3. Ivy
IVY
T he wall is cool against my back, but it does nothing to temper the fire raging through me. Ethan keeps me pinned, his hands firm at my waist, his body a wall of heat and dominance. His lips are still on mine, his tongue still stroking, claiming, but it’s not enough—not even close.
I’m intoxicated, drunk on him, on the way he kisses, on the sharp edge of control in his touch.
His mouth trails lower, skimming the line of my jaw, dragging down the column of my throat.
He nips at my pulse point, laving his tongue over the spot until I’m gasping.
His hands slide down, gripping the hem of my dress and shoving it up, exposing my thighs to the cool air.
His fingers skim along my skin, slow, teasing, as he drops to his knees in front of me.
A slow smirk tugs at his lips as he presses his mouth against my inner thigh. “Ivy,” he murmurs, dragging his nose along my skin, “has anyone ever touched you the way you deserve?”
The question is low, a challenge laced with wicked amusement.
I swallow, my breathing ragged. “Yes.”
His fingers tighten, his green eyes snapping up to mine, dark and jealous. He drags his teeth along my thigh, his grip turning possessive. “No,” he drawls, drawing the word out like he is making a promise. “You have no idea what a man can do to you.”
And then, without another word, he bends.
His hands curl around the sides of my panties, but instead of pulling them down, his teeth graze the waistband, dragging them down inch by inch, the slowest kind of torture. My legs tremble as he eases them down my thighs, his fingers ghosting along my skin, his breath hot between my legs.
He presses a single kiss to my hip before his mouth trails lower.
And then he licks me with a long, slow stroke of his tongue against my clit that sends a sharp, electric shock through me. I gasp, my head thudding back against the wall, my fingers fisting in his hair. He hums against me, smug and knowing, before he does it again.
And again.
His tongue flicks, swirls, teases until I’m panting, writhing, my hips arching into his mouth, but he just chuckles against me, pinning me in place with strong hands. “So eager,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue in slow, maddening circles. “But I’m not done playing with you yet.”
I whimper, my fingers tightening in his hair, but he doesn’t let up. He keeps me on the edge, his tongue stroking, lapping at me, never enough, never letting me fall over. He watches me through hooded green eyes, a wicked smirk playing at his lips every time I shudder beneath him.
I’m shaking, right there, right on the edge of breaking, when he suddenly pulls back, his breath warm against my skin.
“Not yet,” he murmurs. “Not until you understand exactly what a man can do to you.”
And then his mouth is on me again, slower this time, more torturous, and I realize nothing and no one is going to stop him from taking what he wants tonight, least of all me.
My knees buckle, but Ethan’s grip tightens, keeping me pinned against the wall, keeping me exactly where he wants me.
My mouth drops, but no sound comes out. His fingers dig into my thighs, spreading me wider, giving him full access.
He spreads me open with his thumbs, exposing my swollen folds to the full sweep of his mouth.
His tongue slides out again, broad and hot, the first stroke a languid drag from my entrance to my clit, drawing out a whimper from me.
The flat of his tongue presses deep between my lips before curling upward, teasing the edges.
He circles my clit once, twice, barely touching it, just skimming, just enough to make me squirm.
“God, Ethan.” My words die into a silent scream as he changes it, now licking in tight figure-eights, tongue flicking over the sensitive nub in a rhythm that’s maddeningly perfect—slow enough to draw it out, firm enough to drive me wild.
Every few seconds, he pauses, draws a hot breath against me, and then sucks my clit into his mouth like he needs my taste to breathe.
The sound of it is obscene, wet and messy and loud, the slick echo of each stroke filling the space between my gasps.
His mouth works like he’s drinking me in, tongue dragging up through my folds again and again, flattening out to catch every drop, then curling to flick my clit with quick, shallow lashes.
“Love when you squirm like that,” he mutters, dragging the flat of his tongue across me again.
He groans as he licks, the vibration traveling through me like electricity.
Then he buries his tongue inside, deep and slow, fucking me with it until I’m panting, my thighs trembling around his head.
He pulls out just enough to kiss my clit again, then slides back down to do it all over, like he’s building me up on purpose, refusing to let me fall just yet.
There is no time, no space, only the heat of his mouth, the devastating flick of his tongue, the way he fucks me with it like he’s starving.
