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“C’mon, it’s a crime keeping that to yourself.”
Ivy’s hands slide up along my thighs. Seems my girl’s learned a trick or two.
“I am, though.”
“There’s got to be something that’ll sweeten my offer?”
But I shrug. “Not until it runs its course.”
Henderson smiles like he has me, and I know I just secured an invite not only to Broken Angel, but the inner sanctum, below even the hardcore, where the cream of his crop play.
And below that is his very private, very exclusive club. That opens the door for his sex ball, which will mean he’ll be there,down in his fucking lair. He will be careless because he wants what I have so fucking badly. And when he least expects it, I’ll kill him and get all that blackmail he’s been collecting.
He wants what I have, and he thinks he’s maneuvering me to pluck her when I’m done.
Stupid fuck.
Then I seal the deal. Which is fucking hard to do with Ivy going full-on edge queen brat mode under the table. I’m so hard I don’t think I can walk, much less stand. Her fingers are magic torture devices as she teases me, stroking, pulling, then stopping, then beginning it all over again. The build and stop, build and stop is torture and she’s going to pay.
“I’ve got a feeling this won’t run its course,” I say.
Henderson just smiles knowingly, and I’m pretty fucking sure I know what’s on his mind. That if it doesn’t, he’ll just move in for the kill and take her because hethinkshe can.
“Actually,” I add, “I don’t think it will. Ever.”
“Good talk,” he says, his lecherous gaze fixed on Ivy. “Enjoy your blowjob.”
At that, Ivy slowly undoes my fucking zipper.
He walks away, his fists clenched. I’m about to say something to Ivy as she sweeps her tongue up and down my swollen cock, but others I know come by to talk. No one cares that there’s a girl under the table, for those who notice her. And I have no fucking idea what the conversations are about.
Everything in me is focused on her, on her tease, the edging she’s perfecting in her own style. I’m going to beat her for this. I’m fucking her mouth. Her ass. I’m going to destroy her pussy.
As the last person I’m talking to finally leaves, she pulls out my cock and starts to work me, using her hands and mouth and tongue. It’s a master class in just learned technique and I might die right here at the table.
Fuck, she is phenomenal. I let her do whatever she wantsand it’s pure bliss. The edge of agony sublime. I gaze down at her under the table and almost come as her innocent questioning eyes tangle with mine.
“Pollyanna,” I say. “Be very fucking careful. You might bite off more than you can chew.”
And she smiles. “Good. I’m ready to choke on it.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
ivy
Mercer’s eyesare whiskey-colored crystals, glittering in the darkness. He’s feral, hot, and exactly what I want…and need.
What started as me doing what I know he wanted—the perfect little slave act—turned into a slight act of revenge. After all, Mercer’s coercing me into this. It doesn’t matter if I like it, if I want it. Facts are facts.
But the act of revenge is muddied by his enjoyment and the other big, fat elephant in the room. The fact that I don’t just like this.
I freaking love it.
His warning spurs me on, brings out that rebellion he loves to hate.
When we play, there’s no room for enemies, our pasts, or guilt. There’s the purity, the down and dirty, filthy purity of him and me wanting each other in this deliciously twisted way.
I don’t understand it, but I get it…that little click of a switch in my head.
