Chapter 19
Damien
I want to punish her. At least that was my intent three incredibly highly charged, highly erotic sessions ago. I wanted her to feel the hurt, but she ended up loving the pain. I didn’t even intend on fucking her at that fucking cottage. That had happened because she was too irresistible in that dress. When I kissed her, I wanted more. When she kissed me back, I was lost. So I tried to regain control. First, by making me suck my dick. An experience I will never forget. Not that she is a master cocksucker. But because she did it with such earnest enthusiasm, that was both exciting and arousing. And because of that, my control slipped again, and the punishment turned into a need to pleasure her. I told myself it was because I wanted to be inside her pussy again, but I was lying to myself.
That was the first session. After we caught our breaths, we went to the main house, and I took her to the master bedroom. My goal was to humiliate her on her father’s bed, but even that didn’t work out the way I intended. Instead of taking her to the bed, I saw a chair, and an idea came to mind. A wet dream I’ve always had of her. Watching her breasts swing in my face as she rode my dick. I had to make the dream a reality, and it was just as good as I thought it would be. Better even. I am putting her to work like a slut; I told myself, but that wasn’t true either. The need to please her seemed to take over at some point and override all initial instructions in my brain. We did it again on the chaise lounge and by then I had given up all pretense.
Now we lie tired, a spaghetti of tangled limbs on the chaise lounge. I don’t remember sex being this good. Not with her or anyone else. The more we do it, the more I want her. It shouldn’t work like that. I should be tired of her now. But no. I can feel my erection growing once more, prodding against her thigh. I’m going to run out of condoms soon at this pace. She stretches and my dick responds to her movements.
Do you have any idea how much you drive me crazy? I almost say, but I hold the words on my tongue.
I watch her as she stands up, her beautiful body on display in all its naked glory. Her body has changed and for the better. Her hips a fuller, her curves more pronounced, and she looks more like a woman than she did eight years ago.
Mesmerized by her, my brain doesn’t register what she’s doing when that body I had been staring at is instantly covered by her dress.
“What are you doing?” I sit up, stretching my limbs. I swallow a groan as blood rushes to my legs. We were lying in the same position for what seemed like an eternity, and I still want us to stay like that for a few more minutes. Fuck numb limbs.
“Putting on my clothes. What does it look like?” She says without turning her back.I get up and catch her hand just as she’s about to close the zipper of her dress.
“Not now you’re not.” Without realizing what I am doing, my arms go around her waist and I press her back against my body. She gasps when she feels my hard erection.
I inhale her sweet, pungent mixture of sweat, sex, and perfume as I brush my lips on her neck. She’s like a drug. A dangerous, irresistible drug and I am going to take as much as possible until I overdose. Maybe then I will get over her. “Our night isn’t over yet.”
I place little nicks and bites on her neck as I unzip her dress. She doesn’t resist. Instead, she let me undress her. The dress falls to her feet and her beautiful body is bared to me again. I spin her around, admiring her shapely breasts and taking the left one in my hand. “Holy shit, you’re beautiful.”
She rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to flatter me.”
Ivy Hawthorne is probably the most beautiful person I have ever met. So either her confidence has taken a beating over the years or she’s fishing for complements. “You’re not the self-assured Ivy who seduced me eight years ago? What happened to her?”
“She grew up and stopped believing her own hype.”
My hands slide down to her waist. “Whatever she believed, her beauty was never hype. Still isn’t.” The cynicism on her face melts away and I kiss her just before I notice something else I didn’t want to see. That same awestruck face she used to have whenever she was in my company.
She returns my kiss with the same vigor as before, but this time, there’s an earnestness to her that turns my insides into mush. It makes me want to cradle her in my arms and make slow, sweet love to her. Show her how much I have missed her. Tell her the number of times I have replayed our night together.
Focus.
As quickly as they come, I wipe those silly thoughts away. I am here to take. Make her pay. Use her. Desecrateher family home. I pull away from her and ignore her taut nipples, pointed with desire. I try to forget how they felt pressed against my chest and lead her to the bedpost. I look around for some binds. I can’t find anything until I spot her panties. Good thing she brought them with her after our time at the cottage. Using those, I tie her hands to the bedpost.
