by JA Huss
He caresses my opening with his tongue and stands back up. I have to rest my head against the tile too. It’s spinning out of control. I’m spinning out of control.
“Don’t worry,” he says, pushing his chest against my back, one leg pressing between mine so he can stimulate me. “I won’t fuck you.”
“What?”
“You can control that, Ivy. See how generous and fair I’m being? Hmmm?” He nips my earlobe and I suck in a breath. “We can do that your way. But I’m going to make you earn that drawing.”
“You want me to suck your dick again?”
“Well, sure. But not now.”
His hand fists my breast, squeezing it so tight I let out a squeak from the pain. And then he eases up and his fingertips glide down to my waist, over the curve of my hip, and reach between my legs.
He strokes me in small circles. Tiny, tiny, tiny circles when all I want is something big to be right there.
“More,” I say. “I want more.”
“More what, Ivy?”
“Press harder,” I hear myself say. “Push them inside me.” Goddammit. Why am I letting him make me do this?
He’s not making you do anything, Ivy. You want this.
And I do.
My wish is granted. He strums my clit faster and faster and I start moaning. My moans echo off the walls, and the ceiling, and inside my brain. All I hear is my own pleasure when the strumming stops and he slips a finger inside me.
“You want to know what it feels like to have a cock in your ass, Ivy?”
Oh, Jesus. What am I doing?
He doesn’t wait for my answer. I feel pressure and a painful sensation. I cannot keep up and I just know he’s tired of waiting for me. He’s just going to take what he wants until I stop him.
I bend my head forward, my ass pressing against him. He takes that as encouragement, pressing back, pushing his finger inside my ass a little more as another one keeps pumping my pussy. But I just need this damn wall to hold me up.
“Come, Ivy. Give in, feel this the way it was meant to be felt, and come all over my fingers. And the second you do that, I’ll give all the control back to you.”
Do I want control?
“You like it,” he whispers into my neck. “You want more.” He pumps his hand harder. And then harder still. More and more and more and all I can think about is more.
I want more fingers, I want more licking, more kissing, more of his hard cock. I want him to make me do these things. Force me, so I don’t have to take responsibility. I want to put him in my mouth and suck him until he comes down my throat. I want to taste that salty liquid. I want him to kiss me after and put his fingers in my—
“Oh!” I grunt. My release comes gushing out in waves of heat and pleasure. And even though I’m wet everywhere from the water, and the shower, and the desire, I am even wetter when I’m done.
“You’re such a good girl,” Nolan croons in my ear.
I slump down, but his strong arms catch me, turning my body and pulling me into his chest. He holds me up now, not the wall. And he walks backwards and takes a seat on the stone bench in the corner.
“Sit on my lap, Ivy.”
My eyes are tightly closed as I position myself in his lap. One knee on either side of his thighs. I’m instantly turned on just from the positioning. His arms encircle me as I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling utterly exhausted.
“Now it’s my turn,” Nolan says, petting my hair as he talks. “I want you to fuck me, Ivy. When you’re ready. As fast or as slow as you want. As long as my cock is inside you, I’m happy. And when we’re done, I’ll show you what you need to see in order to trust me.”
The only thing I can concentrate on is breathing.
He lets me do this.
But eventually my heart rate slows and my body relaxes. His fingers begin playing with my ass again. Pushing in and out, just the slightest bit. Sometimes slipping up towards my pussy and sliding inside. Just enough. Just enough to make me want him all over again.
I ease my body up and finally look at him.
There’s no charming grin now. No charisma to hide behind. No self-assurance in those eyes.
Just want.
I want the same thing, Nolan Delaney. I want the very same thing.
I reach down between my legs and grab his hard cock, pumping him a few times to get a feel for it. And then I sit up a little higher and position him under my entrance, moving it back and forth the way he did last night.
And then I sit. Slowly, slowly, slowly… sit.
That stretching feeling is back. That feeling of being filled up from the inside out. It still hurts but not as bad. It still scares me, but I know what it leads to.
I place my forearms on his shoulders, my fingertips threading up the back of his head and into his hair, and look him in the eyes. He looks back, his attention only on me. Silent.
My hips begin to move. Just a little rocking motion, back and forth. I’m wet for him again. Or maybe I’m still wet from the way he made me come?
It makes everything easier. His hard cock slips in a little deeper with each thrust. I watch him for something. Some kind of reaction. But he’s still and silent until… until that moment when I know he is fully inside me.
And then he closes his eyes and leans his head back.
He enjoys it.
His hips begin to move with mine. His arms wrap me up in a tight embrace. He fists my hair and I grab his back as we move faster, faster, faster.
His breathing becomes heavy. He is the one out of control. His moans fill the shower when he stands up, presses my back against the wall, and begins to fuck the shit out of me.
“Ivy,” he says, over and over. “Come, Ivy. I want to feel your pussy clamp down on my cock.”
The wall is cold but his body is warm. So very warm. I cling to him as his hands hold me up by my ass. I wrap my legs around his hips, begging him to pound me hard.
“Come, Ivy,” he says. “You’re driving me mad. Come.”
