Home > The Billionaire's Wife (The Billionaire's Wife #1)

The Billionaire's Wife (The Billionaire's Wife #1)
Author: Ava Claire

Ava Claire - The Billionaire's Wife #1 - The Billionaire's Wife

The Billionaire's Wife (The Billionaire's Wife #1)
Ava Claire

billionaire/erotica/romance

 

ONE

****

"Strip."

I met his steely blue gaze instantly. There was lust flickering there, dancing in his eyes. My heart sprang to my throat as I quivered with excitement. The fact that we were on the terrace, mid morning, and had literally just been talking about work barely entered my mind. Jacob Whitmore was a man who got what he wanted.

And he wanted to see all of me.

Now.

It had been a year since he took me into that stairwell; a year since the billionaire Dom had awoken the secret desires inside me.

The days melted into weeks that poured into months, but I felt the same electric need, turning me inside out.

One word.

Strip.

I rose to my feet, drinking in his handsome, stoic face. He was forged from marble and stone, perfection and power in the flesh.

He'd uttered a single word and the rest of the world was forgotten.

I uttered two: "Yes Sir."

I had no time to run through the kinky possibilities that awaited me. A smile fluttered across my lips as I fingered the silk knot of my robe.

I had no choice but to obey.

It was my destiny to be Jacob's.

It felt like a lifetime since he'd first commanded my body like it was made for him, and him alone. But I still came alive just like it was the first time he had dominated me.

I was captured by his piercing blue gaze and I shed my robe. He saw it all—the thickness of my thighs and softness in my middle that long hours at Whitmore and Creighton and a fondness for white chocolate mochas had spawned. Yet he still looked at me like I was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. He looked at me like I was his fairytale ending.

His eyebrow arched, and the longing in his eyes became lethal. Those delicious lips of his became a tight line of impatience.

Geez. We were out on the balcony at 11am on a bright Saturday morning. I was his, in body, heart, and name—but I still felt those invisible eyes burning as hot as the sun.

After all this time he still made me feel weak in the knees and like a hot mess. There were moments that I still felt like I was tripping in my heels in that lobby. Completely out of my league in the presence of the hottest man alive.

But I kept that to myself. He had only asked one thing of me. To strip.

My robe melted to the ground and my body unfolded for him effortlessly. I stood taller, my neck a quivering, bare line that longed for his lips. I breathed in through my nose and out my trembling lips, but my chest still rose and fell with every gasping breath.

My breasts were swollen, nipples hardened and aching like his fingers were pinching them tight. I was silk between my thighs, my core throbbing in time with my racing heartbeat. My legs tingled as he beckoned me to come closer.

He dropped his cell unceremoniously on the table beside him and retrieved a slender white box I hadn't even noticed. My eyes dropped to the sharp lines of it, its rectangular shape holding something that made one side of his mouth lift, a devastating smirk teasing the fire inside me.

He slowly lifted the lid. I could almost feel his fingertips digging into me, his lips racing toward my wetness, the bite of his teeth as he—

"Oh my," I whispered, taking in the neatly folded black strips inside. There were four of them, and one smaller bundle. They looked so soft, so delicate in his powerful hands. He unfurled the smallest bundle in a single movement. For a brief moment, heat rushed my cheeks and I thought it was one of the g-strings he loved on me, even though I was still a little self conscious about my curves. It wasn't a g-string, but the warmth sizzled a red path across my face nonetheless.

It was a blindfold.

He was on his feet in a single, fluid movement and an involuntary moan rose in my throat. Looking at Jacob was a sensual journey. From the cropped, ebony hair that intensified the sharp angles of his handsome face, to the sky blue eyes that drank me in like I was the best kind of sin. The best kind of delicious. And his lips; he'd only spoken one word, and I was already liquid and aching.

It was the only word he needed. He was my Dominant and I was his submissive. It had taken me almost as long as we'd been together to learn that my submission was just as powerful as his dominance. Even more so in some ways. He could have my body, every which way, but I gave him the key with my obedience.

He held the blindfold as he took my face in his hands. His smile deepened as he leaned in close, brushing his lips across mine. "I love you, Leila."

Those words would never, ever get old. I was so filled with love, with lust that I felt like I could burst, raining cupid's arrows and whips and chains all over the place.

"I love you too."

The smile dimmed, the dark lash of my Dom pushing the romance stuff to the back burner. Whatever he had planned for me wasn't meant to be heartwarming; the things love songs were written about. This song would be a series of bleeps on the radio. A tantric mix of moans and pain and consuming bliss.

He was still waiting. I needed to say the words. Truly give myself to him.

I stood tall, like I wasn't butt naked. Like I didn't care that the whole world could see.

Let them watch our erotic scene.

Let them see how beautifully our bodies moved together.

"I'm yours," I said, hands by my side. Eyes locked on him for further instructions.

He softly traced the line of my cheekbone and his fingers swept my chestnut curls over one shoulder. He slipped the blindfold over the crown of my head and I took one last look at my husband before I shut my eyes. The loss of sight magnified my other senses. I could feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. I could hear the buzzing of the city around me—and a ripping sound. I frowned when I heard it again and realized that it was Velcro.

Cuffs?

I relaxed as I felt the first around my wrists, both were bound and secured. My ankles followed suit.

I let out a little gasp as one of the wrists were tugged, and Jacob's hand steadied me, then turned me 180 degrees. My wrists were pulled again. He was leading me in the wrong direction. Panic flared in my chest. Our balcony wasn't that big. That fact was confirmed when I reached out and my fingers gripped the iron railing.

The strike was immediate and I had no time to prepare as his hand met the round curve of my ass. I knew my offense before he even spoke.

"Hands at your side."

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