Ivy: The Ties That Bind (Auction Night Book 4)

by Ellie Masters

  “Can I come in?”

  Can I say no? Do I have that choice?

  “Ivy?” Concern drips with his use of my name.

  It’s the first time he’s used it, and I’m pretty sure I never told him my name. Michelle and the other girls know, but Edge?

  “Yes?”

  “Please let me in.”

  He’s asking? A deep breath pulses into my lungs and I give a long, heavy exhale.

  I don’t let him in. Instead, I go to him. My hands might be shaking, but I open the door with confidence. He stands there, gloriously naked and proud.

  His commanding presence isn’t something I can ignore, but that’s not what draws me into his arms. I reach for him and he brings me in close, arms wrapping around my waist.

  “You’re trembling,” he says, whispering into my ear. “What has you spooked, little mouse?”

  I love when he says that. It makes me feel precious. Names shouldn’t have this much power, but when he calls me little mouse, I melt into him.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, admitting the truth. “I don’t know what’s going on. I’m scared. I’m shocked. Did you really buy me for a month?”

  Edge is a tall man and I have to crane my neck to meet his contemplative expression.

  “Is that what this is about?”

  I give a nod.

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

  “But the charity?”

  “The auction is merely an excuse to donate. They’ll get my donation regardless of what happens between us.”

  “I’m sorry about all the reds.”

  His brows scrunch together. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea.” I have no idea what my problem is.

  He kisses the top of my head. “You’re fucking adorable.” His hand cracks down on my ass. “Now, get back in bed. I’m going to fuck you until you forget your name. Then, we’re going to have a nice long talk.”

  Chapter 16

  His words bring a hot flush quivering low in my belly and throbbing between my legs.

  I scramble back into bed and scoot back as he descends on me. For a brief moment, I’m able to admire the sculpted ridges and indentations of his abdomen. There’s so much for me to explore and I can’t wait for a taste of him.

  He crawls onto the bed, the slow prowl entrances me and I move as far back as I can. He follows my retreat until he’s close enough to kiss the soft expanse of skin between my shoulder and neck.

  With his lips on me, I give a little squeak as he sinks his hand between my legs. A little pressure and I’m spreading before him. He strokes my inner thigh and brings a moan to my lips.

  “Can I touch you?” I ask.

  There’s no command to keep my hands anywhere specific and I’m dying to touch him while we fuck. His fingers stroke my folds, making me wet and feverish for more. Then all of a sudden, his fingers shove forward, pinching delicate tissues. The burn excites me. The pain sets all my nerves to buzzing.

  “Goddamn but you’re tight and wet. I love how wet you get for me.” He drops his head and the sharp edges of his teeth slide against the tender skin of my neck. If he bites me there, it will leave a mark I won’t be able to hide.

  His fingers slip deeper inside and I stifle a gasp as he crooks his forefinger just the right way.

  While permission to touch hasn’t been granted, I can’t help but grip his biceps. His muscles bunch as he drives his fingers in and out, forcing merciless pleasure between my thighs.

  “Please,” I say, gasping for air, “I need you inside of me.”

  “You don’t like my fingers?”

  “I love your fingers.”

  He lifts his head and we’re nose to nose. There’s that mischievous smile of his again.

  “What about my mouth? I haven’t had the pleasure of tasting you yet.”

  Oh! That would be…maddening, wonderful…maddeningly wonderful!

  I squirm, thrusting my hips to meet the force of his fingers pushing in and out of me. The onslaught of sensation makes my entire body shudder.

  He buries his fingers in my pussy and traps me against the headboard with his rock-hard presence.

  The pace of his breathing is strained. His ruthless touch drives me wild, but it’s the hunger in his eyes which sends me over the brink.

  My climax slams into me and the world detonates in a fiery combustion of wanton lust and sensual bliss. I ride the orgasmic waves, screaming out his name, but before the pulsation fades, he jerks me down the bed and lays me out. Then he’s on me, filling my pussy with his cock.

  I slide my tongue out to wet my lips, but meet the thrusting of his tongue instead. He kisses with the same reckless hunger he uses to fuck.

  His swollen length plunges inside of me, filling me with intense pleasure. Someday, I plan on becoming much better acquainted with that cock.

  Images of kneeling before him and giving him pleasure swirl in my head. I lock my eyes on him and claw at his back while my legs wrap around his hips. He thrusts hard and deep, moving with a relentless pace as he chases his orgasm. I’m ahead of him and cry out with my release.

  He doesn’t stop. His hips jerk, gliding his long length along the sensitive tissues inside of me as my walls pulsate with each wave of pleasure.

  He fucks me into submission, but the thing is, I already belong to him.

  With a bucking of his hips, his orgasm takes him, then he collapses on top of me and buries his face in my neck. The sharp prick of his teeth marks me as his.

  With arms and legs in a tangle of flesh, we doze off for a time, and a languid quiet settles over my body. Edge made good use of me and I don’t want to move, but morning is rushing toward us. It’s time to face the day, and those which follow.

