by Hannah Ford
“Then stop behaving like one.”
Now her frustration boiled over. She leaned towards the driver. “Please take me to Tremont Street! That’s the street my apartment’s on,” she told Cullen, just in case he was wondering why she wanted to go there.
The partition didn’t move and the driver didn’t respond.
“He takes direction from his client,” Cullen said calmly. “I’m afraid we haven’t changed destinations just because you’re having a tantrum.”
“So now you’re kidnapping me?”
He looked directly at her with his unreadable expression. “Please stop being melodramatic. You’re coming home with me and sobering up. We’ll talk more later.”
“I’m not drunk!” she said. “Please stop saying I’m drunk…” She couldn’t finish insisting that she was sober, however, because Ivy was struck by a wave of intense nausea. And she found herself retching in the limousine.
She vomited on the floor of the limo, shocking herself most of all.
“Oh god,” she moaned. “I’m so, so…”
Cullen was at her side in a flash, holding her, his arm encircling her back. “Dennis, please pull the car over.”
Moments later, Cullen helped her outside, and stood by the side of the road with her as she got sick again, puking into the gutter.
She was humiliated but too sick to really appreciate just how humiliated she actually was.
“Why are you still helping me?” she asked, between bouts of nausea, as Cullen rubbed her back and stroked her hair.
“You know why,” he said, without ever answering the question directly.
“You’re the most frustrating person I’ve ever met,” she groaned.
Finally, it seemed she was done being sick, and they got back in the limo. Dennis had apparently already scrubbed and cleaned the floor. The only signs of her sickness were the smell of cleaning fluid, and the dark stain left over.
She closed her eyes and Cullen told her to lie down. “Put your head in my lap,” he said.
She nodded, accepting that he knew best. Besides, she wanted to be close to him right now.
He’s not just the most frustrating person ever. He’s also the most confusing. One second he’s distant and cold—the next he’s the warmest, most caring man in the world.
I feel totally safe right now. Totally cared for.
But then he changes on a dime.
She didn’t understand it, but she closed her eyes anyway, as she lied down on the seat and put her head in Cullen Sharpe’s warm lap.
“My head is in the CEO’s lap,” she said aloud.
Cullen laughed a little. “Shhhh….” He soothed, stroking her hair.
She could feel his bulge, as her cheek pressed into his lap. Was it her imagination or was he hardening right now?
What would it be like to unzip him, right here…suck him off in his private limo?
But she was in no state to actually do something like that—especially not the first time in her life. She didn’t have the guts or the stomach for it.
Besides, the way he was stroking her hair felt so nice…
“I’m falling asleep,” she announced drowsily.
“That’s good,” he assured her. “You’ve made the right decision.”
She drifted off, only waking up as he picked her up—like a child, in his arms—lifting her easily out of the limousine and walking her up the steps of his home.
“Where…where are you taking me…”
“Everything’s fine. You need rest,” he said softly, as he walked easily.
“I’m too heavy to carry.”
“Nonsense.” His strong arms cradled her and she hugged him, nuzzling her face into his chest, smelling his scent.
She’d never known her father and her mother had raised her entirely as a single parent. So she’d never had the daddy who picked her up and put her to bed, but she supposed it must have felt something like this.
She found that she liked it very much.
They were soon inside a dark building, and he must have owned the whole thing, because once inside the front door, he carried her down a hallway and into another dark room, laying her on a cozy, soft bed.
He pulled off her heels, threw back the covers and told her to get underneath.
“Cullen,” she started.
“Quiet,” he said. “Sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow morning.”
“Okay,” she said. She got under the covers, and he tucked her in, brushing her hair one more time with his delicate fingers.
Then he stared down at her for a long moment, watching her in the darkness.
“How can you be so sweet to me?” she said softly, half asleep now.
“I have no choice,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. Did she imagine him saying that? She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
She wanted him so badly to climb in next to her, and thought perhaps he would.
But then he turned and walked out of the room, stopping and hesitating one last time before finally closing the door as he left.
For a brief time, she felt heartbroken and saddened by his leaving her to sleep alone.
She was so, so tired though.
Tired and drunk.
Her head already had started hurting, and she felt spent.
Sleep came again.
Something woke her early the next morning.
At first she wasn’t sure where she was or what had happened. But quickly, memories from the night before came flooding back in.
Ivy grimaced, remembering her drinking, her behavior, how she’d made a fool of herself in front of the one man you didn’t want to look foolish in front of.
To top it all off, she had a horrible taste in her mouth—like old chalk mixed with battery acid.
“Oh, shit. I puked in his limo.” She slapped her palm to her forehead and grimaced in humiliation.
Somehow, instead of kicking her out of his car, the strange and mysterious CEO had instead cared for her like she was important to him.
Everything from the night before felt faded and disjointed, like a roll of film that had been burned in a fire. Even as some of it came back to her, pieces were missing and distorted.
