanded, controlled, and driven to submission.
Shhhhhh…
Nobody will ever know.
It’s our little secret.
I won’t tell anyone how much it turns you on when you submit to my masculine ability to dominate, the dirty filthy words that make you breathe faster, and the little squeals of pleasure you make when I insist you obey me.
It’s why you continue to meet me…despite your professional career, your upbringing, and your logical mind.
Face it.
You’re addicted to me.
Now give me your power willingly and say “Yes, commander.”
CHAPTER ONE
Terissa
“On your knees!” says the masked man.
I can’t do this. I can’t be doing this. I can’t be here in this stupid fetish club.
Really. Seriously. What am I doing here? This is so not me.
I’m an attorney, dammit! A respectable leader of my peers. D.C. Magazine even labeled me one of this year’s “30 Under 30 To Watch.” If they could see me now, they’d retract the article.
So what am I doing here in a red-velvet curtained, back room in this ridiculous fetish club considering dropping to my knees in front of this gorgeous man?
Or at least I think he’s gorgeous. I can’t see his face because of the mask.
“If I have to tell you again,” he says, “you will lose your chance.”
I drop to my knees.
God, I must be drunk.
But no¸ I’m not drunk. It’s more than that.
I think I actually may want to do this.
I think I really do want to suck the cock of this stranger here in this private room, the thumping music from the main floor penetrating the walls in a low steady beat.
It’s so dirty. And so wrong. Which is why it’s so hot.
“Good girl,” he says. “You are a very good girl.”
His words are repellent yet thrilling at the same time. I’m so turned on it’s ridiculous. The last time I felt this horny was back at an NYU party when Kent Randall, the hottest guy on campus, dragged me into a closet at a party in some rich kid’s apartment on Bleecker Street and fucked me in the ass.
Hottest experience of my life.
Sure, I’ve had sex since then. There was Greg. Then there was Adam. They were good boyfriends, but sex with them was nothing like getting pulled into a closet by a hot guy at a party.
Now, five years later, I’m in a dark room with a stranger again.
And I love it!
What’s wrong with me?
It’s like I’ve lost control.
No, it’s more like I’m willingly giving up control.
“Crawl toward me,” he commands.
Part of me rebels, a voice inside my head screaming, You don't tell me what to do. I tell you what to do. I tell everybody what to do. It's my job and I'm the best at it, so don't even think about it. I'll make your life a living hell.
But I tell that voice to shut up.
I want this.
I want the freedom of letting go, of allowing someone else be in charge.
Then I can go back to my life.
Right?
Right.
I crawl toward him on my knees. The carpet in here is soft.
“You are so fucking hot,” says the man. “On your knees like a good girl.” He chuckles. “You’re not like the others here. Somebody brought you with them and you’re surprised about this place.”
How does he know that?
“I can see it in your eyes,” he continues. “You’re so in charge. You're so together. You're the queen of the goddamned world, aren't you? But I know what you really want.”
Oh my God, he’s speaking to a deep part of me. He does know me, doesn’t he?
His shirt is immaculate. Not a shirt like most of the guys outside in the regular club. This is a crisp white dress shirt. Expensive. His pants are creased and pressed. His wingtips glisten.
This is a man of power. He’s somebody high-up. I know the telltale signs.
The very thought sends a new wave of heat straight downward between my legs. I’ve become a puddle, haven’t I?
God, I hope I don’t know him.
He takes a step forward.
Here it comes.
I see the outline of his cock, bulging under his pants. Throbbing. Oh my God, it must be huge.
I want it.
Who said that?
He takes another step forward, savagely invading my space now. His pants lightly brush the tip of my nose. I inhale a sharp masculine scent of pine and musk.
I’m on fire now.
This is ridiculous, but I don’t care.
“Free me,” says the man.
I’m beyond hesitating now. I’ve committed.
I unzip his fly.
And out it comes.
Oh my God. Oh my fucking God.
I’ve never seen a more perfect cock.
Straight, thick, long, hefty. A giant set of balls hanging securely underneath.
I want it so much.
I want to taste it.
I lean forward and lick it lightly. Tangy musky hardness sends a hot shiver through my body all the way to my toes.
Then I feel a hand at the back of my neck.
