CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IVY
H is smile is equal parts sinister and enticing. I’m not sure why I enjoy pushing him, but I do. The truth: I knew he might catch me. Hoped he would.
Since our first morning together, Wells has woken me up with his face between my legs, devouring me until a mind-blowing orgasm explodes, contorting my muscles into Jell-O.
When he wasn’t here today, I missed him.
Not only the jelly-limb orgasm, but also the cuddling and encouragement and talking about the day’s plans or dreams of the future.
His absence was the loneliest I’d felt since before my first night in his arms.
So, I’m not at all upset that, right now, he’s choosing to stay with me and teach me a lesson . His lessons generally result in me conceding to hisdemands because he causes an eclipse in my brain while my body convulses beneath his. And I’m here for it.
He disappears into our closet and reemerges with a cedarwood box. “I’ve been buying us some things for a rainy day.”
My eyebrows dart up in intrigue. It’s not raining, but I’ll bite. “What kinds of things?”
“Toys,” he states plainly, cozying up beside me on the bed. Him, dashing in his dress slacks, button-up, and tie. And me, naked beneath the comforter. I suspect he relishes the power play of that .
His emeralds glimmer as they frolic over my face. “Up for some fun with some of these?”
The box is full of various vibrators, clamps, and oils. He’s been building a healthy reservoir.
“Yes,” I say because Wells always requires a clear answer and clarity is streaming down my legs.
“Good girl,” he praises, his hand smoothing over my hair as his other holds up a butt plug.
There’s a glittery pink gem on the top while the rest is stainless steel and shaped like a fat carrot.
I’m familiar because of the books I read and because of Celeste.
She’s always a wealth of information about freaky things. She’d be so proud.
My eyes flit to his, my teeth sinking into my lip. “You want me to wear that now?”
“Yes. I’m going to fuck you there one day soon, so this will be training . We’ll use the medium size today. Shouldn’t hurt. This is only one of the things we’re trying.”
I love when he tells me what he’s going to do to me, as though he’s the one in charge of my body, calling all the shots, and I have no choice. I’m drifting, stuck on the promise of other things.
He chuckles, clutching my jaw and kissing me so deeply that he fills me up with his joy and amusement, whisking me back to the present. A warmth spreads through my whole body. I push the covers away, climb on his lap, and wrap myself around him.
His fingertips skate up and down my spine with a sensual tingle, but then he stops, his teeth snagging my earlobe as bumps erupt over my skin. “Not this morning, Little Storm. You made your choice. It’s you and your toys.”
I slant my head, studying him. “You’re not going to play with me?”
He peels me off him, looming over me again from the side of the bed.
His colossal frame always dwarfs me. The man is a foot taller when I’m standing, but when he towers over me while I’m lying on the bed, it’s intimidating.
And also utterly alluring. He doesn’t answer, reminding me that he already did, and he doesn’t repeat himself.
“You made your choice. It’s you and your toys.”
“Up on all fours,” he orders.
While I’m disappointed he won’t be joining me, my interest and yearning are exuberantly piqued. So, I obey, perching on all fours.
“Crawl,” he commands. “One lap around so I can see what’s mine. Finish in the center of the bed so you’re facing the headboard.”
I feel absolutely ridiculous, crawling around naked while he’s dressed in business attire and ogling. But then again, the moment is so obscene that it’s liberating.
Once I’m in place, he instructs me to put my head and shoulders flat on the bed, ass up in the air.
After a few stinging spanks to both cheeks and my heart fluttering with an enticing humiliation, he spreads my arousal, mixes in some watery lube, and gradually slides in the plug, allotting time for me to adjust. He’s right; it doesn’t hurt beyond a passing, prickling burn of pressure, only offers a sense of fullness.
Although my pain tolerance is admittedly high.
He huffs a breath. “Fuck, baby. You’re breathtaking. So goddamn beautiful.” His hand rubs over the spots he spanked moments ago, soothing, then down to my entrance, dipping inside and curling far too briefly. “Flat on your back.”
I whimper at the loss of his fingers and roll over to see him sucking them.
He winks. “Can’t let your defiance cheat me out of a taste,” he says, voice husky in a way that makes me wonder which one of us is about to be taught the lesson.
He stretches me out like a star, strapping leather cuffs onto my ankles and wrists that restrain them to the bed. There’s not much give, so I’m stuck in this position.
