Chapter 4
4
IVY
Oh, my god.
What is happening right now?
Mr. Shaw— Niko —has always been cool, calm, and collected. He’s the gruff, grumpy type of guy who only speaks when he’s forced to, and even then, you’d usually be lucky to get two or three words from him. That’s not been the case today at all.
Something is different this time around, and I’d bet it has to do with the lack of a certain face.
Not only has he been the one encouraging me to talk, but he’s out there, what, making me a daiquiri just because I said I liked them? If I had known he was asking because he wanted to get me something, I’d have given him a blander answer. Or hell, even accepted the foamy piss water he offered to start with.
I’ve never been a beer drinker. It was one of my quirks that Travis hated with a passion. He thought my drink choices were dramatic and that I should learn how to handle a couple of beers without turning my nose up. I became okay with having a water or soda instead of a cocktail or mixed drink because there was no fighting then.
It wasn’t until I left him that I realized how pathetic that made me. The first thing I did when I decided I was done with him was grab my backbone from wherever I’d hidden it over the nine months I’d spent with him and put it back into place.
It hasn’t moved since.
I smooth my hands down my thighs and then touch the frosted window, needing the cold against my burning flesh. If I wasn’t worried that I’d be caught with my front smooshed to the window, I’d try to cool the rest of myself off, too.
The office we’re in is spacious, but with Niko inside of it, it may as well be the size of a supply closet. His blatant big dick energy fills the room and threatens to make the walls curve against the force of it.
It’s not a loud confidence that he has but a quiet one that attacks when you’re not paying attention. One second, you’re trying not to cry, and the next, your heart is threatening to shoot through your chest at the feel of his hand around yours.
I rub the space between my breasts with my cooled hand and sigh. There are business matters to discuss, but I don’t care about them at all right now. It’s been months since I’ve felt this intense of a desire toward someone, and that’s . . . I’m worried that there’s something wrong with me because of it.
This is the man who raised the one I spent nine months of my life with. I thought I loved him, and we shared really intimate things.
Does it make me a bad person to be thinking about his father in a way that has me debating hopping onto the table and begging him to feast on me?
Maybe if Travis wasn’t such a piece of shit, I would think that I absolutely am. But he doesn’t deserve any kind of loyalty from me. Not anymore. So, aren’t I just a normal warm-blooded female who finds Niko, a grown man, really dang attractive?
Yeah, I think I am.
With a rush of confidence, I pinch the straining top button of my blouse and let it fly open. The curves of my breasts appear, but it’s nothing too revealing. A tease, really. Something to snag his attention.
Being devious like this is exciting. It makes me feel alive and sexy, and I don’t want to put a premature ending to it, even if it doesn’t lead to anything more than a few hours of good conversation.
Niko’s footsteps are heavy as they approach the office. I mess with my hair and pull my shirt open a bit more before folding my hands on the table.
He comes into the room with a beer in one hand and a frosted glass filled with red slush in the other. My mouth spreads into a grin, and his steps falter slightly near the table.
“Thank you, Mr. Shaw,” I coo, taking the drink and paper-covered straw that he offers to me.
“It’s Niko.”
“Niko,” I repeat, letting my tongue curl around the word for longer than necessary, tasting it. “It’s not very professional to call each other by nicknames.”
He sits back in his chair and palms his beer with a large hand. The one he had holding mine only minutes ago. I’m fascinated by the clean, blunt nails at the end of each finger. They look better kept than mine do despite my bi-monthly manicure.
“I’m not professional,” he says bluntly.
“Why not?”
“Don’t need to be.”
“Right now, or ever?” I ask, baiting him a bit.
He drinks from his beer. “Ever.”
Hmm . “Well, I’m always professional.”
I rip my straw out of its packaging and dip it into the red drink. Bending over the table, I bring the straw to my lips and flick my eyes up to watch him as I take the first sip.
The deep brown eyes staring back at me smoulder as they focus on my mouth. My blood heats below my goosebumped skin as I let loose a soft moan at the perfect blend of fruit and alcohol that hits my tongue.
“This is so good,” I praise between sips. So professional-like.
Niko adjusts himself on the chair, his jaw clenched tight enough that it looks painful. I flutter my lashes and close my eyes while taking another pull of the drink. When I unwrap my lips from the straw, a cold sensation hits my chest.
The chair across from me creaks loudly, and I slowly open my eyes to see Niko’s attention no longer fixed on my mouth but lower. Following his gaze, I watch as a bead of red slush slides down between the crease of my cleavage and drips low enough to disappear completely.
Completely innocently, I bring my finger to the sticky red line left behind and swipe up the drying liquid. With a smirk, I open my mouth and slide my finger along my tongue, tasting the daiquiri.
