Page 70 of Barre Fight
Relief swelled in his chest, along with something that felt like excitement blended with longing.
“Yeah?” he breathed, holding her gaze and drinking in the way her smile made her eyes glitter.
“Yeah,” she said, lifting her chin and brushing her lips gently against his. “A lot more.”
The wave of relief and want broke against his ribcage, and his whole body responded to her touch. Her cheeks were still cold against his palms as he cupped them, and he rubbed one thumb against her chilly skin as he kissed her, letting his lips and tongue say what his stumbling words couldn’t. She opened for him, and he tasted champagne and the berry-flavored remains of her lipstick. In that moment, he knew that this was what New York would always taste like to him. Not like bagels, or any Cuban delicacy. New York tasted like Ivy in his hands, wrapped in her soft, snug coat, taking him into her mouth and promising him more.
She kissed him like she had things to say, too, her tongue meeting his more tentatively than it ever had, as though this kiss was their first, and she wanted to learn his mouth all over again. As if she’d wanted to ask the same question he did and had been just as scared of the answer. The thought made something huge and daunting expand under his ribcage, where it pressed against his sternum, urgent and thrilling and impossible to ignore.
Was this what falling for someone felt like? Did it make you dizzy and elated and desperate for them? Terrified and reckless, all at the same time? If this was falling in love, Justin was almost glad he’d never done it before. He’d never let anyone close enough to make him feel this way. But Ivy had written her wayinto his life years ago, and now here he was, wondering if he’d ever be happy with his life without her in it. The possibility shot through him, shocking him slightly, making his kisses clumsy. He couldn’t say it aloud, but he pulled her closer, and he slid one hand into her hair and wrapped the other arm around her waist until he was deliciously trapped between her and the wall.
She deepened the kiss, and he moaned quietly against her lips when she resumed untying her coat and shrugged it off her shoulders, never taking her mouth from his. He had his hands on her bare skin before her coat even hit the ground, tracing the line of her spine with both palms and covering as much of her skin with his as he could. She arched her back against him, and he felt the muscles shift under his fingers, flexing as she started on the buttons of his coat. When she pushed it off his shoulders, he moved quickly, taking her by the waist and spinning her lightly around so that her bare back was pressed against his chest. She gasped, and the sound melted into a moan as he dropped his lips to the base of her neck and kissed her there. His cock stiffened against her as he scattered kisses across her shoulder blades, and grew harder still as he watched her raise trembling hands to steady herself against the wall.
“My god, Ivy, this fucking dress,” he rasped, leaning back to take it all in. To take her all in. It was better than he’d imagined when he’d walked into the party tonight and seen her leaning against the bar. So much better. Here, in the flesh, the stretch of pale exposed skin glowed like the moon in the feeble streetlight that filtered into the room.
“What about it?” she whispered coyly, and it was all he could do not to grind his rigid cock against her in retaliation. Or reward, he didn’t know. He’d said his brain would stop functioning once she took that coat off, and he was right. All he could think about was that he got to remove this dress—and that tonight wouldn’t be his last chance to take Ivy Page to bed.
Ivy’s breath was thin and ragged, as if she were already naked, but she still had her shoes and tights on. And the dress. The way Justin looked at her in it, shefeltnaked. And the way he was touching her now, tracing his lips down the side of her neck, letting his fingers sweep and dance along her spine, made her want to be naked. It made her want to let him run his fingers over every inch of her skin, watch him chase his hands with his mouth. She wanted him to touch her and taste her until she was breathless and needy. She wanted as much as he would give her—and it seemed he wanted the same from her. He wanted more. He wanted tomorrow, and next week, and to see where this could go once they were no longer sneaking around this hotel where half the rooms were occupied by their colleagues and bosses.
