But when she turned her eyes towards mine, I watched them darken.
“I haven’t seen your place yet,” she said.
“Trust me, it’s not much,” I said.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
She settled back into her seat and I cranked up the car. I was excited to get her into my apartment, but I wasn’t excited at what I had to show her. I had no idea the kinds of houses she’d probably been to with Emilia and Grace as friends, and I knew my bland apartment with flickering lights wouldn't hold half of a candle to her friend’s homes. Still, she wanted to see it, and I wasn’t going to deny her what she wanted.
I pulled up into my apartment complex and walked her up the stairs before I opened my front door and ushered her in.
I turned on the light in my small hallway before my hand fell to the small of her back. I ushered her in and shut the door behind us, then locked it. Her heels clicked across the floor as her eyes took in my place. It really wasn’t much. Dark green walks. Minimal furniture. Scuffed up hardwood floors. Terrible scratchy carpet. The light bulbs gave off this terrible yellow hue and needed to be changed soon, and the entire apartment had this sort of darkness hovering over it.
“Told you it wasn’t much,” I said.
“But it’s what you need, right?” Ivy asked.
“Yeah. I spend the majority of my time at the hospital. I have no need for a fancy home yet. I pay my bills, I rent out this place, and I toss everything else into my investments.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having only what you need. That’s how I live,” she said. “Though this place could use a splash of color.”
“Then by all means, give it a go,” I said.
“What?” she asked.
“If you want to add some color to the place, then I won’t stop you from doing it.”
“Wait. You would let me decorate your place.”
I put my hands in my pockets and walked towards her, the two of us standing in my small living room.
“I would,” I said. “I can’t decorate worth a damn, and if you think you can do something with the place then we’ll go shopping.”
“Seriously. Like, you’re being serious.”
“Very serious.”
“And you’ll take me shopping.”
“I’ll even let you use my card,” I said with a grin. “You know, because I’m a gentleman like that.”
“Oh, my hero,” she said with a giggle. “But if you’re serious-”
“I am,” I said.
“I do have this weekend off. We could go into town, maybe, Saturday morning? Oh! We could get breakfast at Delivery’s beforehand. Go shopping. Come back. I could start decorating. If we need anything else we could go back out Sunday. Order in some food Saturday night to celebrate.”
I smiled as Ivy planned out the rest of my weekend with her.
“I think that sounds fantastic,” I said.
“Oh! I’m so excited. I haven’t decorated a place since I did my own place. And I promise you, I’m good at decorating on a budget.”
“I might live a minimalist lifestyle, but it isn’t for lack of money, Ivy. I don’t care what you spend.”
“A word of advice? Never say that to a woman,” she said.
“I didn’t say it to any woman. I said to you.”
Her eyes connected with mine and I reached out for her. I slid my hand from my pocket and created a gap for her to fill. She walked towards me, her heels softly clicking on the floor. A sound I hadn’t heard in a very long time in this apartment. Her hands fell to my chest and she tilted her head back, keeping her eyes on mine as my arm settled around her. My hand traced a pattern on the small of her back as I grinned, watching her cheeks flush underneath my touch.
“You are a beautiful woman, Ivy.”
She giggled and shook her head before I gripped her chin with my free hand. I brought her gaze slowly back to mine before I ran my hand along her lower lip. That beautiful pout of hers that attracted my eyes every time I chanced a look at her.
“I look forward to my weekend with you,” I said.
Her eyes danced between mine as her hands fisted the collar of my suit. She drew me closer, her lips approaching mine as I pulled her closer into me. I felt her stand onto her tiptoes, closing that small gap between us before her lips pressed against mine.
That pillowy pout.
That warm wetness.
I couldn't resist her a second longer.
I breathed in her scent and tasted her sweetness. Her tongue shot electricity through my veins. I gripped her. Clung to her. Backed her into the wall of my living room. I felt her legs sliding against mine. Struggling to keep her balance as I tried to feel every part of her. I wanted to memorize her curves. Steal her warmth for my own and blanket her in my strength. Her head fell off to the side, allowing me more room to press into her. Allowing me a second chance at becoming close to her.
