Boxed Set: The His Submissive Series Complete Collection (Part One-Part Twelve)

by Claire, Ava

  Truth was I could slip over and lock it and he wouldn't be the wiser, but I rooted myself in place, letting out a, 'yes sir'.

  "I don't need to repeat myself, do I Leila?"

  I frowned, my cheeks flaring. I answered his question. "I—" Oh. The first question. I glanced down quickly, suddenly forgetting. My brain was a fuzzy mess, everything hazy except the steady throb between my thighs. I fingered a button on my blouse. "I'm wearing a black button down blouse-"

  "The sheer one?"

  My mouth curved upward, pleased he noticed enough to commit it to memory. "Yes."

  There was a pause and I swore I heard him moving. Pulling up into a seated position because I had his attention.

  "I know you look beautiful," he said, his deep voice sure, like he was stating fact, like how 1+1 equals two or the earth revolved around the sun. "What else?"

  "A charcoal gray skirt," I spread my fingers down the front of it. "It stops at my knees when I stand up."

  "And now?"

  I felt the heat spread, not leaving a single inch of me untouched. "Right now it's mid thigh."

  He let out a rumbling sound that came from the back of his throat and shot to my groin, making me clench. I knew my panties were going to be a sticky mess by the time this was all said and done and I didn't even care.

  "And beneath?"

  I pushed my chair back a few inches, spreading my thighs. "A black bra and a black thong."

  "If I were there-"

  "If you were here, I'd drop to my knees and suck you until you exploded in my mouth." It came out as a single word and I cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear, squeezing my eyes shut. Jesus...it was like it had been a lifetime since he touched me. It had only been two days, but even that seemed too long. Too much to bear.

  "I'm sorry," I blurted, knowing that I'd interrupted him. What devastatingly sexy thing would he leave unsaid to discipline me?

  "Don't apologize," he said smoothly. "You'd get no complaints from me. I'd love to feel your mouth on me. Your hot little tongue sliding up and down the hardened length."

  My heart jumped in my chest when I closed my eyes as he let out a deep groan. Was he touching himself? Imagining my lips around his thick shaft? I was dying to touch myself, to sink my fingers inside.

  "Jacob," I whispered hoarsely.

  "Not yet," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. So he was punishing me. Suddenly two words were more harsh than any spanking he'd dealt. "I still have to tell you what I'm going to do to you."

  I squirmed, knowing that would do nothing for the ache, but loving it. Nothing was as sweet as giving him control. Nothing was more sexy than submitting.

  "I wouldn't come," he continued. "Not yet anyway. I'd pull you to your feet by those wild curls and bend you over the edge of the desk."

  I gripped my knee, feeling the desire leak from me. A spanking. God yes.

  "I know what you're expecting. My hand to turn you red. But not today, love. Today, I want to touch you. Finger fuck you." He paused and I could hear how labored his breathing was. "Would you like that? Me plunging my fingers in and out of you?"

  "Y-yes."

  "Touch yourself, Leila."

  If my skirt gave me any trouble I'd already decided to grab the scissors in my cup and cut myself free. Luckily, my hand slipped under the material easily, fingertips straining until I brushed the crotch of my panties. I pulled them to the side and sunk two hands in and a long, desperate moan poured out of my mouth.

  "How wet are you?" He asked, his voice tight.

  "Sopping," I eked out, feeling my delicate folds quiver as I went deeper.

  "Don't stop," he ordered thickly. "I wouldn't—not before I got to feel how hot and wet you are with my cock."

  "Oh Jacob," I sighed in between moans. In between thrusts. My legs were splayed open but that wasn't enough. I threw my leg up on my desk, pen cup, folders flying.

  "You know what you do to me?" he said, his voice no longer controlled but unhinged. Wild. "I need you. No one else. No one else...don't stop, Leila. Not until you come."

  I was rolling my hips, thrusting the air wildly. When I used my other hand to touch that knot of nerves, the swollen button that would set me free, I knew I was close. But I didn't want to go there alone. I needed him too.

