7. Ivy
IVY
All these months.
Three hundred sixty-five days of longing.
They distill into this.
Into the breaking point.
I’m there now.
Truth be told, I was there when Stone arrived, teasing and laughing and poking and prodding, and maybe he was all we needed. That friend who is unfiltered, who says what he thinks and pushes two people together who want each other.
Callum’s desire is like a waft of smoke, floating through the room, spicy and sexy. I want to inhale it, inhale him.
I want him even more now that I know he’s so willing. Not just to have me, but to have me the way I want. To make my private thoughts become real. I’ve never shared my wishes with a man before. Never voiced them—my fantasies have always stayed in my head.
But he knows them, and he wants to give them to me.
Tonight.
He spreads me open on the desk, hands on my thighs, then parks himself in my chair.
And I tremble.
“Oh, God,” I gasp, and I can feel myself growing wetter just from this position, from the way he’s taking over.
“You like this, beautiful? You like being eaten right where you make all those important decisions?”
“I think I do.”
He hikes up my legs and sets my high-heeled feet on the edge of the desk. I’m wearing nothing but ridiculously expensive shoes, he’s fully dressed, and I relish the imbalance. I crave it, him in his white shirt, tie, and crisp slacks.
“I love that I’ve seen you at this desk, in these Louboutins, making calls, telling people what to do. But right now, your sexy body is begging for me,” he says.
The look in his eyes is dark, intense. I see everything in them I’ve been hoping to find—longing, lust, all the desire that matches my own and then some.
As he bends his face to my thigh, my body hums with need. I’m awash with a desire so powerful it feels like it’s going to eat me alive. “Now. Please. Make me feel dirty. Make me feel a little pain, then make it turn to pleasure.”
He looks up, his expression wicked. “You are dirty. And I can make it hurt so good.”
He turns his face to my inner thigh, grazing me with his lips, and I arch my back, turned on beyond words, beyond measure. He licks my right thigh, then moves to my left. “So soft. So smooth. You smell delicious,” he murmurs against my center, then he blows a gentle gust of breath over my clit.
I bow my back, moaning like a cat.
It feels good, this teasing, and the tingles are spreading over my skin. But I need more. I need more than softness. I need?—
He nips my inner thigh, and I gasp.
“Yes!” His teeth. My God, the sharp sting is so good I shiver.
He moves higher, murmuring against me, nipping as he travels along my skin. “Like that, beautiful?”
“Yes. Oh, God, I do,” I say, and my brain is buzzy and happy as he works his way up and down my thighs, kissing and biting.
I’m pulsing between my legs, and I need his mouth so damn soon. And, bless him, he gives it to me. Sliding his lips across my wetness in a bone-melting kiss.
That’s the only way to describe it—he doesn’t lick or stroke.
He French-kisses my pussy. He feasts on me, bestowing a hot, open-mouthed kiss right where I want him most, then he flicks his tongue against my clit.
I buck up, seeking more of his mouth, more of his tongue, craving a little extra something.
“More,” I plead softly.
I’m not sure what I’m asking for. I just know that as good as this is, it won’t be enough unless he makes it hurt a little bit.
He slides his hands under my ass. His big hands curl over the flesh, grabbing tight, squeezing hard. The way I’ve imagined. The way I’ve never quite had it before. The way I only recently realized I crave desperately.
“Oh God,” I gasp.
He looks up, his eyes blazing with lust. “You want it even harder? Rougher?”
“I do. I do, so much.”
He grips me, twisting, tugging at my flesh as he licks and kisses me.
And the twin sensations rocket through my body—the sheer ecstatic bliss of his lips on my center coupled with his powerful hands grabbing, kneading. Leaving marks.
His fingers inch closer to my ass, and he’s pulling at my cheeks, digging his fingers in.
A bolt of lust crashes into me.
I arch against his face, rocking against his wicked mouth, seeking more contact, and more friction too.
Grabbing at my body, he works me over with pleasure and a touch of pain.
Together, they knock out all my worries, all my tension, all the litany of things I have to do, decide, attend to.
Right now, I don’t have to do anything but be consumed, be worshipped, and be taken hard by a man who knows how.
His tongue flicks over my clit as he puts a finger against my ass, pushing, pressing, all while squeezing me harder still.
Pleasure coils low and tight in my stomach, a wild pulsing sensation gathering strength and power. It’s building, rising, and in seconds, it yanks me under as I toss my head back and lose myself in the bliss of his tongue, his hands, him.
“Oh God, I’m coming. Coming so hard.”
I shudder, my whole body shaking. I’m practically convulsing on my desk as an orgasm rips through me. And the aftershocks are so powerful they nearly knock out the Las Vegas electrical grid.
