by Pam Godwin
“Someone…will…see,” she pants between kisses, both pushing and pulling against my chest, her attention straining toward the window in the door.
I bite her lips, thrilling in the soft feel of her body along the length of mine. “No lessons tonight. Go home. I’ll meet you there.”
With a stupendous amount of will power, I release her and storm toward my desk.
“What happened?” She stares at me, eyes wide and frozen where I left her. “Is this about—?”
“I gave you an order,” I say quietly, harshly.
Turning my back on her, I stuff my belongings in the satchel, my blood roaring with heavy, urgent need. If she doesn’t leave right this second, I’m going to fuck her against the whiteboard.
The instant her footfalls fade down the hall, I straighten my swelling cock, making it less visible with the tip pinned beneath my belt. Then I trail behind her at an unassuming distance. Outside, I watch from the main entrance as she crosses the parking lot and safely climbs inside the Porsche. Same thing I do every night. Except tonight is different.
Tonight, the wait is over.
The three-minute drive feels like three hours. I race through the house and find her in the kitchen with Schubert burrowed against her neck.
She nibbles her bottom lip, her huge brown eyes round and watchful. “You got the test results?”
The paternity test? Her blood work? Whichever one she means, I’m too worked up to draw this out.
Separated by the length of the kitchen, I take a step toward her. “The baby isn’t mine.”
She buries her expression against Schubert’s furry head.
“Don’t do that.” I inch closer, ten feet away, and take in her quickening breaths. “Never hide from me.”
Setting the cat on the floor, she gives him a pat on the rump. Then she straightens and faces me head-on. Her lips thin, but the smile in her eyes is blinding. “Are you…happy about it? Or did you want…” Her gaze dims, her voice barely a whisper. “That baby?”
Two months ago, I would’ve been devastated by the proof that Joanne so callously cheated and pissed away our life together. But now? I’m floating on a cloud of liberated emotions, and the chief of those is gratitude. I want to thank her for being a traitorous cunt. If she hadn’t betrayed me, I would still be with her, completely oblivious that the deepest, strongest love shines from brown eyes and a selfless, seventeen-year-old heart.
Another couple of steps, and I stop. Six feet away. I need to tell Ivory the rest before she’s within arm’s reach. Before I lose the grip on my control. “I want a child. Several, in fact. Someday. In the very distant future. With you.”
She touches her parted lips as a ragged inhale shakes her chest.
I take another step toward her and tap anxious fingers on the island. “Lorenzo has been detained.”
She gasps and places her hands on the back counter, breathing deeply.
With a rap sheet a mile long, he’s wanted on suspicion of robbery, drug possession, and assault with a deadly weapon. My PI identified his routine and hangouts, turned the information over to NOPD, and leaned hard on the police sergeant until priorities were adjusted and the arrest was made.
Tears well up in Ivory’s eyes, her hands shaking against the granite surface. “How long?”
“He’s looking at years for multiple offenses. The bail is set at two-hundred-thousand.”
She nods as a trembling smile unfolds across her lips. “Thank you.”
When she moves to come closer, I stop her with a strained expression. I want her. Too much.
She tilts her head and licks her lips. “You believed me when my own family called me a whore and a liar. I’ve been running from him for four years, and in one week, you removed him from my life.” She stares at me in awe. “Emeric, you’ve done something no one has done for me in a really long time.”
She doesn’t clarify what that is, but I can fill in the blanks. I’ve made her feel safe.
“I wish it was more.” I flex my hand on the island, holding her gaze. “I want him punished for rape, Ivory. If you change your mind about pressing charges, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“No.” Her jaw sets. “I want to move on.”
She’s worried he’ll come after her, and frankly, I am, too. I don’t want her connected to his demise in any way. He won’t be locked up forever, and I’ll have to deal with his inevitable freedom when that day comes. But there’s less risk for Ivory if he’s not blaming her for the next however many years he’s rotting in a cell.
