CHAPTER FOURTEEN #3
She scoffs. “What?”
My lips move to her ear as I cup her over the boxers. “This cunt is mine now. I own your pleasure, Ivanna. You need to come, you ask me.”
Her breath hitches. She’s undeniably aroused by that demand, and yet her strong-willed mind readies for a fight. “What if you’re not home?”
I scrape the eggs onto a plate with the toast and fruit. “You wait.”
“Asleep?”
“Wake me up.”
“Not in the mood?”
“Never gonna happen.”
“Refusing me because you think I’m sore?”
I smile, wink, and hand her the plate with a fork. “I’ll come up with something. Eat your damn food. ”
She laughs as she moves to a stool at the island. Her full, infectious cackle bounces off the ceiling and apparently acts as a beacon to the guys, who saunter in from the patio.
Here we go.
The three of them are all sporting smiles like the fucking Joker on their faces.
And Liam starts clapping like a jackass. “Aww. Look at the happy couple. Finally fuck your bride, Chief?”
“Jesus Christ,” I hiss.
Ivy’s face blushes a lobster red as shestabs her eggs with a coy grin, but no comeback.
I walk toward Liam and palm the back of his neck. “Didn’t you say you weren’t always a motherfucker?”
“I gave you all I had in that department earlier, and it looks like it paid dividends, so—”
“Yeah. Thanks, but shut your suck, Graves.”
He snickers, but keeps his mouth shut.
Ty must notice Ivy’s discomfort. He hugs her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Happy looks good on you, Freckles.”
She reaches for his hand. “Thanks, Ty. I am.”
Gage drops onto the kitchen stool beside her. “Does this mean you won’t be baking anymore?”
That eases all the tension, and she bursts out laughing, shooting a look to Liam, who winks back, affirming a proud, “Mission accomplished, High Society.”
I’m guessing that’s in regard to the beignets.
When I told him he was a fucking moron for defying orders, putting Ivy at risk, and returning with a souvenir of his insubordination, he insisted it was a sacrifice to help her acclimate because she wanted to win Gage over with food. Looks like it worked.
“I’ll still bake, Big Guy,” she vows. “I don’t only do it when I’m sad. Do you like lasagna?”
His whole face beams, wrapped around the pint-size finger he screamed about weeks ago. She seems so sweet and harmless, using baked goods to win over the one guy in the house who I was nervous she’d always be at odds with.
But my girl is cunning. A genius, like the man who raised her. In the most unsuspecting package.
Lethal.
We chat with the guys while Ivy eats, and they finally bid us good night with a handful of jeers that she fields much better. She was right. Ripping that shirt off her will be a lot of fun. I swoop her into my arms and sprint back to our bedroom while she squeals.
“I came up with something that won’t make me a bit sore, at least not in the same area,” she says with a sexy smirk as I drop her onto the bed.
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” She bounces onto her knees and tugs at the waistband of my sweatpants with a suggestive lick of her luscious lips.
I hold her hand still. “You want to suck my cock, Little Storm?”
I didn’t entertain the idea earlier because of that asshole in college who had tried to hurt her, but if she’s asking.
She nods emphatically, her teeth sinking seductively into that pouty lip. “I do.”
“Get off the bed.”
When she obeys, I tear the shirt open, buttons popping as she giggles, the abused fabric collapsing to the floor.
So gorgeous.
“Take off the boxers too,” I instruct.
She complies and looks back to me with one brow bowed, so I keep guiding her.
“Free me, but then I’ll sit on the edge of the bed, and you kneel.”
She removes my pants, rolling the waistband down to reveal my solid dick bobbing in earnest. Her eyes roam, studying me, while I kick the garments to the side and wait on the bed for her to process.
She notes the burn marks on my hip with a subtle wince, but doesn’t linger there, moving wide eyes back to my aching length.
I squeeze her hand. “Only if you’re sure.” Too much hesitation on my part may tip her off that I know her experience, but I need her to be certain.
