Resisting My Submission

by Jenna Jacob

  He was warm.

  Alive.

  Offering salvation to the scattered fragments still circling inside me.

  I longed to drown in the human comfort of his touch.

  Cocoon myself in his hot breath that caressed my neck and savor the much-needed sliver of peace his compassionate embrace offered.

  But too much was at stake.

  My Dominance—that image Max had teased me about—wasn’t simply a mask or costume I’d chosen to hide behind. The reinvention of myself was real…a living, breathing entity of survival. When Desmond died, I had no choice but to lay my submission to rest alongside him. Still, I was unwilling to give up the lifestyle I’d come to love. So I did the only logical thing…I studied and learned to become a Domme. Changing my mindset from surrendering to controlling was hard, but over the years I found a certain satisfaction and was able to satiate the emptiness left by Desmond’s death. I knew I’d never connect with another on such a pure and absolute level or hand my power over to anyone but him.

  Yet here I stood, surrounded in Max’s arms, fearing that not only could he salvage my submission but also pulverize my Dominance into unrecognizable dust.

  I tensed. My skin crawled with fear and dread. He knew my secret. Struggling, I tried to break free of his grip, but the man simply held on tighter.

  “Shh,” Max whispered. “Don’t fight. Just let me hold you. Forget code or status, Sam. Just let me hold you as a man.”

  I felt his hard length lying hot against my stomach. Trembling, like a virgin, I ached to feel his lips graze up the sway of my shoulder, past my neck, and nibble that sensitive hot spot beneath my earlobe.

  His offer of mercy slid over me in a gentle glide of satin while allowing him to comfort me scalded like lava. I didn’t know if I could trust him. I’d exposed my vulnerable underbelly. Would he choose to use these fragile emotions against me and slaughter my reputation as a Domme? I’d allowed him to see too much.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled. “I’m fine. You can go now.”

  “You’re not listening to me, Sam.”

  Oh, I was. I’d heard him loud and clear. He no longer called me Sammie. No, he’d already cast her aside and was attempting to strip away the rest of my skin to inspect the submissive that lay within. But on the other hand, he wasn’t calling me Samantha, either, which was a damn good thing. I didn’t trust myself to keep from sliding to my knees before him.

  Samantha was still alive and breathing. A fact I couldn’t deny. I’d willingly shoved myself into this emotional blender. My confidence and the ability to control myself was now nothing but puréed liquid. I had to put myself whole again. But being nestled in Max’s strong arms was making that nearly impossible.

  As if sensing my conflict, he lifted me into his arms and cradled me against his massive chest. He started to carry me down the hall.

  “Wait. My front door…”

  “Shh. Relax. I’ll take care of it in a minute.”

  I began to protest further, but he simply placed a warm, thick finger over my lips. Peering first into the guest room, then the bathroom, Max grunted when he discovered my bedroom.

  Sex? He wanted sex now?

  I didn’t know how many more emotions I could cram inside my psyche before needing a padded room. Panicked, I wanted to twist in his arms and cling to him like a crab and, at the same time, push him away and bar him from ever touching me again.

  Max gently laid me in the middle of the bed and sent me a tight smile. “Take some deep breaths and relax. I’ll be right back.”

  The Domme within wanted to rise up and challenge his directive, while the submissive nodded and longed to make him proud and follow his instructions to the letter.

  Fuck! I’d already battled this rebellious uprising. I’d spent years warring the two opposing entities vying to win the title. The thought of having to relive the war between submission and Dominance again was bleak and depressing. Sucking in a ragged breath, I closed my eyes and listened to Max’s steady footfalls as he walked down the hall.

  Of all the foolish notions! What had possessed me to rip the scabs off my mortal wounds and think I’d find some cryptic meaning to my chaos? Even more irrational was the notion that I could simply suture the gaping chasm back together and magically find that missing peace of mind.

  Maybe I could have. Unfortunately, Max had burst into the room, riding atop a fucking white horse, before I’d had time to begin processing my epiphany or come to terms with Samantha’s existence. The only thing I’d accomplished was to resurrect a ghost I now lacked privacy to send toward the light.

