Page 63 of Taming Ivy
Sebastian growled against the honey softness of her flesh, applying the same attention to the other breast until she was breathless and straining against him. Unable to fight him any longer, she returned his kiss when he claimed her mouth again. His fingers danced lightly over the flesh between her thighs, finding her wet and velvety. When he slid one devilish finger into her depths, her stomach clenched. The sensation was almost unbearable. He stretched and filled her, pushing deep to slide against a secret part of her. His mouth remained locked on hers, mimicking the drawing and stroking motion of his finger until Ivy dissolved in knife-sharp pleasure.
There was no need to hold her prisoner now. Melting against Sebastian in a tangle of legs and arms, warm, adrift, every bone in her body disintegrated, her climax shattering her with its intensity. She was nothing more than a pliable doll, to be toyed with as he wished.
He rose from the bed to tug her stockings off, tossing them aside so they fluttered to the Turkish carpet like ivory feathers. Rustling noises drifted to her ears as if from far away and when Sebastian’s nude body covered hers, Ivy was not shocked. He fisted one large hand in her hair, pulling her face to his. Kissing her with a restrained roughness, he slid between her legs, and she tasted the sweet bitterness of brandy on his lips.
He branded her, flames of fire licking her flesh everywhere their skin touched. The muscled length of his legs parting hers was strange and thrilling, the coarse hair of his thighs slightly abrasive against her smooth skin. Dreading the pain felt the first time, her knees instinctively bent as he fit against her. She tensed, waiting for him to thrust inside her.
Sebastian immediately stilled. He removed the red rose from the tangles of her hair with careful fingers. His eyes never leaving hers, he deliberately tore the blossom apart, cascading the fragrant petals over her breasts and stomach.
Ivy’s heart jerked, stopped, then found its beat. Her ritual with the roses. He knew why she did it, understood the unspoken message directed only to him. She wanted to sob. She wanted to scream. To laugh.
She wanted him to never let her go.
Splaying her fingers against the hard plane of his chest, she neither pulled him close nor pushed him away. She simply waited, covered in rose petals. A log in the fire cracked apart, the shower of sparks highlighting the depths of his eyes. His hips tilted to the entrance of her body and Ivy swallowed convulsively. His shaft felt impossibly large and hard against her tense softness.How did that ever fit inside me?
“I hurt you before,” he whispered. “My poor darling girl. Forgive me.”
Ivy’s eyes fluttered shut. Did he speak of when he took her virginity and broke her heart? Or earlier tonight, when his cruel words lashed her and striped her soul? Then she could not think at all as he slid with excruciating deliberateness, with heart-stopping finality, full length into her. Once sheathed to the hilt, Sebastian paused, a shudder of a breath escaping him. His arms trembled slightly.
When he took her on her father’s desk, the act hurt so terribly. But even then, that terrible night, a confusing compulsion to keep him inside her, to have him slide deeper, made the possession feel strangely beautiful. That same bewildering urge overcame Ivy now as Sebastian’s body stretched hers. The stinging pain she felt was not as sharp as she remembered, not as painful as before; in fact, the discomfort was short-lived, quickly melting to become something else. Something wicked and dazzling and just beyond her reach. The rich fullness of him inside her ignited every nerve ending she possessed and ones she never knew existed. Invasion drove all coherent thought from her brain. Unexpected ripples of ecstasy cascaded throughout her limbs. Shameful how easily she succumbed to his caresses. Later, when she was sober, she would hate herself for it, but right now, pleasure swamped her until she was drowning in it.
Seconds ticked away as he waited. And waited. Until Ivy realized he waited for her.
A twinge pulled at her, tugging at the depths of her stomach, the very depths of her soul. Whether it was the alcohol or his touch, or both, her senses reeled in a kaleidoscope of intense delight. A tiny portion of her brain still howled in protest but the last bit of willpower to resist evaporated. She would not stop him.
