Chapter 30
IVY
That night, he leads me out onto the balcony. I hadn’t noticed the door before, or maybe I had and it just didn’t register.
It slides open and cool night air spills over my skin. The space opens all at once—air, night, silence.
We’re high up. Higher than I expected. The city stretches out below us in soft lights and distant movement, everything far enough away that it feels quiet. Untouchable. Like we’ve stepped out of everything that exists down there.
There’s a glass railing. Nothing obstructing the view. Nothing closing it in.
And in the corner, a built-in hot tub. Steam already curling into the night as if anticipating our arrival.
“You didn’t tell me this was here,” I say softly. “It wasn’t part of the tour.”
“You didn’t ask.” His hand settles at the small of my back. “Get in,” he says.
“I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”
“Who said anything about swimsuits?” His eyes track down my body, hungry, and my skin reacts instantly. Heat blooms low, sharp and insistent. “You don’t need one for me.”
My clit swells on autopilot at the thought of being in a bubbling hot tub with him—quiet, controlled, already deciding what he’s going to do to me.
I don’t argue. I peel off my clothing, aware of him watching every movement. The night air kisses my skin, cool against the sudden heat rising through me. My nipples tighten, my breath catching as goosebumps scatter across my arms.
I step into the water.
The temperature is perfect, that knife edge between scalding and just right. Of course it is. Soren already knew exactly what I’d need.
He watches keenly as I slowly lower myself in, a soft breath slipping out of me as the heat wraps around my body, loosening something tight and coiled deep inside. “You’re fucking stunning, Ivy. You know that?”
I feel myself blush over the heat of the hot tub, heat rising higher, sharper this time.
I sink down a little more, tension slipping out of my body in a way that feels almost instant. Like something in me was waiting for this.
He joins me a moment later.
Close. Not touching at first.
The city stretches endlessly below us—open, expansive and free.
There’s a certain magic about Ravelle. Like it holds secrets. That we’re part of those secrets by virtue of living here.
I look around instinctively—the old habit, scanning for windows, for angles, for anyone who might be watching.
There's nothing. Just sky and city and the soft blur of distance.
We’re private, hidden. Everything narrowing down to the space between us and the water.
His hand finds my leg beneath the surface. Slow, unhurried.
My pulse jumps at his touch.
“This is better,” he murmurs.
I don’t ask what he means, because I already know.
I lean into him without thinking, my body settling against his like it belongs there—like it always has.
And for a moment, everything feels open. Endless. Like I could go anywhere. Like I could disappear into this.
Then his lips are on mine, ravenous, like he’s done waiting. There’s nothing gentle about it.
I kiss him back, just as hungry, my hands gripping his shoulders as his mouth takes control. Our tongues intertwine, exploring, locked together, pulling me under with it. Heat floods through me, sharp and immediate.
His hands move over me—sure, confident, mapping my body like he’s done it a hundred times already.
My breath breaks against his mouth when his grip tightens, when his touch shifts from exploring to claiming.
His hands caress my breasts and he squeezes both of my nipples. I squeal as he pinches them against the little metal bars, hard. “You like that, Ivy?” he asks, his eyes never leaving mine. “You like it when I hurt you?”
“Yes,” I moan as a bolt of electricity shoots directly from each nipple straight to my clit.
His hand descends, and my core tightens in anticipation.
He grabs me by the back of my neck and hoists me to the side of the hot tub, placing me exactly where he wants me. It presses against the backs of my thighs, the water shifting around us, and suddenly I’m more exposed—more aware—than I was a second ago.
“Show me your pussy, Ivy,” he commands.
I obey, spreading my thighs apart.
He groans as his gaze trails down. “Such a pretty pussy,” he growls. “Already like this for me. I can’t wait to taste you.”
His words make my body tingle.
He looks back up, his gaze holding mine for a beat longer than necessary, like he’s making sure I’m there. With him. Present.
Then his focus drops again.
My breath stutters as tension coils tight in my stomach, anticipation building faster than I can control.
He lowers his face between my legs, inhaling. “Fuck, your scent… I can’t get enough,” he groans.
His tongue flattens against my clit and I cry out. He flicks it against me, the tip darting in quick, teasing circles that make my hips jerk involuntarily.
His hands grip my thighs, holding them open wide as he sucks my clit into his mouth, pulling gently at first, then harder, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud just enough to send shocks of pleasure-pain through me.
“Stay still,” he murmurs. “Let me do it.”
I try. I really do. But my body doesn’t listen.
He notices.
My head tips back, my body reacting on instinct, hips shifting, searching for more as sensation floods through me—warm, deliberate, overwhelming in the way he takes his time, like he’s in no rush at all.
I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue dips lower, tracing the slick folds of my entrance.
He laps at me greedily, the flat of his tongue stroking up and down my slit, gathering my wetness before plunging inside, fucking me with shallow thrusts that make my inner walls clench around him.
The bubbles from the hot tub splash against my ass, adding to the overwhelming sensations—the heat of the water contrasting with the cool night air on my exposed skin, my nipples aching from earlier as they tighten even more.
He groans into me, the vibrations buzzing against my clit, and I feel his fingers join in—two of them sliding easily into my soaked pussy, curling upward to hit that perfect spot inside, like he knows exactly how my body works. His mouth returns to my clit, sucking rhythmically.
My body arches, needing even more. My hands grip the edge of the tub as pressure builds low in my belly, coiling tighter with every thrust of his fingers and flick of his tongue.
He doesn’t let up, his free hand reaching up to pinch my nipple again, twisting it sharply, and that’s what sends me over.
My orgasm crashes through me because of him, my pussy pulsing around his fingers, thighs trembling as I grind against his face, ripping moans from my throat.
My hips buck against him, and without thinking I wrap my thighs tightly around his head.
He lets me—for now.
“Mmm,” he moans, clearly pleased, lapping up every last drop of me as I come down. His tongue is gentle now, soothing the oversensitive flesh, like he’s calming something he just unraveled.
For a moment, there’s nothing else.
No city. No height. No space.
Just this.
Just him.
After, everything softens.
Lowering myself back into the bubbling tub, I sink back against him, exactly where he puts me—my body loose, pressed against his strong chest, my breathing still uneven as the last of the tension drains out of me.
His strong arms wrap around me, holding me there, solid and steady.
The water laps softly around us.
The city glows below.
And I feel completely, impossibly still. Like something in me just let go.
My eyes close. My breathing slows.
And I don’t remember the last time I felt this safe.
Maybe I never have.