Page 39 of Candy Cane Chains

"You want this, Ivy?" My voice is low, rough. I look up at her, blindfolded and breathing hard. She's a vision - emerald silk and diamonds, lips parted, chest heaving.

"Yes." The word is a gasp, a plea.

I don't make her wait any longer. I lean in, my tongue tracing her folds, tasting her. She's sweet, like vanilla and something darker, something mine. Her grip on my hair tightens, her hips jerking as I find her clit, circling it with my tongue.

Her breaths come in short, sharp gasps now, her body trembling. I slide a finger into her, feeling her tightness, her heat. She's close, her body coiling like a spring.

It seems my docile girl does like exhibitionism after all, which I expected after the way I saw she loves being prioritized. She probably likes the idea of everyone knowing she is so thoroughly owned.

I add another finger, curling them, hitting that spot that makes her bite her lip to keep from crying out. Her walls clench around my fingers, and I groan against her pussy.

"Julian... I can't..." She's panting, her body shaking.

"You can." I growl against her, the vibrations making her moan. "Come for me, Ivy. Let me taste you."

I suck her clit into my mouth, my fingers thrusting into her, hard and fast. Her body convulses, her scream caught in her throat. I feel her coming, her inner muscles clamping down on my fingers, her taste flooding my mouth.

But she's loud, too loud. I reach up with my free hand, thrusting my fingers into her mouth. Her screams are muffled, her teeth sinking into my skin as she rides out her orgasm. I can feel her pulsing around my fingers, her taste on my tongue, her scent in my lungs.

It's intense, raw, perfect. She's never been more beautiful than in this moment, blindfolded and coming apart, trusting me completely. I slow my movements, bringing her down gently. Her body is limp, her breaths coming in soft pants.

I slide my fingers out of her, biting down on her inner thigh. She whimpers as I leave my mark, and I lick against it.

I suck my fingers clean and rise, my body caging hers against the door. Her hands find my shoulders, her breath warm on my lips.

"Julian..." My name is a sigh on her lips, a secret shared between us.

I capture her mouth in a deep kiss, letting her taste herself on my tongue. Her hands slide into my hair, pulling me closer. She's mine, completely and utterly mine. And I'm not letting her go.

But the sounds of the party are getting louder, people passing by the door. It's time to rejoin the world, to remind everyone out there who she belongs to. I break the kiss, my hands going to the blindfold.

"Ready to face them again?" I murmur, my lips brushing her ear.

She nods, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Ready."

20

IVY

The clock on Julian's nightstand blinks 2:47 AM, its red digits piercing through the darkness. I shift on the silk sheets, adjusting the emerald green lace that hugs my curves.

The lingerie set is one of his favorites - delicate straps criss-crossing my back, a plunging neckline trimmed with black velvet. I was hoping him seeing me in it would unravel him. But hours have ticked by, and Julian still hasn't come home.

The penthouse creaks, winter wind whistling through its bones. I pace across the master bedroom's hardwood floors, my bare feet silent against the polished surface. Outside, Chicago's skyline glitters like fallen stars, but it feels almost intimidating without him here.

"Come on, Julian." I press my forehead against the cold window pane. "Where are you?"

He's never this late without warning. Even on his worst nights dealing with "clients," he always sends a message. Always lets me know.

I pull one of his shirts from the closet and over my body, just to drown in his scent. It helps ease my worry a little - becausethat is what is overtaking me. He wouldn't be out with someone else, but in his line of work… My mind races with possibilities, each worse than the last.

I check the time again. 2:53 AM.

The bedroom feels too big, too empty. I've spent countless nights here since being brought here over two weeks ago, but tonight the shadows seem longer, darker. The Christmas tree lights down the hall cast a soft glow through the crack under the door, reminding me of all the times I've spent with him.

My fingers trace the delicate lace edge of the thigh-high stockings - the ones that made his eyes darken when I wore them last week. The matching garter belt digs slightly into my skin as I perch on the edge of our bed, ears straining for the sound of his car, his footsteps, anything.

But there's only silence.

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