  Maybe I didn’t need Dominance or submission…or even sex after all! Maybe what I truly needed was a couple million psych sessions with Tony Delvaggio.

  A thunderous crash from the living room shook the house. I launched out of bed and raced toward the door. Turning the corner, I ran chest-first into Max’s unmovable body.

  “Whoa.” He clutched my waist and lifted me off the ground before carrying me back to my room.

  “What was that noise? What did you do?” I demanded as I squirmed against his hold.

  Setting me on my feet, Max lifted his shoulder in an absent shrug. “I pulled the rest of your door off its hinges.”

  “You what?” I screeched.

  “Don’t worry, I texted Dylan. He and Nick are sending out a guy to install a new one. I locked the exterior glass door. No one can walk in.”

  “You ripped the whole thing off?”

  “Yeah. There wasn’t enough left of it to close, so…” I scowled. He volleyed with arched brows. “Don’t start getting pissy. I heard you scream and thought someone was raping or murdering you. I was trying to save your life.”

  “Your chivalry is endearing, but you destroyed my door.”

  “Nick and Dylan—”

  “I know. I know.” I held up my hands. “They’re getting me a new one. Stop bitching, right?”

  “Now you’re learning.” He grinned and winked.

  “Don’t press your luck, pal. How did you even find me…and what the hell are you doing here?”

  Max looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

  “Seriously? You punch me in the gut, flip me off, and then tear out of the parking lot like Danica Patrick…and you ask why I’m here?” His expression softened. “When I found out you weren’t working tonight, I asked Dylan to give me your address. We need to talk. So I borrowed his car and came over.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I’m glad I did.”

  I wasn’t glad. I was embarrassed. He’d stormed my castle to find me losing my shit and sobbing like a baby. But fear that Max now knew my secret superseded any wounded pride. I’d gone to great lengths to make sure that no one but Mika was privy to my former life. I wanted to keep it that way. No good could come from giving credence to the stigma that I wasn’t a capable Dominant. There were already a few Dominant counterparts who thought that. Their remarks were nothing but bullshit. Any strong woman threatened their fragile male egos and three-inch penises.

  Still, I needed to do damage control to ensure Max wouldn’t spill my secret to anyone.

  “We could have talked later. You didn’t need to check on me. As you can see, I’m fine now.”

  Liar.

  Okay, so I was a solar system out of orbit and light-years from fine, but I wasn’t going to admit that to Max.

  “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything to anyone about the collar and…my deceased husband/Master.”

  “Aw, Sam. He was also your husband?” The pain in Max’s eyes nearly had me sobbing all over again. I clenched my jaw and nodded. “How long had you two been married before…nine-eleven?”

  He’d seen all the evidence. I felt the need to tell him the whole story to ensure he at least had all the facts straight. I exhaled a heavy sigh, expelling the fear-mixed anxiety within. “Four years. We got married when we were both eighteen. We’d been grade school sweethearts. Desmond lived two doors down from me. He
asked me to marry him when we were in third grade. I said yes,” I said in weak and humorless chuckle. “He was my destiny…my soul mate. There’ll never be another like him.”

  I felt my chin begin to quiver. I bit my lips and swallowed tightly. Turning away from Max, I sat down on the edge of my bed. He followed and eased in beside me.

  “So you turned to the Dominant side to keep from kneeling to another Master. I get it now.”

  “I need you to keep this between the two of us, please.”

  “I still don’t know why you feel you need to keep your former submission quiet, but trust me. Your secret is safe with me. I respect anonymity. Trust and honor as well. I was a fucking Marine. I know all about rules and regulations.”

  The tiny smile that curled his lips told me he was trying to insert a bit of levity, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Max was worried about me. Aside from Mika, no one ever worried about me, except, of course, my mother. But since I’d moved to Chicago, I strived to make sure no one ever had a reason to.

  “I’m not trying to be nosey,” Max began a bit cautiously, “but do you revisit the past often? I mean…shit. This is going to come out wrong, and I apologize, but do you torture yourself like this a lot?”

