16. Julian
16
JULIAN
A s I stand at the window in the morning, drinking my coffee and taking in the city, I catch the glint of chrome - a silver Mercedes creeping past the house like a prowling animal. The fucker's driving slow enough to count the bricks. It's not the first time I've seen it, and I have since learned who drives it.
Travis Porter.
My jaw clenches as I watch him crane his neck. I don't know what he expects to see from the ground, knowing that I live in the penthouse.
"Is that..." Ivy's voice trails off as she steps closer to the glass.
"Don't." I move behind her, one arm wrapping around her waist. The possessive surge hits hard and fast - an electric current under my skin. My fingers spread across her stomach, pulling her back against my chest. Away from his prying eyes.
"He's been driving by every few hours." Her voice carries a tremor she's trying to hide. "I noticed earlier but didn't want to say anything."
The Mercedes crawls past again, engine purring. Travis sits too straight behind the wheel, his profile rigid with tension even from this distance. Hunting. Searching.
"Let me handle this." My voice comes out low, dangerous. I guide Ivy deeper into the room, positioning myself between her and the window. Her small frame fits perfectly against me, and I breathe in the vanilla scent of her hair. It helps calm the rage that is stirring beneath my skin.
"Julian-"
"He's not getting anywhere near you." My hand slides up to rest against her sternum, feeling her rapid heartbeat through her little silky night set. "You're mine to protect now."
The Mercedes makes another pass, slower this time. Third circuit in under five minutes. My fingers flex against Ivy's skin as cold rage settles in my chest. Travis Porter is about to learn exactly why people hire me to solve their problems.
Under my touch, Ivy seems to shake, and I hate the idea of anyone causing her fear or pain but me. I want everything she has, and that fucker is messing with my plans.
Wanting to reorient her mind, to put her focus back on me. I release Ivy and stride to my briefcase, retrieving a slim black box I'd prepared earlier. The handcrafted wooden advent calendar inside gleams with dark promise - twenty-four tiny doors, each concealing a note written in my precise script.
"Early Christmas gift." I set it on the coffee table, watching her face. "Open the first door."
Ivy's delicate fingers trace the ornate "1" carved into the wood. The door creaks open and she pulls out the folded paper, unfolding it with care.
Her lips part as she reads aloud: " Day one: I will bind those perfect wrists above your head and taste every inch of you until you beg. " A shiver runs through her body.
"Keep going." I lean back, studying her reaction. "Door two." When she looks between me and the advent calendar, I smirk. "You can read them, but you won't get the treats until that day."
With an excited glint in her eye, she opens the next compartment, her breathing quickening. " I will claim you against the window, let the whole city see who you belong to. " Her cheeks flush dark as she reaches for the third door without prompting.
" I'll control everything - even your breath. " She swallows hard, fingers trembling as they move to the fourth door. " I will take you on my desk, making you watch how good you take me. "
"There's one for each day." I move closer, trailing my finger along the remaining doors. "Each one darker than the last. By Christmas Eve, you'll know exactly how thoroughly you're mine."
Ivy's breath catches as she opens door five. " Your screams will echo off these walls when I- " She stops reading, pressing her thighs together.
"Too much?" I grasp her chin, tilting her face up.
"No." Her voice comes out husky. "Not enough."
I trace my thumb across her bottom lip. "Then keep reading. Twenty-four days of promises. And I always keep my promises, sweet girl."
Her nipples peak and her breaths come faster as she finishes reading through them all. By the end of it, she seems so aroused just by the idea of it, and I'm waiting patiently to enact my first promise.
I retrieve the string of white Christmas lights from beside the tree, letting them uncoil in my hands and plugging them up next to Ivy. The soft glow illuminates my intentions as I turn to where Ivy stands, tucking away the last of the paper in the advent calendar.
"Arms up." My voice brooks no argument.
She raises her hands slowly, the movement making her silky top ride up to reveal a sliver of skin. I circle behind her, wrapping the lights around her wrists with practiced precision. Each loop cinches tighter, the wire warm against her flesh. I weave it down her body, lighting her skin up with the bulbs.
"Good girl." I test the bonds, ensuring they're secure but not cutting off circulation. The lights cast a gentle shimmer across her skin, turning her into living art. "How does that feel?"
"Tight." Her breath hitches as I trail my fingers down her bound arms.
"It's supposed to be." I guide her backward until her legs hit the edge of the dining table. "Sit."
She leans back, arms now restrained, and I lift her back onto the wood. I settle her so that I can easily slip between her beautiful thighs, loving the way the lights make her look practically angelic.
"Now for day one's promise." I grasp her chin, tilting her face up to mine. Her pupils are blown wide, turning those amber eyes nearly black. "Remember what it said?"
"You'll taste every inch..." Her voice trails off as I slide my hand down her throat.
"Until you beg." I lean closer, my lips brushing her ear. "And you will beg, sweet girl."
The Christmas lights cast shifting patterns across her skin as she tests the restraints. Not fighting them - just feeling their presence, accepting their control. Her breath comes in short gasps when I trace the crescent moon birthmark on her neck.
"Please..." The word escapes her lips like a prayer.
"We're just getting started." I hook my finger in the bottom of her shirt, dragging it up until her breasts are exposed. "Day one of twenty-four. I can't wait to hear you scream each day as a countdown for me."
And then I lean her back, pulling away her shorts and shoving up her shirt so that I can make good on my promise. I kiss and suck and bite every inch of her before rolling her onto her stomach and doing the same along her backside.
By the time her skin is pink from my ministrations, she's dripping wet and whimpering. I lick the tears from her face, pushing her knees up underneath her so that her pretty pussy is on display.
And then I feast.
After two orgasms, I release Ivy from the lights, watching the faint marks they've left behind. My thumb traces over the indentations, memorizing their pattern against her delicate skin. Her chest still rises and falls rapidly, hair tousled from where she'd thrown her head back.
"How did that feel?" I keep my voice low, measured, even as possessiveness burns through my veins at the sight of her sprawled out before me.
Ivy blinks, surprise flickering across her features. "You're asking me?"
"Of course." I gather her in my arms, walking to the couch and settling her in my lap. I'd ripped the damn shirt off her at some point so she's naked in my arms. "I want to know everything - what makes you gasp, what makes you moan. Every sound, every reaction." My fingers trail up her spine. "I'll find every way to wring pleasure from that perfect body, but I like to hear that you want it."
Something shifts in her expression - a softness I haven't seen before. She ducks her head, but I catch the vulnerable look in her eyes.
"No one's ever asked before." Her words come out barely above a whisper.
The admission sends a surge of cold rage through me. I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. "You're mine now. That means your pleasure is mine too."
I capture her lips in a deep kiss, swallowing her soft gasp. She belongs here, with me. Not with some trust fund brat who treated her like a trophy. I'll show her exactly how she deserves to be touched, to be claimed, to be owned.
My hand cups the back of her neck as I break the kiss. "Tell me what you want, sweet girl. I'll give you everything."
My chest constricts hard when she tips her head back, staring up at me with those amber eyes that nearly bring me to my fucking knees. In the softest voice, she answers, "You."
I think she's trying to fucking kill me.