And I would make sure she never regretted it.
Our clothes slid off our bodies, like oiled skin to water. They fell to piles on the floor, until we were clad in nothing but our skin. I slid my hands down her form, my fingertips traveling along the sharp curves of her decadent body. I fisted her excess, jumping her against the wall until she wrapped her legs around my waist. The warmth that flowed from her body was unmistakable. The wetness she splashed against my body was fierce. I was thunder and she was lightning, and as I groaned into her mouth I became painfully aware of every part of her.
Her breasts pressed against my chest.
Her excess filling the divots of my muscles.
Her arousal trickling down my cock.
I slid into her effortlessly, feeling her sigh with content. Slowly, I rolled. Slicking myself in her until her hands fisted my hair. Her tongue lapped at my lips. Raked along the roof of my mouth. Her legs locked around my waist and pulled me deeper into her. I could feel her throbbing. Pulsing. Churning with a white-hot passion that sizzled every color in my vision. Goosebumps ricocheted along my body as my hands pressed into the wall, marking my territory as I pinned her to me.
“Dean,” she said with a whisper. “Please go faster.”
I planted my feet into the floor and snapped my hips. And oh, the sounds that fell from her lips. Groans and whimpers. Moans and gasps. Until my entire living room was saturated in her. She jumped along the wall until I moved back, settling her back into place before my next assault. My lips fell to her beautiful neck. Long and luxurious, and chiseled to fit my face exactly. I nuzzled my nose against her skin. Blew upon the nibbles I left behind. I watched a shiver shake her entire body, and I felt her engorged peaks twitch against my chest.
“Fuck, Ivy.”
“Dean.”
“You feel so good.”
“Don’t stop.”
“So warm.”
“Dean!”
“Ivy, don’t stop what you’re doing.”
I couldn't stop talking to her. I couldn't stop saying her name. I stumbled from the wall and fell back onto my couch, feeling it give way underneath me. The particle board frame cracked and sent us to the floor with nothing but cushions underneath us. But it didn’t matter. Not to me. Not to her. All that mattered was her body rocking against mine. All that mattered were her knees planted into the couch beside my thighs. All that mattered was how thick I grew against her walls while her pussy tightened around me.
I guided her. Manipulated her. Sank my fingerprints into her hips. She bounced in my lap and panted in my ear, her forehead settled on my shoulder. Her nails raked down my chest as I pressed kiss after kiss into her cheeks. Her neck. Her shoulder. Her breasts. My hands rose up her body and took control, feeling how she gave way to me. How her body followed my every movement. I drew her nipple between my lips. So soft. So luscious. I massaged it with my tongue and sucked at it with my lips until Ivy couldn’t contain herself.
“Dean. Dean. Please don’t stop. Harder, Dean. I… I can’t… it won’t…”
; In an instant, her back was against the cushions of my broken couch. I slid deep into her, feeling her body undulate with mine. Fire surged through my veins and electricity threatened to blind me as it fried my mind. All I could hear were the sounds dripping from her lips as my couch scooted across the hardwood floor. Scraping against it. Scratching it up. Decimating the minimal living room I had in the first place. The couch heaved with our movements. Raked along the wall. Our fingers threaded together and I pinned them above her head, perched as her face morphed.
Contorted.
Puckered with her impending ecstasy.
“Dean! Yes!”
I slammed into her one last time before I raked my trimmed curls against her clit. Her toes curled against my thighs and her legs pulled taut. I watched her. I watched her eyes roll into the back of her head. I felt her pussy pop around me, milking me and pulling me deeper. She caved to me, in the most finite way a woman could to a man. I watched her pleasure barrel over her like a raging tide against a stormy shore, and I loved the way she looked. Her lips puckered so tightly she couldn’t breathe. The light sheen of sweat that sparkled in the nighttime light that came through my windows. The way her body jumped and jolted and shook around my cock.
