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“I’m looking forward to it. Seeing our baby will make it feel real,” Ivy says. “Sometimes, it doesn’t.”
I grab a cart and follow Ivy down the aisle. She picks up groceries as we stroll along. I enjoy watching her without her knowing that I’m doing so. Her figure has filled out a bit, with her curves becoming rounder and softer. My body heats up with awareness. I can’t wait to get her home. I’m a fucking fool. I shouldn’t be thinking or plotting how I’ll get Ivy into my bed. I try to bring back the anger and resentment I’d felt yesterday over dinner because she was obviously using me for the access I could give her to the clinic.
I can’t bring myself to care. All I want is to feel that soft body wrapped around me. If she’s using me, then so be it. I’m happy to be used both for her career and for sex.
I have it bad, I admit to myself as we move to the meat section. This woman has me by the balls, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ll just ride it out. Get her out of my system. By the time the baby comes, we’ll both be tired of our affair, and we’ll be ready to work out a system to parent together.
“I’m guessing the main meal will be chicken,” I tell Ivy jokingly after she picks up a whole chicken.
“Genius,” she mutters. “It’s going to be a surprise, though.”
We finish up shopping, and when it’s our turn at the checkout, Ivy grabs my arm. “Let me pay. Please.”
I try to protest, but she’s determined, and she pays for our groceries. I feel bad because I know her finances are tight. I’ll have to figure out a way to ease Ivy’s financial worries that will be acceptable to her. I’ve come to realize that she is a proud woman.
“Thanks,” I say as I grab our bags and we leave the store.
“You’re welcome,” Ivy says. She unlocks the car, and before she can move, I open the driver’s door for her with my free hand.
“Thanks,” she says and slides in.
My eyes are drawn to the curve of her hips, and I remember how fucking good it feels to run my hands over her body. I can’t seem to control my mind after that. I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want Ivy at this moment. I want to pounce on her as soon as we get home, but things have been weird between us. Instead, I carry the bags to the kitchen and excuse myself to go and shower.
“Can I show you anything before I leave?”
“No, I’m sure I’ll find my way around,” Ivy says, her gaze raking my body.
Pleasure swamps me as it dawns on me that she wants me as much as I want her. We stare at each other hungrily, and then, somehow, I manage to turn away and leave the kitchen.
My breath comes out fast in my bedroom as if I’ve been running. Fucking hell. This is a real exercise in self-control. I strip off my clothes and head to the bathroom with my cock leading the way as it juts out of my body.
I turn on the shower and stand under it, letting the cascading water cool me down. Ivy looks so beautiful in that yellow dress that hugs her curves perfectly. She looked sexy all damned day, and now she’s in the kitchen making dinner for us.
I grab the shower gel and pour a generous amount into the palm of my hand. I rub it onto my head and scrub myself from top to bottom. My cock won’t let up, and neither will thoughts of Ivy’s curves in that dress she’s wearing.
Cleaning my cock turns into a jerking-off session, something I haven’t done in years. The irony of jerking off when I have a sexy woman in my kitchen making dinner for us doesn’t escape me. I pump my hand up and down my hard cock, all the while imagining that Ivy’s lips are sucking it.
Shame mingles with the urge to take the edge off my primal need. A groan escapes my mouth as I move faster and faster. I imagine Ivy looking up at me as she sucks my cock, her eyes watering as my cock hits the back of her throat. My imagination is so real; I can smell her womanly scents in the shower.
When I come, it’s almost violent, with my hot seed shooting onto the floor. I groan as the last of it drips out and then stand under the shower to wash off. It’s unsatisfying, but it serves its purpose of taking the edge off. Now, I can behave like a civilized man while having dinner with Ivy.
I can keep my eyes off her mouth and cleavage.
19
Ivy
Alec returns to the kitchen just as I remove roast chicken from the oven. He’s taken longer than I expected from the shower, but that gave me time to finish up cooking dinner.
“Smells good in here,” he says.
You smell good too, I want to say, but I don’t. I haven’t forgotten how cold and unfriendly he was yesterday.
“Thanks. We’re having mashed potatoes, green beans, and chicken,” I tell him.
“What can I do to help?” he says.
“If you set the table, that would be awesome.”
