The Billionaire's Hope (A His Submissive Series Novella)

by Ava Claire

  There was a reason he started at my feet because the gleam of it, combined with the prick as he glided over my skin, my breasts, would have narrowed down the object to one thing.

  The Wartenberg Wheel.

  I sucked in a breath as the spiked wheel rounded my knee and lingered on my thigh. My eyes cut to his, seeing the spark light in the blue inferno, quickly snuffed out when he saw the smile in mine.

  “Do you know what you do to me?” The vulnerability in his voice was almost masked by the husky, erotic undertones of the moment. “You make me want to ravage every part of you. Claim every inch of your hot flesh. Make you scream, beg me for release.” He leaned in, placing the tip just beneath the swell of my breasts. Then he pulled it away, balancing it on the curve of my tummy.

  I was hyperventilating, not ready to end this moment. “Baby-”

  I stopped short, realizing in the haze of lust that reality had seeped back in. He was more than just my Dom now. More than my husband. He was a father, too.

  I found his gaze, my breath coming in short gasps. Vision swimming. The heat had to be the candlelight. The desire that filled me.

  But his eyes had changed. Lust had been forgotten and they were now clouded with worry. “Are you okay, Leila?”

  I wanted him to know that I was okay. Better than okay, even. I opened my mouth to say so. To say that we were okay.

  But the darkness changed, my breath abandoning me. My vision blurred before the world was snatched away from me completely.

  The last thought that rippled through my mind turned me inside out.

  We are definitely not okay.

  Chapter Three

  My eyes swept across the blue and one word came to mind: whoa.

  Clearly, I wasn't one of the people in charge of copy at Whitmore and Creighton. If I was, I would have had something epic to say, something lyrical to describe what this felt like. What it felt like to have Jacob Whitmore look at me like I was magic.

  What it felt like to know that I'd get to see that look for the rest of my life.

  I reached for the sunscreen in the wicker basket, perched in the sand beside the most comfortable beach chair ever created. Heck, calling it a 'beach chair' didn't even fit. Beach chairs were the aluminum and plastic things that I used to drag from the trunk, preparing myself for the workout ahead. Without fail, I'd be sweaty and overheated before I even popped the thing open, dropping everything in a pile.

  My fingertips stopped just short of the tube as I left the memory in the past, drinking in the awesome now. If you would have told me that someday I'd have a beach and Jacob Whitmore all to myself, I wouldn't have believed you.

  But this wasn't a dream. Wasn't a fantasy that would be ripped away when my eyes sprang open.

  I was wide awake.

  And this chair felt freaking delicious.

  I caressed the smooth fabric that covered the mahogany wood. Sighed as I ground my bottom, still tender from a twilight spanking from Jacob, into the ruby red cushion.

  A dull ache from tweaking the spot flitted over me. The lashes of pain didn't compare to the ecstasy that made me call out to God I don't know how many times. I remembered how just as I was gearing up to say the word that would end the session, I whispered his name and he'd scooped me into his arms. Kissed it better in a way that had made me press my thighs together, an erotic flutter dancing through my core.

  Just to be safe, I pinched myself.

  The sting reminded me that this fairytale wasn't fiction. Fantasy tasted like reality. At any moment, animated bluebirds would start flitting about. Music would spring out of nowhere at all. My swimsuit would be traded for some sparkly number and glass slippers. But unlike the storybook, there was no clock that would chime at midnight, making it all go poof.

  This was my life now.

  I had a new last name.

  I shielded my eyes from the sun, gazing out into the crystal blue water. Last night we swam beneath the stars together but this morning, I just wanted to watch him. To commit every inch of him to memory. My Jacob, giving Michael Phelps a run for his money, bobbing in the water like a mirage.

  Screw this watching crap.

  I slid from the chair, a Cheshire smile curving my lips as I tossed my hat behind me. I reached around and unhooked my bikini top, only pausing long enough to shimmy out of my bottoms.

  I waded into the water, my eyes locked on the bluest ones I'd ever seen. Blue flames that razed every doubt that this was real to the ground.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, a moan sounding deep inside me as my breasts brushed against the steel of his sun-kissed chest.

