The Billionaire's Promise (BDSM Erotic Romance) (His Submissive, Part Eight) Read Online Free PDF Page A

was tossed around and the final client plan hashed out, I was the first to stand up and take a step in his direction. I didn’t miss the flicker of heat in his eyes but it was snuffed out as one of the publicists stepped in his path. I stood there awkwardly, worrying that the smile was pulled to tightly on my lips, that my black pencil skirt and emerald green blouse were somehow transparent and everyone could see exactly what Jacob Whitmore did to me--swollen nipples, sopping panties and all.
    I had to sink my teeth into my botto m lip to quiet the laugh when I saw how he kept trying to extricate himself but people kept popping up with questions and issues. I brought my hand to my neck, massaging the kinks from sleeping on my old bed. After experiencing Jacob’s bed, everything else was like sleeping on the floor. And now I was back to thinking about beds and the man that kept stealing lusty glances at me. God, I wanted to be tied up and tied down, needed his tongue on my flesh--
    “Wanna grab a cup of coffee?”
    The question jolted me from my fantasy and I turned toward the voice, sure the invite was directed to someone other than me. Missy was standing a few feet away, her tight features more relaxed than usual because of the soft brown braid that spilled over one shoulder and the light makeup on her face. She was even wearing a blush colored blouse and wide leg trousers instead of her usual tailored, dark colored suits. But a makeover was one thing--talking to the chick she’d had it out for since day one was truly bizarre.
    I tilted from Jacob, eyeing her skeptically. “Coffee? Me and you?”
    She raised an eyebrow before gesturing at the absence of anyone else in our near vicinity. “Yes.” Her lips spread into a grin, finally realizing the obvious. We weren’t friends--why would she want to do anything with me that wasn’t absolutely, positively necessary? “I haven’t been the nicest person to you, have I?”
    “Not really.”
    “I’m sorry about that.”
    Rec ord scratch. Did Missy Diaz just apologize to me? I almost pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t slumped over in my chair in the back, out cold.
    “No pressure. If you aren’t interested--”
    “Are you kidding? I’m riveted...and also worried that you might put something in my coffee.”
    She laughed, her face lighting up. “I heard you were funny.” She shrugged her shoulder. “You know what, nevermind.”
    “No,” I said quickly, not wanting to walk away from this white flag even if I was a little suspicious. I paused at the door and saw Jacob was still deep in conversation before I let her lead the way. “I could actually go for a cup.”
    By the looks that were thrown our way as we walked to the elevator, I wasn’t the only one surprised we were side by side by choice. I awkwardly reached for conversation topics to alleviate the silence.
    “So I’m pretty excited about working with Mia Kent.” I mentally facepalmed. Mia was first on the docket, a newly twenty-one actress who had her start in kid-friendly fare. But after she hit eighteen and had a couple of projects bomb, she’d been on a publicly documented downward spiral. From shaving off her signature blond locks, piercing every visible surface, and making a series of really bad and permanent choices in both the tattoo and romance department, she was sinking fast. While a lot of Whitmore and Creighton's clients just wanted to maintain their image, there were others that came to us to save it. Mia, unfortunately, was in the latter category.
    “I didn’t mean that nearly as insensitive as it came out,” I said, stepping in the elevator and suddenly wanting this whole coffee break to fastforward.
    “I know what you meant,” Missy said, stepping in after me and punching the floor number. “I took my little sister to one of her concerts a few years back. A stadium full of squealing teen girls was not my idea of a good time,” she shuddered, “But her show was actually