As for the best piece of news I received this afternoon… I close the final few feet between us and prowl around her, lightly gliding my knuckles up her arm.
She shivers, turning her neck to maintain eye contact.
I pause behind her and grip her wrists. With her body facing the counter, I flatten her palms on the cabinet door above her head. “Don’t move your hands.”
She smiles at me over her shoulder. “If I do?”
Brat. I slam a hand against her gorgeous ass.
She flies up on tiptoes, head dropping back with a squeak of surprise. But her hands remain where I put them.
“Such a good girl,” I whisper at her ear, causing her entire body to tremble.
Her responsiveness is such a fucking turn on. I’ve been hard since the day I met her, but I’m finally, finally, going to slacken this long-suffering ache between us.
Unless she uses her word.
I cover her hands with mine, pressing them against the cabinet, a silent reminder. Then I move down her bare arms, fingers stroking skin, then shifting to caress around the outer curves of her breasts.
She holds still for me, but there’s a subtle sway in her posture as she lifts and leans toward my touch, her head tipping and eyes alert, following my every movement.
I roam my hands over the stiff material of her black dress, tracing the outline of her muscles and hipbones beneath. When I reach the hem at her knees, I gather the dress up her thighs, over her supple ass, and let it cling around her waist.
With her eyes turned to watch me, her lashes lower as I slide my mouth down the back of her dress. She sighs, bowing against the counter and dropping her head between her raised arms.
Crouching behind her, I fill my hands with her high round cheeks. The black lace panties look so damn sinful on her. Too bad this is the last time she’ll wear them.
I grip the tiny straps around her hips and yank.
The sound of ripping lace brings her head around. “I liked those.”
“I’ll buy you a hundred more and rip every fucking one of them off your gorgeous ass.”
As I stand, I reach around the front of her legs and drag the tips of my fingers up her inner thighs. Her trembling limbs and husky moans scorch heat through my cock, engorging it to painful steel.
When my hand encounters the soft hair on her pussy, I tug hard on the short strands. She bites down on her lip, muffling a gasp.
My heart pumps faster, harder. I press my chest against her back, kick her feet apart, and slide my finger along her slit.
Her head falls back on my shoulder, and her mouth chases mine. I dodge her, tickling my lips along her jaw, down her neck, blanketing her skin with my breaths.
“God, Emeric. I’ve never felt like this.”
“Shhh.” I nibble on her shoulder, let her feel my teeth, my tongue, and the heat burning me up inside.
Her head rolls, exposing her neck to my kisses. I suck on her ear lobe, circling my tongue as I plunge my fingers into her slippery cunt. Fuck, she’s so warm and wet and tight.
She whimpers and rubs her ass against my cock, propelling my teasing touches into a panting, grinding imperative. Our bodies roll together, fucking without penetration. My cock is lined up, but my slacks are in the way.
I thrust my fingers in her soaking pussy, savoring the clench of her inner walls. “You’re clean, Ivory.”
Her hands twitch against the cabinet door. �
��Clean?”
“Your test results.” I slide my touch toward her anal rim. “We’re both clean.”
She clenches her ass. “Are we going to—?” Her glutes squeeze against my probing finger. “No! Not there.” She pants. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to fuck you, Ivory. Tonight. Right now.” I grind against her hip, rubbing my finger between her crack, teasing that tight ring of muscle. I ache to take her there, to fuck every hole in her body.
Holding her hip in a bruising grip, I reach deeper between her legs, pressing my finger against the tiny pucker of skin.
A pained keening noise tears from her throat, and her hands fall from the cabinet. “Scriabin.”
I jolt backward, my pulse racing and hands in the air. “Ivory?”
Fucking hell, she used her word. She used her fucking word.
She shakes against a full-body tremor, torso curved over the counter, thighs clenched together, and arms wrapped around her chest. “I c-c-can’t.”
Frustration pummels through me, angry and vicious. And irrational. I force it back, breathing tightly, then deeply, desperate to understand.