  I wanted to say something romantic, but I was at a loss for words so close to heaven.

  Jacob's fingers threaded through my locks and swept them over one shoulder as he brought me close. His lips brushed against my ear.

  "How did I get so damn lucky?"

  *

  "Leila, can you hear me?!"

  "Leila?!"

  "LEILA!"

  The world swirled and swayed. The candlelight, dim and seductive, had gone from an amber glow to full blast.

  Was this part of the session? Maybe Jacob was about to lure me on the balcony. Bind me to the chair and tease me with the sun beating down on our bodies. Make me scream his name.

  And speaking of names, why was Jacob screaming mine? Why was his face creased with worry, his eyes round with fear?

  "Baby-" The rest got caught somewhere in my throat when I looked to my right. The candles that surrounded the couch had sprouted legs and moved. They were now eye level, the careful weaving of light and dark askew.

  There was only light, confusion, because I was no longer on the couch at all. I'd made circles in our Persian rug enough times to know every bump and grove, and now, those bumps and groves were beneath me.

  I snapped my attention back to Jacob. The fear in his eyes was edged with relief, but when I gasped, it darted away like a feral animal. Not daring to hope. Not trusting it.

  I licked my lips, my hands flying to my belly. Jacob followed suit, his palm resting on top of mine.

  I knew the answer, was terrified by it, but I didn't want to freak him out. "Why am I on the floor?" When I saw the panic streak across his usually impassive, guarded face, I did the dumbest thing I could have possibly done.

  I made a joke.

  "Please tell me you ordered me to play dead."

  Not just a joke. A really bad joke.

  He let out a sound that told me that under different circumstances, he'd give me a big ol' piece of his mind. "That's not remotely funny, Leila."

  The smile I'd forced onto my face evaporated. "The baby..."

  But he was already on it, his phone at his ear. His mouth was moving, but the only words I could make out were "blahblahblah".

  I couldn't hear anything over the terror.

  My hands clutched my belly and I couldn't remember the last time I prayed, but I reached out into the unknown. Begging. Pleading.

  Please let the baby be okay. I'll do anything. Just...please...

  I stopped clasping my hands together, waiting for divine intervention. I had no reason to breathe again, especially since the baby wasn't being its usual overactive self, tumbling and twerking in my belly, but I lowered my arms to the floor and exhaled. With a tiny grunt, I lifted my head and the rest of me followed as I pulled myself up, my bottom scooting across the rug.

  Jacob's back was to me, but the moment he heard the creak, he whirled back to scold me. "Leila-"

  "I'm okay," I assured him, ignoring the voice that reminded me that I wasn't a medical professional. I just...knew. "There's no need for an ambulance. I have a feeling my husband's Maserati will get me there twice as fast, anyway."

  Jacob's eyes twitched from my face to my belly, then back to my face. Trying to decide if we should wait for the calvary. The operator on the other end was static as I watched his face go hard. Determined.

  He didn't say it, but I could read it in those
beautiful, powerful angles.

  Fuck the calvary.

  "Don't move."

  Even if he wasn't using his Dom voice, I wouldn't have moved a muscle. Since this, unfortunately, wasn't our first rodeo, I remembered the tips from the doctor. The first was to not move until I was good and ready. And the second-

  "Drink this." Jacob brandished a bottle of Gatorade, the lid already popped. He even stood over me, watching me like a hawk until I took several hearty gulps. His face softened as he knelt beside me, his voice as gentle as the fingertips that swept my curls behind my ear. "How are you feeling?"

  "Better now," I whispered, leaning into his touch, then turning back to the task at hand when he arched an eyebrow. I took five swallows for both our sakes. "Think I'm ready to try the standing up thing."

  "Not so fast."

  My heart shot to my throat as he slipped a hand beneath my bottom and roped the other around my shoulders and lifted me from the floor like I weighed nothing at all. Considering I stopped fitting into anything without spandex or an elastic waistband, I knew I definitely wasn't light as a feather, but a flash of self consciousness made me go stiff as a board.

