Page 92 of Taming Ivy
"God, yes.” His sharp laugh was incredulous. “Touch, kiss, bite to your heart's content. If you don’t kill me first.”
"Even here?" Ivy whispered, her hands drifting down to the bulge in his breeches. Running a shy finger over the rise beneath the fabric, his low groan thrilled her. It was a revelation to discover she could tease and torment him as he did her.
"No. I won't be able to control myself if I allow you that,” he said. “I've no intention of making love to you, our first time as husband and wife, on a damn settee in the library when we have a magnificent bed at our disposal.”
"I want to touch you. To feel you in my hands. Like I did that day by the stream. Please, Sebastian.” Ivy kissed him, using her mouth to persuade him while her hands worked the buttons to his breeches.
Sebastian stared at her as though he’d lost all his wits, and she continued to undress him when his hands quivered, unable to halt her progress. She explored the hollow of his throat, pressing her lips where his pulse beat in quick thumps. One by one, each button slipped free until his erection eased from the tight confines of the breeches and into the warmth of her hands. Sebastian adjusted the blanket, hiding the wickedness of her fingers as Ivy leaned back.
The breath hissed through his teeth in a desperate bid to hold tight to his sanity. She gently traced the length of him, her fingers closing about him, encircling the silky hardness and his eyes shut as if he could not bear it. Her hand moved from base to velvety tip, marveling that his skin was both soft and hot, burning her palm.
At Bentley Park, she’d not taken the time to learn the length, the shape, or the true extent of his size, but she did now. Her fingers drifted, soft at first, then with a firmer grip as he grew even larger with her touch. When Sebastian muttered a curse beneath his breath, Ivy’s courage faltered. "Does this hurt? I'm sorry.”
"No, it doesn't hurt.” His laugh was shaky as he removed her hand from his body. "It feels good. Too damn good. But you have to stop. Before you drive me completely mad.”
While he held her wrist in a grip that should have frightened her, Ivy slid to the floor between his knees. Somehow, the blanket stayed draped over her shoulders and she was glad for the little bit of concealment for what she was about to do.
He stared at her and she at him until with an inarticulate sound of pleasure, Ivy did the only thing reasonable at that moment. Lowering her head, she wrapped her mouth around his erection until its silken thickness of nudged the back of her throat.
Sebastian buried his free hand in the mass of her hair, fingers raking her scalp as if to pull her away. The grip on her wrist tightened to the point of bruising her, but Sebastian seemed unaware.
“My God…”
The oath, and the others following, were incoherent as Ivy instinctively moved her head, twisting her tongue in a leisurely exploration of his thick length, mimicking what she'd done with her hands only moments before.
He was so hard and yet the skin stretched so thin and impossibly tight over a surging of power. There was a swelling of feminine potency within her, learning that she could render him helpless. She lifted to the top of his shaft as if to stop, then filled her mouth with as much of him as possible, moaning in response when he uttered a word she’d heard him say only twice in anger.
“Fuck…”
The next thing Ivy knew, she was up in his lap once again, his eyes boring into hers. A wildness existed in those depths and Ivy felt a sense of power like nothing she’d ever experienced. It was heady and dangerous. And addictive.
Sebastian slid a palm over the curve of her hip and Ivy realized his intent to lift her away. Twisting almost violently, she shifted to straddle him. Gripping the back of the settee, one hand on either side of his head, she levered herself down. Her breasts bobbed eye level with his fascinated stare; to accommodate the width of his muscular thighs, her legs spread. If she lowered herself completely, she would be impaled. She wanted that desperately.
“For God’s sake, Ivy.” His breath was ragged. “Stop this madness.”
"No. I won’t stop,” she replied, staring into his smoky eyes. “Not yet.” Her gaze dropped to where their bodies almost touched. His erection strained to reach her softness beneath the shroud of the blanket.
Clasping both of his hands around her hips, Sebastian braced again to remove her from the tantalizing position. But he seemed incapable of forcing his body to obey the commands of his own mind when she rocked her hips forward.
"Bloody hell,” he groaned, his body jerking to awareness as the underside of his erection slipped through the curls between her thighs.
It was not penetration, just a maddening glide through silky wet heat.
Ivy was caught off guard by the sensation. She thought it might feel similar to when he used his hands and fingers to stoke her passion, but this was altogether more exciting. This was something else, something electrifying and provocative. Quivering with the need to do it again, she slid down a second time. Then a third time. A fourth, her arousal creating a slick, easy slide. It was all wicked and wonderful and irresistible. And she could not stop. She would not stop…
Sebastian fought for control, for sanity, for a reason to haul Ivy off him; to put an end to this glorious torture. Every time she floated up, then down, he burned to bury inside her, to plunge into her heat until he was so deep within her soul she would never escape. He gripped her with the desperation of a drowning man, feeling the trembling of her body as though it were his own. Every gasp of breath she exhaled burned him as if somehow, they passed through his lungs first.
If she did not cease, he would explode.
"Ivy, we must stop. I cannot…we can’t…I don't want to make love to you here, for chrissakes. It should be in my bed, where I can lay you out. I want to kiss you all over, caress every inch of you. Kiss you everywhere." His words came in a heated, jumbled, incoherent mess while she ignored him, sliding up and down. Again and again.
Until finally, Sebastian gripped her hips tight, holding her in position to prevent a downward stroke. Held open by the muscled width of his thighs, the entrance to her body bare and ready for him, she was undaunted by his callousness.
“Damn it, Ivy.” The words were a growl. “I said we are not doing this here.”
With a flash of something dangerous in her eyes, Ivy reached up to her shoulder. “We aren’t?” She dragged the blanket away.
Sebastian choked. And cursed.
