Page 54 of Taming Ivy
She shoved him, but with Sebastian between her thighs and her feet dangling above the floor, it was impossible to move more than a few inches. When she managed to wiggle so a heartbeat of a space opened between them, he grabbed her upper arms, giving her a rough shake. The fact their bodies were still joined heightened the barbarity.
“How dare I?” His fury was both hushed and terrifying. “Don’t you realize I won the game?” The buttons of his evening coat bit into the bare flesh of her breasts, the gold metal branding full moon patterns on her white skin. How bizarre he had not removed a stitch of clothing. Destroying her required only the unbuttoning of his breeches.
“Ah, little, treacherous Ivy…breaking you, taming you, is why these men gather here. And it is just a game, because no matter how many come and go, weallwant the same thing. To tame you. Each one of us wants to claim the victory, the opportunity to smear it in the face of the others.” His voice dropped to a scornful snarl. “You drove Timothy to his death. He adored you, worshiped you, and you ground that devotion to dust beneath your heel. He took his life because of you. He chose to die because you, with your petty, selfish actions, rejected him. Does it excite you? Knowing that men take the risk of courting you, placing their bets they willsurvive you? Does it? Well, now there are wagers to pay, by God. Scores to settle. And it is my right to collect first.”
Ivy whimpered at the mention of Timothy and the stakes placed on her head, but Sebastian ignored her distress, savage as a winter storm in his march across her heart.
“As for you and I, you’ve teased, tempted and enticed me. Truly, you led me on a merry chase, but this has been my game from the very start. There is not a man alive in London, in all of England for that matter, who can deny I’ve successfully tamed the sweet, deceitful, Poison Ivy. It shall be on everyone’s lips come morning…Ravenswood survived the Countess!To your credit, my sweet, it’s been a most entertaining ride.” His hips rotated crudely, a stark reminder he had not finished mauling her pride and her soul.
A strangled moan of anguish escaped Ivy with the use of that vile moniker, a reminder of theton’sviciousness. The sound was almost animal like, the level of torment so deep Sebastian wavered. Even as whispering demons whipped him on, demanding he finish her, shame stabbed his gut at his own maliciousness.
“Breaking you has been pleasurable for us both and I don’t intend for it to end. I still want you, deceitful, wanton whore that you are,” he muttered roughly. “And you want me too. Your body cannot hide that from me.”
Choking back another helpless whimper at the ugly words, Ivy renewed her struggles. Sebastian closed his eyes, silent, immobile as a wall of granite, allowing it until she finally hung limp with exhaustion in his punishing embrace.
Gulping for air, damp with perspiration, Ivy shivered against his chest. Locks of hair tumbled from her coiffure to cling to his neck and chin with the tenacity of a delicate spider web. Releasing the grip on her arms, Sebastian spanned his palms on either side of her hips, breathing heavily. Now that she was still, a dawning consciousness speared him with jabs deep enough to draw blood. The room spun with the crazed velocity of a kaleidoscope. He wanted desperately to shake his head, to clear the fog of lust and anger and brandy, to be able to think clearly.
The magnitude of his actions, the monstrosity of it all, seeped in. Slumped in defeat, Ivy wept quietly, wounded angel tears soaking through his shirt to cool the blistering heat of his skin.
Several things battered his intoxicated vengeance…the tight resistance to his invasion, the phantom sensation of a flimsy barrier giving way in the path of conquest. That haunting cry shadowed by the convulsive clenching of her legs as she held him tighter, her fingernails biting painfully through cloth and into the flesh of his shoulders while her body sucked him in deeper. Her reaction to his possession was baffling, but the trickle of comprehension clawing at his brain screamed for attention. Bloody hell, it was not possible.
You goddamn fool. You goddamn, heartless, stupid bastard. She’s an innocent. A virgin…she’s a virgin.
She couldn’t be. She’d fucked half the men waiting in her conservatory with their pathetic rehearsed proposals. Hadn’t she?
