“It’s been so long,” she said. “I need you.”
“Right here?”
“Right here.”
My cock was as hard as stone, thick and pulsing, and even if it hadn’t already been my plan, there would have been no possible way I could deny her. “Hold on,” I said, subtly rearranging her skirt so that her bare ass and pussy rested against my trousers but still hid everything from view. I reached underneath her and fumbled with my buttons, my hands shaking from too much desire, too much excitement, too much suppressed need. Even the stimulation of freeing my shaft was enough to make me close my eyes. Fuck. I wouldn’t last long at this rate.
“Hurry,” Ivy said, wriggling deliciously in my lap. “Hurry.”
With my dick free, I held the base as I guided her to a semi-standing position, facing the ballroom. Her cunt hovered a few inches over me, and I could feel the faint heat of her folds, making my balls tighten in anticipation. Then I guided her down.
From the outside, our movements had been so incremental that it must have looked like she merely adjusted herself on my lap. Improper, of course, in a normal setting, but nothing to look twice at here. But what they couldn’t see—what even I couldn’t see but could only feel—was the wet silk of her kissing the head of my cock and then slowly, slowly working its way down. Each centimeter—each and every millimeter—felt tighter and hotter and wetter than the last, each perfect inch a reminder of the heaven I’d held so briefly in my hands and let slip through my fingers because of my own shadowed past.
But now, as she finally seated herself and as I tilted my hips up and guided her legs farther apart so that I was truly sunk to the hilt, I could really believe that my heaven had returned. Ivy Leavold was mine once more.
And now that she was here, now that I was once again feeling her wet cunt stroke me, every rough fantasy and every wish for untempered dominance over her returned with a vengeance. I had to push away the thoughts that crowded my mind just then—images of her ass pink from being spanked, of her eyes blindfolded and her mouth open for me. Of tying her to a table and letting every person here caress and lick her until she was too exhausted to come any more.
I bracketed her waist with my hands, my fingers digging into her corset with the amount of restraint it took to stay still and let her work herself on me with tiny, imperceptible movements. I buried my face against her silk-covered back, resisting the urge to take control.
“I want more,” Ivy whispered after a moment.
“We can go upstairs.”
She paused and then angled her body so she could look at my face. I inhaled sharply at the sudden twisting, biting the inside of my mouth to keep from coming into her right there and then.
“That would be nice,” she finally said. “But I didn’t necessarily mean…” She struggled with her thoughts. “It’s not about where we are necessarily. It’s just—well—the last time I left you, you punished me. Do you remember?”
Did she really think I could forget? I had relived every moment of that day thousands of times, from the moment I’d discovered that she’d left—impetuously, without money or a plan—from the moment I came in her ass. Like the day we’d spent traveling to York, I’d woken up the next morning with a sore cock, but it had been beyond worth it. I shuddered now, unable to keep myself from vividly recalling the feeling of sliding into her tight entrance, the way her body had shook as she came.
“I remember.”
“Well…” she hesitated then forged ahead. “I thought you would punish me tonight.”
I stiffened and my hard cock grew—impossibly—harder. “Do you want to be punished, wildcat? Right now?”
She turned some more in my lap, sideways now, still impaled on me. “Yes,” she whispered. “I want you to discipline me, like you did on that day. I know now that I need that. I need that from you. I want to prove to you tonight that I am ready to commit to you—to us—with all of me. Mind, body and soul.”
God, I loved her so much. I loved her so much that the word love seemed ridiculously inadequate for the magnitude of what I felt. I wanted to cut myself open and make her crawl inside of me. I wanted to live and breathe and drink every moment with her, for her, and then die for her a thousand and one times.
I leaned my head against her shoulder, trying to fight past the emotion closing my throat so I could speak. “You are perfect,” I told her, my voice low and choked. “You are so perfect and I don’t deserve you.”
She pressed a hand against my cheek. “Julian.”
All she needed to say was my name, and I felt as if she had uttered a wedding vow. I moved my head so that I could bite her, none too gently, on her bare upper arm. She gasped, tightening involuntarily around my member, and I savored the alarm that flashed briefly in her eyes.
“Are you sure you want to do this? You might be afraid of me.”
“I want to be afraid of you, Julian. I want you to try and break me, and then I want you to catch me and put me back together. We will have plenty of time for things that are slow and tender, but tonight…tonight I need you to discipline me.”
“Your wish is my command,” I said, lifting her off me, hiding the wince that came with losing the perfection of her pussy wrapped around my shaft.
The darkness had already flooded my mind at that point, my fingers itching with the need to tie knots and pull hair, every muscle in my body primed to fuck her so hard that she grunted like an animal. And then I would fill her with my seed, pump her so full of my cum that she’d be dripping with it for days.
Mine.
The party had progressed while Julian and I had been in our corner, and now there was even more evidence of the hedonism that the Baron’s house was so famous for. As I stood and rearranged my skirts, I watched as a dancing couple moved over to a table and the woman was unceremoniously bent over and fucked by her partner. Men knelt before women, women knelt before men, and noises of pleasure—sighs, groans, the unique sound of slick flesh—now vied with the music and laughter for prominence.
Julian only had eyes for me, however, and he grabbed my upper arm and jerked me out of the alcove, his fingers digging into my bicep. He?