  "Be careful, babe!" I warned, futilely trying to shave off a few pounds as I locked my arms around his neck. "Maybe we should call ahead and tell them to reserve the bed beside mine."

  He wasn't even breaking a sweat, which would have made another part of me considerably...wet. The last time he'd swept me up and carried me in his arms was after he gave me his last name. The fact that he didn't even dignify my comment with a response was enough to make me swoon. When I met his gaze, I saw the same love, desire, and forever that always burned in those blue flames. A look that always silenced my demons and insecurities and knocked me upside the head, reminding me that I was no consolation prize. That when he looked at me, he saw me—and he’d love me whether I was 500 pounds; whether I wore gowns or sweats, until every curly strand of hair turned gray and beyond.

  Until he drew his last breath, Jacob chose me.

  I was still drowning in the butterflies that flitted in my belly, almost missing it when he grabbed a fresh Gatorade and paused at the door, practically one arming me so he could grab his wallet and keys.

  I nestled against his chest, smirking. "Now you're just showing off."

  He tried to mask the beginnings of a smirk of his own. "Hydrate."

  I almost saluted, but I decided to take his advice. I reached down towards the V of my bare thighs where the plastic bottle was nestled and-

  Wait.

  Bare thighs.

  Bare naughty bits.

  Breasts that were catching fire as I let out a gasp and wriggled from his arms.

  "Soo...before we go to the hospital, it may be a good idea to make myself decent.”

  Chapter Four

  ED Physician Note – Dr. Monica McGregor

  Leila Whitmore

  MR 687329

  DOB - 05/30/1989

  Chief Complaint: fainting

  History of Present Illness: Leila is a 28yo white female now 29 wks pregnant who presents to the ED with her husband after a fainting spell at home. Patient arrived via private car. She reports feeling dizzy then found herself on the ground. She has no memory of the event. Husband reports LOC for about 30 sec. No reported seizure-like activity. She awoke with c/o nausea but seemed to be alert and appropriately responsive. She last felt baby move on the way to the hospital, no bleeding, no abdominal pain or contractions, no fever, no leakage of fluids. Patient reports doing yoga this morning followed by intimate activities with her husband, while lying on her back. She reportedly had a light breakfast and skipped lunch.

  Past Medical History: healthy 28yo. First pregnancy. Prenatal care with Dr. Clarkson since 8 wks of pregnancy.

  Assessment: 28yo white female now 29 weeks pregnant with brief LOC earlier today. Her LOC most likely due to a combination of lying on her back, mild dehydration and over-exertion. She will be admitted to the OB service for monitoring for possible early labor.

  ~

  "My poor baby!"

  You'd think from my mother's wail—this gut wrenching, high pitched sob that filled the room—that IVs snaked all over my body and I was bandaged from head to toe, barely clinging to life. In reality, I was nestled in a bed that was almost as comfortable as my bed back home, and I only had one IV for fluids and a monitor that beeped, checking my vitals and the baby's. We were both fine, holed up in a birthing suite that almost made me feel like I was on some lush getaway, minus the nurses that cycled in and out during their shift.

  Well, that and the fact that my husband is glowering from the far corner of the room instead of snuggled on bed beside me.

  It made sense, because my mother had spent the past hour on the phone with him, calling him everything but a child of God. I couldn't make out the full extent of her curse word vocabulary, but when Jacob's angular face went from terse to 'If you don't take this phone, I'm gonna lose it', I could fill in the blanks.

  I’d taken the phone before the shaky truce the two of them had agreed to for the sake of me and the baby was broken, trying to assure her that I was okay. Okay enough that Jacob drove me to the hospital. That earned me a similar wail as she told my dad to turn off Law and Order, because they had to get to the city.

  That's what I tried to cling to: my parents loved me enough to drop everything, including Jack McCoy and the gang, to make sure me and the baby were okay.

  I frowned, craning my head past the whirlwind that was Cheryl Montgomery to focus on the door, looking for her better half. The voice of reason. "Where's Dad?"

  That garnered a hiss of disappointment as she reared back like I slapped her. "I rush over here, looking a mess...”