She shifted, her hips lifting in a tentative gesture. Sebastian’s sigh was almost imperceptible. His dark head dipped to her breast. Easing one nipple into the moist heat of his mouth, he rolled his tongue over the peak, biting down, gently at first, then with increasing pressure. And Ivy was lost.
Clutching at his broad shoulders, her palms smoothed over the rippling muscles. His body joined with hers felt so different from the other times when he brought her to a shattering peak with his fingers. This, this possession felt more intense, more powerful. More everything.
“Sebastian.” Her moan was soft.“Yes...”
Sebastian's dark head lifted, a flame of triumph glittering in the depths of his eyes. Ivy didn’t care.
“You are mine, Ivy, although you may believe otherwise.” His words curled around her. “I won’t let you go now. Youbelongto me. Damn you…damn us both…damn this crazy world and everyone in it, but you belong to me. Do you understand? You’ve always been mine. You always will be.Mine.
CHAPTER 17
The night he so brutally snatched her innocence from her, Sebastian did not fully appreciate the rare, fleeting beauty the Heavens gave him.
He meant to hurt her then, to abuse the trust she placed in him, to punish her. But now, he wanted Ivy with a desperation never experienced before. He wanted to possess her until she moaned his name with every thrust of his hips. He needed to see the flush of passion on her skin as he brushed it with his lips, to taste her arousal and drink her in like the finest of wines. He ached to give her such soaring pleasure, every painful memory beginning with him would be forever erased.
Come morning, Ivy would hate him again, if she remembered this seduction, if intoxication did not blot it from her memory. Sebastian knew he would remember this night for the rest of his life. He experienced a fleeting pang of remorse. He wanted her to remember it too, without anger or the ugly cloud of revenge shadowing the memory.
Ivy squirmed, her long slender legs wrapping loosely around him, and Sebastian paled, sweat beading on his brow. The rose petals he scattered across her stomach rubbed softly against his skin. It took all his strength to keep from surging into her.
Christ, she had no inkling of the power she held over him. Her lush tightness, all of her inner channel muscles, were clenched against his intrusion. Despite his bitter accusations and her own words to the contrary, Sebastian knew he was Ivy’s only lover. He could not mistake the signs of flesh well acquainted with pleasure, not after the number of women he had enjoyed over the years. Her body was taut around him, almost unbearably so, her arms and legs awkwardly wrapped about him in innocent desire. No, Ivy was still his. Despite the pain and heartache suffered at his hand, she was his alone.
With the flurry of a trapped hummingbird, her heartbeat thumped, working its way to the inside of his veins, in his head, around his shaft. She reached to ruffle her fingers through the thick waves of his hair, brushing back a lock from his brow, and Sebastian closed his eyes in torment.
Jaw clenched, he finally met her questioning gaze and said, “Bloody hell, you aren’t making it easy for me to do this slowly.” He nudged forward a little more.
“I don’t understand.” Ivy’s ragged whisper was half gasp and half moan. “Would you rather move quickly?”
Sebastian choked back a laugh, his forehead touching hers. His blood thickened to the consistency of lava. “Ivy, slow or fast, it won’t matter. I’ve no control with you. Holy hell, you have no idea what you are doing to me.”
Sliding his lips along the side of her neck, he nibbled at the slim column until he reached one of her earlobes. With a tiny bite, he won a gasp. When he chased it with a sweep of his tongue to ease the sting, she gave him a melting sigh. His hips prodded hers, and with a maddening rhythm, began to slide in, then out, stretching her, filling her. The blood whirred around his head in a self-contained tornado, exploding into his veins, rushing to the extremities of his body.
The silk of her skin, the warmth of her, her scent. That damned orange and lily perfume combined with the aroma of crushed roses; it all surrounded him. He rocked against her, the tempo slow then quicker, harder. Containing his impatience made him quiver. Sliding a hand to the outside of her thigh, he hitched her leg higher. Maybe he could ease back to a rhythm that would not send him catapulting into a climax.