“I told you I was.” There’s an edge to her tone.
Defensiveness? Regret for volunteering? Remembrance of her assault?
“Say it,” I order.
She rolls her eyes with a huff. “Why?”
“Because I appreciate clarity, I enjoy hearing you say filthy words, and I told you to.”
She balks, and we stare each other down for three solid minutes before she lowers herself between my legs. “I want to give you a blow job, Wells. I’m not sure I’ll be very good at it, but I’d like to try.”
I lift her chin. “You’re already more than enough.” Smoothing my hand over her head, I stare into eager eyes searching mine for direction. “If you need to stop, pinch my leg. Hard. You can start by licking, and when you’re ready, take me into your throat and suck.”
She does exactly as I said, licking up and down the shaft with a few pumps of her fist before taking me into her mouth and sucking.
I scrunch her hair into my fist, careful not to force her head down, and keep her big, watery eyes on mine as her pouty lips perform magic, rosy cheeks hollow from her work, drool escaping down her chin.
Breathtaking.
“Such a good girl, Ivy. So beautiful with my cock in your mouth. Open your throat and breathe through your nose.”
She moans as she opens more, taking me deeper, the vibrations of her noises surging through me.
I love that she’s so turned on blowing me.
When she gags and sputters, my abs tighten in ecstasy and concern, but those liquid blues peer at me from beneath her long lashes with pride and assurance as she adjusts to the intrusion, and I grow harder in her warmth.
She strokes the part of my cock she can’t fit and moves her other hand to my balls, gingerly kneading.
“Fuck,” I hiss, astonished by her natural finesse at giving head. “You’re a goddamn miracle, Little Storm. So perfect. ”
Two more minutes and I explode in her mouth with a grunt. “Swallow every drop.” I choke out the command, breathless as my cum shoots down her throat.
Pupils blown and face tear-streaked, she complies, stands, and grins as I scoop her into my arms and fall back onto the bed.
“That was okay?” she whispers.
Rolling us so that my weight cages her, I steady my breathing while drinking in the remnants of her performance with a devouring kiss, tasting myself on her tongue. “Not okay. Phenomenal. You get better by the second, even when I think it isn’t possible.”
She beams. “Right back at ya, hot stuff. You’re a real-life fantasy.”
I sweep some damp strands off her forehead. “You know, on our wedding night, when your inhibitions were low from the roofie, you told me about some fantasies.”
“Oh yeah, the choking.” She grimaces. “Did I say anything else?”
“That you also wanted to be tied up, among other things.”
She winces at my words.
“Look at me, Ives.” When her eyes find mine, I continue, “Do not be embarrassed or ashamed. Not with me. Fantasies are normal. We can talk about anything you want to try.”
Her teeth pierce her lower lip. “Since I’m inexperienced, I don’t really know what I like. I mean, I’m pretty certain I’d like bondage, but breath play sounds a little scary. I just like the idea …” She pauses, as though it’s too much to get out, pinning her lips tight.
“Keep going,” I urge, gently kissing the corner of her mouth, my tongue slipping out to caress the seam of her lips while she parts them with a sultry purr.
Her chest rises against mine with a deep breath before she spits out her words. “I like the thought of being used, dominated, not having a choice. Something about it makes me feel desired and needed.”
“You are unquestionably both, Little Storm, and I have plenty of ideas on how we can live out your fantasies.” I dust my knuckles over her smattering of freckles, finishing with a smooch on her button nose. “Now, lie there and don’t come until I tell you. Understand? ”
With that, my lips glide down her body, sprinkling her with kisses along the way. I plant myself between her thighs, feasting on her sweet cunt, the taste of the two of us mixed together an intoxicating cocktail. She begs me for her release until I ultimately grant permission.
We fall asleep afterward, Ivy tucked in my arms, where she belongs. But she wakes to me in the same position between her legs, the same plea on her lips. Our perfect beginning.