  Edge gets us up early. We spend the morning in bed. I’m spared the punishment for moving my wrists. It’s the one and only pass he’ll ever give me, and delivered with the sternest expression.

  We shower together and I finally get a taste of his cock.

  On my knees, with water steaming all around us, I serve him. Something shifts inside of me, a sense of belonging and coming home. I have one month with Edge and I’m eager to begin.

  “I want you to go home and pack a bag.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Bring whatever personal items you might need to spend the night.”

  I gulp and he notices.

  “Relax. I’m not requiring you to live with me, but you’ll spend more nights than not at my place. I only want to make sure you have what you need. I also need to know your work schedule. I won’t infringe on any obligations, but the rest of your time belongs to me. Is this understood?”

  I breathe out with relief. The terms of my service are a little better defined.

  “Yes, Sir, but I’m still not sure about what’s expected. The auction…”

  He gives a low chuckle. “You’re mine, however I choose to have you; however, you and I define what that means. I’ll lead, but not without your input. I have hopes for the future.”

  I need to ask him about what he means by that, but I’m struggling with how everything is going to work. The day to day of my life for the next month is at the forefront of my mind.

  “What do most people do?” I’m assuming he’ll expect something close to that. He’s done this before, but it’s all new to me.

  “Don’t worry about the others.”

  “I’m just curious. It might help to know what to expect.”

  “Don’t you trust me to sort that out for us?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I trust you to lead.” I make a vague gesture around the room. “The handcuffs and spanking are all new to me. Calling a man that I’m dating Sir is new to me. I still don’t know the difference between a Dom and a Master, but I did hear Michelle call you Master Edge. Do I call you that or just Sir?”

  “I like it when you call me Sir.” He gives a cheeky grin and pulls me into his embra
ce. “Do you know why?”

  I bite my lower lip. “I know what I get out of it.”

  “What’s that?”

  I’ve never been this honest about my thoughts, but Edge pulls it out of me. I answer without hesitation.

  “A tiny flare of arousal. Is that what it’s like for you?”

  He kisses my forehead and sweeps the hair off my face.

  “It’s a rush. Knowing you give me the power to control and dominate you is intoxicating. Every time you call me Sir reaffirms the shifting of power between us.”

  “We’re opposite sides of the spectrum.”

  “I call that a perfect match. And who knows, in a year, maybe you’ll choose to call me Master. Now, let’s get dressed and get you home. I’m eager to begin.”

  A year?

  Wait!

  What does he mean a year?

  Chapter 17

  My mind is reeling. Does he mean what I think he said? Or, is he simply thinking further into the future than I am? I should ask. I need to ask, but I’m afraid of the answer.

  I can always back out.

  Right?

  The donation still goes to the domestic abuse charity.

  Why can’t I get up the nerve to ask?

  Edge grabs my hand and leads me out of our room. “Your car has been towed and is getting a new tire. I'll drive you home, then we'll go and get your car. Where do you live?”

  The address rattles off my lips automatically. I’m in shock and working on autopilot.

  “Do you live alone?”

  “Yes.”

  He spins me around and grips my upper arms. “I want to be perfectly clear for a minute, little mouse. I expect answers to any question I ask of you, but more than that, I demand deference and respect. I’m not interested in playing games and I don’t feel a need to constantly explain my expectations. When we’re alone, or within the walls of this club, you defer to me in all things, and most importantly, you use the appropriate form of address. We’re going to spend a lot of time together, both in public and out. Never forget your place.”

  I gulp and dip my head. “I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

  I’m both mortified and terribly turned on. He’s going to be strict.

  I like that.

  I respect it. But more than that, knowing I’ve placed him in a position of authority over me and my actions makes me needy, wet, and throbbing. How this can be isn’t something I understand, but it’s very real.

  “Not using the proper form of address tells me you’re not committed to this thing we’re building. It’s an honor to be addressed in this manner, and I treasure it, but you won’t be warned again. I want you to understand something important.”

  “Yes, Sir?” I’m brave enough to face him directly. This doesn’t feel like a moment to keep my eyes cast down.

  “Punishments are meant to hurt, and I have no problem enforcing the rules. You will find it turns me on, and I’m not going to deprive myself release because you’re being punished. I’ll take what I need, as I need it, and won’t take the time to pleasure you. Leaving you aroused and needy will be a part of the punishment. Is this clear?”

  My pussy is throbbing with the way his tone deepens during the lecture, and I’m very, very wet. The power pulsing between us is undeniable. It’s seductive, sensual, and erotic as hell. I want him to toss me over his knee and show me exactly how bad I’ve been, but that is not for me to decide.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Tell me, is your pussy wet?”

  I bite my lower lip. The directness of his questions continue to keep me off-balance.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. Remember how it feels when your needs are not met. Now, on your knees.”

  He presses down on my shoulder, forcing me to my knees.

  With an economy of movement, he unbuttons his pants and pulls out his long, thick length. He strokes the shaft from root to crown.