  "Come with me," I begged, hoping for an answer soon because my whole body was alive, nerves tingling with the electric current that shorted everything but the two of us. Everything except this pleasure.

  "I'm close," he said brusquely. "Are you ready?"

  I squeezed my eyes shut, my body tilting precariously on the edge. "Yes...I...I..."

  "Come."

  The pressure was unbearable.

  Beautiful.

  Agony.

  Release.

  I knew I was groaning, crying out for him. Jacob. And he said my name, pulling together the pieces of me. Making me whole again.

  "Fuck a few days," he said with a rumbling laugh. "I'm taking no prisoners." His voice deepened, making me grin because I knew what it meant. "Get some rest."

  He didn't need to say more than that. When he got home, he was going to blow my freaking mind.

  I grinned, pushing aside the whispers about the wedding. Bring it on.

  ****

  "I guess this means I'm out of the dog house."

  I rolled my eyes so hard they practically rolled out of my head. It would have just made things worse if Mom would have seen it, but she was preoccupied with trying to figure out how to sit her seat up.

  At least I could roll my eyes in peace. I had a feeling peace, calm and lack of drama would be non existent for the next few hours.

  "You feel the lever on the side? Pull it up to bring the chair up and push it down to recline."

  "Well I'm certainly not going to recline," she huffed. "If I recline anymore I'll be horizontal."

  I watched as she brought the seat to an awkward ninety degree angle before I put the car in drive. I was trying to keep my eyes on the road, but she kept fidgeting and squirming in her seat.

  "Everything alright, Mom?"

  "It's just the leather is so stiff." When I gave her a wary look, she tacked on, "Not that it's not a beautiful car, honey. I'm just not used to all these frills."

  You'd think we were riding in a Bentley instead of a ‘13 Hyundai Sonata. I knew she was just being herself, ornery with a smile, but I couldn't help but take offense. This was the first car that ever had my name on it. I put down the hefty downpayment myself and signed the dotted line and upgraded from my rust bucket to something shiny. And mine. I felt so empowered. Proud.

  When I came over and presented it with a flourish, she took every ounce of air from my sails by asking if it was a gift from Jacob.When I told her I bought it with my salary she gave me this pointed look that all but said that wasn't that different. And then there was her lackluster ‘Awww’ when she saw the ring. I was totally unprepared for it since she’d hounded Jacob, trying to figure out why I didn't have a ring.

  I’d been looking forward to seeing her, sharing that OMG moment, but now I felt guilty because I was regretting this dinner already and we hadn’t even made it to the restaurant. There was something else that was bugging me. Mom was a talker. There was no such thing as silence when she was in the vicinity. She’d complain about the dogs or the news or something, letting me off the hook from trying to actually have a conversation.

  She was notably quiet, looking out the window like I did as a kid when I was trying to illustrate just how mad I was after an argument.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She faced me, eyes wide and innocent. “Everything’s fine, Leila. Perfect even—I get to go out with my daughter and celebrate her engagement in her brand new car.”

  Both of those occasions should have been things to be happy about and I almost believed she was okay until she flashed me the fakest smile I’d ever seen on her face. If I wasn’t barreling down the freeway, I would have slammed on my brakes.
/>
  My mother was a lot of things. She was loud, brash, tactless, giving, and overly excitable. She’d never met a stranger and was fiercely loyal to her family and friends. She was a little celebrity crazy, but who wasn’t these days? Entire careers were built on the public’s voracious need to know everything about the rich and famous.

  But she didn’t have a phony bone in her body and when I looked at the curve of her lips, I knew immediately that she wasn’t being honest with me.

  I had a couple of options. I could drop it, like she obviously wanted me to, or I could find out what was going on. I stared out at the highway, cars rocketing past us as I weighed out each one. The first meant we could pretend together; turn up the radio and let the music fill the silence until the conversation was kickstarted and we were too busy catching up to remember the lie that started it all. Option two was sure to annoy her which would in turn annoy me and this Mother/Daughter thing would be officially a bust.