I bite down on his shoulder to stop the scream.
And obey.
Chapter Twenty-Three - Nolan
I sit back down on the bench and Ivy rests her head on my shoulder, both of us breathing hard, our hearts hammering against one another as we calm down.
“I told you I wasn’t on birth control, Nolan.”
Shit. “Sorry, Ivy. I forgot. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
“It only takes once,” she mumbles.
“I can go get you a morning-after pill.”
Her head comes up from my shoulder and I get the most disgusted look from a post-coital girl. Ever. “What?” I laugh.
“I don’t need an abortion pill, Nolan.”
Right. Pastor’s daughter. I put my hands up and shrug. “Fine. It’s your call.”
She gets up off my lap with a sigh and stands underneath the water, reaching for the soap.
I get up and take it from her, then place the bar against her breasts and start rubbing her in small circles. “I’m sorry,” I say as the lather begins to build. “I just got caught up in the moment.”
“It’s my fault, so never mind.”
“Well, lack of condom buzzkill aside”—I lean down into her ear and whisper—“that was fun. Did you like it better this time?”
“Yes.” She hesitates, like she’s not sure if she wants to be mad at me or not, then gives in and smiles. “That felt amazing.”
I wash Ivy’s arms and belly and she squeezes some shampoo onto her the top of her head and lathers up her hair. “My turn now, right?” she asks.
I play dumb. “Turn for what? I got you off.”
“Not that, Nolan. You know what I want.”
“Why do you want to know what happened that night? It’s history. It doesn’t even matter anymore.”
“It matters to me. I mean I guess you’re just using me for a good time this weekend, so what I feel doesn’t matter to you. But your part in what happened that nigh
t matters to me.”
“Who said anything about using you?” I say, getting pissed off. And just what the fuck does she mean by ‘your part in what happened that night’? “If I didn’t like you, Ivy, you would not be at my private residence in Del Mar. Believe me, I’ve got plenty of places to take a one-night stand. Besides, this is our second day together, so it’s past one-night stand territory.”
“Hmmm.”
“Hmmm what?” I ask. “What are you thinking so hard about?” But before I can get an answer out of her she ducks under the shower again and I have to wait until her hair is rinsed before I can repeat my question.
“I want you to draw me. Like you said. I want to see a drawing.”
“Because you think I’m lying.”
“I just want to see,” Ivy says, going for the conditioner and massaging it into her long hair that is more brown than blonde now that it’s wet. “Can you do it?”
“Yeah. But why should I? What do I have to prove to you?”
“Nothing, I guess. But I’m going home right now if you don’t.”
“Is this all part of your rules of war, Ivy Rockwell? The fine art of negotiation?”
“Sure,” she says, ducking under the water again to rinse the conditioner. I can’t stop watching her. Her breasts are lifted up because her hands are above her head. And her nipples are tight peaks that call to my mouth. “If we’re going to play this through to the end we might as well negotiate something.”
“Instead of your job?”
“What job, Nolan?” She spits out the water dripping down her face, steps out of the stream, and wipes her eyes. “What job? You were never going hire me, were you? You were planning on sending me away before I even stepped out of that car back at the resort yesterday morning. The reason I’m still here is a mystery to me. I have no idea what you’re doing. But whatever it is, you’re good at it, Nolan. You’re good at getting what you want. Me, not so much.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, remember?”
“Why are you so pissed off?”
“I’m not pissed off. I’m just being realistic. Believe me, if I was mad you’d know it.”
“Do you wanna go home, Ivy? Is this how you cut your losses, enjoy the fact that you got me to rid you of that pesky v-card, and go home to tell all your friends who did it?”
“Now that,” Ivy says as she covers her breasts with her arms, “was a low blow. And it’s my cue to cut my losses, yes.”
She tries to step past me but I grab her wrist and squeeze. “Hold on,” I say.
“Let. Go.”
I let go, but I place an arm in front of her and block her exit. “You want me to draw you? You want to know what happened that night?’
“Yes.” She tips her head up. “But don’t bother lying to me. I only want the truth, no matter what it is.”
“No matter what?”
“Yes.”
“You do realize I never stood trial, right?”
“Yeah, but I need to know—”
“No,” I cut her off. “I mean I never stood trial, Ivy. There’s no double jeopardy for us. We never went to trial, we were never found innocent. So if you ever leak this shit I could be in a lot of trouble.”
“Who would I tell? And you said you didn’t do it, so what do you have to hide?”
“I didn’t do it. Not what they accused me of anyway.”
“What?” Ivy’s eyes go wide, wide, wide.
“But I did something else. Would you like to see it?”
She freezes. Her whole body goes stiff. “What do you mean, see it?”
“I’ll draw it for you, Ivy. You wanted me to draw you?”
I turn into the water and douse myself, then start washing my body and hair. Ivy stands perfectly still—watching, waiting—until I’m done. “I’ll take that as a yes?”
“I don’t understand,” she says.
“I’ll draw you and show you why I need to keep secrets.”
“Because you draw them nude.”
“No,” I say. “That’s not what I told you, remember?”
“You choke them. You draw yourself choking them.”