She wanted that, too. But right now, all she wanted was to get out of this dress. She arched her back, trying to hurry him, and they both groaned as her ass brushed against his cock. She felt his intake of breath against her shoulder blades, and one of his hands tightened around her waist. But then his fingertips resumed their teasing exploration of her back, joined by his lips and his tongue. He grazed his teeth lightly over her traps, and Ivy’s hands tightened into fists against the wall. If he kept this up, her legs were going to give out before he’d even touched her clit. She arched her back again, making sure to swivel her hips against his hard-on, and his groan vibrated across her skin before becoming a chuckle.
“I won’t be rushed. You’ve been driving me crazy in this dress all night, and now it’s my turn. It’s a very nice dress, and I’m going to enjoy it,” he murmured against her ear, his voice tender but taut. “And if that makes you so wet you can’t thinkstraight, well, that’s just too bad. I’ve barely been able to put a thought together all night.”
She whimpered and looked back at him over her shoulder. His collar had gotten messed when she took his coat off, and now a few light brown curly hairs were escaping from beneath his shirt. She met his eyes and saw the pupils were blown wide from the darkness and his desire, and he took the opportunity to kiss her mouth, swallowing her gasp when he slid one hand around to tease her nipple through the fabric of the dress. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and she felt the touch as though the dress weren’t there at all. He repeated the movement, and a hot, electric bolt of pleasure raced straight between her legs. She rolled her hips against him again, feeling her wet panties cling to her slick skin as she moved. If he didn’t touch her soon, she was going to pass out before she got out of her dress.
Ivy closed her eyes, cataloging every touch, every sound. The seamless way his fingers slipped under the fabric at her side and skated down her ribcage until they came to rest at her waist. The way he growled with approval as her nipple hardened against his thumb. He stroked it in slow, lazy circles until she was almost panting with need, and just as she thought she couldn’t bear the teasing a second longer, she felt his hand find the zipper at the side of the dress. No sound had ever been as welcome to her as the quiet metallic grind of him unzipping her dress. She wanted to shove the sleeves off her arms and shimmy out of it, and she shifted to do just that, but he held her still.
“Please,” she groaned, throwing her head back in frustration and throwing the word at the place where the wall met the ceiling. “Please just touch me.”
“I plan on it,” he said, and she could hear him smiling, the bastard. “I plan on making you come a lot tonight, but we both know I don’t need to get you out of your clothes to make you come.” He ran his hand up her body, the loosened fabricrustling under his palm, and brushed his fingers lightly—so, so lightly—over her other nipple. She hissed, and he chuckled again, low and satisfied against her hair. She was going to kill him. If she didn’t die first.
Justin ran his hands along her arms and pried her hands from the wall. Slowly, he spun her around, pressing her back against the wall as he kissed her jaw. She put her hands on whatever part of him she could reach, feeling the heat radiating through his crisp white shirt as she ran her fingers down his chest and over the hard corrugations of his stomach. She shifted so his thigh was between hers, and finally,finally,there was some friction, something she could press her desperate self against. She almost screamed with the relief of it, of the delicious firmness of his quad as she ground and rubbed her aching juncture against him. She went for his belt buckle, but before she could do more than scrabble at it, his leg had disappeared from between hers and he was lowering himself to his knees, leaving her slumped against the wall, her dress gaping open at the back and her skin itching for his touch.
He settled himself in front of her, and when she looked down, the traces of mirth she’d expected to find on his face had vanished. He looked ravenous and determined, now that he was on his knees, and she wanted a photo of this moment, something sharp and full-color like the one on the front page of the paper. She wanted to capture the image of his pale hands wrapping around her ankle and easing her shoe off her foot, one then the other. A record of the sound of his palms sliding up her legs until they disappeared under her dress and his thumbs hooked into the waistband. A monument to the moment he finally dragged her tights down her thighs, taking her panties with them.
