Embracing My Submission (9 page)

With a quick jerk, he pulled his hand from my mouth and exhaled loudly. “Son of a bitch! Your mouth is sinful, girl.”

I nibbled my bottom lip as I wrestled the urge to open my eyes and gaze upon the other appendage I wanted to worship.

He softly chuckled. “Do you want to feast your eyes on my cock, girl?”

“Yes, Sir. Desperately.”

“You may not.”

I groaned at his rejection.

“Keep your eyes closed and cast toward the floor. Don’t move.” With a sturdy tug, he released my mane.

“Yes, Sir.”

Listening intently, I heard him walk away. The snick of the lock set off a wave of confusion as tingling fear coursed through my veins. Drake’s instructions had been clear. The door was to be kept unlocked, yet Jordon was blatantly disregarding his directive. I swallowed tightly, torn between protesting and raising his ire or remaining compliant. I chose to keep my mouth shut. The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint him again.

Grasping my hair once more, he lifted me to my feet and shoved me toward the bed. “Ass in the air, face down,” he thundered as he pushed me to the mattress.

Confused and growing more fearful by the minute, I assumed the position but ignored his directive and raised my head. “I thought Drake said to leave the door unlocked. We’re supposed to get acquainted, not play, right?”

“What Drake doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Red flag. Red fucking flag.
I trembled at the sound of a heavy zipper sliding open. “I don’t think I’m supposed to...”

“Exactly. Don’t think. I didn’t order you to think. I ordered you to show me how willing you are to please me. Now shut the fuck up and show me, slut. Use the safe word
‘red’
if you must, otherwise, just shut up.”

I inhaled a deep breath, gathering my courage to contest his attempt to coerce me into something I knew was not allowed. But before I could confront him, unmitigated pain from some hideous toy brought me upright on the bed.

“Red!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as I tried to crawl from the pain and away from Jordon. Screaming as fire engulfed my ass, shrieked down my legs, and clawed up my spine, I jerked away as he reached for my arm.

“No! No! Don’t touch me!” I yelled, scrambling away. Sobbing, I braced my back against the headboard, reeling in the piercing pain.

“Get a grip, bitch! You can take more than that!” His tone was mocking and impatient.

Fear was a potent spoil to the pristine serenity I’d held moments ago.

“Get back down on your knees. I’m not through with you yet.” A demented look reflected in his cold and lifeless eyes.

“No! This is over! Get the fuck away from me!” I sobbed, shaking my head, trying to climb from the opposite side of the bed.

“It’s over when I say it’s over, you ungrateful little whore!”

He rounded the bed and grabbed my arm, brutally yanking me toward him. The soft white sheets felt like knives slicing across my ass as he dragged me from the bed.

He forced my back against the wall, and his teeth clamped down on my nipple ring. With a violent tug, he pulled on my flesh like a caveman chewing meat off a bone. I screamed louder, worried that he would rip the metal jewelry from my nipple. Latching on again, his teeth sank painfully into my breast as he fed on me like a rabid animal.

Panic pumped through my veins. I had to get him off me! A roaring voice inside my head thundered instructions...
Run! Get. The. Fuck. Out. Now!
I struggled with all my might to wrench free.

“Get. Off. Me.” I screamed as I slapped and shoved against his rock-hard chest. He towered a good five inches over me and out weighted me by at least a hundred pounds of solid muscle, but I was determined to get free. Somehow.

Popping his mouth from my breast, I looked down to find it red, swollen, and glistening with his saliva as I continued to fight for freedom. Squashing me against the wall with a thunderous force, he knocked the air from my lungs. His slick tongue danced along my neck like a slithering eel while he fastened my thin wrists in his hand, pressing them against the wall high above my head. Using his knees, he roughly spread my thighs, opening me for his pleasure.

“Red! You motherfucker! Red!” I cried, still unsuccessfully gaining my freedom.

