Chapter Two
Thorne
“Your room or mine?” Ivy asks.
If we go to mine, Bruce the Porter will be there with his, “Mr. Blackstone, welcome back. Is there anything you or your guest needs, Mr. Blackstone? Mr. Blackstone. Mr. Blackstone. Mr. Blackstone…” She’s going to Kentucky. I won’t risk my last name ruining this thing between us.
“Yours.” My words are rougher, hungrier. I press her against the corridor wall, gripping her waist and pulling her against me with enough force that her breath catches.
I lean in like I’m going to kiss her lips, but right before I sift and brush my mouth along her neck, inhaling her potent scent of gardenia and amber.
She is delicious. I can’t help running my tongue along her pulse.
She tilts her head to give me better access.
Her soft moan sends fire straight through me.
My palm slides up her ribcage, gripping hard as I pull her closer.
She presses into me, her body pliant and eager.
When I finally capture her lips, it’s not the controlled kiss I planned, but demanding, consuming.
She meets me with equal hunger, her tongue sliding against mine like she’s been waiting for this.
The world narrows to us. To the way she gasps when I bite her lower lip, how her fingers tangle in my hair and pull me closer, the small sounds of approval she makes when my grip tightens on her hips. Her body arches into mine with each rough touch, and I take what she’s offering without apology.
I’m dimly aware of the train’s corridor, but all that matters is how she responds to every demanding touch, every bruising kiss, giving as good as she gets.
A door clicks open somewhere nearby, followed by a low wolf-whistle. “They’re enjoying this train ride way more than us,” a man mutters. His friend chuckles, and then their footfalls move away from us.
“We should probably get to your room before I end up fucking you here.” Her eyes dilate further, and I’m tempted to deliver on my promise. Except, there’s one thing we have to take care of first. “Do you have condoms?”
She nods. “I’ve got a box in my suitcase.”
I raise a brow, taking a step back to give her space to lead us to her room. “A box, huh? Fun plans for Kentucky.”
There’s a strange tightness in my chest at the thought of her with someone else. The idea of another man touching her makes something dark coil in my stomach.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I shake my head to clear the unwelcome thoughts. This is a night of physical attraction, nothing more. After tonight, we’ll never see each other again.
“I have complicated plans…And Dave’s a nice diversion.” She takes my hand, leading me a short distance down the corridor, stopping in front of a polished wood door with brass fixtures. The nameplate reads “Bedroom Suite C” in elegant script.
“Dave, huh?” That strange knot in my chest tightens, and I step closer to her, as if claiming her as mine. Ridiculous.
She turns, looking up at me, her eyes narrowed. “I hope you aren’t about to sex-shame me.”
I choke on a laugh. She holds my gaze without flinching, chin lifted, daring me to judge her. “No. Hell, I’m thrilled you’re prepared. But after tonight, he’s going to be less of a pleasant diversion.”
Her brows pull close. “Um, why?”
“Because I’m going to make you come so hard.
I’m going to fuck you so thoroughly, you’ll be wishing it was me inside of you instead of that man.
After tonight, you’re—” I catch myself before saying something insane like, you’re mine.
The possessive claim sits heavy on my tongue.
“—you’re going to find him less of a pleasant diversion. ”
A flush spreads across her cheeks, but her eyes stay locked on mine. “I hope your dick is as big as your ego.”
I smirk. “It is.”
“And you actually know how to use it.”
My grin widens. “I do.”
Her lips curve as she shakes her head, her fingers playing with the key card, turning it over and over.
The train's gentle rocking makes her shoulder brush against my chest. “We'll see.” She looks away from me and slides the key card through the reader.
The door swings open. The bed dominates the small space, and my mind immediately goes to all the ways I could have her on it.
The compact room means everything is within reach: the window she could brace against, the small armchair I could bend her over.
My suite three cars down has so much more room, so many more surfaces, but right now, all I care about is getting her out of that dress and onto those crisp white sheets.
I step into the room behind her, already reaching for the hem of her dress. This is familiar territory. I know exactly how this goes. I’ll have her out of that dress in seconds, pressed against the window or bent over that chair, completely at my mercy while I—
She spins around in my arms, her palms flat against my chest. “What’s your favorite part?”
The question catches me off guard. “My favorite…?”
“When you’re with someone. What do you like most?” She traces the edge of my collar, light and teasing. “Taking control? Being in charge?” Her tone says she already knows the answer.
I shrug with one shoulder. “Both, I suppose.”
She hums thoughtfully, her touch still maddeningly light. “I had a feeling.” Her fingers find my tie, loosening it with deliberate slowness. “Do you want to throw me on that bed? Pin my wrists above my head? Take me. Make me beg?”
My pulse hammers against my collar. “Yes.”
“Mmm.” She pulls my tie free, the silk whispering against my collar. “But what if I want to see you lose that perfect control first?”
My pulse jumps. “What?”
She pushes my jacket off my shoulders, her nails dragging lightly across my collar. “You’re used to being in charge, aren’t you? Used to women melting the moment you touch them.”
She’s right, but I deflect. “What are you getting at?”
Her hands move to my shirt buttons, working them open with maddening patience. “I want to see what happens when you can’t orchestrate every move. When you have to just... feel.”
The word makes me hard and unsteady at the same time. Feel. When do I ever just feel anything? But her fingers are spreading my shirt open now, her palms flat against my chest, and thinking becomes impossible.
She unbuckles my belt. The belt slides through with a quiet rasp, the buckle striking the floor with a metallic clink. Before I can even think to remove her dress, she’s on her knees, pulling my cock free.