At least it feels that way to me.
I’m so blissed out from the way the climax ravages my body that it takes me a minute to realize what he’s doing.
My eyes flutter open to find Callum unzipping his charcoal pants, taking out his cock, and stroking it.
My mouth falls open. A moan comes from the very depths of my soul. I bite my lips as I watch him run his hand up and down his length.
Like he knows this is my guilty pleasure, this is my paradise.
I love nothing more than men jacking off.
Big, powerful, muscular men taking their thick cocks in their hands. Shuttling their fists up and down their lengths. And then coming all over the women they want to have.
I gush, the lust in me kicking up a thousand more notches, even after that wild climax he wrung from me with his mouth.
“Fuck me and come on me,” I blurt out.
“Whatever you want, beautiful. Whatever you want, you’ll get.”
He grips his dick, rough and tight, sliding a fist down it, and I shudder from the erotic thrill of watching one of my top fantasies unfurl before my eyes. He slows at the head, brushing a bead of liquid, catching it with his thumb.
I say nothing.
Nor does Callum.
Words aren’t needed.
He knows what I want.
He’s always anticipated my needs, and with sex it seems no different. He brings his thumb to my mouth, sliding the evidence of his arousal along my lips. I move with him, savoring his salty taste and moaning around it, then I draw in his thumb, nipping it, and he pushes all the way in my mouth.
I groan around him, relishing the way he pushes farther into me with his thumb as his other hand strokes his thick length.
Soon, I’m writhing on my desk again, an ache between my legs as I stare shamelessly at his hand moving up and down his length.
He removes his thumb, brings his mouth to mine, and crushes my lips in a fierce kiss before he pulls back, reaches for his wallet and pulls out a condom. “You need to bend over your desk now.”
I slide off, stand, and turn around. He presses a firm hand on the center of my back. Down, down, down I go.
He pushes my face against the hard, wooden desk, rolls on a condom, then presses the head against my wetness, and I cry out.
It feels so good.
And I need it so much.
The rightness of it. The wrongness of it. The forbiddenness of us .
We cross all the lines in my suite atop the hotel, the lights of the Las Vegas Strip twinkling below us as Callum jerks up my hips, spreads me open, and slides into my hot, wet center.
I close my eyes, sinking into this feeling, this wild sensation of hot sex with my bodyguard in my office, no one knowing what we’re doing. He curls his strong frame over mine, covering me completely. And he sinks in, burying his cock deep inside me.
It’s intense, and it’s nearly everything I fantasized about.
It’s almost, almost all my dirty dreams.
Then, as he slides his hands around me and up my body, he grabs my breasts, and yes, holy hell, yes.
Now it’s everything .
Now it’s all I want. Pleasure and pain, pain and pleasure. A cocktail of both flooding my mind, sweeping over my body.
He’s not gentle. Not at all. He squeezes my breasts without mercy. Ruthlessly. Pinching my nipples so damn hard that I yelp.
“Tell me if it hurts.”
“It hurts, and I love it,” I say, my mind going all kinds of hazy and warm, like it’s bathing in endorphins, like I’ve taken a shot of liquid intoxication.
I moan like an animal, my face against the desk, sensations washing through me.
He grips my breasts harder, rolling and pinching my nipples, then he lets go of one of my breasts and his hand travels down my body.
He lifts his palm and swats my ass.
Smack!
The noise is resounding. I cry out from the pain, but the pain ignites me. It shoots through me, transforming into a world of pleasure.
Then endless pleasure, as he does it again and again, stroking, going deeper each time. Soon, all the sensations spiral into a filthy, beautiful storm. And I’m not thinking at all anymore. I’m not making any choices.
Except for this one. To let him take me there, as the desire inside of me builds and crests.
Then it breaks beautifully as I come hard, without any words, with only incoherent sounds and noises of ecstasy in a strangled voice.
I moan and cry out till I’m so far gone I almost forget what I want most.
But he doesn’t.
Because he pulls out, rips off the condom, and grunts. “Watch me. Watch me now.”
I crane my neck, thrilling at the hottest sight ever.
Callum with his hand furiously stroking his length, his forearm muscles flexing as he moves at a fevered pace, his hips bucking.
He shuts his eyes, his jaw clenched, then he grits out my name as he comes hard on my ass, groaning as he covers me in his release.
When he opens his eyes, he takes one big palm and smears his come all over my skin.
And I swear that sight is as intense as the two orgasms he wrung from the very center of my soul.
Maybe more.
Because it’s what I get off to every night.
It’s as perfect as a night can be.
The problem is, I don’t know how we’ll return to normal tomorrow.
Or what normal is after that kind of intimacy.