Her Love Submission

By Helen Walton

The path to love is in the pleasure and pain.

Zara Fuller had her life mapped out until one passionate night at her sister’s wedding with the best man leaves her pregnant, unemployed, and moving to a new state. She never thought she’d see Callan again.
Billionaire Callan McBride has only ever wanted a family. Money and possessions don’t satisfy his needs. And he has intense needs in the bedroom. He likes to dominate and have the woman submit to him. His one night with Zara will never be enough.

When he learns she’s pregnant with his child, he’ll do anything to keep her in his life. Even convince her to marry him. Zara’s submission might be what he wants, but her love could be the very thing to break through the secrets of his past.

Or it might tear them apart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight
• Release date: Oct 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9780369506979

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Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2022 Helen Walton

ISBN: 978-0-3695-0697-9

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: CA Clauson

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To all the ‘good girls’.

HER LOVE SUBMISSION

Billionaires’ Reluctant Brides, 4

Helen Walton

Copyright © 2022

Chapter One

I could set the time of the entire world to the accuracy of my period. And it was late by two days. I stared at the white plastic strip, knowing the next three minutes would change my life if two little blue stripes appeared.

And they did.

I flicked open the toilet lid and hurled the contents of my churning stomach.

I’d managed my anxiety with deep breathing exercises for the past few years, but I couldn’t stop it now. What would I do? I’d finally finished studying for my psychology degree and was about to embark on my longed-for career.

I laid my cheek on the cool floor tiles and closed my eyes.

Then there was the father.

We’d had one wild night of passion. Sex like I’d never experienced. Yet I longed to do so again.

Just when I thought I’d had my life sorted out…

I peeled myself off the floor. Straightened my clothes and hair. Reapplied the lipstick. I should have waited until after the job interview to do the pregnancy test. I walked into my study and flicked open the laptop, clicked the link, and smiled for the camera with what I hoped looked friendly and not like a grimace.

The interview went the same way as all the others.

I failed it yet again. A dejected sigh left my lungs and flared my nostrils as I shut the lid of the laptop. These online interviews were not my forte. In this day and age, they should be, but unease flittered through my body, churning my stomach, and making my limbs shake whenever I had to stare into the screen and chat like I was talking to a real live person. It wasn’t the same, but then I was beginning to think perhaps it was me who stunk at interviews.

Well, Rex, I suck. I lifted the photo of my beloved dog, who was no longer with me. I wish you were here to cuddle me as you used to when I was upset.

I stroked a finger over the photo as though touching his precious little face in the picture was the same as touching him in the flesh.

It wasn’t.

There was no warmth. No soft fur. Just cold glass. I placed the photo on my desk before I cried.

I picked up my phone and opened the contacts. I could call my sister Kennedy and have a sulk to her about the interview, but I’d see her tomorrow anyway after I drove four hours from our hometown of Lake Havasu to Los Angeles. But then I’d have to keep my pregnancy news from her because I couldn’t tell her yet. The notion I was having a baby hadn’t even sunk in for me, let alone sharing the news.

Groaning, I dropped my head to the desk. What had I been thinking, agreeing to fill in as a night nanny for Kennedy’s bosses? Oh, right, I hadn’t been thinking much because I’d drunk a few too many cocktails and was watching strippers. It was my sister’s bachelorette night, after all. I couldn’t entirely blame the alcohol. I wanted to move to LA.

Now I had even more reason to.

I sat up and dialed Callan’s number before I changed my mind.

Callan McBride.

His voice echoed down the line, thick and husky, precisely how I remembered it.

Hey, it’s Zara.

I’m aware.

Oh, okay, this was a mistake. My hand shook. What was I thinking, calling him out of the blue two weeks after we’d hooked up at Kennedy and Marco’s wedding?

Don’t hang up. His voice dropped another decibel.

Tiny tremors of desire filled my stomach and lower, overriding my previous anxiety.

Give me two minutes, then you’ll have my undivided attention.

My mind flashed back to how intense his undivided attention was. Every inch of my skin warmed in instant arousal. This wasn’t why I’d called him, or perhaps it was? The pounding of my pulse echoed in my ears as I reined in this insane response to a few words from Callan.