Justin knelt on the carpet at her feet, her tights and underwear in a small forgotten heap beside him, and looked up at her,his face awash with want. For a long moment, Ivy looked down at him, still in his suit—good god, that suit had ruined all other clothing for her—his pulse hammering under the triangle of exposed skin at his collar. Slowly, so slowly, he pushed the hem of her dress up to her waist, taking his time exposing her trembling thighs one inch at a time. Teasing, taunting, making her entire body throb with need so strong that she wanted to squeeze her eyes shut as the fabric dragged over her skin. Instead, she pressed the back of her head against the wall and kept her eyes on his, unwilling to miss a split second of this. Unwilling to miss the moment his hands finally reached her hipbones and she was totally exposed to the air and to him.
“Perfect,” he breathed, and she couldn’t stop herself from widening her legs and running a hand through his hair, tugging gently at his roots. A laugh rumbled through his chest, and she felt the gust of air on her aching, exposed skin. He didn’t move, though. “Perfect and impatient.”
He knew exactly what he was doing to her. Holding out on her, stonewalling her, just like he had in their first weeks together. Pulling her into a battle of wills she somehow wanted to win and lose.
“Please, Justin,” she whispered, and he let out another low laugh, this one against her inner thigh, his mouth so close to where she needed it and still not nearly close enough. She was about to beg again when he tipped his head slightly and ran his tongue along her seam, and her words disappeared into a desperate, relieved gasp as his hands tightened at her waist and he groaned against her.
“So wet for me. I bet you’ve been wet like this all night,” The words were half sigh, half moan, and in that moment Ivy knew he’d been torturing himself just as much as he’d been tormenting her. She glanced down and saw the thick, rigid bulge in his suit pants, feeling herself grow even wetter at thethought of pushing him onto his back and kneeling between his legs to repay his teasing tenfold. She was going to make him squirm with need, make him plead for her mouth on his?—
“Ohfuck,” she gasped. Justin’s tongue was swirling around her clit, and the relief of it slammed Ivy’s eyes shut as hot pleasure seized her body, spiraling out from between her legs until it claimed every inch of her.
“That’s right, youdoknow how to swear,” Justin murmured, and then his mouth was working against her again, his tongue sliding between her slick folds and circling her clit, a nimble assault that made any possible retort evaporate from her lips.
All she could do was moan his name as his tongue flicked over her clit, the light, insistent contact making anticipation and pleasure pulse hot and steady as she felt her orgasm build. Ivy whimpered and bucked against his hands, urging him on, but he held her firmly against the wall, telling her that the rhythm was his to set. He’d made her wait this long, and he was going to keep her waiting as long as he wanted.
She didn’t know how long he held her there, his mouth gradually wrecking her. Winding her muscles tighter and tighter, pushing her closer to her climax until she could almost reach out and grab it with shaking hands—then pulling back, easing the pressure and skirting her clit until her thighs were shaking and she wanted to screw up her face and scream with delicious frustration.
Finally, after what could have been minutes and could have been several hours—her brain couldn’t process something meaningless like the passage of time when Justin was groaning against her, the vibrations echoing through his lips and filling the cavern of her chest—she felt one of his hands slid from her hipbone to her upper thigh. His fingers caressed the tender skin there, brushing back and forth in an infuriating but promising dance as he continued to tease her clit with his tongue.
Just when Ivy thought she might expire from need, Justin swept his hand between her legs and swirled two graceful fingertips around her aching entrance. The delicate motion, slick and light, made her hips buck and bear down. She was desperate to feel him inside her, knowing that once she did, they’d both be powerless to stop her orgasm from crashing over her.
“Please,” she whimpered, and she could have sworn she felt his mouth stretch into a grin between her legs. Before she could say anything about it, he slid his fingers inside her, the movement smooth and fluid, and she almost sobbed in relief at the sensation of him filling her. He groaned loudly as she stretched around him, and then his fingers were moving, sliding and stroking against her slick walls, and Ivy was sure her legs were going to give out if he held her there on the edge of release any longer. Teetering and desperate, her body one giant throbbing nerve ending, exposed and needy and totally at his mercy.