His hand trails over me, rolling my nipples between his fingers, grazing my ribs and thighs and clit with whispered praises along the journey. “Such a pretty pussy, wide open for me.”
He reaches into the box, selecting the nipple clamps, and when he raises one to his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and then my pebbled nipple, my heart batters my sternum.
I gasp as he secures it in place, the sensation a delicious twinge that has me panting.
He repeats it all on the other breast, and I’m wiggling and writhing in need.
Fuck. I think he’s going to leave me here, denying me, keeping me desperate.
“Are you going to torture me with edging?” I ask, panic threading my tone.
A shadow of him doing just that capers in the depths of my mind even though he hasn’t as of yet. Seems like it would be his go-to form of discipline though.
“No, Ivanna. If you haven’t noticed by now, I love to give my girl what she wants. So, I’m going to deliver as many orgasms from these vibrators as possible.”
And this is a punishment? Sign me up.
“Okay,” I whisper, unable to hide my enthusiasm and longing.
He chuckles, plucking a wand from the box, turning it on, and dragging it all over—from my breasts to my thighs—everywhere but where I want it most.
“Please,” I squeak, breathless already.
“I love your pleas, Little Storm. You’re so gorgeous here. Bound and begging. Mouthwatering cunt glistening for me. A jewel decorating that luscious ass. Thighs glazed with your desire. Greedy. My pretty slut to use how I want.”
I moan at his words, yanking on my restraints because I’m desperate to be touched.
“What’s your safe word?” he asks, his tenor firm and serious.
“Meatloaf.”
“Good girl. I’m going to make you come over and over. If you need to stop, use your safe word. Understand?”
“I understand.”
With my confirmation, he presses a small remote, and suddenly, the plug in my ass is vibrating, elevating my intense need.
Next, he inserts the wand, and my pussy is crammed with an expansive fullness, leaving me heady.
He retrieves my suction vibrator and parks it right on my clit.
The preparation buildup lit an inferno inside me that fans to a blaze, igniting low in my belly and rocketing through me so vehemently that I’m caught off guard, screaming through the burning release.
My body melts into the mattress, heavy and light, all at once, the room spinning as my limbs twitch.
He waits a few minutes, his fingers ghosting over my swollen clit, and begins again.
This orgasm blasts through me like a detonated bomb—even more lethal than the last. As the next one rolls through me, all I can think is, It’s a good thing I’m bound because my thrashing body would probably be in a heap on the floor . I’ve lost all control, and I love it.
“I want you, Wells,” I trill, delirious from the euphoria. “Please. I want to feel you.”
“You’re doing fine with the toys, Little Storm. It’s what you wanted. No need for my cock.” His words are taunting, teaching for sure, but his tented slacks and thirsty, hooded eyes drinking me in tell me he wants to partake.
“Come on me,” I beg, trying any angle to bring him some of the ecstasy I’m hogging. “Mark me as yours.”
His ravenous emeralds squint in contemplation, but then a rosebud vibrator is swirling over me, and I’m quaking and bucking and hollering until my larynx is raw.
During the next break, I close my eyes, attempting to center myself and catch my breath, when I’m startled by the warm drips of his cum painting my face and chest and stomach. He grunts and smears it over my lips as my tongue flicks out for more.
“Jesus, baby,” he croons, roughly stroking his steel dick. “So beautiful. My filthy little cumslut. So hungry and perfect.” He dusts my unkempt hair off my damp forehead. “Still okay, Ives?”
Being slathered in his cum revives some untapped carnal cravings within me. “More,” I purr.
He smiles, assaulting my clit with a rhythm that shoves me over the edge in about two seconds flat, barreling to another realm of weightless glory.
And another after that. But something changes.
The taste of him on my lips, the remembrance of how lonely I felt without him in the few quiet minutes of morning, the foreboding in my gut that I could lose him. The sensitivity throbbing.
Oh shit. I’m so overwhelmed. So scared. So shaken and sad. It hurts. Everywhere hurts.
“Meatloaf. Fuck. Meatloaf.” Tears trickle over my cheeks.
In seconds, my restraints are off, and he’s scooping me into his arms, petting my head, and peppering me with kisses. “I’ve got you, Ivy. I’m here. Talk to me.”
I glue myself to him, clinging like a life jacket—only I’m the one who needs rescued from drowning. My sobs rack through my body as he gingerly removes the plug and clamps, the absence of both aching with a sting far worse than when they were introduced.