22. Ivy
22
IVY
I stare at my reflection in Julian's bedroom mirror, admiring my handiwork. The silk Christmas ribbon winds around my body in an intricate pattern – red against black lace lingerie. My fingers trace over the delicate bow I've tied between my breasts.
He's been more and more busy these days, and I miss his attention. I find myself missing him. So I thought I would entice him and get what I want.
The note pinned to the strap reads Unwrap your gift early? in my best calligraphy. I've positioned myself on the edge of his massive bed, the ribbon looping around my wrists behind my back just tight enough to hold but not hurt. More ribbon criss-crosses my thighs and ankles.
Julian's heavy footsteps echo down the hall. My heart pounds against my ribcage. This is so unlike me – the good girl who plans everything to perfection, who never steps out of line. But something about him makes me want to be bad.
The door handle turns. Julian steps in, loosening his tie. He freezes mid-motion, those ice-blue eyes darkening as they rake over me.
"What do we have here?" His voice drops an octave.
"I thought you might want a present early this year." The words come out breathier than intended. "Though this gift isn't exactly... traditional."
He stalks toward me, predatory grace in every step. His fingers brush my chin, tilting my face up. "You wrapped yourself up for me?"
"Do you like your present?"
His other hand finds the end of the ribbon. "The question is..." He gives it a gentle tug. "Should I unwrap you slowly? Or tear into my gift all at once?"
My breath catches. The ribbon tightens ever so slightly around my wrists. "That's entirely up to you."
Julian's fingers trail along the ribbon, his touch feather-light, setting my skin ablaze. "You've outdone yourself, Ivy. Such initiative."
His praise sends a shiver down my spine. I find myself craving more. "I wanted to surprise you." The words escape my lips like a secret.
"Surprise me?" He leans in, his voice a low rumble. "You've fucking undone me."
My heart swells at his words. It's like a hunger, this need for his approval. I can't get enough. "I thought... I hoped you'd like it."
He pulls back, his gaze sharp. "Like it? I fucking love it. But you know what I love more?"
I shake my head, my breath catching.
"When you beg for my approval."
His words ignite something within me. A desperate need. "Please, Julian. Tell me I did good."
He chuckles, low and dark. "Good? It's fucking perfect." His fingers trail down my cheek, my neck, hovering over the bow. "But maybe I should make you work for it. Beg for it."
His words are a tease, a torment. I squirm under his gaze, the ribbon tight around my wrists. "Please, Julian. I need- I need to hear you say it."
He leans in, his mouth brushing against my ear. "You did so fucking good, Ivy. Now beg me to unwrap you."
My breath hitches. "Please, Julian. Unwrap me. Touch me."
He steps back, his eyes never leaving mine as he starts to unbutton his shirt. His movements are slow, deliberate. A tease. "Not yet, sweetheart. I want to enjoy this. Enjoy you."
His shirt falls open, revealing a hint of his sculpted chest. There's still healing cuts and bruises from a few days ago, but he doesn't seem to feel discomfort from it. He shrugs it off, the fabric pooling on the floor. His hands move to his belt, the clink of metal against metal echoing in the silent room.
I watch, mesmerized, as he undresses before me. His body is a work of art, all hard lines and rough edges. The tattoos that adorn his skin tell a story of pain and power. He's a predator, a king in his own right. And I'm his prey, his subject.
His touch is light as he traces the ribbon along my thighs. "So fucking beautiful. Look at you, all wrapped up for me."
His praise sends a surge of warmth through me. I feel desperate, needy. I want his touch, his approval. I want him.
Julian's fingers trail along my thigh one last time before he straightens up. "Don't move. I'll be right back."
He turns and walks out, leaving me bound and exposed. The first minute passes easily enough – the anticipation building. By minute three, my skin prickles with unease. At minute five, my throat tightens.
The silence of the room presses in. My wrists strain against the ribbon, no longer feeling playful but confining. Each tick of the clock on his nightstand hammers against my skull.
He's not coming back.
The thought slithers in uninvited. My chest constricts. The room spins. Every man who's ever walked away flashes through my mind. I swallow hard against the feeling, used to feeling forgotten. How many times have I’ve been stood up, has a phone call been more important than me? What is Julian really doing?
Is he going to reject me, too?