Relaxing my arms at my sides, I try to soften my voice. “Be specific.”
“Not my…” She shoves her dress down her legs and turns toward me, eyes glassy and terrified. “Not back there.”
“Have you ever been touched there?”
Her face falls, and she curls in on herself.
Molten rage pours through my veins like lava. I haven’t examined her closely enough to see scarring, but it’s obvious someone sodomized her. Possibly several someones.
Horrific images cleave through my brain, kicking my heartbeat into a macabre orchestra of violence.
“No anal.” I clench my shaking hands and take a cautious step forward. “That’s your limit?”
“I can’t, Emeric.” She backs up and bumps against the counter, her expression pinched in torment. “Please, don’t do this.”
My stomach drops. She thinks I’d force her?
“Ivory.” Another step, my voice gravelly with heartache. “I won’t touch you there. I promise.”
She stares at the doorway, chin quivering and knees twitching. She looks like she’s going to run.
“Eyes on me,” I say gently and wait for her to obey. “Is that your only limit?”
Please say yes. I thought for sure she was willing to have sex. How the fuck did I misjudge this?
“I-I don’t know.”
My lungs tighten, laboring for air. I stand just out of arm’s reach, respecting her safe zone. But I’m not ready to back down. I’m sure as fuck not giving up.
She has all the power here, and goddammit, I’ll do whatever is needed to make sure she knows it.
I keep my voice level but firm. “You have two choices. One. Walk down the hall, sit behind the piano, and wait for me to begin your lesson. Two. Head upstairs to the bedroom, remove your clothes, and wait for me to fuck you.” I steel my gaze. “No anal, Ivory. You have my word.”
Arms wrapped around her chest, she rubs her biceps, still not looking at me.
I infuse my tone with conviction. “Whatever you choose, there will be no disappointment or shame. Not from me or you. Understand?”
“Yes.” A shaky whisper.
“Go.”
The second she’s out of sight, I spin toward the counter and grind my fist against the granite. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I should’ve known she didn’t want to be touched there. I shouldn’t have pushed her.
No, that’s bullshit. If I could just think past my aching cock for a goddamn minute… Deep breath.
We just made a huge fucking step forward. She used her word and showed me one of her limits. Now I can trust her to use it again. I’ll wait for her for an eternity if I have to.
The pad of tiny feet draws my attention to the floor. Schubert prances around me and leans his body against my leg, covering my black slacks in orange hair.
I reach down and scoop him up.
“She’s going to shut down on me, isn’t she?” I press my lips against his head, holding him against my chest. “Fuck, I want to kill every fucking prick that’s ever touched her.”
He purrs like a motor and arches his neck for a scratch. Curling my fingers beneath his chin, I oblige. Soon, my pulse evens out, and my muscles loosen.
“Let’s go find our girl.”
I place him on the floor and follow him out of the kitchen, through the hearth room, and into the living room. He veers off toward the couches and stretches out on one of the cushions.
Straight ahead and down the hall is the music room. To the left and toward the—
A delicate black shoe sits on the rug in the foyer. My pulse jumps.
I head toward it, loosening the tie around my neck as I gaze up the staircase. The second shoe perches on the curve in the steps.
She chose the bedroom.
My cock twitches, and my breaths speed up. I launch forward, racing up the stairs and around the corner.
The sight of her black dress on the floor in the hallway spurs me faster, building a hungry pressure at the base of my spine. When I reach the bedroom door, I find it shut, the handle adorned with her black lacy bra.
Christ, she’s turning me inside out. I adjust the rigid ache in my slacks and drag in several calming breaths. Then I open the door.
The bedroom door swings open, and I release a sigh of relief.
I perch on the side of the bed, nude and vulnerable, as we stare at one another. Seeing him framed in the doorway and watching me with those stony eyes sweeps my breath away.
I’m so damn conflicted about why I used my word. How did I let one paralyzing moment of terror override every ounce of trust I have in him?
