by Hannah Ford
Of course he’s turned on, silly. Why else does he want you to get naked in front of him?
It made her smile just a little bit, but then she remembered that Cullen wasn’t the patient type. And so she unhooked her bra and released her breasts fully for his inspection.
As her bra fell to the floor, Ivy watched Cullen’s face.
Unlike the passive calm expression he’d had when she’d inadvertently spilled coffee on him yesterday, she definitely saw him react when her breasts were fully exposed.
His pupils dilated and his cheeks flushed. Even his nostrils flared again. “Now your panties,” he said, his voice breathy with desire.
Seeing how turned on he was made her excited and a little more confident.
Still watching him, she grasped her panties, stretched them out and slid them slowly over her hips, teasing him a little by stripping them deliberately.
It was exciting to know that she was having such a powerful effect on him, and Ivy was surprised to realize that the CEO truly had real feelings and emotions.
But when she stood naked before him, hands at her sides, her shaved pussy wet and slick and aroused, nipples erect—Cullen seemed to regain his composure.
His jaw twitched. “Turn around,” he commanded.
“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled, spinning to face the bed.
“Bend over and grab your ankles.”
She hesitated for a long moment.
“Ivy,” Cullen said, his voice stern and becoming edgy. “When I give you an order, I expect it to be obeyed immediately. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Mister Sharpe.” Her lips tingled as she spoke.
Her pussy was wet and aching, and her stomach was filled with churning butterflies.
How could she be so frightened and so turned on all at once? What would he do next? What more would he ask of her? Where would it all end?
“Spread your legs and grab your fucking ankles before I become truly impatient,” he continued.
As she did what she was told, she could hear his footsteps on the hardwood floor, coming closer and closer behind her. She grabbed her own ankles, which meant that her pussy and ass were now completely exposed to his view.
Cullen was seeing her as no one had ever seen her before.
Her pussy was bare, dripping with juice, her ass turned up to him, vulnerable.
Cullen Sharpe could do anything he wanted to her now.
“You were very bad last night,” he breathed, his voice husky with want and desire.
“I was, Sir,” she replied. Her heart pounded in her ribcage and her legs trembled.
“Why did you go to that seedy bar and exploit yourself?” he asked.
“I don’t…I don’t know, Sir.”
He smacked her ass—not extremely hard. But it wasn’t a playful slap, either. It stung a little, and she gave a slight cry in response.
“Don’t ever tell me you don’t know when I ask you a question,” he said. “If I ask you, then I already know you have an answer.”
“I’m sorry, Mister Sharpe.”
He slapped her ass harder. “Sorry stopped cutting it some time ago, Ivy.” He slapped her buttocks yet again, his palm rubbing her butt for a moment before withdrawing.
Her wet pussy mound throbbed, dripping, wanting and needing his attentions. His lithe fingers were so close yet so far away. Even his hands on her ass felt electric—making every pore ache with need and want.
She’d never felt this sensation, being so turned on, being so ready for a man.
Please fuck me, she thought. Please put your fingers in my wet pussy, Cullen.
“Now tell me why you went carousing last night,” he said.
“Because I wanted to try and forget about you,” she admitted. “Sir,” she added, catching her lapse just in the nick of time.
There was a long silence after she said that. “You should have told me your plans,” he said in a low voice. “You should always alert me when you’re getting tempted to do something reckless and self-destructive. I’ll never let you endanger yourself,” he told her. “But you didn’t think about the consequences of your actions and you ended up drunk, with men trying to take advantage of you. What would’ve happened to you had I not been there to save you?”
“It would’ve been a problem Mister Sharpe,” she told him. “I never should have drank and danced in front of those men, Sir.”
He spanked her bare ass again and then yet another time for good measure. She felt her buttocks quivering afterwards, and the flood of heat from his precise blows enveloped her slit with tingling warmth.
She moaned as she was flooded by a wave of adrenaline and sexual gratification.
“If you knew it was wrong, then you shouldn’t have done it. But you wanted to upset me, didn’t you?” he demanded.
“Yes,” she said.
And it was true that part of her had wanted him to be jealous when she’d let that douchebag guy grind on her backside at the bar. But it was also true that she wanted to tell him how bad and wrong she’d been because she liked the way it felt when Cullen Sharpe spanked her bottom.
Did he know she was enjoying this?
He must. He’s not a fool.
As if on cue, his palm crashed into her bare buttocks, sending her forward, making her grunt.
He slapped her again. Now he was alternating his spanking from one sensitive, sore ass cheek to the other, and then back again.
His spanking had become rhythmic and profoundly sexual, as she felt his desire growing, and his excitement.
He’d stopped talking. His breathing was audible in the near silence and stillness of the room.
The only sounds were the sounds of flesh on quivering flesh, of his palm as it struck her increasingly sore and excited butt, and the little grunts and groans that escaped Ivy’s mouth and throat as each strike excited her more and more.
Her pussy was throbbing wet. She felt as though she might even come from what he was doing to her.