He sucks my clit between his lips, lashes it with his tongue, then releases just to do it all over again, drowning me in sensation, in pleasure so sharp and deep that I’m clawing at his shoulders, at his hair, trying to hold onto something solid.
But there’s nothing—nothing—except the way he consumes me like he’s making up for years of distance, like this was inevitable.
A dark, satisfied groan rumbles from his throat, vibrating against me, sending another wave of heat crashing through my system.
I gasp, my head thudding back against the wall. “Ethan?—”
He growls in response, shaking his head slightly as if to say, Don’t talk. Just take it. And then his tongue plunges inside me, fucking me deeply, his nose pressing against my clit, his rhythm punishing, his intent absolutely unhinged.
My body locks up, every muscle going tight, my thighs trying to snap shut around his head, but he forces them wider, his grip almost bruising.
He owns me in this moment—there is no other word for it.
Every flick of his tongue, every slow drag of his lips against my flesh is designed to wreck me, to make me fall apart completely under his control.
I’m panting, begging, the pleasure coiling so violently that I can’t contain it anymore. My legs tremble, my hands scramble against the wall behind me, but I have nowhere to go.
He won’t let me go.
And then I’m screaming— loudly , my voice breaking as he sucks my clit into his mouth and wrecks me, his tongue stroking me through every dizzying wave, refusing to let me come down, refusing to let me breathe.
I yank at his hair, trying to push him away, trying to save myself from the sheer intensity of what he’s doing, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even pause.
He drags me through it, lapping at me, taking every last tremor, every last moan, until my vision whites out, until I have nothing left to give.
And then, finally, finally, he rises.
His mouth crashes onto mine, hard, stealing the breath from my lungs, his kiss deep, bruising, a claim and a rebuke all at once.
I taste myself on his tongue, sharp and unmistakable, as his hands thread through my hair, tilting my head back so he can devour me the way he just did with his mouth between my thighs.
I moan into his mouth, my body still shuddering from the way he just unraveled me, but it’s not enough. Not even close. I whimper against his lips, my fingers clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing more.
Ethan exhales sharply, gripping my wrists and forcing them above my head, pinning me against the wall as his body presses flush against mine.
I can feel him—thick, hard, ready. His cock strains against the fabric of his pants, rubbing against my bare, over-sensitized skin, teasing me until I’m writhing, aching for him.
But he doesn’t give in.
Instead, he leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “Say it.”
I whimper, my body trembling, but he just tightens his grip, holding me still.
“Say it, Ivy,” he demands, his tone edged with raw control, with absolute possession. “Tell me how badly you want me.”
I bite my lip, my breath uneven, my thighs already clenching around him. “Ethan, please.”
His free hand trails down my side, slow, taunting, before gripping my bare hip and pulling me against him, letting me feel exactly what he’s going to do to me.
“That’s not begging,” he murmurs, his tongue flicking against my pulse point, teasing me just like he did before he ruined me with his mouth.
A shudder racks through me, and I break. Completely.
“Please,” I gasp, shameless, desperate, unable to care about anything except the way he’s making me feel. “I need you, Ethan. I need you inside me. Now.”
Something snaps in him. His growl rumbles through my body like a physical force, and then he’s releasing my wrists, grabbing the neckline of my dress, and pulling it down with one sharp motion. The cool air barely has time to hit my skin before his mouth is on me.
Hot. Possessive. Insatiable.
His teeth scrape against my breast before he bites down, just enough to send a jolt of pleasure straight between my legs.
I cry out, my fingers diving into his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.
He takes my nipple between his lips, his tongue flicking, sucking, ruining me all over again.
My back arches into him, my breaths coming in ragged gasps, but it’s not enough.
I need him. I need him inside me.
His hands are everywhere—gripping my waist, dragging me against him, holding me in place as he grinds against my aching core, his cock hard and demanding even through the layers of fabric.
Then… the sound of his zipper.
I swallow hard, anticipation making my pulse pound, my skin burn.
Ethan lifts me effortlessly, pinning me against the wall, and I wrap my legs around his waist, locking myself against him. My body is already trembling, already so far gone that I don’t even realize I’m whimpering his name until his mouth finds mine again.