Niko’s knuckle blanches around the neck of his beer, and I wonder how much longer it’ll take for him to grip it hard enough to shatter.
“Do you have a napkin by chance? I’ve spilled a bit,” I say, continuing to stare at where my skin has stained red.
The poor chair whines this time, and I lift my gaze to Niko, offering a sweet, innocent smile. His expression makes my entire body tremble in anticipation. The open, blazing desire he’s letting shine through is doing wonders for my confidence.
I’ve never had anyone look at me like that.
“Actually, I think I have one,” I murmur before slipping a hand into my purse and searching for a pack of wet wipes.
The package crinkles when I pull it out and grab one before using it to clean my skin.
“What did he tell his friends?” His voice is a rumble I feel like a slap between my legs.
I blink, letting my hand go limp against my breast. “Whose friends?”
“Travis’s friends.” He lifts his beer to his mouth and gulps half of it down in one go. “What did he tell them about you?”
My temperature cools faster than it spiked. I remove my hand from my chest and ball the used wipe in my fist.
He won’t let it go now that I stupidly brought it up. Once he learns the things his son was saying about me, my chances to get him to make a meal of me will disappear. If he’s anything like his son, I’ll be shamed for the things I like for a second time.
Steeling my spine, I square my shoulders and decide to let it all out. I’d rather know what type of man Nicholas Shaw is now before spending another minute in his company.
“He and his friends used to call me Mount Ivy while making fun of my tits. Apparently, Travis didn’t like the way they shook while . . . you know. He thought it was distracting, and it was why he didn’t like to do it face to face.”
You could hear a pin drop in the silence. I’m pretty sure I hear my confidence disintegrating with each second that passes.
A beer bottle scrapes across the table, and then Niko asks, “He didn’t like when they shook while what, Ivy?”
“You know,” I push, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment.
“While you fucked, angel? Because that’s when they move the most, right? When they’re bare and exposed, your nipples hard little pebbles just begging to be sucked on,” he says lowly, every word intensifying the empty feeling between my legs.
My nipples are exactly as he described, and they’re forced to scrape against the cups of my bra with each of my trembled inhales and exhales.
Niko doesn’t stop there or wait for me to reply before pushing forward, his fingers straining where they lie on the table.
“Did he force them into the mattress, Ivy? Were those big tits punished because he didn’t know how to worship them properly the way that I would have?”
I roll my eyes up to the ceiling and grip the edge of the table when I feel like I could slide right off my chair. His words—they’re like a tongue stroke along my slit.
“Mr. Shaw,” I whisper on a breath, knowing he grows more uptight and frustrated with every use of that name.
When he kicks his chair back a foot from the table and tightens those dark brown eyes on me, I know I’ve gotten exactly what I wanted.
A beat later, he’s smacking his thigh. “Come here, angel.”
“Angel?” I echo softly, wondering if I heard him wrong.
“Should I call you something else?”
I shake my head just once, warmth erupting in my chest. “I like it.”
“Get on my lap, then, Ms. Bell,” he demands, his voice hard as he teases me with the name.
“Can you say please?”
The laugh that rips out of him is cold, threatening in a way that makes my clit throb. “You’re not innocent at all.”
“What am I, then?”
“You’re a sweet little slut, angel. Now, get on my fucking lap.”
I slip out of my chair and, with a finger dragging along the edge of the table, sway toward him. I’m keeping my pace turtle slow on purpose, but when he snaps an arm out and grips me around the waist, I know I’m about to lose my power to this dominating mountain of a man.
He moves me to stand in front of him, his knees pressing against me before I’m yanked forward. I lose my balance and tumble onto his lap, gripping his bulky shoulders to try and gain some balance.
With a gasp, I find my breasts pressed to his chest and my jeans pulled tight across my ass as I straddle him. This close, I can smell the spicy cinnamon scent of his skin. Without thinking twice about it, I dig my fingers into his shoulders and pull myself closer, bringing my nose to his throat.
Two thick, beefy arms wind around me, holding me in place, and I moan, drifting my nose along his neck to the underside of his bearded jaw.
“You smell so good,” I whine, pulling myself further up his lap until my thighs are braced around his waist.
The bulge that appears beneath my ass has my head snapping back and eyes falling to where we connect. I roll my hips forward and shudder at the pressure between my legs.
“Oh,” I murmur, flicking my eyes between his. “Is that . . . ?”
He releases a rough breath and fills his hands with my hips, using the hold to keep me still. “My cock, Ivy. That’s my cock.”
“It’s hard.”
Slowly, he urges me to rock forward, dragging my pussy over that long, thick ridge between us. I slip my hand from his shoulder to the side of his neck, holding him there as I press down on his lap.