“Did I give you permission to lick me?” he says.
Oh no, he didn’t!
I look up at the masked face and shak
e my head.
“Answer me!” he says. “You will always answer me when I ask a question!”
“No.”
“No what?”
“No, you didn’t give me permission to lick you.”
Am I really having this conversation?
“You will call me commander. It’s what I am, your commander.”
That irks me a little. I grimace, but somehow I hear the words escaping my lips.
“Yes, commander.”
I don’t know why I like being talked to this way so much. But keep it coming.
He continues to look down at me. My breathing is heavy. The close presence of his rigid massiveness is almost too much to bear. I’m in a zone of erotic fever and there’s no going back. I’ll follow his orders to get a chance to get that cock in my mouth.
“You’re amazing,” he says. “So gorgeous. Your eyes speak volumes. I want to kiss your lips, sucking each one into my mouth.”
He leans down like he’s going to kiss me.
Almost as if he’s forgotten he’s wearing a mask, he straightens up again.
“But now is not the time. You may lick me,” he says.
I move forward but he pushes me away, gripping my chin with his powerful hand.
“Acknowledge me!”
“Yes, commander.”
“Proceed.”
When my tongue touches his shaft again, I get the same full-body electrical charge. So firm. So manly.
I swish my tongue all the way around the massive base, making long licks up to the center.
Oh God, am I going to be able to get this beast in my mouth? It isn’t going far, that’s for sure.
I spend a while licking, enjoying it, losing myself in the joy of submission. Knowing I’m pleasing him.
So good.
Then I feel a hand at my throat, pushing me away.
“Suck my cock,” he says.
“Yes, commander.”
Okay, here we go.
I open wide for his tip.
Holy fucking shit! This is a monster. I’m going to suffocate.
I choke and cough, pulling away while putting my hand on my chest.
“It’s okay,” he says. “Breathe.”
As I’m getting myself back together, he strokes the skin on my shoulder lightly, almost lovingly.
“Are you all right?” he says.
I nod.
“Answer me correctly.”
“Yes, sir. I’m all right.”
Then I open up and move forward again. My gag reflex kicks a little but I relax it remembering to use a trick my NYU friend Victoria taught me back in the day.
Oh God, this feels so good. It’s been too long since I’ve had a cock in my mouth. Way too long.
Not that I haven’t had any offered to me, mind you.
I’ve just been so focused on my career. Not to mention they’re usually attached to wimpy, non-assertive men. Not like this man. No, not like this man at all.
I slide his massive head as far back as it can go. Feels like it’s going to bust the roof of my mouth open.
I gag a little, but somehow manage to get it to the back of my throat. Then I hold it there.
It throbs, a little gush of pre-cum making me jolt.
I pull back, making a big popping sound as I release him. Water gushes from my eyes.
I look up at the silent mask. I smile, licking in little round swirls from the base all the way to the top. There, I take it in again in one big slurp.
Better this time, but I still gag a little.
I begin to slide my mouth back and forth. My pussy is on fire. I want to reach down and touch myself, but I still have these damned jeans on. Why did I have to wear jeans tonight?
Doesn’t matter, I’m happy just to have this monster in my mouth.
I get a flash of him coming.
Yes! That’s what I want.
I want streaming come filling my mouth.
I want it so bad!
Nothing matters to me except tasting his salty goodness.
I suck harder.
He moans.
I love this. While I know technically he’s in control, all that power gets transferred to me when I have his cock in my mouth.
He’s mine! This cock is mine!
He grabs the back of my neck, pushing my face harder into him at each stroke.
I didn’t think I could take it, but my throat has opened up to accommodate him.
Oh God, now he’s face-fucking me!
I look up at him, his rod slamming full speed into my mouth.
As my eyes meet his, he lets out a loud grunt and explodes.
My mouth fills with white creamy delight. I swallow some to stem the flow, but it keeps streaming.
God, cum is everywhere!
Finally he stops and pulls out of my mouth.
I smile up at him, swishing the thick fluid between my teeth, savoring the delightful taste.
“Sir!”
We both turn. A man in a dark suit is peering out from behind one of the red velvet curtains.
“Code seven, sir!” he says.