I struggle against the ribbons, my breathing shallow. Sweat breaks out across my skin as a form of panic sets in. The pretty bows now feel like chains. I need to get free, need to-
The door opens. Julian strides in, holding something red and white in his hand. He takes one look at my face and drops whatever he's holding. In two steps, he's at my side.
"Breathe, Ivy." His hands cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks. "I'm here."
"I thought-" My voice cracks. "I thought you weren't coming back."
"Look at me." His ice-blue eyes lock with mine, grounding me. "I will always come back to you."
He quickly unties my wrists, gathering me against his chest. His heartbeat steadies my own. The scent of his skin fills my lungs and starts to help ease everything in me.
"I just went to grab these." He reaches down, picking up what he dropped – a box of candy canes. "Thought we could have some fun with them."
A wet laugh escapes me. "Candy canes?"
"Mmm." His fingers thread through my hair, massaging my scalp. "Though now I'm thinking I need to prove to you just how much I plan to stay."
The last of my panic melts away under his touch, replaced by a different kind of tension. His lips brush my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.
Julian's eyes search mine, steady and reassuring. His thumb brushes my cheekbone, grounding me. "Don't run from the dark, Ivy. Let's turn it into something else."
He retrieves the box of candy canes, opening it with a sharp crack. The scent of peppermint fills the air, cool and invigorating. I watch, curious, as he unwraps one, the red and white stripes vivid against his scarred hands.
"What are you-" I start, but he silences me with a look.
"Trust me." His voice is commanding, leaving no room for argument.
I squeeze my thighs together as I watch him bring a candy cane to his mouth, sucking on the end and then biting it off. He traces the tip of the candy cane along my collarbone, the sensation cool against my heated skin, a little scratch with a little pain.
My breath hitches as he trails it lower, circling my nipple through the lace of my bra. The peppermint leaves a tingling chill in its wake, hardening the peak.
"Julian..." His name escapes my lips like a secret.
He leans down, his breath warm as he blows on the dampened lace. The contrast in temperature sends a shockwave of pleasure through me. My back arches, pressing my breast further into his mouth. He chuckles, low and dark, before repeating the process on my other nipple.
I squirm under his touch, but I don't reach for him. I hold perfectly still, reminding myself that I have nothing to worry about with him. Panic still lurks at the edges of my mind, but it's morphing, twisting into something more intense, more desperate.
Julian unwraps another candy cane, this time tracing it along the inside of my thighs. The coolness is a sharp contrast to the heat pooling there. He blows on the moistened skin, making me shiver.
Suddenly, he pulls back, going to the nightstand. I fight the weird panic that starts to surge again at him turning away, and he comes back with a ribbon he ties around my eyes.
"You don't know where I'll be," he whispers against my ear. "But you'll be okay. I'll show you to trust me."
He trails the candy cane higher, teasing me through the lace of my panties. The sensation is overwhelming - the coolness of the peppermint, the warmth of his breath, the lack of sight. I'm a captive to his every touch, every command.
But then he stops, stepping away.
My breathing turns ragged, my heart pounding in my chest. I can feel the panic rising again, but this time, I don't fight it. I let it fuel my desire, turning it into a raw, primal need.
When Julian's fingers replace the candy cane, slipping beneath the lace, I moan, tears slipping down my cheeks. I let my emotions roil, the panic and relief, the uncertainty that is always lurking beneath my skin.
He circles my clit, his touch firm and sure. I gasp, my hips bucking against his hand. Pleasure surges through me, intense and consuming.
"That's it," he growls, his eyes locked on mine. "Let go, Ivy. Let the darkness take you."
His fingers move faster, applying just the right amount of pressure. I can feel the orgasm building, a wave of darkness threatening to pull me under. But this time, I'm not afraid. I embrace it, chasing the sensation.
The wave crashes over me, and I cry out, my body convulsing with the force of my release. Pleasure rips through me, intense and all-consuming. It's unlike anything I've ever felt - a mix of panic and pleasure, darkness and light. It's so intense and Julian rides me through, helps me succumb to it and gives him everything.
As the waves of my orgasm subside, Julian unties the ribbon from behind my head, his touch gentle yet possessive. He gathers me into his arms, his lips pressed against my temple.
"You did so fucking good, Ivy," he murmurs, his voice filled with pride. "You faced the dark and found your pleasure."
I nod, clinging to him. He licks my cheeks, cleaning away the tears. My emotions feel all tangled and I'm exhausted from it.
"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart." He runs his hands over my body. "I swear it."