  A bitter chuckle rolled off my tongue. “Never. Today was the first time.”

  “Why today?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it. You can go now. I’m fine.”

  “Sam,” he whispered. Moving in closer, he brushed the hair from my face. His finger grazed my cheek and tiny pulses of desire warmed me. “Don’t shut me out. Please. It’s my fault we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry I teased you. Truly I am. I’d like us to be friends.”

  “We can be friends, Max. I have no problem with that.”

  No, the issue was the decadent heat rolling off his massive body and his masculine smell assaulting my senses. Maximus Gunn was a powerful aphrodisiac. I could easily turn into a Max junkie, but I had enough on my plate at the moment.

  He inched in close and lifted my chin with his finger. With his dazzling eyes locked on mine, his voice dipped low and seductive. “I’d like us to be good friends, Sam.”

  Please don’t kiss me…please don’t kiss me.

  But he did. The feather-soft nudge of his lips sent my pulse fluttering. I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. The attraction was too strong, too potent. When he kissed me again, harder…more insistent, I selfishly took the tenderness and compassion he offered. The jagged edges scraping raw inside began to soften and smooth.

  “Damn. You taste sweet like honey, Sam.”

  The way he kept saying Sam made me feel as if there was yet another identity trying to take shape inside me. Not Domme or submissive, but a woman in desperate need of the salvation he offered.

  Locking my wrists around his neck, I kissed him back. Hungry tongues mated, sliding over slick, wet heat. My mind screamed not to let him inside. He was the villain, the rogue who forced me to question my decision to become a Domme. But my brain refused to listen, and my body delved further into his sweltering kiss. I was lost in the luxury of Max, and it wasn’t until he moved over me that I realized he’d pressed me onto the mattress.

  The sheer size of the man overwhelmed. Enveloped in his solid steel and liquid heat, I wanted to wrap myself around him and stay safe and protected. But that was the lost sub inside screaming for security. Mentally and emotionally exhausted, I yielded to the restless sexual desire smoldering inside me. Demand ignited like a spark to kindling. The flames danced up my spine and licked at my core.

  Max pressed his stunning erection between my legs and I gasped in need. Heat against heat, throbbing and pulsing, I couldn’t keep from spreading my legs and inviting him deeper against me. He hissed like a nest of rattlesnakes and lifted. Supporting his weight on muscular arms, he gazed down at me with such blinding openness I wanted to weep. He showed me what words couldn’t say, that he, too, was lonely and desperate and searching for those missing pieces of his soul. Deep down I knew I couldn’t fill his empty places any more than my own, but I wanted to try and give back a sliver of the comfort he offered me.

  Scraping my nails down his arms, I felt the flesh ripple as muscles bunched and flexed beneath my fingers. The man was sculpted marble covered in warm silk. Max repositioned himself, leaning his weight onto one arm. Lifting his hand from the bed, he cupped my breast. Warmth seeped through the fabric onto my skin as he slid his thumb across my nipple. My pussy clenched and my hips arched involuntarily, longing to be next in line for his magical caress. Nerve endings danced in hot sparks, and my hormones tripped over themselves. I melded into his palm with a low moan.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I want you, Sam.” Max’s voice had grown thick and husky. His eyes turned as dark as fir trees in winter.

  The attraction between us was raw and real like he’d claimed outside the restaurant. I couldn’t deny that fact. Yet I was still very much Mistress Sammie and wondered if prying open Pandora’s box was such a wise idea. I might be able to sate my cravings for the man, fuck him out of my system, so to speak, but at what cost?

  “You don’t want me as Domme. And I can’t give myself to you as a sub.” The stark reality of that crossroad made my voice quiver.

  “I don’t want to make you feel like a Dominant or a sub. I want to make you feel like a woman…a woman who’s starving for the touch of a man again. Let me help heal some of your scars. How long’s it been since anyone made you feel…alive?”

  Years. Too many years.

