Chapter 3
Ivy
Watching Beckett’s house through the window as they pulled out of his driveway, Ivy swallowed hard against the tears burning in her eyes. Cordelia’s hand came to rest on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “He’s going to be fine, baby. We’ve left him with them plenty of times.”
The amusement in her Daddy’s voice helped ease some of the anxiety wrapped so tightly around her chest. She knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t seem to help it. Sighing, Ivy forced herself to relax against her seat. “I know. It just feels different.”
“Because it is. Think about our first Christmas together, after I gave you my collar. Didn’t that feel different, too?”
“Well, yeah, but everything felt different then. We were still finding our way as a couple, rather than just friends, and everything was so new and shiny.”
“True. But think specifically about the collar. The way you kept touching it all day and smiling. Think about what it was like the first day you wore it to work. How you felt, knowing I’d laid claim to you in such a visible, tangible way.”
She didn’t have to think very far. Those days were still etched into her memory, as if it were yesterday.
Kneeling at her Daddy’s feet—though she hadn’t been Daddy yet back then—on Christmas morning so Cordelia could drape the pretty flower necklace around her neck.
How something inside her had shifted with that simple gift, a puzzle piece she hadn’t even known was missing clicking into place.
And then that first time she’d worn her collar in public, the thrill of wearing her woman’s claim for everyone to see, even if nobody knew that was what it was.
Even though she’d been wearing it around the house for a couple days before that, Cordelia had a point.
That first time out in public had felt different. New and exciting and right.
Knowing they’d placed their own visible claim around Jacob’s neck before sending him out into the world felt much the same way, only from the other end of the spectrum.
“You’re right,” she said at length, turning to smile up at her Daddy. “I know you’re right. I’m being silly.”
“No, you’re being a Domme. You already have a tendency to worry about the people you love, and the collar we gave Jacob tonight only deepened the connection we already had with him. It makes perfect sense you’d be feeling a bit emotional about it.”
“I’m glad it makes sense to you because I feel ridiculous.”
“Maybe my girl just needs a… distraction.”
Every nerve in Ivy’s body went on high alert. “A distraction?”
“Mmhmm. Pull that pretty dress up for Daddy, blossom.”
Heart pounding now, Ivy did as she was told, dragging the material up over her thighs.
“Higher, babygirl. Show me what belongs to me.”
What belongs to me. Those words never failed to fill Ivy with pride. Because no matter where they were, who they were with, every inch of her body belonged to her Daddy.
Which was exactly how she liked it.
Slowly, she pulled the soft fabric of her dress up even higher, exposing her glistening pussy lips as she spread her legs to give her Daddy an even better view.
From the driver’s seat, Cordelia inhaled deeply through her nose, a wolfish smile curving her lips. “God, you smell delicious, baby. So wet and needy for Daddy. Show me how you touch yourself, my sweet little blossom.”
They had plenty of time left in the drive for Ivy to get herself off, and the thought of a quick orgasm before they met up with their friends filled her with a dark, delicious sort of excitement.
Not wanting to waste any time, she dipped her fingers between her soaked lips, letting her head fall back against the headrest as she moaned at the jolt of pleasure. “Like this, Daddy?”
“Just like that, baby. Such a good girl you are, playing with your needy little cunt for Daddy. Get your fingers nice and wet and then you can play with your clit.”
It wasn’t just the physical act of stroking her own pussy, drawing out her arousal to circle her finger around her clit that excited her.
Being controlled, knowing her pleasure was solely given at her Daddy’s discretion…
that was what drove her. What had her core tightening with need as she rolled a fingertip over her swollen clit.
“That’s my good girl.” Cordelia’s voice was rough, thick with her own need, which was a thrill all of its own.
And a relatively new one. Though she’d always known Cordelia wanted her, it had only been a few months since Ivy had been given the privilege of touching her.
So knowing that Cordelia not only wanted her, but that she could actually give her Domme the pleasure she craved fed Ivy’s service-subbie soul in ways little else could.
“Keep touching yourself just like that, baby. But don’t come until Daddy says you can.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Ivy gasped, arching up as a particularly strong wave of pleasure crashed into her. And knowing what her Daddy liked, she put a bit of a whine into her voice when she spoke again. “But can I please come soon, Daddy? I’m so close.”
“You can come when Daddy’s ready for you to come, blossom. And not a moment sooner.”
Something in her woman’s voice managed to pierce the haze of arousal over her mind and Ivy groaned at the thought of being denied. “Please, Daddy?”
“Not yet, baby.”
Around and around they went, with Ivy’s whimpers and moans filling the car as she took herself as close to the edge as she dared while her Daddy continued to deny her.
Until she was borderline mad with need, her entire being focused on the pleasure her Daddy was deliberately keeping just out of reach.
“Hands off your pussy, Ivy Mae.”
Pure instinct, honed by years of training, had Ivy’s hand shifting immediately away from her clit. “But Daddy,” she whined, pressing her thighs together against the throbbing ache.
“Sorry, blossom.” But there was no apology in Cordelia’s tone. If anything, she sounded downright pleased with herself. “We’re almost to Silver’s house. Fix your dress, and there are wet wipes in the glove compartment for your fingers.”
“You’re mean,” Ivy grumbled as she jerked her dress back into place and leaned forward to open the glove compartment.
“I am. And you love it when I’m mean.”
“Not that mean!”
Her Daddy’s laughter filled the car as Cordelia turned into the driveway of Ice and Silver’s gorgeous beach house. “Liars don’t get rewarded with orgasms, Ivy Mae.”
