Page 41 of Taming Ivy
Ivy relaxed, softening, melting, giving herself over to him. Her stomach quivered as his fingertips coasted through the soft curls at the juncture of her long legs. When his touch dipped to trace the center of her being, she exhaled a sigh of sweet welcome, shaking Sebastian to his core. He could not move, overcome with gratitude. This beautiful, enchanting creature belonged to him, if only for this moment.
Time stood unmoving, only dust motes dancing restlessly in and out of the broken sunshine. The muted trickle of water flowing in the shallow stream and their broken breathing filled the innumerable seconds, the chirping from a robin’s hidden among the elm’s branches creating a cadence backdrop.
“Do you want this, Ivy?” His hand collected her need, giving it back in slow, sweet glides that left her soft and damp. “If this continues, we will never go back to what we were before. Do you understand? Do you understand what I want from you?” If she told him to stop, he was unsure what his reaction might be.
Ivy arched into his hand in response. “Yes, Sebastian.Yes.Show me, tell me how to please you.”
Sebastian’s eyes flamed hot. Shifting his body, he braced himself up on one elbow to unfasten his breeches. He grasped her wrist, dragging her hand to the space between his thighs and although she appeared mystified, he did not let go until her fingers closed upon his solid length. The thrill of it threatened to unman him as he filled her palm, his flesh straining.
“Here, sweet, touch me here,like this.”Words filled his throat, choking him. The pleasure was excruciating. Soft and hesitant, her touch was an exquisite fire, her fingers quickly learning the shape and size of him.
This sweet innocence was a gift from an impressive arsenal. The façade was appealing, a welcome change from any other woman in his orbit. It made the game of pursuit and capture infinitely more stimulating. Ivy enjoyed it too. What else explained the flashing grin she threw him sometimes, the one that said, “Oh! Isn’t this fun?” whenever he won a kiss from her? What a treasure she was. Tailoring responses to a man’s enjoyment. Having never seduced a virgin before, he liked the illusion too much to destroy it. For now, he would play her games. Even if it were all a facade, unreal, it was still incredibly arousing.
When her touch became bolder, Sebastian’s hand drifted to the core of her body to resume his measured assault with clever fingers.
Ivy knew just how to squeeze him, when to stroke faster, and softer, all of it interspersed with a butterfly touch as she gently explored his straining erection. She possessed the delicate artistry of a skilled courtesan, but Sebastian feared he lost the conquest of the moment. She tied him into knots with her magical fingertips. He could not allow this. He must shatter her first. Her heart won by the conquering of the flesh under his hand.
The tempo of his fingers increased, swirling over and into her soft wetness as she mirrored the actions upon his body. He had no idea how close she was to climaxing until a muffled cry escaped her. The knowledge she flew apart on the tips of his fingers flung him over the edge as well. Groaning with satisfaction, he fused their mouths in a blistering kiss as the universe splintered apart in a kaleidoscope of sensation. Pleasure wound tight about them, stitching two imperfect halves together to form one unbroken piece.
An eternity passed before they drifted back to the cove of elm trees where a carpet of deep, fragrant grass cushioned their bodies and a lazy, winding stream sang so sweet.
CHAPTER 10
Molly settled a ball gown of deep green emerald silk over Ivy’s head. Cut square across, the harsh lines of the bodice dipped low before narrowing at the waist and flaring into wide, graceful skirts. Ivy ignored the matching satin gloves, hoping Sebastian would forgo the formal items as well. When he took her in his arms, she wished to feel his hands on her, skin to skin.
Swallowing past the catch in her throat, she wondered if it were possible no one saw the effects of the miraculous events of this afternoon. Was she not visibly branded in some way by Sebastian’s touch? She should be, after the liberties she allowed him. Only his discretion kept matters from progressing any further in the secret cove of trees today. He could have tossed her skirts and made love to her several times over. Beneath the onslaught of caresses, the burning, rough silk of his fingers, she practically begged him to do so. She wanted him to touch her, wanted his hands on her, around her, his fingersinsideher.
Ivy shifted, an inarticulate sound of agitation earning a questioning glance from Molly as she placed matching slippers on her feet. How could she forget his choked groan of release and her own shattering response? She could not, for it seared into her brain. Somehow, that sleek, heavy part of him was supposed to fit inside her, the fluid expelled into her palm meant to beinsideher. None of which seemed remotely possible. Sebastian’s finger barely fit, stretching her almost painfully, before a delicious sense of yielding overcame the discomfort when he stroked her. Something even larger burrowing into her body was unimaginable.
