Billionaire Passion: At His Command

By Britt Summers

"Be my submissive."

Cecilia discovers what billionaire James Taggart really wants. And it’s her.

She struggles to remain professional, but she can’t resist him or her fantasies about him. And soon fantasy becomes reality.

He breaks her, makes her do whatever he wants. And she can’t get enough of it. She can’t get enough of him.

Like when he takes off his belt and uses it to... it’s too hot to write it here. You’ll have to click Look Inside to find out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jillian Cumming
• Release date: Jun 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311133052

Book preview

About the Book

Be my submissive, Taggart said, I need you. The way you walked into my office, the way you talked to me. No one has done that in a long time. No one that isn’t the head of a corporation or the leader of a country.

Electric fingers worked their way up Cecilia’s back. She knew vaguely what a submissive was. Taggart was the master. He would tell her what to do. Cecilia looked around the room. There were leather toys around the walls, gags, blindfolds, whips. A lot of furniture that looked like it might belong in a torture chamber.

Do you trust me? Taggart said. He grabbed Cecilia by the hand. His warmth flowed into her again, just as it had done the day before.

She squeezed his fingers. Yes, she replied.

A spark of excitement rose through Cecilia’s body as Taggart led her deeper into the room of pleasure and pain. She wanted him to just throw her over one of the tables or chairs they passed, rip her clothes off, and fuck her senseless. But he didn’t.

They stopped at a long, low padded table. Cecilia knew right away that it was designed to hold someone in place with their arms and legs splayed apart, with its four leather straps.

Billionaire’s Passion: At His Command

1

Cecilia leafed through the clipboard pages covered in her scribbled notes as she sat in James Taggart’s waiting room. She’d chosen a tasteful gray skirt that ended just over the knees to go with her white blouse. She’d also made sure to make her long legs look nice, with a close shave and a pair of pantyhose meticulously checked over for runs.

You didn’t interview one of the richest men in the world wearing just anything. Not that she was trying to impress him.

She uncrossed her legs and then crossed them the other way. Despite the air conditioning and the comfy chair, Cecilia couldn’t make herself feel comfortable. Perhaps it was the fact that Mr. Taggart was now – she checked her watch – twenty-three minutes late that was making her feel frazzled.

Mr Taggart will see you now, said the sharp-nosed secretary. Cecilia hadn’t liked her at all from the moment they’d met. It was probably because she was a beautiful woman, and Cecilia automatically didn’t like anyone she thought was approaching her own level of physical attractiveness.

She got up, smiling tightly. Maybe that’s why I don’t really like Taggart, she thought. It was true; she’d taken an almost immediate dislike to him ever since his pictures had been plastered across all the magazine covers.

The large mahogany doors slid by themselves into the wall as Cecilia approached them. Inside, the sight took her breath away. There were two gently babbling fountains, various plants, and a panoramic vista could be seen through the massive set of windows that went all the way up to the loft ceiling.

Cecilia heard grunting coming from one corner of the room. Frowning, she walked over to investigate. Pushing a palm frond out of her face, she saw a second amazing sight: Taggart was pumping iron in a corner gym. Looking at his triceps as they bulged in their effort to shove the bar away from his chest kindled an unexpected hint of warmth between Cecilia’s legs.

She coughed politely.

With one final push, James Taggart, CEO of Taggart Holdings, heaved the bar back onto the rack and sat up. He grabbed a hand towel and dabbed it at his forehead and face and took a long pull out of a water bottle.

Cecilia felt frustration and began tapping her foot. Taggart looked at her, his sharp eyes appraising and calculating. He must have liked what he saw, because he smiled as he pulled the nipple of the water bottle out of his lips.

Ms. Styles, right? Taggart said.

She had been forced to wait, and now he wasn’t even certain he remembered her name? Cecilia was fed up. She cocked her eyebrow at him and said, And you must be Mr Taggart?

There was a glint in his eye, and Cecilia felt a sudden coldness in her chest. Had she really just been cheeky with a man who could ruin her career with a phone call?

His smile grew. Yes, that’s me. He stood and walked over to her. He was taller than Cecilia had anticipated. He smelled of sweat. Strangely, Cecilia didn’t find it revolting at all. Rather the opposite, really.

He held out his hand. Cecilia took it, expecting a firm shake. Instead, she sucked in a breath as he leaned over and very gently kissed the top of her hand.

I apologize for keeping you waiting. Missing my workout ruins the whole day for me, and I was running late as is. Please, he turned and waved at his desk, Take a seat. Let’s get this started.

As they made their way across the room to his desk, the uncharacteristic anxiousness that had been gripping her heart returned. So far, Taggart hadn’t been at all what she’d expected. All the research she’d done on him beforehand showed him to be a straightforward and aggressive man who said what he thought. The gentlemanly manner he portrayed then put Cecilia off her guard.

He pulled out her chair, and she thanked him as she sat in it. Is he looking at my legs? She thought, catching his glance for a moment. She gave him a thin-lipped smile and tugged her skirt down as he made his way around the wide desk and sat in his own chair.

Cecilia told herself that she was going to regain control of this interview and that was that. No matter how smoky his eyes seemed as he smiled at her again.

Placing a small recorder on the desk, she got her clipboard, some fresh paper, and a pen ready.

Mr Taggart, the world knows you as the owner of various high powered conglomerates, with holdings in big pharma and big oil, to name a few.

That is true, Taggart started. Cecilia cut him off. His lips curved in a small smile, as though she amused him in what must have seemed to him an effort to prove herself worthy.

But what we really want to know is: who is James Taggart? What has all that money and power really bought you?

Cecilia felt a moment of childish glee as Taggart raised an eyebrow at her, clearly not expecting that sort of question. She felt the sudden urge to lunge over the table and kiss him. His face was still flushed from his workout. He seemed so raw, so human, at that moment.

Well, when I am not busy making sure my philanthropic efforts are being directed where they are needed, I prefer to relax here in my office.

Cecilia continued with that line of questioning. As they spoke, Taggart grew more candid. Cecilia felt her dislike of him fading as she learned more about the man behind all the magazine articles and pictures. She didn’t want the interview to end. It felt like this was something Taggart needed, to talk like this, but that he couldn’t see it yet.

Then he put his hand over the recorder and turned it off. Cecilia jumped at the sudden movement, making a squiggly line of ink over her latest note. She hadn’t realized just how into the interview she’d gotten.

Ms Styles, this interview has been an unexpected pleasure for me. But I am very busy, and I am afraid I must end our conversation here.

It felt like Cecilia’s heart had dropped into her stomach. She didn’t want it to end. It really felt like she was getting somewhere with him, like they were close to something big. She wasn’t yet sure what they’d approached, but she knew it was important. Still, it wasn’t like she could make him do anything she wanted him to.

He let go of the recorder, and Cecilia reached out to get it. Taggart slid his hand over hers as her fingers wrapped around the recorder. He felt so warm. That warmth moved through her body, and she swallowed as she felt herself get wet.

I think there is still more to say. Come back tomorrow, and we will finish this, Taggart said.

Cecilia just looked at him for a few moments. All she could think about was how his hand felt over hers.

Ms Styles? Taggart said.

What? Yes, of course. Cecilia pulled her hand back and flexed her fingers behind the desk where she hoped Taggart couldn’t see. She could still feel his warmth, and it tingled a little in her flesh.

Taggart stood when she did. He smiled and nodded at her, telling Cecilia to speak with his secretary about their next appointment.

At home, Cecilia put her notes and recorder down on her desk and went right to the bedroom.

She