Page 40 of Chaos Crown

“Jacques!”

“I already know my name.” I bore over her, my cock skimming her ass and leaving a weeping trail. Cum marks the spot. “There was something else you had to tell me.”

Swirling clouds of defiance and desire darkened her eyes. She was not going to make this easy for me, and damn, it wouldn’t be so hard to let her go if she would.

“Say it.”

Ivy nipped my bottom lip, nuzzling my cheek. “You first.”

I plunged inside her pussy, tasting her cry on my tongue. Other men would’ve given her time to prepare, adjust, catch her breath.

That’s why Ivy wasn’t with any of them. She was with us.

I rammed her against the headboard, taking savage pleasure in her screams.Bang, bang, bang. Ivy’s cuffs clanged against the headboard. Maybe I wasn’t a genius. Why of the two of us was she the one to think up handcuffs?

Her smooth ass cradled my hips on every thrust. The arch and curve of her spine mesmerized me with each rock. It was akin to physical pain when her pants grew hoarse—giving the signal. I drew out and groaned, grip strangling the headboard.

“Jacques, no,” she cried. “Please.”

“Say it.”

“You can’t keep this up any longer than I can!”

I grinned. “We’ll find out.”

My hands traveled down her back and around her waist, indulging the slippery perfection of her damp body. Gliding over her stomach, I cupped her breasts—tweaking her nipples to moans and pants that changed and increased in pitch with the barest change in pressure. Who knew ten years of piano lessons would pay off in this way?

“Ah, yes, Jacques. That feels so good.”

I slid inside her, no less gentle than I ever was. Ivy’s cries ratcheted to insane levels. If the other side of the wall was another room in a cheap motel, the occupants would assume I was paying a woman I met off the street to fluff my ego as well as my dick, but there was nothing fake about her sinful juices coating my cock. The sweat slicking her skin. Her curled toes smacking the bed. Her nipples rock hard and wanton beneath my touch.

I pulled out.

“Ahh!” she shrieked. “Jacques, please.”

“Say it.” The growl was fitting of the animal I’d become.

“I... belong to... you.” Ivy strained against her cuffs, rocking back to bump my erect and equally frustrated cock. Even when she begged, she demanded. “I’m yours, Jacques. Always.” Ivy twisted, lips curled into her dimpled cheeks. “Glad you finally accepted it.”

My control snapped. Lurching forward, I secured her wrists and yanked, snapping the post clean free of the board. Ivy let out a tiny shriek as her world spun. She found herself flat on her back and her wrists locked around my neck. Cuffed to me. Anchored to me. Where she belonged.

I settled between her legs like I was coming home, inwardly cursing myself for all the time I wasted while she was ass up and kneeling before a doghouse, ready and willing to go as far as I’d take it. Ivy was mine. She had to say it... and I had to accept it. It didn’t matter what she called herself or who she thought she was. I owned her body and soul, and she was going nowhere.

We moved as one. I assumed she wasn’t expecting slow, sweet, or tender because she got neither. Ivy bucked her hips, meeting each strike to hit that spot dead on. Her legs strangled my hips, pulling me deeper still. Arms locked around me, Ivy buried in my hair—tangling my strands under soft strokes.

Such a tender, intimate touch amidst our frantic rutting. Our gazes locked—hers swirling and enigmatic. Mine no less open or readable, and still... everything that needed to be said passed between us.

Ivy rose as I dipped. Lips clashing, I slipped inside. Tongue tangling with hers, swallowing her moans, grunting as she strangled my dick, I said, “Hmm mh mhh.”

Her eyes flew open. Breaking away, Ivy’s lips parted and I struck, nailing that spot without mercy.

“Ah!” Back bending, Ivy came hard—any words that had been about to leave her lips washed under the wake of her orgasm.

I held out for all of a millisecond. Milked by her tight pussy, I spilled every drop of cum in me. We came in a shower of writhing, moaning, sweating, and surrender to the only force that’d ever claim our weakness.

I collapsed on her, flattening into the sheets and not caring. She wasn’t going anywhere. Why give her the chance to try?

She didn’t. Sighing, Ivy wrapped her arms and legs around me, settling my head in the crook of her neck. Gentle strokes glided through my hair, both irritating and soothing me. I was curled up on her and being petted like a faithful lap dog. I should re-cuff her to the bed. Deliver an actual punishment for breaking into my room, disobeying me, breaking rules to taunt me back into our morning sessions.

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