The masked man zips up quickly, touches my cheek, and says, “I must go. We will meet again.”
Then he’s gone and I’m alone.
It takes me a moment to regroup. Heck, it takes me a moment to remember my name.
I find my purse, clean off my face with a tissue, and prepare to emerge back into the club.
Shit, I have to get out of here.
Back in the throng of people, I look for Carmen.
Her bright red hair is easy to spot. She’s at the glowing bar, getting hit on by a truly gorgeous man in a pin-striped suit. His square chin has an incredibly sexy dimple.
I hate to interrupt, but I tap her on the shoulder.
“Terissa!” shouts Carmen as she wraps her arms around me. I lean my face away in case there’s some hint of saltiness left on my face.
Carmen is good. She senses something, giving me a sharp line of inquiry with her piercing eyes. Yep, she’s going to pursue that line of questioning tomorrow, I can tell.
“Terissa, this is Ian Braddock. He’s with the UK Consulate.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, as I shake his hand.
“My pleasure,” he says in a panty-melting English accent.
“Carmen, I’m leaving. I’ve got to go.”
“Are you sure?”
I can tell Carmen is okay with this by her eye signals. Probably going to spend the night strengthening our ties with the British Empire, if I know her.
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll catch a cab.”
“Okay, I’ll see you in work tomorrow.”
I find my way to the exit and out onto the street. It’s only April, but summer feels like it’s already here in D.C. Much earlier than back in New York. Damn humidity is making my hair a tangled jungle.
I wave down a taxi. I open the door to get in, but turn suddenly when a man invades my space.
I recognize him. He’s the well-dressed one who peered out from behind the red velvet curtain in the private room.
He’s handing me something. I look down. It’s a cell phone, the cheap type that flips open. I instinctively take it.
“He’ll be in touch,” the man says, then walks away.
“Who?” I shout. “Who’s going to be in touch?”
But it’s too late. He’s already disappeared around the corner.
“Do you need a ride or not?” says the cabbie.
“Yes,” I say. “12th & U Street.”
I get in.
CHAPTER TWO
Terissa
Shit, it’s Thursday morning, isn’t it?
My head pounds as my Metro train pulls into Farragut North. My office is a short walk up to M Street¸ which is usually rather pleasant after the underground ride.
But not today.
When the spring sunshine hits me on the street, I fumble for my sunglasses, a new wave of pain jolting through my head.
&n
bsp; Big mistake going out late on a weeknight.
But Carmen and I wanted to celebrate. We got a case dismissed yesterday and a big bonus from our client.
I just can’t believe she took me to a private fetish club. I had no idea. I thought it was just your usual run-of-the-mill Washington hangout. But I only have myself to blame. Knowing Carmen, I should have had better judgment.
Never again.
As I find my sunglasses, my hand brushes the burner phone handed to me by the well-dressed man last night.
Shit.
I should throw this in a dumpster right now.
That was a huge mistake. I’m going to forget about last night and return to my previous life. Just delete it from memory.
I take out the phone and walk toward the nearest trash barrel.
I’m about to throw it in.
Go ahead, Terissa! Throw it in.
But I don’t throw it in.
I put it back into my purse and walk up the street to my building.
The weak air conditioning in the elevator is blissful as I ascend to the office suite of Judith Brand and Associates.
We’re only ten attorneys, specializing in media relations litigation. Everybody in the Capitol knows the name of my boss. The mere mention of the name Judith Brand in court can make prosecutors pee their pants. Doesn’t hurt that she’s a six-foot-two black woman with extraordinary fashion sense and a powerful strut that turns heads.
Once off the elevator, I slink to my office, mumbling, “Good morning” to the new receptionist Allie.
I shut the door, slump into my chair with my elbows on my desk, and bury my face in my hands.
“Oh God,” I say out loud. “Who am I?”
There is a knock at the door. I look up and motion Kellan in.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” he says. “Rough night?”
“I went out with Carmen.”
He laughs. “’Nuff said.”
Attorney Kellan James, the most eligible bachelor in Washington, smiles at me with that drop-dead gorgeous look that makes girls throw themselves at him wherever he goes. I’ve had a few fantasies about him, but office romance is always a distraction from the game. The game I’m here to win.