But she certainly remembered enough to know that she had a few things to apologize for in the light of day.
Before she said or did anything, however, Ivy wanted to use the bathroom. She slowly got out of bed, still dressed in her smoky-smelling skirt and blouse.
“Gross,” she said, looking down at her wrinkled clothing.
It was very early in the morning, but just how early? She picked up her purse and found her phone.
5:23 am.
Ivy groaned, then made her way out of the bedroom, slowly opening her door. It creaked a little, and so did the hardwood floors beneath her bare feet. She went into the hallway.
It was then that she heard murmurs, voices from somewhere in the house.
The voices were muffled, low, as she slowed down and listened.
Turning to her right, she saw the bathroom door was open and considered going in there. But she didn’t want to miss what was happening in the house. She wanted to know who was talking.
Her skin broke into goose bumps when she heard a woman speaking. The woman’s voice had a plaintive, sad tone to it. “Please Cullen, you’re the only one…” the woman said, but then her voice once more receded back into muffled inaudible sounds.
Moments later, the voices rose again, and this time she heard Cullen’s unmistakable baritone. “You can’t be here right now.”
“…If I could just do or say anything…anything…convince you…” the woman said, sounding like she might even be in tears.
Cullen, for his part, sounded even angrier now. “You need to leave me alone. You have to stop doing this.”
More muffled voices, what sounded like barely controlled arguing.
“Fine,” Ivy heard the woman say, a note of defeat clear in her tone.
A moment later, th
e front door slammed shut and then all was quiet again.
The conversation seemed to have ended and the mystery lady had departed, and Ivy dodged into the bathroom as the front door slammed.
Whoever had been talking to Cullen seemed to have left, as requested.
She had to be an ex-girlfriend, Ivy decided, as she opened the blinds on the window and peered outside.
She caught a brief glimpse of a beautiful, raven haired woman wearing a long coat and a scarf, running to her sleek black car and getting inside. Seconds later, the car drove away.
Or was the mystery woman perhaps a current girlfriend? A girlfriend that Cullen didn’t want snooping around his home when another woman was there?
She hated the thought that Cullen Sharpe might be seeing someone, but it only made sense. After all, he was an incredibly desirable bachelor who had everything a woman could want.
He didn’t seem like the type to be celibate, spending his nights alone with a good book and a glass of seltzer water.
Still, intense feelings of jealousy were tying her stomach in knots at the thought of Cullen and that mystery woman being together. She obviously had history with him.
But what kind of history?
Ivy turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water on her face. She looked at herself in the mirror and thought: now there looks a woman hard done by life.
She frowned at herself.
And you’re not doing yourself any favors by getting drunk and out of control. You have a difficult enough time looking good at your very best.
This wouldn’t do at all. Her hair was frizzy as all get out, her eyes had dark circles under them, and her lips were dry and chapped.
She washed her face and then found a small bottle of mouthwash under the sink and used that too.
By the time she was done, she looked a little less worn and beaten up then she had a few minutes before.
When Ivy opened the bathroom door, she nearly screamed, so startled was she to see Cullen Sharpe standing right there in the hallway.
His jaw was set and his eyes were hard with something like anger—something she couldn’t totally identify.
“You scared me,” she laughed, gripping her chest.
“You’re awake,” he stated. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and gray sweats, no socks. He looked almost normal, except that his arms were so muscular and his body was so perfect that even in regular clothes, he was devastatingly handsome and sexy.
“I—I woke up,” she shrugged.
“Obviously,” he said.
If he cared that she’d overheard the conversation, he wasn’t showing it.
Ivy wanted to ask him who the woman was, but something held her back from doing it. “I used some of your mouthwash. Hope you don’t mind.” She tried to smile as if nothing weird had or was happening here.
“Feeling better now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
“Yes.” She felt her cheeks turn red. “Anyway,” she said, brushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess I should make my way home now. I need to shower and change before work today.”
Cullen stepped to the side and gestured to the bedroom. “You’re not going anywhere until I say so.”
“I’m not?” she said, following his direction and walking back to the guest room where she’d spent the night. She was getting the distinct impression that the enigmatic CEO had something in store for her. “Are you going to yell at me for getting drunk?” she asked him with a little grin.
“Get in there,” Cullen told her, pointing into the bedroom.
Her insides grew weak from the nearness of him as she walked hesitantly across the threshold. The air felt suddenly thick with tension.
Ivy played with a strand of her hair nervously, waiting for Cullen as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.
“You’re locking me in now?” she laughed.
“Stop making jokes,” he replied. His eyes were so cold and harsh that it seemed as if she’d insulted him directly.
“I was just—“
“Enough,” he interrupted her. “It’s time to deal with your behavior.”
“I’m sorry I threw up in your limousine,” she said, taking a step backwards. “I’m not used to drinking, I didn’t know it would make me so sick.”
“Your apologies are like a slap in my face,” Cullen said. His jaw twitched.