“I’ve been hard since I walked out of the back and saw you sittin’ at my bar,” he declares, a thumb creeping up beneath my blouse to rub the bare skin of my waist. “Nearly blew a load in my jeans when I got you back here and felt your hand in mine.”
I swirl my hips and grind down on his erection. A fleeting thought has me darting my eyes in the direction of the office door, finding it slightly ajar. I’m not interested in interrupting the moment to have either one of us close it.
The thought of someone watching what I hope Niko’s about to do to me only makes me wetter. I’ll dive into the meaning behind that later.
“How have you lasted with me on your lap, then?” I ask on a breathy exhale.
He grunts, sweeping his other hand up my waist to hold me beneath the thick band of my bra. “By tellin’ myself that there’s a better place for my cum than in my briefs, Ivy.”
“Where?”
Oh, god.
I’m so fucking hot I’m going to erupt into a living ball of flame in this man’s wide, steady lap. Right and wrong are lost, meaningless in this moment because this is the best I’ve ever, ever felt. And if Niko was who I was waiting for to be able to experience something like this, then I refuse to believe it wasn’t meant to be this way.
I’ve finally sorted through the basket full of rotten apples I’d been handed and found a glossy, juicy one. I’m ready to sink my teeth into it and take a bite.
“Where, Niko?” I ask again, the words nearly slurred with arousal.
Niko removes his hands from my body and inches them up between us. His knuckles stroke a hot path along the underside of my breasts and then my aching nipples, eliciting a whimper from deep in my chest. He keeps moving, even as I arch my back and push my tits against his hands, desperate for more. For him to spread his fingers and pinch my nipples between them hard enough to make me see stars.
I pout, wiggling in his lap when he ignores my need and toys with the top of my blouse instead, running the tip of his fingers across the silky fabric.
“You lack patience,” he mutters, utterly focused on where my blouse has parted.
“Patience isn’t my specialty.”
Humming low in his throat, he shocks me by pinching both sides of my blouse and yanking them apart. The ripping of the fabric is instant, and the sound of buttons pinging all around the office comes next.
“Niko!” I gasp.
My breasts bounce as I shift back and stare down at them, now exposed beneath the lace cups of my nude bra. I grow tense, the messages I saw shared about me and my body popping into my mind and pulling me back to that dark place.
I lift my arm, intending to drape it across my chest, but Niko grunts his disapproval and takes my hand in his. He brings it behind my back and holds it there, eyes flashing with a warning.
“Don’t hide your tits from me.”
My chest burns bright red. “You don’t have to pretend to like them.”
Again with that dark, displeased chuckle. He leans forward, bringing his mouth close enough to mine that I can taste the beer on his breath. I inch toward him, seeking the feel of his lips. He uses our linked hands to yank me back. I bunch my brows together and narrow my eyes.
Keeping a grip on two of my fingers, he releases the rest and starts unhooking my bra. I keep my eyes on his as he works, and a beat later, I feel the band give, the tension around my chest releasing.
Habit has me reaching for the cups still hiding my breasts with my free hand, but there’s no time to cover myself. In a blink, Niko has my bra on the table behind me and his palms on my tits.
A rough groan falls from his spread lips, and I think my eyes cross when he pushes my breasts together and squeezes. His thumbs find my nipples and rub them with soft, experimental pressure.
“Never seen a pair of tits like these,” he reveals, awe thick in his tone.
I push into his touch, my eyes falling to half-mast. “Don’t lie.”
Calloused hands move my breasts side to side, making them sway and bounce before pushing them upward. Then . . . then, he’s burying his face between them and cursing low and long. Turning his head to the side, he bites and sucks at the soft flesh before lapping at the sting with his hot tongue.
I go limp in his arms, my legs as open as they can be in my restricting jeans. My pussy is so wet I think I’m leaking through my panties. Shit, I’m so turned on that I’m shaking.
“Niko,” I whimper, jerking my hips to try and find some sort of friction.
He pinches my nipples before beginning to roll them between his thumb and forefinger. I feel it all between my legs. He might as well be giving the same treatment to my clit.
“Do you still want to know where I ache to put my cum, angel?” he asks, dragging his face from between my breasts to hover his mouth over my aching nipple.
The scrape from his beard is a sensory overload, and I fucking love it. Want more of it. Specifically on my inner thighs.
“Yes,” I coo.
The first swipe of his tongue over my swollen peak makes me moan, but it’s the ghostly press of his teeth around it and the promise of delicious pain that has me crying out.
“Right here, Ivy,” he spits, as if he’s angry. “I want to coat these huge, soft tits in so much cum that you’ll never be able to wash the scent of me from them. I’ve never seen ones like this, and I’m content never findin’ another. I’m claimin’ this rack tonight, and that’s fuckin’ that.”
He bites down on my nipple, and I come.