“Good to see you weren’t lying about your size.”
I laugh, but it turns into a groan when she takes me into her warm, wet mouth and nearly to the back of her throat. “Fuck,” I rasp.
If she keeps doing that, I am going to be a liar about the second part and come before her first orgasm. Yet I can’t pull away. Not when she’s already found that perfect rhythm and her moans tell me she likes sucking my dick as much as I like her doing it.
Forget controlling how this night goes. She owns what’s happening between us.
Thick pressure begins to tighten in my balls, and I grab a fistful of her hair. The moan that escapes her has me nearly blowing my load. I pull her off my cock. “Don’t make me a liar, Ivy.”
She stands and I turn her around, unzipping her dress. I push it from her shoulders. The material pools around her black heels, which she steps out of. Moonlight paints her skin silver, and for a second I forget how to breathe.
I run my fingers along the back of her neck and down her spine, stopping at her bra to unhook it. She shrugs it off, and I continue along her satin skin, moving around to her front. She arches, but I tease us both, tracing along the bottoms, instead of cupping her breasts like we both want.
Goosebumps rise along her skin as I move down her sides, and I relish her short, needy gasp that follows. The cream lace of her panties slides beneath my fingers, and I cup her irresistible ass. She presses into my palms, a silent plea for more.
My muscles tense with anticipation as I shrug out of my button-up, followed by my undershirt. Next come my slacks and boxer briefs. Kneeling, need drives me to take a playful bite of her ass. Her moan shoots straight to my cock.
Turning her to face me, I pull her panties slowly down her legs. I nuzzle against her clit, taking in her heady female scent.
My hand slides up her legs to the apex of her center. Her wetness makes me groan. “You’re already so wet for me,” I mumble, drunk on her. She hums in agreement. “Get the condoms and then sit on the edge of the bed.”
She grabs a small box from her luggage and I scoff. “Three condoms? You must not have had that fun of a time planned for Kentucky.”
“You’re an asshole, aren’t you?” she laughs.
“I am.”
“It’ll be a very short visit.” She bites her bottom lip, then releases it. “Short, but complicated.”
I’m surprised by my curiosity. But this is one night, so I don’t ask questions and take the box from her, pointing to the bed. “Sit.”
And hell, she does, spreading her legs, her pretty, pink heat laid bare for me. This woman is made for me. That thought lands like a bomb, but I toss it from my thoughts before it can explode.
Hunger drives me forward, planting my mouth on her, feasting on her like the animal she turns me into. This isn’t my usual pace, getting off on her craving for me—no, this is the opposite. I’m addicted to her. Not the act of sex, but her.
I want to eat her. Fuck her. Have her orgasm dripping down my throat, and then my cock.
Sliding two fingers inside her, I curl them. She arcs up off the bed, calling out my middle name. I’m tempted to tell her my actual name, just to hear her say it in that desperate plea.
Instead, I suck her clit harder, drunk on her sweet taste, and I urge her to ride my face to her first orgasm.
She fists my hair and rocks her hips, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps.
“Almost. Oh, God!” Her legs begin to shake, and then she’s coming apart on my tongue, shouting out her pleasure so loud she probably woke her neighbors.
Before her aftershocks have completely worn off, I’ve ripped open a condom packet, rolled it on, and have myself at her entrance.
She curves her hand around my neck and pulls me flush against her. Then, somehow, manages to roll me onto my back. Hell, the view is mouthwatering.
Her long dark hair falls around her, spilling around her breasts, the dark silk brushing my skin. And when she rises onto her knees and lowers herself onto my cock, I can’t look away. The sight and feel are almost too much.
“Christ, Ivy,” I groan, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples with my thumb and index fingers.
She bucks and demands, “Harder.”
I comply, sitting up and replacing one hand with my mouth, but continuing with the roughness she craves. The combination of her whimpers, the ways she’s rocking against me, her nails digging into my back, is snapping what’s left of my control.
And then she’s shaking, biting onto my shoulder, and I do snap. I push her onto her back and pound into her. She meets me thrust for thrust. Her bed is bolted to the wall, but the headboard keeps slamming against it.
“Yes, like that. Don’t stop!” she begs, as if I could. Her orgasm and mine are barreling toward us faster than the train we’re on.
She comes apart around me, crying out, and that’s all it takes. My release rips through me, and I’m right there with her—loud and completely out of control.
I collapse on her then roll onto my side, sucking in deep breaths to help with my racing pulse. Giving myself a minute, I remove the condom and toss it into a nearby trash can. I focus on evening my breathing, keeping my expression carefully neutral when I finally meet her eyes again.
“Damn,” she sighs.
“What?”
“You’re right.”
“About…”
“That was good.” She runs her fingers up and down her torso. I follow the movement.
“Just good?”
“Men and their ego that always need stroking,” she mutters.
I smirk. “I’ve got something else you can stroke.”
She looks down at my hardening cock. “Already!”
I shrug. “I like fucking you. And we have two more condoms.” The pad of my finger trails around her areola, and her nipple tightens. “Does me being right mean you’ll think of me when you’re in your Kentucky man’s bed?”
It’s her turn to shrug. “Maybe.”
Screw maybe. I’ll make sure of it. “Get on your stomach.”
She does as I tell her without question, which makes my dick go from half-hard to rock-hard. I begin kissing from the top of her spine, moving lower.
We only have this one night, and I’m going to make sure she won't forget it anytime soon. Because, if I'm being honest, I won’t.