  Max somehow sensed my answer as if I’d broadcast it over a radio frequency only he could hear. He responded by kissing me again. Slowly and sensually, latching his teeth onto my bottom lip, he gave a little tug. Sucking the swollen flesh into his mouth, Max caressed it with his hot tongue.

  I could tame the controlling and the malleable segments of myself, but I couldn’t temper the anxious butterflies dipping and swooping low in my belly. Unconsciously rocking my hips, I was hungry for more than his kiss. I needed his attention focused on the pounding ache between my legs. Of course, grabbing him by the ears and shoving his head down there would only incite a riot between us. Okay, so maybe I couldn’t lock away all my Dominant tendencies. I doubted Max could, either. Only time would tell if we managed to find a mutually suitable rhythm within this crazy dance we’d invoked.

  Using his lips and tongue, he trailed fiery kisses along my jaw and down my neck while slowly inching the robe off my shoulders. Leaning back, he balanced his knees on the edge of the bed and released the sash of my robe. Peeling the fabric open, he stared at my naked breasts, totally entranced. I grinned but he didn’t see me. His glazed look stayed glued to my boobs.

  “I take it you’re a breast man?”

  He didn’t respond. Oblivious to me, and everything around him, Max licked his lips. I nearly laughed.

  “Would you like me to sink to my knees and suck your cock now?” I teased.

  “Uh-huh.”

  If he’d been a sub, I would have secured him to a bondage bed, tightly wrapped his sac, and tit-fucked him until the pain grew so intense he cried like a baby.

  When my question finally registered in his brain, Max’s eyes pinned me with shock and confusion. “Wait. What?”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Nothing. I was just testing to see if you were with me or off at the booby carnival, eating cotton candy and trying to win a stuffed teddy bear.”

  “It’s not cotton candy that I’m dying to taste. It’s your pretty breasts. I know they’re going to be much sweeter.”

  “You’ll never know unless you…” My voice had taken on a sultry tone.

  “So pretty,” he murmured. As he skimmed the tips of his fingers from one swell to the next, a look of hunger and awe lined his face. “So silky soft, too.”

  Dipping low, Max traced his tongue over my crinkling flesh. The moist heat of his mouth made my nipples draw tighter. The delicious ache throbbing in time with my heart was pure blis
s. Opening wider, he sucked the pebbled tip into his mouth. When he scraped his tongue back and forth over the sensitive peak, I sighed and cupped my hand to his bald head. Pings of pleasure ricocheted through me. Zapping reality, he tossed me into a euphoric world of sensations. My pussy wept. My clit pulsed. The temperature in the room soared with every nip, lave, and suckle.

  “Oh, my god. You have a sinful tongue,” I moaned.

  He released my nipple with an audible pop and grinned. “I’m just getting started. They don’t call me Mad Max for nothin’.”

  A crooked smile tugged my lips and I purred. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. His non-commanding approach hadn’t flipped any of my control buttons…not yet.

  “You plan to drive me mad?”

  “Insane,” he growled against my flesh. Lifting his head, he claimed my mouth in another breath-stealing kiss. Our silky tongues tangled as I dragged my palms over the expanse of his broad chest to his narrow hips. I groaned as he rocked his erection up and down against my sweltering mound. I raised my legs, placed my feet on the mattress, and bent my knees, opening myself up for the taking.

  My body blazed in a primitive feminine fire while all sanity evaporated from my brain. Willingly surging ahead with Max was madness. Absurdity. Total insanity. Making love to this man would only complicate my life. Make any kind of friendship messy and awkward. Yet I couldn’t shut off my demanding desires. For a woman who’d kept her emotions on a short leash for years, Max had effortlessly busted mine clean off the chain.

  But allowing him to do so only reinforced the fact that I was certifiably insane. But then again, a normal woman, I’m not.

  As I tugged at his tee, Max drew back briefly so I could yank it over his head. I gaped at the slab of man above me, and the fabric fluttered off my fingertips.

  Holy shit!

  And I’d thought his shoulders and arms were stunning. The man was beyond beautiful. Mika was buff and built. Drake was massive and intimidating. But Max…Max was his own species of muscleman candy.