  I’ve only tasted him once, in the shower. I shouldn’t be surprised he’s as hard as he is, but I am. Then I understand a crucial truth. The power flowing between us is as potent to him as it is for me. He gets off on power. There’s another truth here as well, perhaps my first real lesson as to what this thing between us will be.

  He’ll get an orgasm out of this, whereas I will not.

  I sink to my knees and stare up at him, waiting for his next move.

  My limit list is clear. I won’t be swallowing his cum. In the shower, that was easy to avoid. He pulled out moments before he came and all the water washed everything away. We don’t have that now. Will he force me to swallow?

  There’s no time to ponder my question because he’s shoving his cock against my mouth and pressing the flare of the crown against my lips.

  “Open.” He barks the command and there’s a third truth I’m facing as he forces his way inside.

  I fight not to gag and fortunately he pulls out. This allows me to take in a strangled breath, but no sooner than I do, he is thrusting inward again.

  This is nothing like the shower. He’s taking my mouth with brutal aggression. He was gentle before, taking time to make sure I was okay. This? It’s nothing like that.

  My disobedience forces him to enforce his position, and that rush of power takes him to another place. It’s a place of raw male sexuality where there are no excuses.

  Kneeling before him puts me in a trancelike state. I’m aware of what he’s doing, how he’s taking without regard for my comfort, but I’m also finding my serenity.

  This is where I want to be. I want to be brutally used as much as I wish to be worshiped on a pedestal.

  Last night, Edge worshipped me. This morning, I’m being punished and used. My place couldn’t be more clear.

  I exist to serve, to please, and to feed the snarling beast inside of him.

  He’s there now, thrusting deep with each jerk of his hips. I’m gagging and struggling to breathe.

  Last night, he would have paced himself and allowed me to keep up with him. Right now, he’s taking what’s rightfully his.

  I’m thinking about my list of limits, because I’ve come to an important truth. If he wants to empty himself down my throat, that is something I might consider. I guess my limits can change. What a thought to have while he’s fucking my face.

  When the pace of his breathing changes, I brace to swallow, but he yanks his cock out of my mouth and grips the shaft.

  One. Two. Three strokes of his hand and he’s shooting cum into the air. I stare at the display of male prowess and as the last ropy jet lets loose, I bow down before him and press my forehead to the ground in full supplication.

  “Shit, little mouse, be careful with that. You have no idea what that means to me.”

  Perhaps not, but I sure as hell know what it’s doing to me. Slowly, I lift my head and dare to peek up at him. From somewhere deep inside, I find the courage to ask a bold question. He wants me to be honest with him, and I don’t think it’s too much to ask the same.

  “What does it mean to you?”

  “It means more than a little submission. In my world, that pose is generally reserved for slaves because it denotes their extreme state of submission. I didn’t answer your previous question earlier about Michelle and her address of me. I lean towards the role of Master more than that of a Dom.” He cocks his head. “I asked if you had any boyfriends, but never supplied you with whether I had any girlfriends.”

  He crouches down and I kneel back, touching my ass to my heels.

  “Do you?”

  “I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ve only ever had slaves, two in fact. Ashley was my first. We entered the lifestyle together after meeting in a club while in college. Neither of us had ever done anything like this. What happened between us was a natural and organic process. I bound her to me until graduation.”

  “What happened?”

  “Life. That’s usually what happens. Ash
ley had a promising future as a lawyer and I couldn’t step in the way of her life aspirations. Being my slave fulfilled us both, but I couldn’t let her give up her dreams. We ended our relationship amicably. I spent the next couple years looking for another slave when I met Cynthia. It was love at first sight, something I’ve been fortunate to experience twice in my life. A month after we met, I collared her and she was my devoted slave for seven years.”

  “What happened?”

  “Once again, life intervened. I lost Cynthia to breast cancer two years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He cups my hands and brings them to his lips. “Thank you. I’ve mourned her loss and miss her greatly. Cynthia made me grant her one wish.”

  “What was that?”

  “That I would keep my heart open for another, someone who ignites the spark within me again.”

  My insides tumble about, because I know exactly what he’s going to say next. I feel the very same thing. From the moment we met, there’s been a connection. It’s indescribable except for this feeling in my gut.

  Every time my head told me to run, my heart said otherwise.

  This is bigger than me.

  “If you allow it, I’d love to call you Master Edge.”

  He draws me into his arms and holds me tight. “I made my promise to Cynthia, never believing I would ever have the courage to follow through on it, but one look at you and I knew.”

  Tears fall down my cheeks, because there’s a truth resonating between us.

  Yin and Yang.

  Dom and sub.

  Master and slave.

  I’ve found something in this man, something I’ve never felt before and never thought could exist. There has always been something missing in my life. I now know what that’s been.

  “Master Edge is a form of address the others in the club use,” he says. “It’s a sign of respect for the position I hold within the community. My slave calls me Master.”

  My tears soak his shirt and I clutch at him. I’m caught between needing to wrap my arms around his neck and pushing away to kneel at his feet. I swipe at my cheeks and curl tight against his chest.