Baby girl, it’s good to hear from you, he said.

My stomach bottomed out as a need to be back in his arms surged over me. What was wrong with me? We’d enjoyed one night together, and yet I was panting after him like a lovesick schoolgirl.

I need to see you.

I bit my lip. That came out all wrong. My voice was breathless, like I was naked and begging him to join me in bed.

When do you arrive in LA?

Tomorrow. But how did you know?

I’m best friends with Marco, remember?

I grunted. How could I forget? It was how I ended up in this mess.

We need to talk, I said the dreaded words nobody wanted to hear.

We’re talking now.

I… The words dangled on the tip of my tongue. I’m pregnant. But I owed it to Callan to tell him to his face.

What?

I sighed. I suck at job interviews.

A change of subject was the best course of action. It was only one more day until I could tell him to his face.

I doubt that. He chuckled. What happened?

It’s these stupid online interviews. I feel like I’m talking to a computer.

You are.

I narrowed my eyes like he could see my stink eye through the cell phone, but he couldn’t.

You’re so not funny, I settled on saying.

You’re right. His tone changed. Tell me where you’re going wrong.

This was what I needed. Why I’d called him. His commanding tone, sharp wit, and calm personality. The reason we’d hit it off at the wedding.

I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think it’s at the end. They always ask why I chose to become a psychologist.

What do you tell them?

My mom is one and I want to follow in her footsteps.

There’s your problem. No employer wants to hear you’re going into a career just to be like your parents. They want you to have your individual motivation. What inspired you to become a psychologist?

I’m not sure why. I racked my brain for the reason, but came up empty. I get what you’re saying. I could have followed in Daddy’s footsteps and become a police officer.

My gaze darted back to the picture of Rex. The image of the homeless boy who’d once owned him flickered through my head and the day Daddy and I helped him. I could have just as easily joined the police force to assist people, but there was a more intense feeling inside me that I needed to help people in other ways.

Or you could have chosen something altogether different, like your sister and brother.

I picked up a pen and twirled it around my fingers. Are you a psychologist, or am I?

There’s a lot you don’t know about me.

I stopped spinning the pen. I could say the same.

True. Except you like to be pinned against a wall.

I puffed out a breath. I’d managed to ignore my libido while talking to him. Now my desire was raring back to the forefront.

What else? I couldn’t help asking.

Do you want to come to my beach house tomorrow before you go to your sister’s house?

I laughed. Why?

You need something from me. His voice dropped deeper. Something only I can give you.

That’s a pretty big assumption. I placed the pen in my mouth. He’d been so big in my mouth as I remembered half choking on his size but loving every minute.

It’s the truth. You need to get out of your head and stop overthinking things.

It was like he could read me through a few words over the phone. He’d read my body like a book that one night. The truth was, before Callan I’d never experienced a man be so controlling in the bedroom. Never realized I’d enjoy giving up control and being free to bask in the pleasures of our bodies. And what ecstasies he’d generated for me. I’d felt him for days afterward, between my legs, but more, on the bite marks on my hips, the extra sensitivity of my overworked nipples, and the burn on my buttocks where he’d slapped me with his belt. As shocking as it’d been, the sting had also been thrilling beyond anything my mind could dream up. In those hours upon hours, he’d played my body like a maestro playing an instrument. I’d never once thought of anything else.

He was right, he was what I needed. The last few days, my mind had worked overtime with each failed interview and the possibility of pregnancy. The double blue lines on the test confirmed my suspicion. Just when I was about to start my career after many years of studying, I’d be a single mother trying to juggle a job and parenthood. It wasn’t like I expected him to jump onboard the parent train with me. I comprehended from my past relationships how flaky men were, they were the reason I always dumped them first. But Callan had a right to know, at the very least, and decide if he wanted to be a part of his child’s life.

And here I was overthinking again.

You’re right. I am overthinking.

What time will you get to my house?

I didn’t agree.

Zara, he commanded my name.

Yes, all right, I’ll be there at lunchtime.

Tell Kennedy you’ll see her for dinner.

You want me to spend all afternoon with you?