She was beautiful.
A vision of heaven sent only for my eyes.
Her pussy pulled me deeper and I found my own end. I tightened my grip on her hands as grunts fell from my lips. I fell to her. I blanketed her. My sweat dripped from my brow and met its death on her neck. She felt too good. Too much like home to give her up. My dick poured into her, emptying itself as my grip on her finally released.
And instead of pushing me away, she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close.
Home.
That was what Ivy felt like.
My couch was left in tatters, splintered to seal its fate. We laid there on the curves cushions, the couch tucked away in a corner it had no business being in. I felt Ivy’s heart fluttering against my chest. I felt her shaking as her pussy continued to massage my dick. I slid my hands underneath her and pulled her against me, sitting myself upright as the room spun and tilted. I felt light-headed. Weightless. Like I was floating among the clouds while zooming through space. Ivy’s body sank into mine. Collapsed, like she had no more left to give.
I ran my hands up and down her back, feeling her gasp as she tried to catch her breath.
“I’ll have to add that to the list,” Ivy said.
“Hmm?” I asked.
“Your couch. Add that to this weekend’s list.”
I chuckled into her ear before I kissed the shell of it. And the shiver it elicited drew a smile across my cheeks. I slid my fingers through her hair, untangling the knots as my cock retracted. Sliding from her body before the evidence of our torrid affair dripped from between her beautiful thighs. It slid down my balls. Coated the couch underneath my body. Leaving behind a stain that would forever mark this couch as ours.
As broken as it had become.
“Ivy?”
“Mhm?”
“Would you like to stay with me tonight?”
I felt her smile against my skin before she picked her head up from my shoulder. Her eyes were half-hooded with delight and her smile was lopsided. I rose my hand and cupped her cheek. Her skin was flushed with a healthy glow and her lips were still swollen from my kisses. I drew her in for a small, sweet kiss, and I felt her melt into me. Fall against my body as my arms cloaked her back. I stood from the couch, my legs wobbling as Ivy clung to me.
Like there was nowhere else in the world she’d rather be.
“Yes.”
My hands fell to her ass and I held tightly onto her. Walked her into my bedroom before I kicked the door closed. I walked us over to my bed and pulled the covers back, then settled her down gently. Ivy was precious. A porcelain angel sent for me to enjoy. To care for. To indulge in. I smoothed her hair back from her forehead before pressing a kiss to it and I watched her smile.
It lit up my world to see her so happy in my presence.
I had no idea what this woman had done to me, but I wasn’t going to fight it. I wrapped around and slid into bed with her, then felt her immediately gravitate towards me. Her head on my chest. Her hair tickling my skin. Her arm slung around my waist and her leg tangled up within mine. Just as she had been that morning at her apartment. I smiled and kissed the top of her head, listening to her breathing as it evened out. Her chest rose and fell against my side, filling me with a peace I had yet to experience with any other person in my life.
For years, I’d had no one. And now, I had Ivy.
And that meant I would do anything to make sure she stuck around.
Chapter Fifteen
Ivy
How’s work going?
I sent the text message off to Dean before I poured myself a bowl of cereal.
For once, it’s pretty slow. Which is great for people’s health, but terrible for my need to stay up all night.
Such a shame. Someone should come in with something bloody and interesting. You know, to keep your spirits up.
Or you could come visit me. I’ve got a ten-minute break coming up.
Are you asking me to come to work to give you a quickie?
Not what came to mind, but now that you mention it…
I sat down with my bowl of cereal and laughed. I finally had a night off from my insane work schedule and, of course, Dean had to work the night shift. He had gotten called in last minute, which sucked. But I knew how that worked. However, with the slow night shift and me taking the time to relax and stay up like I usually did, it gave us time to talk.
And I loved talking with him.
What’s for dinner tonight?
I took a picture of the cereal in my lap and sent it off to him.
