Page 55 of Barre Fight
When the taxi pulled up in front of the hotel, Justin hastily paid, and he and Ivy made their way through the lobby. In thelift, he itched to put his hand on the small of her back again, but he didn’t trust himself not to push her up against the wall in full view of the CCTV camera if he did. So he kept his hands in his pockets and they stood side-by-side, the air hot and tight between them. In the rippling reflection of the door, he could see her watching as the floor numbers ticked by more slowly than he remembered them moving before. No sound had ever been more welcome to him than the ding of the lift arriving at the sixth floor.
Outside room 661, Ivy pulled her key out of her pocket and pushed open the door, and he followed her inside, reasoning that if he’d misread her signals, she’d tell him so and send him straight through the adjoining door. But the second the door closed behind them, her hands were on his lapels. She pulled him against her and kissed him hard, somehow taking him by surprise even though he’d thought about virtually nothing but her mouth for the last two hours. He stumbled slightly and braced himself against the wall, enclosing her body with his own and letting the taste of her, sweet and heady, wash over him.
Ivy’s fingers fumbled at the buttons on his coat, clumsy and urgent, and he replied by tugging at the knot at her waist. He could have untied it faster if he’d pulled his mouth away from hers, but he refused. The fabric was soft under his fingers, luxurious and warm, and he almost felt guilty shoving it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. She finally undid the last of his buttons and returned the favor, and they stood pressed against the wall and each other, mouths hungry, their discarded coats in a woolen pool at their feet. He broke the kiss, but only to trace his lips in a hot, urgent line down the slope of muscles at the base of her neck, where he’d touched her earlier tonight. She whimpered and slipped one hand into his hair, her nails grazing his scalp again. Need gathered at the base of his spine and hepressed his hardening cock against her, nipping lightly at the skin right above the neckline of her dress. She whimpered again, louder this time.
“You like that?” he asked, and looked up in time to see her nod. “What else do you like?”
There were some things he hadn’t been able to notice about Ivy Page over the last few years and weeks and days. Some things he’d need her to tell him. Or better yet, show him.
Ivy reached for the hem of his jumper and pulled, but he put his hands over her fingers and stilled them, holding them against his body until she looked up and met his eyes.
“What else do you like?” he repeated. He returned his mouth to her neck, kissing and nipping the way he already knew she liked, but keeping a firm hold on her hands. “Tell me,” he murmured against her skin. “Show me.”
He felt it in the muscles of her throat when she let out a quiet laugh, rueful, like she’d suspected he’d be as stubborn half undressed in the half dark as he was everywhere else, and she was considering arguing with him just because that’s what they did. But he wouldn’t change his mind about this; he wanted to know what turned Ivy Page on. If he was honest with himself, some part of him had wanted to know that for a long time.
Slowly, she shifted her fingers so that her hands were on top of his, and moved them onto her hips, which were still maddeningly covered by her dress and her tights. For now. Justin felt the soft, giving flesh through the layers of fabric and grew harder at the thought of peeling each of them off until there was nothing left but her pale, pillowy skin.
Ivy began to guide his hands, moving one up her ribcage and the other down between her legs, and Justin lifted his head. He wanted to watch her, wanted to know what it looked like when Ivy showed him what made her feel good and let him give it to her. Her eyes met his from under her long, thick lashes, herlips slightly parted and her breath audible, shallow and fast. Soon, she had one of his hands splayed over her breast, her nipple hard against his palm. The other hand she slid between her legs, then applied gentle pressure over her mound through her tights.
“I like this,” she whispered, moving her lower hand over his until the heel of his hand was making slow, tight circles right over where he knew her clit was. She ground against him, moaning louder when his pressure met hers, and he clenched his jaw imagining how wet she was getting beneath her dress, her tights, her panties.
“Do you like this?” he asked, brushing the back of his hand against her hardened nipple, letting the knuckles slide over it lightly, teasingly. She gasped, and he did it again.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, keeping the pressure on her pussy, but withholding his other hand until she answered him.
“Yes,” she moaned, clutching at his jumper, and he went back to teasing her nipple, slowly, lazily, listening as her breath became more and more ragged and her grinding against his hand became more and more insistent.
“What about this?” he asked, and he lowered his head to suck her other nipple through her dress. She jolted and moaned, but he held her pinned between the wall and his lower hand, which was still circling, rolling, matching the grind of her hips, which was growing faster and harder. She was using his hand, taking what she needed, and he wanted her to come but he wanted it to go on forever.
“Fuck, yes, do that again,” she whimpered, arching her back to press more of herself into her mouth. Justin smiled against her breast, growing painfully hard as he imagined the sounds she’d make when he did this without a layer of fabric between them.
He grazed her nipple with his teeth, then flicked his tongue over the hard, straining bud and wrapped his lipsaround it, repeating the combination until she was swearing and panting, and he knew she was close. Justin put his mouth back on her neck and kept playing with her breasts, pressing the heel of his other hand against her in fast, tight, unrelenting circles.
“Can you come like this? Can you come for me without taking off a single piece of clothing?” he murmured against her skin. “I think you can, Ivy. I know you want to. Let me see it.”
Justin felt one of her hands snake down his leg, and then she was palming his rigid cock through his jeans. Fierce pleasure streaked up his spine, hot and demanding.
“Shit, Ivy, that’s good,” he growled. “You feel how hard you’ve got me?” He ground into her hand, and she let out a sharp, desperate cry as her body seized. Justin held her firm against the wall, pressing hard against her clit as she shook and gasped, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open, the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever seen in his life.
After a moment, her shaking subsided and her muscles went slack against him, and she opened her eyes. He looked down at her in the dim light of the hotel room, taking in her blown pupils, her pulse jumping at her throat. She looked back at him, taking in deep, uneven breaths, her hand still on his throbbing, aching cock.
“I like that,” she said breathily.
“Yeah, I can tell,” he replied, with a sly smile and she replied by raising an eyebrow and squeezing his cock gently, pulling another groan out of him. “What else do you like?”
“I like you with your shirt off.”
“So take my shirt off.”
She seized the hem of his jumper and yanked it up, and together they got him out of it and the shirt he wore underneath, and then he was standing in front of Ivy Page, shirtless and achingly hard, while she leaned against the wall, looking very much like a woman who had just come very hard, because that’swhat she was. And she was tracing her fingers lightly, torturously over his chest and his obliques and trailing them through the smattering of hair over his pecs, and Justin had a brief moment of unreality, because a month ago he could have seized her omnipresent notebook and made a list of every woman in the world he could ever foresee doing this with, and the woman in front of him wouldn’t have even made it onto the page.
She raked her fingers over his muscles, her appreciation evident in the way she touched him, and in her ravenous half-smile.
“Your costume is going to be the death of me,” she murmured.
“What do you mean?”
“Watching you up there with no shirt on, in just those tights, moving like you do, it’s torture.”