  I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, deciding on the easy route. I was getting entirely too good at going with the flow. Fear of rocking the boat was throwing me overboard. Drowning me.

  I pressed the volume up button and some upbeat pop song flowed from the speakers. Mom sung a few bars and I had no choice but to smile. She was always talking about my voice, how I could have made it as a singer if I wanted, but I knew I was just ordinary. I could carry a tune and stay on key, but her voice MOVED you. It was deep and full and powerful and at the same time, you could hear the vulnerability and rawness in every note. Only Mom could turn a Kesha song into something deep.

  She stopped, noticing that I was watching her. “You better keep your eyes on the road.” She was blushing. Blushing. She was far too confident to be so red, especially around me.

  I switched over to the right lane, putting the car in coast so she couldn’t use speed or speeding cars as an excuse. “What’s going on, Mom?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ve already told you I’m fine.”

  “Something’s going on with you.” When she made a face and repositioned in her seat, I let out a sigh. “Is this about the car?”

  She dropped a sigh of her own. “I wish you’d let your dad go along with you to make sure you got a good deal, but I know you’re an adult. To answer my question, she finished, “This isn’t about the car.” When I opened my mouth to say ‘Aha!’, she added, “And there is no ‘this’. Because nothing’s going on!”

  “You’re mad or bothered by something.”

  “Well, if you keep insisting that I’m mad, I probably will be!”

  I took the exit for downtown, but I wasn’t going to just drop this. We never talked or saw each other now that I was working full time and living in the city. As crazy as she made me at times, I loved her. We’d gone through so much, but I wanted to be at a place where we could at least talk to each other. I needed that connection.

  We came up to a light and I looked over at her. “Please, Mom.”

  She looked genuinely uncomfortable and when she met my gaze, there was no pretending that she wasn’t bugging out about something. “It’s not nearly as big a deal as you’re making it.” Her voice sharpened. “Or at least it’s not a big deal to you.”

  I was happy the charade was over and annoyed because we were already arguing and we hadn’t even been together for 15 minutes. Of course it was my fault.

  The guy behind us laid on his horn and if she wasn’t in the car, I would have flipped him off. Instead, I gritted my teeth and put the car in motion. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

  “You know I keep up with the news.” She didn’t mean world events. She hated how depressing the news was, filled with up to the second stories about crime and politics. She preferred light, entertainment news. Gossip.

  I still wasn’t sure what the news had to do with her weird behavior. “Okay...?” I glanced at her quickly before returning my attention to the road. “Is this about me and Jacob?”

  “Yes,” she said tersely.

  I was even more confused. All of the recent pictures of me and Jacob were happy ones. Hand in hand, lovey dovey, perfectly boring shots of our day-to-day life.

  The heated glare she followed up with nearly made me swerve into another lane. She was freaking pissed.

  “So you know exactly what is wrong with me. What hurt me.”

  I shook my head no. “I honestly don’t, Mom.”

  “I only have one child, Leila,” she bit off.

  “I know-” I started, but she didn’t let me get anything else in.

  “And you know how excited I am about you and Jacob getting married,” she continued. “So imagine my surprise when I read that Alicia Whitmore was quoted saying how happy she was that you and Jacob are letting her handle the planning process.”

  I literally swerved and the car in the next lane slammed on their brakes, the driver honking angrily.

  “She said what?” Mom repeated it and I nearly ripped the wheel from the column, imagining doing un-daughterly things—like wringing Alicia's neck. “Mom, that’s news to me.”

  She wasn’t buying it. “So that wasn’t you and Jacob meeting his mom and a wedding planner for lunch last week?”

  I faltered. “We did, but that was more a courtesy than anything else.”

  “I’m your mother, Leila. Don’t you think I deserve the courtesy of being a part of your big day?” Her words were angry, but I heard the tears coating each one. I slowed and pulled into a parking garage. We were still a good ten minute drive form the restaurant, but no way would I get us there in one piece if she started crying. Just looking at how hurt she was made tears burn my eyes.