I smile and walk forward until I’m close enough to take both of her hands and lean into her ear. “That’s the PG version, Ivy Rockwell.” And then I lean back and look at her. All naked and afraid. Shivering from the cold she hasn’t even noticed yet. “So be very sure you want my secrets. Because secrets are dangerous things, and once you know them, you can’t unknow them.”
I turn to the door and walk out, dragging her with me by the hand. I point to the front of the bed. “Lie down on your back. Right in the middle. And put your hands above your head.”
Ivy looks at the bed, then me, then back at the bed.
“Do it,” I say. “Or we’re done. You asked for it, Ivy. Now you’re gonna get it. And since I came this far, I’m going all the way with you. So get on the bed or get the fuck out.”
I fully expect her to walk out because I sound like a class-A dick right now.
But she doesn’t. She walks to the bed, still wet, lowers her hands forward onto the white down comforter, crawls to the center, and lies back. Hands above her head.
I walk calmly to the bedside table. My heart is racing with ideas. How far should I go? How much can she take?
I open the drawer and take out the neatly coiled length of bright yellow, double-braided nylon rope and unfasten the end.
“What’s that for?” Ivy asks. “You never said anything about rope.”
“Live a little, Ivy. Stop asking questions, stop taking so damn much, and just… live a little.”
“You’re going to tie me up?”
I kneel on the bed and straddle her hips, my cock already hard again when I ease down and rest it on her stomach. And then I say, “Press your palms together and put them out in front of you.”
“No,” Ivy says.
“Are you sure?” I ask. I’m not mad. I don’t care if she says no. I just want to make sure. “Because this is what you have to do if you want me to tell you the whole story.”
“Did you rape her or not?”
“I already told you no.”
“Did you tie her up?”
“You’ll have to give in to find out.”
Ivy takes a deep breath, struggling with her decision. Should she give in to me, put her fear aside, even though everything in her body is telling her I’m dangerous? Or should she get up, walk out, and never look back?
Truthfully, I’m not sure which answer is right for her.
She exhales and lowers her arms in front of her. Palms pressed together.
I smile. “I like the double braid because it’s soft.” I start wrapping it around her wrist, lining each pass up end to end, so it’s flat, and elegant, and strong. “And I like the yellow. I have a thing for yellow, Ivy. Which is why I really liked that bikini you were wearing at the pool yesterday afternoon.”
“What are you going to do?” Ivy asks, her voice slightly panicked now that she’s given me control. I’ve already got the rope the way I like it and I tuck the loose end underneath, near her wrist to fasten it.
“If you ever get stuck, just FYI, the rope stretches. I don’t put it on tight, it would cut off your circulation. So if I ever leave you for some length of time and you become afraid, think I won’t come back, or you’ve had enough—just wriggle around until it loosens. It might take a while, but you’re not stuck, Ivy. Got it?”
She swallows hard and nods.
“Good. Because I’m going to leave you right now.”
“What? Nolan—”
“Stop,” I say. “I’ll be back.”
I get up before she can say anything else and leave the room.
Chapter Twenty-Four - Ivy
I hear him in the house. Down the hall. Downstairs. The beeping of something, like he’s arming the house alarm. Then silence. Just me, lying here naked, my wrists bound together by soft yellow rope.
He’s into something weird. Some bondage thing. He wants to tie me up and hit me with a riding crop. Put those clamp things on my nipples or… whatever. I’m not really sure what kinky guys do. And I haven’t read the books everyone has been talking about the past few years.
But Ivy Rockwell, you have to admit, you like it enough to be here.
Right.
A part of me might find it intriguing. In an academic kind of way. I mean, I have to wonder. Why the hell do people like this stuff? I certainly don’t feel sexual right now. Lying here on the bed, hands in front of me, chewing my lip as I wait for Nolan to decide to come back.
It’s the anticipation, I get it. He’s definitely got my mind spinning. But—
“Hey,” Nolan says from the bedroom doorway. “Zoning out or what?”
I didn’t even hear him come back. “No. I was just getting irritated, actually. For you taking so long.”
“Well, no one put you in a corner and called you bad, Ivy. You could’ve gotten up. Looked out the fucking window or something.”
“I know that,” I snap. But I… didn’t know that. Didn’t understand it at least. I just stayed here. Where he put me.
“I’m not dominating you, Ivy. I’m not going to ask you to lick piss up off the floor just to prove to me you’re interested. That’s not what I’m about.”
I wait for it, but he holds it in. He wants me to ask. That is what he’s about. Control. He’s not going to give anything away. I have to come get it. He is dominant. He does like submission. He just does it in a way I’ve never heard of before. He’s some kind of cutting-edge deviant. And I’m his new project. He’s going to use all his magic charms on me and see how far he can get before he has to throw me away and find someone new.
“What are you about?” I ask.
He grins a grin that sends a chill through my bare nipples. Like a breeze just passed over my body. He made me react.
“Pleasure, Ivy. I’m about pleasure.”
“You want to slap my face while you fuck me.”
“Wow.” He laughs. “Those are some dirty words coming from the preacher’s daughter’s mouth.”