The discovery he had hair down there too, only much coarser and more abundant, amazed her. Ivy wondered what he looked like completely unclothed. Blast it, the entire interlude left Ivy with a litany of unanswered questions. If only her explorations could have continued.If only Sebastian had not seemed to tremble on the very narrow edge of his self-control. Perhaps, it was for the best things ended as they did.
That morning, after leaving her side and returning with his silk handkerchief cold and damp from the icy waters of the brook, she did not understand. Suffused with embarrassment, she allowed him to clean away the evidence of his passions from her palm. With gentle fingers, he refastened the buttons of her blouse and helped her to stand, tugging her skirts back to a decent state. His hand held her steady at the elbow when her knees wobbled. Retrieving their coats from the ground, he shook them out; muttering under his breath to discover the mud stains on his and the wrinkles on hers. Assisting her into the fashionable jacket, his palms smoothed out the creases with impassive firmness, over her shoulders, down her chest and her back while Ivy sucked in quick breaths of heated joy.
When he swung her onto the mare’s back, Sebastian had yet to utter a word directly to her, but his eyes, when Ivy stole a glance at him, glowed with the tiniest bit of victory.
This cursed infatuation left her achingly vulnerable, in danger of becoming one of his many conquests. Her calm prudence fled with distressing ease when she was with him, for he intoxicated her. The lateness of the hour nor too many glasses of champagne could not excuse her wantonness. Not this time. The admiring whispers of the women pursuing him, scrabbling for any crumb of affection tossed their way all made perfect sense. The realization should be chilling, now that she was one of their number.
But it did not. And probably would not. It would surely bring heartache, but she was in love with Sebastian.
A devastating diagnosis. If Sara’s glum prediction evolved, Ivy knew her ruination was imminent, and if his reputation proved true, the earl would quickly lose interest in her.
She had two options. Maintain a measure of distance from him, resulting in a state of absolute misery, or, revel in Sebastian’s attention and glory in the dizzying pleasure while it lasted.
Ivy sighed. Either way, when things came to their sad, inevitable end, she was doomed.
Sebastian smoothed his ebony-hued evening jacket, cursing softly under his breath. The failure to exploit Ivy’s flagrant invitation that morning had his nerves stretched taut as piano wires. He possessed the devil’s own temper since returning from the ride, snarling and snapping, earning curious glances and muttered whispers from others. His new valet, William, hired during his last trip to Scotland, was already accustomed to his employer’s turns of ill mood. The elderly man sidled out of the way as Sebastian debated the wearing of formal gloves, only to toss the things aside with a muttered curse.
Why? Why did he not take Ivy? He ought to have parted her pale, creamy thighs, unbuttoned his breeches and slid deep inside her. At the very least, part of his revenge would be fulfilled. Ivy would be his. He could have had her, quenched his thirst for her. When he overcame her half-hearted resistance, she proved quite willing, damned near driving him crazy with that flirtatious exploration of his body.
The interlude by the stream was all too brief. Sebastian’s teeth clenched, remembering how he erupted within her silky grasp, every bit of it orchestrated with the finesse of a seasoned courtesan. It was damned difficult not to take her right there on the ground in a flurry of heated need and impatient lust. She knew he would not succumb to such temptation, but it certainly did not stop her from trying to manipulate him.
Soon, his moment would come to claim her. It would be athisleisure, with no threat of interruption and not on the hard, cold forest floor. In the privacy of a bedchamber, he would take Ivy Kinley as many times as needed; slake his thirst until she no longer fascinated him, taste her as often as he liked, over and over until she was out of his blood. He planned to make love to her until they were both wrung dry, sweat dripping from their bodies in mingled rivulets of passion. He would fall asleep to her sighs of contentment ringing in his ears. Then, he would roll atop her, kiss her awake and begin anew. She would be unable to escape. He would make damn sure she did not want to.
The smile Ivy gave Sebastian from across the room was so radiant, it pierced him like an arrow. Unlocking her arm from Sara’s, she waited patiently for him to come to her.
Alan stood closer to the two girls, claiming Sara quickly, lifting her off her feet in his enthusiasm. She laughed in delight as he twirled her before pulling her into a remote corner where they proceed to laugh and whisper to one another. Sebastian was further away, in conversation with Lady Caroline, but he abruptly excused himself as the lady shook her head in bemusement.
“Goddamn it,” he muttered, forced to the sidelines by couples taking their places for the next dance. Another laid claim to the countess before he could reach her, sweeping her away to the tune of a lively Scottish reel. Shooting Sebastian an apologetic smile, Ivy turned her attention to the gentleman holding her hand.
