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Ivy peeks over her shoulder at me, swiveling slowly. “Does the dress please you, Master?”
Holy fuck. Just like that she switches into sub mode.
“For now.” There’s a light that’s too bright in her eyes, and something in me cracks. “Here. Now.”
She comes up to me. I slide a hand in under her heavy hair, thumb stroking her cheek. “Master?”
“You look fucking perfect. Do you want to know why I left? Apart from my work? You. You’re my distraction, Pollyanna. The kind of downfall men fear. And I needed a clear head.”
I kiss her, then slide my hand up through the hidden front slit on her dress, up to her cunt. It’s hot, she’s wet, and the thin silk of the panties I put in the box with the dress is so thin it feels like I’m touching her bare pussy. I slide my fingers back and forth over the fabric until she starts to moan.
“What I really want to do,” I murmur. “Is this.”
I drop to my knees, spread her legs, and then dip my head close to lick and suck her pussy through the silk. Pushing two fingers under the material, I thrust into her, curling them to rub her G-spot as I piston in and out, all while licking her folds, suckling her clit.
I’ve paid attention to each moan she’s ever given me…each gasp and tilt of her hips…every involuntary shift in her that whispers and begs for more. I know how to play her to a screaming crescendo. I can get her off in minutes or take hours. I can edge her like a psychopath who lives for torture. Right now? I want to play her like a fiddle, fast and with the kind of layered melody that’ll have her humming our song for the entire night.
So I keep the beat inside her, and I edge up the play on her clit until I’m sucking and biting softly, battering against her with my tongue.
Her fingers grip my hair, and she’d fall if I didn’t have one arm wrapped around her.
Suddenly, a sharp scream erupts from her mouth, and she comes so hard I need to pull out of her and grab her tight so the convulsions don’t send her tumbling. She cries out, moaning, and in that knot of shattering sound is my name.
Mercer.
Not Master. Not Sir.
Mercer.
It’s fucking perfect.
When her legs are steady, I lick the length of her slit once more, making her shudder with aftershocks. I straighten up. I know I’m a mess, and I’d love to fucking kiss her so hard she comes again. But I don’t want to mess up the lipstick. She has a just-fucked blissful air around her which I tell myself is perfect and exactly what I want for this next part.
But it’s a damn lie.
I went down on her because I love it, and because there are words I just don’t have. Things I think I want to say, but I don’t know what they are and…
I did it because I needed to.
Right now, I’d go like this. A wipe of my mouth and out the door, the musk of her sex on me. But it’s a little too overt for my plans. Besides, people know I’m a certain kind of Dom. I don’t turn up anywhere up smelling like my sub.
So I take a few minutes to clean up. When I come back, I laya light wrap around her shoulders. She doesn’t carry a bag because I don’t want that. She’s mine, and if she wants something, I’ll let her know.
My eyes fall to her wrist. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before, but Ivy has my watch on. Again. I furrow my brow.
I know I took it back. With a lifted eyebrow, I look at it and then her. She hides her wrist behind her.
“Brat.”
But a little light flickers deep inside of me. It’s strange, foreign, something largely unfamiliar to me.
Is it fucking…happiness?
This is a party down deep in the building. A sub-basement, ironically, and I’m sure there are other rooms even deeper. Maybe even a level or two below. I don’t care about those, though, just the private chamber where Henderson holds court when he’s in town.
Holds court to those he deems important enough, or those whom he wants to do business with. Many of those people are here tonight.
Including us.