Fuck. She makes such an erotic image as her back protrudes out while her breasts spill around the pole. Her butt looks ripe, round, peachy and inviting. I caress it and she arches her back even more. “You’re enjoying this a little too much, don’t you think?” I say before lightly slapping her butt cheek. I am not into BDSM of any kind, but everything is different with Ivy. With her, life is an upside-down world.
She moans and my heart sings. I slap the other cheek and caress it, my hand dipping to her pussy. She’s drenched. She arches her back further into my stomach and against the tip of my cock as I slip two fingers inside her. Even though she’s tied against the pole, she gyrates against my hands, fucking them like she hasn’t been fucked in a while. As though we weren’t going at it moments ago.
I nip at her earlobe. “You’re so greedy. You may be a princess, but you want to be fucked like a whore.”
Her response is an incoherent noise.
“Say you want me to fuck you like a whore.”
She shakes her head, but she doesn’t stop fucking herself against my hand. I withdraw my fingers. She cries in frustration. I pinch one nipple then the other. “Say it.”
“Fuck me like a whore,” she finally cries. “Fuck me like a slut Damien.”
Good thing she can’t see my smile as I slide into her or otherwise she would have known how much power she has over me. Damn, she feels so good. Every time feels like the first time with her.
As I bury myself to the hilt, I recall my mistake. I’m not wearing protection. But she feels so good. Acting on instinct, I thrust into her a couple of strokes before pulling out.
“What’s the problem?” I hear her ask as I rush over to my pants and take out a square piece of gold foil. The last one. Putting it on is tough when your dick is hard and ready like mine is. I return to her and place my cock between her legs.
“Protection. We wouldn’t want another repeat, now would we?” As soon as those words leave my mouth, they turn into lies. The image of Ivy barefoot and pregnant with my child is more arousing than any erotic picture. It drives me into fucking her relentlessly against that pole. As if I can will myself seed to burst through the condom and make the image come true.
Ivy’s cries increase as I fuck her again and again until she’s practically whimpering. She is rubbing her clit against the pole. I press my body into her to increase the friction. If I can’t debase her, then let’s drive each other crazy. My hands go around hers as I drive into her. She twists her neck back for a kiss and I gladly give it to her. My lips travel down her neck before I bite at the point where her neck and shoulder meet. Marking her. Making her mine.
You’re mine.
A thought that both brings me dread and joy. Just then, I feel her pussy walls clench my cock, holding it in a death grip as she quakes with ecstasy. It’s too much. In no time, I am coming like a faucet. My knees buckle and I almost lose my grip on the pole, but I hold on tightly as I ride the wave.
This is earth-shattering. Part of me knows I will never feel like this with anyone ever again. And part of me wants to reject that notion. I know for a fact that she makes me wild with desire, but not enough for me to forget who she is. What she represents.
I withdraw my cock out of her and we both moan. Our limbs are too raw. After catching my breath for a couple of seconds, I untie Ivy and she falls to the bed, facing me. She has a smile on her face. Happy from the orgasm I’ve just given her. Another stray thought enters my mind. I want to see her like this every day. Happily fucked by me. In love with me. And I in—No. Let’s not go there. I shut the door to that fantasy and return to the lowly lit room with its typical beach house-style decoration. I wonder if she noticed that this is the only room I didn’t change when I renovated.
“That was,” she starts, but I interrupt her. “So that’s what a billion-dollar fuck feels like.” Her smile quickly vanishes and the light inside me dims, but I continue. “I wonder if you noticed where we are.” She looks around, and watching her face dawn with comprehension should feel more triumphant than it does. “I’ve always wanted to debase on your father’s bed. The revenge would have been sweeter had he been alive, but I like to believe his ghost roiling from the show we gave him.”
The look on her face makes me want to take back everything I’ve just said. There’s revulsion, yes, but the thing I can’t shake off is the hurt. Her eyes are watering and she looks like she will never forgive me for what I’ve just done.
She stands up and slaps my face. “Fuck you, Sinclair.”
She steps forward, but I block her. I block her again as she steps to the side. She tries a third time and I push her back onto the bed.
“I want to leave,” she says
I shake my head. “No. The night isn’t over yet.”