“There is no red, bitch! I’m going to fuck you!” he spat in a tone of hatred. “Shut up and submit, whore. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

This couldn’t be happening. This madman was going to rape me. His ocean-blue eyes twinkled in manic delight as my stomach pitched and rolled. Over my dead body! This piece of shit was not going to get inside me. I would never allow him to rape me. He would not destroy me.

“Help! Help! Security! ” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Stop. Now. Stop,” I cried in hopes of breaking through his manic craze. His fingers plunged deep inside my wet pussy. “Nooo!” I wailed.

“Oh you like it rough don’t you, slut? You’re dripping wet for my cock. You might scream for me to stop, but I can feel how much you want it.” An evil smirk curled on his lips. “Get on your hands and knees and suck my dick!”

“Never, you son of a bitch!” I wriggled one wrist free and brought it down, pounding my fist against his shoulders and chest. “Get the fuck off me,” I screamed.

His fingers gripped my throat. Dragging me across the room, he launched me onto the bed with a feral growl. Breath left my lungs in a loud whoosh, and as I landed, I saw blood painted on the sheets. My blood. The bastard had flayed my ass open. Panic consumed me and a high-pitched scream tore from my throat.

Jordon snagged one of my ankles and yanked me to the foot of the bed. The friction of the sheet brought a new level of agony ripping through me.

Kicking my feet like an Olympic swimmer, I made contact, slamming a hard heel onto his rib cage. Emitting a low “oomph,” he jumped onto the bed, straddled my body, and punched my face with his fist.

Pain exploded over my cheek as lights danced behind my eyes. A copper taste filled my mouth as I bucked, trying to toss him from my body. Pinning my arms with his knees, my eyes grew wide in alarm as the thickest, longest cock I’d ever seen was thrust in my face.

My heart thundered in my ears. Without a word, he wrapped his hand around my throat, pinning my head to the bed. I began to gasp, unable to draw air into my lungs.

“Open your fucking mouth, bitch.” His face distorted in a hateful grimace.

Bursts of light flickered at the fringes of blackness, obscuring my vision. He was going to strangle me to death. I was going to die at the hands of a madman. Suddenly he released my throat, and I gasped and sucked in tiny gulps of air. I longed for one huge breath, but he was sitting on my chest making it impossible to draw in enough oxygen.

“Stop! Goddamn it. Stop!” I coughed as tears spilled from my eyes. Sliding his finger and thumb to my cheek, he pried open my jaws. Vicious pain burst from where he’d punched me, and I opened my mouth, praying he would lessen the pressure. My heart was lodged in my throat.

“Red. Red.” I tried to scream in one last desperate attempt for him to heed my safe word.

“You don’t hear so good do you, whore? There is no fucking red. Not now. Not ever. Suck me off, cunt, and do it good,” Jordon screamed as he leaned forward, forcing the head of his cock between my lips.

Suddenly the door to the room burst open. Straining my eyes toward the commotion, I saw Drake rush through the door as Jordon’s cock jerked from my lips. Blessed relief washed over me.

Heart-stopping astonishment quickly followed. A gasp of surprise froze in my lungs as my heart clenched in my chest. Blinking past Drake, bowed up and ready to kill...standing shoulder to shoulder between James and Tony stood...

Sir Drool.

My ghost Dom was
real
.

Bulging milk-chocolate brown muscles and erotic amber eyes lambent in a mixture of desire, panic, and dread stared at me. His rugged jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists at his sides. Knowing his thick, erotic bottom lip lay tucked beneath the angry, tight line drawn across his mouth, I shivered.

He was real. After all the years, all the dreams, he was real.

The room began to spin. I’d stopped breathing the minute I laid eyes on him. Desperate to draw oxygen into my lungs, I gasped for air. My heart pounded in my chest like a thousand wild horses racing through an open field, and a steady throb beat like a drum upon my clit.

All the nights Fanny-Frustration had brought forth his image, I always wished he was a living, breathing soul. Yet I never allowed myself the luxury of
truly
believing it. But there he was, biceps nearly exploding beneath a black security T-shirt. Flexing. Anticipating relief. Relief he probably wanted to gain by unleashing his boiling rage upon the demented Dom Jordon. His muscles pulsed as if being held back by some invisible force, and his broad sculpted chest rose and fell with each panted breath.