Yes, I have plans for you.

Plans? I gulped. What sort of plans?

You’ll find out, baby girl.

A hot flush worked its way through my body as my mouth flapped, waiting for my brain to form words. In one short sentence, he’d stopped my overthinking. Imagine what he would do in an afternoon.

Are you still there? he asked when I didn’t respond.

Yes. I let out a shaky breath.

Are you good?

Was I? Strangely, I was better than I was before I picked up the phone and called him.

Yes.

Good girl. I’ve got to get back to my clients. As stunning as this mansion is, the place won’t sell itself, and I want the commission.

What mansion are you selling? I asked to keep him from leaving. One more minute of listening to his calming voice would keep my anxiety at bay.

The one the famous singer owned I told you about at the wedding. We’ve had a lot of interest, but most have come through as pure fans. Time for me to push the hard sell.

If anyone can do it, it’s you.

Thanks for the vote of confidence.

You gave me a hard sell, and I crumbled.

He chuckled. That wasn’t a hard sell.

Are you saying I’m easy because of what we did at the wedding? I dropped the pen on the desk.

No Zara, I’m not saying that, and you’re not easy. If anything, you’re complicated and I’m enjoying figuring you out.

Oh. My heart did a weird little flip inside my chest.

I have to go now.

Sorry.

Don’t be sorry. You can call me anytime you need me.

Anytime I needed? I needed him now when I’d found out the news of my pregnancy. And he’d been there for me in this moment. I had to let him go, otherwise I might blurt it out over the phone.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

You will. I’ll text you my address, he said. And Zara, don’t be late.

He hung up before I could snap yes, sir. Even if that word grated on my tongue. There was a command in his voice that made me want to say it. Which was weird, and exciting, and a lot of other things like when I’d spent the night with him. But the most insistent emotion was the thrumming of arousal rippling through my body. Like my body understood, if I did everything Callan demanded, I’d float in the bliss of pleasure once more. Would he want to have sex with me when he found out I was pregnant?

I picked the pen up and chewed on the end.

Would it be bad if I had sex with him again before telling Callan I was pregnant with his baby?

Chapter Two

Mom shed a few tears as we hugged goodbye. She was a little emotional now all her children were off living in different places. Daddy ruffled my hair and escorted me out of the state on his police motorcycle. Overbearing as always, but he had a good heart, and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for us.

For the four-hour trip, I listened to the latest psychology conference podcast. As usual, overthinking. My brain had a hard time switching off. The navigation system took me to Callan’s beach house. A tiny fraction of guilt churned my insides as I hadn’t told my sister I’d arrived in LA. She’d understand if I told her what was going on.

I jabbed the intercom button at the entrance. The gates swung inward without a word uttered by Callan. I assumed since he knew I was coming, it was the reason he didn’t talk to me through the intercom. Still, it would have been nice to hear I was at the right address. I parked my car in the paved driveway and climbed out. With a long stretch of my limbs, I surveyed the sprawling white low-line mansion. The California sun shone off the floor-to-ceiling windows, making me glad I still had my sunglasses on.

The front door opened, and Callan stepped outside. My body flared to life with one look at his blond hair, firm shoulders under a pale blue shirt, the tight buckle around his waist hiding those dips in the muscles women drooled over. His gaze raked me from head to foot, as though he could discern every thought running through my head with one look.

Hi. I lifted my hand in a half-wave.

He raised his eyebrow. No kiss hello?

I tucked a strand of wavy hair behind my ear. I wasn’t sure where we stood.

Hmm, let me see. He stretched up and placed his hand on the top of the doorjamb. Last time we stood was with you against a wall and my cock in your sweet pussy. Does that answer your question?

Heat flared in my cheeks.

Come on inside. He stepped back and waved his hand to the beckoning interior of the mansion.

I walked across the paved driveway and up to the front door. Callan dropped a kiss on my cheek, and another rush of heat worked its way across my face.

So, this is your place? I asked, waving my hand at the large room.

Callan looked at me like I’d lost my marbles. Okay, I was nervous, so sue me. It wasn’t every day you enjoyed a wild and passionate one-night stand, ended up pregnant, and moved to the