Because she couldn’t truthfully argue that she hadn’t been lying, Ivy settled for huffing out a breath as she wiped her fingers clean and tossed the wipe into the small trash container they kept in the backseat of the car.
While she cleaned herself up, Cordelia parked and then made her way around to the passenger side door.
Resigned to an evening spent on edge, Ivy unbuckled her seatbelt with a sigh and took the hand Cordelia offered, letting herself be pulled up out of the car and into her woman’s arms.
“My pretty little Ivy blossom,” Cordelia murmured, brushing a kiss over her lips. “You’re so adorable when you’re all pouty like this.”
“I’m not pouty.” Tilting her nose up, Ivy sniffed delicately. “I’m frustrated. There’s a difference.”
“You’re pouting, and you’re adorable. I’m almost tempted to drag you into Silver’s bathroom and eat that pretty pussy of yours until you come all over my face.” With another of those wicked chuckles, she leaned in, dropping her voice to a low growl that sent a shiver up Ivy’s spine. “Almost.”
Pulling away, a grin stretched across her face, Cordelia took Ivy’s hand and gave it a none-too-gentle tug. “Come on, blossom. Let’s go see our friends.”
It was going to be a long fucking night.
Jacob
“Hey guys! Jacob’s here!”
A cheer went up among the men already gathered in Beckett’s living room, leaving Jacob to wonder how much they’d had to drink before he’d even walked in the house.
Heat infused Jacob’s cheeks as every man in the room turned to grin at him.
Even after all the time he’d spent with them both in and out of the club, being alone with them was still overwhelming at the best of times.
Not just because they were all Doms where he was one hundred percent a submissive, but because they were all just so…
comfortable with each other. And they talked about everything from work to their relationships to their feelings in a way he’d never experienced before.
Seated on the loveseat by himself, Braden Elliott, the bridegroom and owner of the kink club where they all played, patted the seat beside him, beckoning Jacob over. “Come sit with me, Jacob.”
“Yes, Sir.”
From his spot on the longer couch just a few feet away, Ice rolled his eyes. “You know you don’t have to call him that when you’re not working.”
More of that embarrassed heat rushed to Jacob’s cheeks. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
“Leave the boy alone,” Holden scolded with a mock glare for Ice. “He’s just being polite.”
It went a bit deeper than that, and they all knew it, but he appreciated Holden sticking up for him.
Which was pretty much par for the course, since Holden had been protecting him from every threat imaginable since he’d first shown up at Club BDE begging for their help in freeing his sisters from their abusive father and the church-slash-cult he’d headed Of all the men in the group, he was closest with Holden, and had come to think of him almost like an uncle, not that he’d ever say that out loud.
The other men could talk about their feelings until they were blue in the face, but Jacob preferred to listen.
Settling on the couch beside Braden, Jacob scanned the room. “Where’s Killian?”
“Something came up at work.” There was a hint of disappointment in Braden's tone. “He won’t be able to make it tonight but he’s hoping to get things wrapped up before the wedding tomorrow.”
Other than Holden, Killian was the one member of the group Jacob really felt close to.
Not that he didn’t consider the other guys friends, but Killian was the only one he ever actually talked to about his hopes and dreams and fears.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d been hoping to talk to him about his brand-new collar until the disappointment settled heavy in his gut.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he looked up to find Beckett standing over him, holding one of the fruit-flavored drinks he preferred to the whiskey and beer the other men usually drank.
It still embarrassed him a little, but that embarrassment was overshadowed by the thought of how disappointed his Daddy would be if he gave in to the imaginary peer pressure in his head.
On his twenty-first birthday, the guys had thrown him a surprise birthday party and introduced him to whiskey.
In the month before, Cordelia and Ivy had been giving him sips of their wine and cocktails whenever they drank, which he much preferred.
But he’d convinced himself that ‘real men’ drank whiskey, so he’d forced himself to keep drinking the stuff even though he hated it.
When he’d drunkenly confessed his thought process to Cordelia, she’d spent the whole of the next day impressing on him that real men not only drank whatever they wanted to drink, they also got their asses handed to them by their Dommes for “not putting their own wants and needs above dumbass, arbitrary patriarchal ideals”.
The memory of that punishment had his ass clenching involuntarily, which gave him a rather uncomfortable reminder of the metal plug nestled snugly inside him. Which, in turn, had his cock swelling inside its cage, another reminder of the control his women had over him.
Praying his cheeks weren’t nearly as red as they felt, he accepted the bottle with its bright-pink drink. “Thanks, Beckett.”
“Welcome.” Dropping down into the armchair next to the couch, Beckett grinned. “Wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with your women on our account.”
Holden snorted. “Please. You’re just as terrified of Cordelia as he is.”
Beside Jacob, Braden laughed. “Everyone in this room is terrified of her. We just have the benefit of being able to hide from her when she’s pissed. Poor Jacob has to go home with her.”
As it always did, knowing all the big bad Doms of the group were just as scared of his Daddy as he was eased his embarrassment a good bit. “She’s not that scary.”
“Oooh, I’m gonna tell her you said that,” Ice teased. “She is going to have so much fun proving you wrong.”
The heat that had faded from his cheeks came rushing back with a vengeance and he shifted in his seat as he sipped his drink. With every movement, he was reminded of the plug in his ass and, as a result, the promise of what waited for him when his women got him home.
And he found himself hoping Ice was right.