Six Signs of Submission (Desire Island 6)

Don’t analyze, don’t control your reactions…

Quieting her mind, she let her body respond as it wanted to. She pivoted slowly until her back was to him. She fancied she could feel his eyes as they moved over her flesh, leaving lines of fiery desire tingling on her skin.

“Good girl,” he finally said quietly from behind her. “You can turn around now.”

She turned to see he’d pulled off his T-shirt and kicked off his jeans. He stood like a burly Greek god, his large, erect cock clearly outlined in his black trunk underwear.

He pointed to the carpet at his feet. “Get on your knees and remove my underwear.”

While her brain ordered her to be outraged at his command, her body willingly obeyed. Her mouth actually watered with anticipation as she slipped her thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and dragged it down his legs.

She reached hungrily for his shaft, eager to take it into her mouth. To her startled surprise, he lightly slapped her hands away.

“No,” he said in a calm but firm tone. “I didn’t tell you to do that. Behave yourself.”

“What the hell?” she blurted, embarrassed by this rebuke.

Reaching down, he pulled her up and into his arms. “Don’t fight me on this, Lainey. Don’t fight yourself.” He put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his. His tone gentled, though his eyes were burning.

“I know we’ve only just met, but what’s happening between us is real, and it matters, maybe more than anything you’ve ever done before. Take this chance to honestly explore your submissive nature without worrying about how that might conflict with your sense of self and independent nature. You agreed to try this, just for an evening. Are you backing out already?”

“No,” Lainey blurted, the word escaping before she had time to stop it. She didn’t want to back out. She was excited by his words and what he offered, even if she didn’t entirely understand it. But she was…

I’m scared, she wanted to admit, but the words weren’t part of her active vocabulary. Millers didn’t get scared—they took action.

Cooper reached for her, again drawing her into an embrace.

“You’re scared,” he said gently. “That’s okay. It can be scary to discover new things about yourself, especially when they don’t gibe with how you’ve always seen yourself. Facing your deepest fears and desires can be an intimidating experience. It’s only natural.”

In spite of herself, she relaxed in his arms. While it was a little disconcerting the way he kept reading her mind, it was also comforting. He got her, maybe even better than she got herself.

Letting her go, he placed his hands on her shoulders. He stared down into her eyes, his expression kind but earnest. “That’s where the courage comes in.” He stroked her hair, tucking an errant tendril behind her ear. “You’re not a woman who runs from fear. You face it head on,” he reminded her.

“Yes,” she heard herself agreeing.

“I’ll be your safe place during this exchange of power. Just for this one night, suspend your fear, your hesitation, your confusion. Can you do that? Not for me, but for yourself?”

As she stared into those dark, intelligent eyes, a curious thing happened. It was as if she had stepped outside of her body. Or no—as if she’d sloughed off an old skin she no longer needed. Now she stood, naked and defenseless in her new, unfamiliar skin, but also somehow purified. She was still scared, but at the same time, a strange sense of calm moved over and through her. A curious heat emanated from her core—part trembling anticipation, part raw lust, part determination. She was poised on the precipice of something high, wild and dangerous. Did she dare take the leap?

He stared at her in silence, waiting for an answer. His eyes were glittering, his chest gently rising and falling. She could feel his yearning almost like a palpable presence between them. He wasn’t just some guy looking for a little weekend action. This mattered to him—maybe as much as it mattered to her.

“Yes,” she whispered. Then, meeting his eye, she said resolutely, “Yes, Sir.”

Chapter 13

The bathroom was cramped, with barely enough room for the toilet, a single sink set in a vanity with a white marble top and a small shower stall enclosed in glass. The bathroom, like the rest of the apartment, was spic and span.

“Turn on the water,” he directed. “Then get on your knees in front of me.”

Lainey frowned, her mouth working as if she might say something. He shook his head preemptively. “Remember, you don’t speak unless asked a direct question. You just do as you’re told. Rise to the challenge,” he added, appealing to her intensely competitive nature.

It worked. Her face smoothed and she nodded. She opened the stall door and reached in to turn on the water. Closing the stall door, Lainey turned back to him. After a moment’s hesitation, she lowered herself gracefully to her knees on the bath mat at his feet.