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Madison might still be sitting where I ordered her to or she may have run for the hills—I have no idea. Nothing exists beyond this woman and the way she feels in my hands.
I lose myself in her pleasure, driving her to the edge so I can greedily watch her spill.
“Ivan!” she grits out, her body clamping down on my fingers. “I’m—fuck…fuck…Ivan...” She tries to tell me, but I already know. And I bask in the way she shatters in my arms, her lashes fluttering as her toes curl and she bucks herself on my fingers, soaking them with her release.
She floats down, sighing and holding onto my neck for dear life. I keep her there, pinned between the wall and my hips.
The bride I never asked for.
The queen I never saw coming.
36
CORA
I sit on the edge of my bed and stare at the black bag in my closet. Scarlet tissue paper peeks out of the top, a scandalous hint of what’s tucked away inside.
In the sex shop yesterday afternoon, I felt powerful. With Ivan’s fingers stroking all the places where I ached for him, his entire focus on my pleasure, I realized all at once how intoxicating control can be. How a person can come to crave it.
Then we left the shop.
The orgasm faded and Ivan retreated behind the icy walls of his mask. The man who, just minutes before, had been whispering soft commands in my ear, urging me to come apart for him, turned into a mute stone pillar.
The silent treatment carried on the rest of the day and through the night.
Even still, I woke up from a dream sweaty and panting and shamefully wet. I threw my covers back and stared at the door connecting our rooms, willing it to open.
Needless to say, that didn’t happen.
Now, I’ve moved on to staring at Plan B. The bag.
I drop my face into my hands and scrub at my tired eyes. “Pathetic. You are pathetic.”
And horny.That shoe fits, too.
We’re barely a full day into this celibacy arrangement and I’ve already creeped as close as physically possible to breaking the rule thatIinsisted on.
I don’t think we fully broke it, though. Ivan got me off, but he left with a visible bulge in his pants. He was not satisfied. It’s probably a technicality, but at this point, a win is a win.
I glance at the door again, wondering if he took care of himself last night. Maybe at the same time I was lying in bed thinking about him, he was holding himself and thinking about—
My face flames. I shake my head at my own thoughts. “Yep. Absolutely pathetic.”
If Ivan is taking care of himself—or having someone else take care of him, though I absolutelycannotlet myself think about that—then why shouldn’t I work out my own tension? That’s what these toys are for, right? Ivan wouldn’t have bought me half that sex shop if he didn’t want me to use it.
I stand up, edging towards the bag of sex toys like maybe I can sneak up on them. I won’t have to admit I’m having dirty, sexy thoughts about my fake husband if the toys don’t see me coming.
I snort at my accidental pun and take another step closer to the bag.
It’s not breaking the rules if I onlythinkabout having sex with Ivan. I can ease the yearning in my core and make sure something like what happened in the back of that sex shop never happens again.
“This is what he wants,” I whisper to the dark, needy side of myself. “He wants me to think about him.” I blow out a breath and snatch the bag off the floor. “But there’s no harm in trying them out.”
I dig into the bag and grab the first thing I feel. Whatever it is, I’ll carry it into the bathroom with me, burn off some of this energy, and be done with it. With Ivan.
But as soon as I pull a toy out of the bag, the door between our twin bedrooms bursts open.
I yelp and drop the bag, but I tighten my grip on the toy like I might be able to wield it as a weapon.