“What do you want from me?” she said, feeling frustrated.
“You know what I want.”
Her nipples stiffened and immediately she was wet. So wet.
“I’m doing the best I can, Cullen.”
He stepped forward and leaned towards her, and for one amazing moment, she was certain he would kiss her. She wanted his lips, wanted to feel him, his skin on her skin.
But instead, he spoke bitter words. “You take advantage of my generosity. You want the rewards of my attention but you refuse to deal with consequences. This is unacceptable.”
Ivy stared into his eyes, feeling her frazzled nerves start to give way under his scrutiny. “Tell me what you want me to say. I’ll say it.”
“You already know what I want,” he said, stepping closer. His lip curled.
She wasn’t sure. Did she know what he wanted?
Control.
Of course, control.
And he wants to teach me lessons.
What about what I want? What about my fears, my insecurities? Do I count for anything?
“Maybe I’m not strong enough,” she replied. Her voice quivered. “Maybe you should find someone else to teach.”
Cullen shook his head once and reached out his hand, caressing her cheek so softly it nearly broke her will. And then his fingertips grazed down, down, sliding down her neck, to her breasts, down further, sliding down her belly, before finally withdrawing.
She shuddered involuntarily.
“You can’t fool me, Ivy,” he whispered. “This is for your benefit as much as it is mine.”
“But I don’t even know what you’re going to do. I’m afraid that you’ll be angry if I fail you again—“
“You need to tell me now. This is your last chance. Yes or no.”
“What if I get scared again like I did yesterday?”
“Trust me,” he said. His diamond eyes glittered.
Ivy wasn’t sure if she could go through with this. But when she thought of his lips, his soft caress, her entire body became loose, ecstatic, wet, her every cell wanted it to happen.
The pull was unstoppable and her attraction to him was so intense that it seemed to be short-circuiting every piece of equipment in her brain. She couldn’t think straight.
“I’ll try again,” she whispered.
“You’ll do better than try,” he growled, grabbing her by her hair, pulling on it just hard enough to yank her head back. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Won’t you?”
“Yes, Sir,” she answered, as his hand gripped her breast and tugged on her nipple, and just his fingers pinching her nipple was enough to flood her with excitement. She’d never in her life been touched like that.
Her thighs spasmed as she felt juice flood the private place between her legs.
“Oh, oh—Cullen,” she said, aching for him.
“Your behavior last night was unacceptable,” he said through grit teeth. “And now you must have consequences.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” she said, begging a little. She wished she could beg for everything, beg to be fucked. Beg to be taken by him in any way he wanted.
He let go of her hair and moved away, watching her, his nostrils flaring and hunger in his eyes. “Take those clothes off,” he said. “They remind me of what you did last night. Your drinking, your dancing with other men. I wan those clothes out of my sight.”
“You want me to take everything off?”
“Remember your manners,” he scolded.
“You want me to fully undress, Mister Sharpe?”
He nodded. “F
ull undressed. Everything off. I want to see all of you, Ivy.”
She took a deep breath, like when she was a teenager going up on the high diving board at the pool. She’d always been too scared to dive from the fifteen-foot diving platform.
How many times had she climbed up there, stood at the edge and then backed away, unable to jump off?
Too many to count.
And now here she was, standing in front of Cullen Sharpe, and he was asking her to take what felt like a much bigger leap from a much higher platform. Closing her eyes, she felt at the precipice of a cliff, and below she couldn’t even see the water.
But she knew that she wanted the CEO’s touch, and if she didn’t do this, he might never touch her again. And that wasn’t something she could deal with. Ivy wanted him too badly to turn back.
So she started to undress in front of his hungry eyes.
He stood there, just a couple of feet away, watching her with that cold, unblinking stare.
Ivy began unbuttoning her blouse, and as each button popped loose, more and move of her bare torso was revealed. Of course, she was still wearing her white lacy bra, but her pink nipples were stiff and swollen, poking through the fabric and clearly visible to Cullen Sharpe.
Her hands were trembling so badly that she wondered how she was even able to get the buttons on her shirt undone. But finally, she slid the shirt off her shoulders and it drifted to the floor and landed at her bare feet.
“Keep going,” Cullen told her. “Now the skirt.”
She bit her lower lip, as she unzipped her skirt and then pulled it down, kicking it off her feet and to the side.
“Sorry, I’m not very graceful.”
“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” he reprimanded her. “Continue.” He gestured to her bra.
Ivy licked her lips and swallowed drily. She felt tears forming in her eyes.
Stop being a baby, Ivy. You can do this. And besides, he likes it. Can’t you see he likes it?
She looked at him again and saw that there was something in his expression that was excited, turned on. Because he was always so calm and cool, she had trouble telling what he was thinking.
But as she looked at him more closely, she could see the spark of a fire behind those cold blue eyes. Cullen Sharpe was turned on—he was beyond turned on by her—he absolutely loved that she was undressing like this.