“You’re real,” I whispered faintly. I was locked in the intensity of his gaze.

“Jordon!” Drake thundered a vicious warning. “Get the fuck off of her!”

“Son of a bitch!” Jordon growled as he shoved me away like a toy he’d grown weary of playing with.

Easing off the bed, I walked toward Sir Drool. I couldn’t help myself. The magnetic draw was too overwhelming. Forceful. Demanding. Suddenly everyone in the room melted away. My feet carried me across the room as if I were floating on air until I was standing in front of him. Speechless. I reached up with a trembling hand and caressed his cheek. A tingling current raced up my arm as my fingertips met his delicious brown flesh. His eyes gazed into mine reflecting a combination of lust, sadness, and longing. It was the same heart-wrenching expression he wore in my dream. I felt his body shudder as his chest continued to heave. Did he feel the same electrical current that was still ricocheting through me?

“You’re really real,” I murmured, gliding my thumb over his lips as my body trembled. “I’ve been looking for you forever. Where have you been?”

His eyes flashed wide in shock then his brows drew together in confusion. His warm, strong fingers wrapped around my wrist, and the muscles in his arm gathered and bunched as he gently pulled my hand away.

“Get her out of here, Drake!” Dream Man screamed in a scathing tone.

He was screaming...screaming at Drake? Who the hell was this guy? People never raised their voices to Drake.

“I’m staying,” Drake thundered back.

“I said get her out of here,” Dream Man growled between clenched teeth. His golden eyes narrowed, but he never once took them away. I clearly saw his anger, but there was more, a lot more.

“Fuck! You’re bleeding!” Drake spat in a tone of horror.

“Wrap her in a sheet and take her up the back stairs. Go to my office. Drake. I need to get this situation contained. I do
not
need you here. She needs you. Take her. Now! Go!”

His office? The chocolate-skinned god from my dreams was the owner of Genesis? No. That was impossible. It couldn’t be. Nobody knew his identity except the employees, and they never spoke of him. He was like a ghost. A phantom. Just like my dreams. Why would he reveal himself this way? My eyes must have reflected my confusion.

“We’ll get everything taken care of. Go with Drake, Emerald.” The ferocity in his eyes softened. Lust, sadness, longing, compassion, and a flash of regret reflected as he spoke to me with tenderness.

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered in a stupor as Drake encased me in the bloody sheet.

Turning his attention directly toward Jordon, Sir Drool took a protective step forward, blocking me from the monster’s view. His voice was low and even but held an intimidating edge. “Don’t say a fucking word!” the club owner warned Jordon.

Drake hoisted me into his arms. Pausing for a moment, he turned toward Jordon with a look that would have made me piss my pants.

“You pulled the wool over my eyes, motherfucker. Pray to whatever spawn from hell you worship that I never catch you on the street, you miserable piece of shit. I’ll rip your heart out of your chest and let you watch it beating as you die,” Drake growled between clenched teeth.

Jordon no longer looked like the Dom God I’d once believed him to be. His eyes glistened with vile hatred. His mouth curled in a combative sneer. The protective, loving Dominant mask he wore was gone. Gone was the sensual erotic smile. Gone was the gentle compassion. Gone was my dream of him being the “one.”

Realization that I’d been played by a wolf in sheep’s clothing hit me hard. Jordon was a predator, a monster using the lifestyle to attain his victims of prey. Unbeknownst to him, I would never have allowed myself to be a victim again. I would always keep reign of my pride.

“Enough!” Sir Drool thundered. “Drake. Leave!”

I buried my head against Drake’s chest as he rushed from the room. I could hear voices from the end of the hall. Snuggling deeper against his chest, I hid my face. With all the yelling and commotion that had come from Drake’s room, I shielded myself from any form of pity in the member’s eyes.