Page 62 of Start With A Slap

“This isn’t one-sided! You were right there with me last night, body and soul. You looked at me like?—”

“I looked at you like I look at everyone I have sex with.”

“Oh, so that’s just your game.”

“You think you know me, just because we...” Her mouth tightened. “You don’t.”

Before she got out of bed, he seized her by the waist, pulled her down to her side and held her tight.

“Let me go!”

“Please, Ivy,” he said, his front pressed against her back, his cheek resting on hers. “Please don’t go.”

“Sever—”

He pet the small of her back, causing tremors and gasps, and said it once more, lower, softer, and in French this time. “Please don’t go,tigresse. I beg you. Stay with me.”

“It’s not fair. You’re not being fair.”

“I never said I would be.” He probed two fingers into her, kissed her neck, rubbed her spot.

Mouth open wide in silent moan, she writhed with him, her buttocks involuntarily stroking his stiffening cock.

“You’re so sweet,” he whispered. “So sweet.”

Turning to jelly in his arms, she whispered, “I hate you.”

“No,” he said, and aimed his cock at her slippery crevice, “you don’t.”

He held her in thrall that way, ruthlessly pressing all of her buttons, fucking her firm and slow. At the crest of her orgasm, he turned onto his back so she could ride him, reversed. Eyelids heavy, he watched her ass rise and fall, felt her tight channel spasm and seep while she moaned and bounced in delirious rapture. Her hair was tangled and unkempt, her backside was plastered in rose petals, she reeked of sex and sweat and stale champagne... and he’d never been so turned on in his life.

There was a knock at the door. Ivy froze.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and kept her ass moving. “Don’t stop.”

Knock, knock, knock.

“Go away,” Sever growled through clenched teeth.

“Your breakfast, sir?—”

“Leave it, you sodding git!”

He could tell she was thrown. Intellectually, she didn’t approve of the way he’d spoken to his butler and if it were up to her brain, she likely would have fled, principles fluttering. However, her body wasn’t quite in tune with her mind: at his harsh words, her pussy twitched and rewetted his cock, and when Vikram’s footsteps retreated, she began to bounce again. Not at all tentatively.

Well, well.Sever smirked.I know which part of you likes a man in charge.

So, he pushed her face into the duvet, gathered her hair in his fist and pistoned into her with abandon, bed frame rattling against the wall, until he’d filled her with his jism and she’d well and truly exhausted her vocal cords.

Breath sawing out, he collapsed on her back and said in French, “Breakfast, baby?”

Sittingon throw pillows and a duvet at the bedroom window, curtains drawn to the view of the Seine, they picked from the breakfast tray on the floor. Bundled in an oversized white bathrobe, she stared out the window until she finally said in an appealingly hoarse voice, “Please don’t pay me for this weekend.”

He put down his tea. “Ivy, don’t be silly. I would never think of you that way.”

She glanced his way. “Except for that time you first met me.”

He chuckled, chastened. “Right. Well. Honest mistake, that.”

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