“You disappointed me greatly,” he whispered, grabbing her fleshy hips with his hands, roughly massaging the skin as he drove his hips into her.
She moaned, feeling his hard bulge against her bare, slickly glazed cunt.
“I was very bad, Sir,” she responded.
“You have no idea,” he told her. “You think this is a game?”
“No, Mister Sharpe.”
“Yes, you do.” He spanked her again and again and again.
She cried out loudly, partly in pain, partly in ecstasy. She didn’t even know which was which anymore. Her body was bathed in glowing sweat. She was totally bare and naked and this powerful man was doing anything he wanted to her.
“Cullen,” she whispered, just barely mouthing the word.
“Would you still think it was a game if I fucked you like the bad girl you are?” he asked, slapping her flesh yet again. And then his hand spread out, his fingers gripping her skin, sliding down towards her upturned pussy, the mound trembling, her slit open, juicy.
His middle finger slowly slid against her folds, and she cried out in desperation. He slowly, slowly inserted his finger inside her. “Your little pussy is so fucking tight,” he said, “and you think I’d ever let another man have it?”
“No, Sir,” she moaned. “I’m, I’m going to—“
“Don’t you dare come right now,” he told her, as he began fucking her pussy with his one finger. “Look at how wet you are,” he said.
She felt her belly rippling with suppressed pleasure. She’d never had a man’s fingers inside her, never had to battle against her own climax. How could she stop this unstoppable force?
And in the end, she stopped it by just holding her breath, and exerting sheer willpower over her body. As she trembled and groaned while Cullen’s finger mercilessly fucked her dripping wet slit, Ivy closed her eyes tightly and held her breath. Sweat dripped down her forehead, down her legs.
He was slowly fucking her with his long finger, and with each full entr
y, he would clasp her buttocks with his entire palm. By the end, he was finger-fucking her and slapping her with his palm at the same time.
She bit her lip so hard that she tasted copper and metal on her tongue.
“You can let go of your ankles now,” Cullen said, withdrawing his hand from her.
She stood up, feeling the sore aching in her thighs and the raw redness of her butt cheeks. And then she faced him, as he spun her slowly with his hand on her hip.
Now they were looking directly at one another, face to face.
“You’ve got me worked up, Ivy,” he said, and his nostrils flared as those icy eyes melted her with the heat he was somehow giving off.
“I’m sorry to have gotten you so worked up, Mister Sharpe.”
“No, I don’t think you are.” He grabbed her tightly around the waist and brought his lips roughly against hers. His tongue entered her willing mouth, and she moaned as he explored her, their breaths intermingling.
He tasted like mint and sex and lust.
Suddenly, he threw her backwards and she landed on the bed, spread eagle. He stood over her, and his eyes had taken on a new quality.
“I’m going to fuck you, Ivy,” he growled. “I’m going to push my cock into your tight, wet pussy and fuck you until you come for me. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” she gasped. Her back arched, and she allowed him to see all of her as she spread her legs wide for him.
He’d gotten her sufficiently ready.
She was no longer terrified at the prospect of having sex for the first time, although she was still nervous about how she might perform with someone as experienced as this man.
But she was ready to take the leap. In fact, she couldn’t imagine resisting anything that Cullen Sharpe wanted from her right now.
Cullen swiftly removed his own shirt and, for the first time, she saw his beautifully perfect body.
Every chiseled muscle was like something that a sculptor would’ve rendered—the built CEO didn’t have an ounce of flab or fat anywhere on his ripped torso. And he clearly knew it, as he stood there and allowed Ivy to examine him with her wide eyes.
He licked his pink lips and slowly unzipped his pants. He revealed black silk boxers and then slid those down his hips and stepped out of his pants.
Now Cullen was nude, and his thick thighs and muscular calves were in perfect proportion with the rest of him.
But nothing could’ve prepared her for the way his cock looked. It was big, thick, swollen with his need for her. It pointed upward, curving toward the ceiling proudly.
Ivy writhed on the bed, feeling drunk on his attention—she was in a dream. She was in an alternate universe. She was ready to be ravished and to give herself completely to him.
He lowered himself on top of her, his muscular bicep flexing as he held himself above her, his hand pressing into the mattress like he was doing one-armed pushups.
With his other hand, Cullen guided the enormous head of his cock to her juicy mound. He began grinding the head up and down her slit, sending her legs into spasms of enthusiasm.
“You’re so damn tight,” he muttered, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head.
She couldn’t wait for him to slide in. Even if it hurt, she didn’t care.
“Fuck me, please,” she begged.
He continued sliding the head of his dick over her mound, seeming to delight in the sweet torture of it all.
“Please,” she begged again, gripping his neck with her hands. Her hands slid to his shoulders, loving the feel of his skin and his body.
He was all heat and masculinity and sex.
“You’re just so tight,” he groaned. “I want to fit inside you. Open up and let me in.”
She spread her legs.
Cullen began pushing in and she knew that soon he would break that barrier, and he’d fuck her in earnest. Already she was getting close to coming, just from anticipation.