Nice to know someone else enjoys a simple bowl of cereal now and again.
Now and again? Sugary cereal is a staple in my life. That’s the definition of being an adult, you know. Eating sugary cereal whenever you want.
Really? I thought the definition of being an adult was ‘taxes’.
Wow, I didn’t know you were such a dirty talker. Incredibly filthy language coming from such a sweet mouth.
Then you’ll really love this. Taxes, unpaid vacation, and working through the weekend.
Such raunchy words. I don’t know whether to be horrified or horny.
I giggled as I took a few bites of my cereal. I still couldn’t believe I’d found this man. He was perfect in every single way for me. Passionate. Honest. Open. He understood my work schedule and didn’t get offended by it. And he always wanted to talk with me. To engage with me somehow. Whether it was a quick phone call after work or a bunch of text messages on his break, it always seemed as if I was on his mind.
Which was good.
Because he was always on mine.
Dean was the kind of man I could see myself with. Not like it was with Zander. He was fun, but there was never any talk of a future. I never dreamt of anything like that with him. Zander was fun in the moment, but with Dean? That was a completely different story. I fell asleep with dreams of our future at the forefront of my mind. Marriage and children and a house just outside of the city. I’d never had anything like this with another man before. I had never come across a man in all my years that made me want to settle down. That made me want to have a family. That made me want to alter anything in my life I could in order to make it work with him.
And the great thing about Dean is that he didn’t even require that last part. I found myself willing to change everything, but he wanted me exactly the way I was.
Living in my apartment alone had grown old. Grace got married and moved out, which was what I expected. When I came back from my last fashion show to her smiling and gushing about Hayden, I knew it was imminent. They were perfect for one another and I was incredibly happy for her. She was a great woman and a fabulous roommate. But I did miss her. I saw what Emilia had with Tristan and what Grace had with Hay
den, and I wanted that for myself. But I wasn’t willing to settle in order to get it.
But now that I had Dean, the idea of a future with someone was becoming more and more plausible.
How’s that cereal coming along?
I smiled at the message as I picked up my phone.
Considering having another bowl. What’s for dinner on your end?
He sent me a message that contained three protein bars and a very large cup of black coffee.
You insult me with that raven-stained cup.
Raven-stained? Fancy wordage. Do you moonlight as a writer?
I wouldn't have the patience. I’m too succinct of a person.
You have passion.
What does that have to do with writing?
Passion drives writers.
No, ideas drive writers. The need to get stories out of their heads drives writers. The idea that passion drives anyone is a misnomer, at best.
I felt your passion last week. Are you telling me what we experienced was nothing but a misnomer?
A shiver crawled up my spine. Every time I thought about his hands on me, it weakened my knees. I got up and poured myself another bowl of cereal, then promptly sat back down onto the couch. I picked up my phone and debated on how to respond. I had my own personal opinions when it came to passion and any idea surrounding it. Passion was a wonderful thing, but it could be misleading. That was why I warned Emilia about Tristan and Grace about Hayden. I supported them, but I didn’t want them getting wrapped up in some fantasy without seeing the truth in front of them.
My fingers tapped upon the screen as I carved out my message to Dean.
No. But passion can be blinding. I love what I do, but passion is a byproduct. Not the fuel source behind it. I do what I do because it fulfills me. Not because it fills me with passion. I choreograph, and I watch the final product come together, and the afterthought is passion. That uncontrollable happiness at seeing what I’ve helped to create. It doesn’t drive me, though. It’s the end result I allow myself to feel after I’ve indulged what I want.
I sent off the message before dropping my phone into my lap. It would be interesting to see how Dean responded. That was another thing I really enjoyed about him. He wasn’t afraid of being a deep-thinker. Of having those philosophical conversations and dredging up emotions in order to explain why he felt or saw things the way he did. Every time I was with him, I got a new glimpse into why he was the man he was. And every time he allowed me that glimpse, I fell for him more and more.
Falling Into You: The Complete Naughty Tales Series Page 44