Sebastian rocked away, grabbing Ivy by the nape of her neck to stare down into her face. The golden cartwheel of freckles glowed in stark relief against the ivory paleness of tear-streaked skin. Darkened to the shaded dimness of a stormy sea, she gazed back with eyes wide and hazy. Truth was a harsh master, lashing him with every breath. It was not possible. It could not be. She could not be...
Pure.
Virgin…
Bitter regret washed away the scarlet mist of fury, turning him abruptly cold and instantly sober. What he had done? He hurt her. This...this was the act of a madman. An evil that could not be undone. This might be worse than rape. He tricked her into offering a precious gift then ripped it from her hands.Oh, God. What kind of monster am I?
“Ivy...” His hands dropped as if she were a lit flame burning his palms. “Sweet Jesus, what the hell have I done?”
Ivy’s fist slammed his jaw with such uncanny precision and force that his teeth clicked together with a loud snap. Sebastian reared back, the salty tang of blood in his mouth. He’d bitten his own tongue. As he processed that, a tiny foot struck him, the wooden heel of her shoe finding his groin as if she’d practiced the defensive maneuver for years. Sebastian’s body exploded in excruciating pain.“Goddamn…”Grasping the vicinity of his manhood, he stumbled away.
The space between them was just enough for Ivy to slide off the edge of the desk and regain her footing. Snatching her dress up to her shoulders, she darted to the side while Sebastian doubled at the waist, his hands braced on his thighs. He sucked in deep breaths, fighting the alcohol when it rose in his throat, a thick and obstructive tidal wave of nausea battering for release. Eventually, the pain eased to a point so it was possible to stand without retching. Ivy’s sobs echoed throughout the room, a swirling cacophony pounding at his head, leaving him a bit wobbly on his feet. There was a flurry of rustling silk behind him, the sounds of metal against metal. She struggled to unlock the door, her fingers clumsy with blind panic.
Sebastian fumbled with the buttons of his breeches, gazing dumbly at his hands when they came away slick with fresh blood. The red smears confused him. Were the heels of her shoes that damned sharp? Had she cut him somehow?
Do you honestly believe that is your blood?An internal voice mocked his stupidity.It’s hers, you bastard.Her blood. Ivy’s blood.
Virgin blood. Sacrificed for his cousin’s life.
The click as the key turned was loud as a thunderbolt. She was fleeing him, as though he were a demented beast, a twisted evil from the depths of hell. He reached to grab her, but even he was unsure of his motives. “Ivy. Holy hell.”
Was it possible to beg forgiveness for the unforgivable?
With a nimbleness born of terror, Ivy evaded him. When she bolted into the hall, Sebastian stumbled after her, falling against a table. A priceless vase teetered, crashing to the floor in an ear-shattering explosion of porcelain. The sound would undoubtedly draw all guests to the foyer. But he must stop her. He must explain, catch her, even if there was little hope of undoing the damage.
A fleeting glimpse of apricot silk flying up the stairs was the last he saw of Ivy Kinley and his pursuit ended at the bottom of the polished marble steps. Not even he, the Earl of Ravenswood, who dared almost anything, risked following her up those stairs, not here in her father’s house and with witnesses no less.
She loves you.
Struggling to compose himself, Sebastian gripped his chest. Overwhelming pain throbbed in relentless thumps. Such a strange feeling it was, to have one’s heart shredded while it still beat steadily. Silent and sick, the horror of his actions washed over him anew to see his hands marked in startling red.
Slowly, he pulled a handkerchief from an inner pocket on his suit coat, using it to wipe the blood away, blotting at the miniscule stains on his coat where he’d touched his chest. Forcing the most arrogant expression imaginable to his features, stamped there by sheer willpower alone, Sebastian faced the men steadily gathering. Confused expressions exposed their thoughts:What happened to our darling countess? What in God’s name did you do to her? Why does the sound of her weeping linger in this hall?