His eyes suddenly locked on hers and there was a connection so strong, so intense that Ivy had to tell him everything.
“I’m a virgin,” she whispered, her hand stroking his chest.
Cullen’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly and then he pulled away. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not,” she said, feeling like she’d just made a huge mistake.
Why did I have to open my big mouth and ruin the moment?
“You’re a virgin,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Is that bad?”
He sat down heavily on the corner of the bed and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes far away now. “A virgin.” He shook his head as if annoyed with himself. “I should’ve known.”
“But it’s okay,” she told him, sitting up to her elbows. “I want you. I’m ready to do this, Cullen.”
He couldn’t even look at her. “I knew you were inexperienced, but I had no idea it went that far. I just assumed…”
“Why does it matter?” she asked, hearing the plaintive, begging sound in her own voice and hating it.
“It matters,” was all he said. He got off the bed, grabbed his clothes from the floor, his buttocks tightening as he bent over and scooped them into his arms.
“Cullen, please don’t do this—“
He shook his head. “I can’t,” he said. He turned away, turned his back on her. “You have to go now.”
“Cullen!” she cried, pounding her fists into the mattress as he walked away from her.
He opened the door to the bedroom and walked out without looking back.
Ivy sat there, watching him go, knowing that in the space of just a few seconds—everything had gone horribly wrong between them.
Please just come back, she thought, as if she could pray hard enough to make it so.
But the truth was, she already knew he wasn’t going to return.
THE END OF BOOK 2
Truth (The Billionaire’s Rules, Book 3)
She was alone. She’d been alone for the past ten minutes, waiting. Waiting for what?
Elvis has left the building.
Ivy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of the situation. She’d finally been ready to lose her virginity, give herself to a man fully and without reservation—and then that man had rejected her.
Her body was still bathed in sweat and the afterglow of what Cullen Sharpe had done to her. Her buttocks still burned from the spanking and her pussy was still wet with her own juices.
She was naked.
But Cullen Sharpe was gone. He’d left the room almost immediately after hearing that she was still a virgin. His reaction had been nothing short of horrified and disgusted. As if she’d told him she had some kind of horrible communicable disease, instead of it simply being an admission of inexperience.
What’s wrong with me?
More to the point, what’s wrong with him?
Ivy didn’t know. She felt shell-shocked, like she’d been used and discarded by the wealthy CEO with his seductive, finicky ways. One moment he was making her come and the next he was fleeing the scene like a bat out of hell.
Enough time had gone by and the worst of the shock had worn off, leaving her nerves raw and exposed. She got off the bed and got slowly dressed, hating the gross sensation of her smoky, slept-in clothes as they came in contact with her sweaty body.
Don’t cry. Whatever you do, you can’t cry right now. Save it for later.
The task is simple—hold it together until you’re away from Cullen Sharpe, and then you can freak out all you want.
Ivy exited the bedroom and walked down the hallway, emerging into the open concept living room and kitchen that were appropriately beautiful and modern. The space was all granite countertops, beautiful tile floors and sleek furniture with post-modern, Japanese looking paintings and photos on the walls.
Cullen was sitting at the kitchen table reading the New York Times. He was dressed in one of his sleek dark suits, and he looked completely put together, as if he hadn’t even bee
n in her room just a few minutes previously.
He couldn’t have ever been in that bedroom doing those things to her, because look at him. Whereas she was a disheveled mess, Cullen Sharpe was neat, tidy, perfect, reading his paper without a care in the world.
When she came into the room, he glanced up from his paper at her. “My car will take you back to your apartment, Ivy.”
“That’s not necessary—“
“Don’t be silly,” he replied sharply. “You need to get home and ready yourself for work. Unless you intend to go into work wearing the same clothes as yesterday.”
She sucked in her cheeks. “Maybe if I explain why I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes, my co-workers would be more understanding.”
Cullen snapped the paper closed. “My driver will take you home. That’s final.”
She wanted to scream at him. He was so cold, so cruel. How dare he take that high-handed attitude with her? But she knew better than to lose her cool with a man like him.
He would just write her off as a typical crazy woman. And she wouldn’t be written off so easily. Ivy allowed a smirk to creep across her face. “That sounds lovely, Mister Sharpe.”
He blinked, as if her words were unexpected. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad that’s settled.”
“It’s all settled,” she said, and then she turned and walked out of his home.
It seemed as though he’d been about to say something else, but she didn’t give him the chance.
You’re all out of chances, Mister Sharpe. I’m not one of your typical floozies, like that poor pathetic woman I heard begging you for attention this morning. You sent her away, but I’m going of my own free will.
Outside, sure enough, a car was waiting for her. She got inside and they drove away.
Ivy told herself not to look at his house as she drove off.
Don’t give into your curiosity. Forget he even exists, she told herself.
But she couldn’t help it. More surprisingly, she saw that Cullen Sharpe was standing in the window, watching her go.
It was difficult to tell, but she could’ve sworn that she saw the strangest, most pained look in his eyes. As if he’d never wanted her to leave at all.