  She didn't, by the way. Somewhere in between the wise cracks of the detectives and the call from Jacob, she'd managed to pile her salt and pepper hair into an up-do that made her look like she was headed to a gala, not a hospital. Her body was draped in a rose colored dress with a sheer black scarf fashionably tied around her neck. And since she was looming over me at an unnatural angle, she'd clearly polished the look off with some heels.

  But I didn't comment on any of that, because the last thing I wanted was a guilt trip. Besides, she looked beautiful, despite the ugly glare she was hurling my way. Eviscerating me with brown eyes that looked like mine. Cutting to the bone with a look so lethal that I was surprised the machines weren't calling for medical assistance.

  “...To this Hotel Hospital thing you've got going on," she continued with a huff. "Is this place even a real hospital?"

  She was clearly on the warpath, and if I wasn't already in bed, I would have gotten out of her way. She marched back to the door and yanked it open, letting out a 'aha!' before she spun around to face me. "Where's the clunky door that wakes you up if you're fortunate enough to fall asleep?" The door barely made a whisper as it gently clicked shut. She pointed a French tip nail at the flat screen tv affixed to the wall and drew a line, stopping when she hit the microsuede mini sectional where Jacob was biting his tongue. "I'm no billionaire, but the last time I was in the hospital, there was no lounge area in the room. The lounge area that was available to us poor folks made standing up seem really appealing."

  "Thanks for stopping by, Mom!" I decided to stop her before she started talking about the bed and the lack of those awkward retractable arms with the buttons that did God knows what, and the lack of paper thin, dingy linens. I'd meant to say something a little less obvious than 'please leave’. Something with a little more finesse to exemplify that while mommy and baby were fine, a brawl in my hospital room was definitely not.

  I cringed as my dismissal hung in the air, but I was brave enough to meet her head on and not shy away from her narrowed glare. It helped that I knew Jacob had my back, ready to step in the minute she veered back toward The Epic Guilt Trip.

  She surprised us both by inhaling all the tension-filled air in the room, then exhaling. "I come in peace."

&n
bsp; Jacob and I raised our eyebrows in unison.

  My mother raised her hands in surrender. "I'm sorry I stormed in here raising Cain, but when I heard my baby and my grand baby are in danger-"

  "Danger?" Jacob interrupted, eyes flashing. "At my hand, no doubt."

  I didn't have the energy to flash my eyes, so I just rolled them to the ceiling. "C'mon, you two. Can we all agree that this is a sucky situation that could be worse?"

  "You're in the hospital, Leila," my mother rebutted, dropping her hands and her white flag. "Can we all agree that my extremely pregnant daughter ending up in the hospital is a terrifying thing?"

  I opened my mouth to give her an inch, remembering how terrified I was when I gripped my belly. Praying. Waiting for a kick or shifting or anything that would tell me that the most precious thing in my life hadn’t been taken away.

  I glanced at Jacob, forcing my lips to relax. As I watched the battle lines in his face soften, the will to fight and get the last word evaporate, I realized that both of us had geared up for a fight before my mother took a step in the room. It would have been easy to blame it on my mother's ornery phone call, but there were other things to point a finger at. Or better yet, we could swipe a mirror and take a hard look at ourselves. Did Jacob think this was his fault, so any hint of blame coming from my mother made him raise his hackles? Was I trying to rush her out of here because I felt like recent events were all over my face? Events like secretly helping out with the junket when I was supposed to be on leave, prenatal yoga, and BDSM flavored sex? My OB had asked, no, told me to take it easy. There was a reason I didn't truly start breathing again until I heard the heartbeat.

  My mother was the last to put down her metaphorical arms, slowly gravitating to the bed and giving my foot a squeeze. The squeeze came with a scowl at first, as her fingers gripped the decadent sheets, but it ended with her flavor of tough love. The emotion that filled her dark eyes, pulling me in, put things back in focus. That’s what this was about—love. We were all here and dialed up because we cared about each other.

  Love was what I felt when I answered her question. "Landing in the hospital is freaking terrifying—and—I’m so glad that you guys are here with me."