Read The Billionaire's Trust (His Submissive, Part Eleven) for Free Online Page A

or something irrelevant. At that moment,
everything but Jacob was irrelevant.
    I wasn’t sure how he could turn a
white button down shirt and khakis into sex, but I felt like I
could already feel him slick against me. Inside me. And when
our eyes locked, I had to root myself in place so I didn’t dash
over and jump his bones on the spot. The dark waves that framed his
handsome face seemed longer than I remembered and he was rocking a
bit of stubble that gave him a rugged edge that suited him
well.
    My brain functioned long enough for
me to take a few steps forward. I opened my mouth, not even caring
that a bumbled mess was about to come out, but he just rounded an
arm around my waist and pulled me to him, lips crushing against
mine.
    Tongue in my mouth.
    Body pulsating as his masculine
scent hung in the air around me.
    We were in public and making love
with our mouths, our hands, and I didn’t care. HIs hands drew up
from my behind and I exhaled a moan as he cupped my cheeks, coming
up for air.
    “Come with me.”
    My first thought was ‘hell yes!’ but
I was still solidly dazed and aroused and trying to remember how to
do anything but kiss him. And now that I knew he was back and
missed me, wanted me as much as I wanted him, I had to remind
myself to breathe in and out so I didn’t pass out.
    I gripped his hand, not paying much
attention to where we were headed. To be honest, I’d follow him
right off a cliff. I wasn’t thinking clearly or rationally at that
moment--and it suited me just fine.
    And then I blinked and saw the sign
indicating we were heading in the direction of the
bathroom.
    I was sobering up, but I shrugged
off the tiny voice that whispered we were about to out-do every
public display of sexiness. I wouldn’t let myself believe it until
I followed him into the men’s bathroom.
    He didn’t check the room for any
other people, he just pushed me back against the door and reclaimed
my lips. My eyes were open, wide and unsure as I took in the
surroundings. Rich people really did have it better. If I walked
into the bathroom in the main terminal I’d instantly want to take a
Purell bath. Here, the bathroom was like a freaking hotel. Pedestal
sinks, hand towels instead of paper towels. Glittering chrome
fixtures. There was even some classical music flowing from speakers
above us.
    Jacob paused, his eyes hot with
disapproval as he looked down at me. “Where are you,
Leila?”
    “I’m here.” In the bathroom .
“I just--”
    “Are concerned about our
location?”
    The fact that his fingers were
already at my zipper, pulling it down, told me he wasn’t. “I’ve
been thinking about being with you, touching you since I got on the
plane a week ago. I’m not waiting one more second.”
    I felt the whispers of protest on my
tongue. I wanted him, God I wanted him--but in the car or at least
in a room where we could lock the door. Yet as soon as my dress
puddled at my feet and he let out a deep, rumbling groan of
approval, I said the hell with it.
    Let them walk in. We’ll give them a
hell of a show.
    He gripped my breast, kneading it as
a finger flicked over the nipple. “Good girl.”
    I reached forward, hand cupping his
erection. “I don’t want to be good.” I watched the wild lust
stampede across his usually controlled expression, setting his eyes
on fire when I undid his belt. “I want to be bad. I want to be
punished.”
    He closed his eyes as I stroked him,
giving in for a few minutes, for a few blissful moments before his
hand abandoned my breast and gripped a fistful of my hair, tugging
my head toward him until pain rippled across my scalp and met the
wetness growing between my thighs.
    “You like provoking me, don’t
you?”
    “I love it,” I said hoarsely.
Defiantly. Knowing he loved it too. Loved my headstrong spirit.
Loved it when I disobeyed or forget to ask his permission so he
could punish me.
    He released me, pulling his belt
loose. “Go over to that chair. Hand on the