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Another adds, “No collar.”
I just grab Ivy and drag her through the hall, out into the main room and to where the coats are. I get her wrap and secure it around her. Then I stalk up to the hostess, a pretty blonde. “Men touched my property.”
“M-Mr. Vale?”
Next to me, Ivy is quiet, withdrawn.
“I’ll be shopping for something new. Even a sex party should have basic rules. My toys aren’t to be touched.”
With that, I storm out, taking Ivy by the hand.
As my car pulls up, Ivy finally speaks. “Mercer? That wasn’t me.”
“The men? No. The blowjob, oh yeah, that was all you. Now, get in the car. We’re going home so I can fuck you until you forget your name.”
SIXTEEN
ivy
His kisses arethe kisses of a fallen angel, of Satan. They’re that good.
From the moment we step off the elevator on the third floor, Mercer takes my face in his hands and starts kissing me.
They’re kisses that lick and caress and bite, they’re deep and connected to a crushing rush within me. They’re light and airy, so intimate that every part of me is desperate and throbbing for more.
Mercer doesn’t stop for a second. He pulls me against him as we crash into one wall, My body sprawls up against his, the contact electric. He leads me down the hall, our mouths connected as he backs me against another wall to take my mouth so deep, I’m willing to believe a person can live on kisses in a vacuum.
When we finally get into the bedroom he set up for me, he strips me out of what little clothing I have on, kissing me hard and deep, biting and sucking on my throat, my nipples, between my thighs. He stops at my pussy, on his knees as he licks and sucks my clit.
Then he rises up the length of my body.
I could come from this alone.
He’s going to…
We’re going to have sex.
His eyes are dark with lust, like whiskey in candlelight, and he strokes his thumbs over my nipples.
“Damn it all to fucking hell.”
I have no idea what that means, and I don’t give a flying fuck.
Mercer turns and stalks into my bathroom, leaving me standing in this world of strange, curious bliss that he created. I’ve been stuck in it since I took him in my mouth in the club. Since he rescued me. Since he dragged me out and told me he was going to fuck me.
So where did he…?
The hiss of the shower jars me, and suddenly Mercer is back, stripped down to just his trousers. He’s inked. I never…I mean, I remember a tattoo on his forearm that I thought was the most badass thing in the world when I was a kid, but his whole chest and shoulders…
At first it looks tribal, but it’s not.
Broken chains. Links upon links of broken chain, stylized in bold black.
On his forearm is that same tattoo from so many years ago, when we were less to each other than what we are now. It’s of a bird. With flames for wings. It’s small and beautiful.
Silently, he takes my hand and pulls me into the shower under the needles of wet heat.
I’m naked. He’s half-clothed, though I noticed he took off his watch. I don’t know what to think when he washes me, my hair, body, face. His hands are gentle but not loving. Solicitous?