  I put the car in park, trying to get myself together before I looked at her. No amount of deep breaths or silent mantras prepared me for the strong hurt all over her face.

  “Mom,” I squeaked, anguish throttling me. “I swear it’s not like that. It was just supposed to be me, Jacob and Alicia. She sprung the planner on us.” When she didn’t look convinced I told her the whole truth. “We wanted nothing to do with her until a few weeks ago. She’s been against our relationship, but she apologized and she’s been trying to start over. The thing is, her version of ‘I’m sorry’ includes taking over.” I fell back against the seat. “Jacob and I haven’t even talked about what we want for our big day. Nothing has been decided.”

  Her voice was unsure and barely above a whisper. “So you wouldn’t plan anything and keep me out?”

  I unbuckled my seat belt and threw my arms around her. Sure, it was awkward and surprise kept her from hugging me back right away, but once she took me in, stroking my back like she did when I was little, everything was forgotten. Despite our faults and issues, she was my mom and I was her daughter.

  I moved back, sniffling as she wiped her eyes with her hands. “I know we’ve been at odds since you came back from Venice, so I just thought...”

  It was pretty obvious what she thought and not nearly as ludicrous as it should have been. We had been kinda...distant. It started with her unauthorized press conference at the house, was exacerbated by the whole Cade thing when she met Jacob, and it reached a fever pitch at the engagement dinner. It hadn’t even crossed my mind to ask for her input about the wedding. On one hand I thought that was because I was still trying to figure out a way to talk to Jacob about it, but that was just an excuse. I didn’t call and ask for her input because I was still a little miffed about where we stood.

  I finger combed my curls away from my face, looking down. “I guess I haven’t completely forgiven you for all the things that have happened.” I winced, expecting her to rip me a new one and tell me to get over it, but she just gave me a nod.

  “And you shouldn’t, until you’re ready.” She was rolling her shoulders back, stepping back into her take-charge persona. “I should respect you. I should have respected you all along and we might have been going dress shopping today instead of crying in a parking garage.”

  I cracked a smile. “Jacob and
I should probably decide what kind of wedding we want before we do any dress shopping.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “You haven’t talked about your wedding?”

  “Nope,” I confirmed, twitching a shoulder. “He knows about my dream thing thanks to Meg, but I don’t know about his or what he wants.”

  “Still want to do something small and beach-y?” she winked.

  My cheeks heated. The only thing that kept me from dying on the spot when Megan revealed my dream wedding was the fact that the only proof ended with her. I’d have to clear that stuff out of my desk the next time I was at the house.

  “I’m not worried about the beach part. The small part is what’s important to me.”

  “I’m sure Jacob would be understanding,” she said reassuringly. “You should have heard the conversation your father and I had.

  —I want to do it at a church. Something big and dramatic.

  —Okay.

  End of story,” she finished with a chuckle.

  I smiled weakly. Besides the fact that my dad usually gave into my mom about most things, it wasn’t that surprising that he just went along with it. But I didn’t want Jacob to shrug and just say whatever I say goes. I wanted him to want to do something special. Something romantic that we could both look back on years later and remember how special it was. Uniquely us. Something we could build forever on.

  Mom cocked her head, her expression soft as she studied me. “You want him to be involved.”

  I nodded.

  “And you want his mother to be un-involved.”

  “Well, maybe not completely...” That was a bald-faced lie. I cleared my throat and tried honesty on for size. “Yes. I don’t want her involved.”

  She settled in her seat. “And I’m guessing you're nervous about having that conversation with Jacob?”

  I nodded a second time.

  She let out a ‘hmmm’, nodding slowly. “Having uncomfortable conversations is part of being in a successful relationship. Especially if it’s regarding something like this that you can’t take back. I’m assuming you just wanna do this once,” she said with a hint of teasing in her voice.