Not only did Emeric stop, he didn’t explode into a fit of anger. His patient reaction and dependable control proves my fear of him was unwarranted and weak. Am I so dysfunctional that I can’t have an intimate relationship with a man who would rather die than endanger me?
His light blue button-up hangs open at the collar, the cobalt tie unknotted and dangling around his neck. The waistcoat is a multi-colored plaid of blue, gray, and black. It would look drab on a clothes rack, but with his sapphire eyes, chiseled jaw, and grungy mess of black hair, he sells it like a trend-setting catalog model.
Jesus, he’s painfully handsome. But it’s the synergy of his commanding aura and unwavering devotion that makes him particularly effective in stealing my heart.
Instead of forcing himself in my ass or kicking me out of his life, he gave me a choice. There wasn’t a millisecond of debate in my mind. I won’t ever willingly accept anal sex, but he will never force me. My faith in that made it easy to leave him a trail of clothes.
Now that he’s here, I don’t know what to say or how to steer us back to the way things were. But I don’t have to do anything.
He crosses the room with effortless strides, frames my face in his strong hands, and brushes his lips against mine. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” My breath hiccups. “I’m so sorry.”
“Never apologize for using your word.” He kisses my mouth and eases back to look into my eyes. “Everyone has limits.”
I jerk my head. “You? What are they?”
He lowers, squatting between my legs and glides his hands down my neck. “Defecation.”
“Defe—what?”
“Scat. Feces. That’s a big fat no.”
“Oh my God, people do that?”
“Yes.” He fights a twitchy smile and wins, flattening his lips. “And bestiality. Also my limit.”
My throat convulses. “How does your mind even go there?”
“You have to ask?”
I grin. He’s a perverted, kinky man, and damn if I don’t love that about him. “Good to know you won’t be taking advantage of poor Schubert.”
He makes a disgusted face. “That was your mind going there.”
“You started it.”
He molds his
hands around my waist, his thumbs tracing my hipbones. “No sharing. Ever. You’re mine. I’m yours. That is my hardest limit.”
“You’d rather I shit on you than have sex with someone else?”
“Yes.” His gaze flies to mine, the hardening blue depths cemented with a biting tone. “If another man so much as touches you, my reaction will be murderous. Remember that.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
He rises to his feet, his fingers making a descent down the front of his waistcoat, slowly releasing each button as his eyes rake over my body. “Touch yourself.”
Parting my legs, I slide a hand between my thighs. His vest drops to the floor, and my nipples tighten against the sudden flutter of excitement.
He removes the tie and unbuttons the shirt in the same unhurried fashion, seemingly content with his view of me. His head tips minutely, lips parting as his gaze follows the roll of my fingers against my clit.
I stroke softly, watching him watch me, my pulse slurring a smooth legato rhythm through my veins.
He shrugs out of the shirt sleeves, exposing curved biceps and defined pecs and abs. Then he crouches to remove his shoes and socks, never looking away. “Lie back. Widen your legs.”
I scoot toward the center, lying sideways on the mattress, and swirl my fingers over my wet folds. The sensitivity of my touch and his uninterrupted attention on me fuels a blazing fire in my core. I’m so attuned to him, to the harmony of his breaths and the subtle twitches in his hands. It comes from a habit of sexual enjoyment of his presence, and it’s solidified in the knowledge that he will never let me down.
With an economy of movement, he loosens the belt, opens his slacks, and shoves the last of his clothes to the floor. I’ve seen his rock-strong body parts in bits and pieces, but never all of him at once, fully in the buff. Sweet heaven, he gives new meaning to buff.
His cock rises up, jutting above the columns of his powerful thighs. He doesn’t touch it, doesn’t even acknowledge it as he approaches, eyes locked on mine and expression intense.
He grips my ankle and circles the mattress, dragging my legs and rotating my position until my head is near the headboard. He stops with my feet at the foot of the bed and leans forward.