Page 53 of Yours Truly

I knew exactly what it was by just looking in the bag.

And I have to say, that domme kinda saved me today because I didn’t have a great plan until now.

“Heading out to have sundaes with Ev and Ace,” Deuce says, clapping a proud hand across my shoulders. “Good job today, Ivy.”

Trace appears next to Deuce. “Heading out?”

Deuce glances at his watch. “Yeah. The shop has another hour of daylight. Think you can manage not to get blackout drunk and get us robbed? Or should I stay?”

“Har har,” Trace mocks. “Tell Ev I said hi.”

“We’re neighbors,” Deuce reminds him. “You could come by and say hi yourself.”

Deuce smiles at me. “See you tomorrow, Ivy.”

“Later, Deuce.”

From the back door, Connor and Sandi call their goodbyes. I tip my head their way as the door seals shut. “Everyone’s taking off?”

Trace smiles, and my stomach flutters. “I told them to go. I told them,” he says, stepping toward me, eating up my personal space. I’d give him the damn fork if he wanted. “I said, I need some alone time with my apprentice.”

I swallow thickly, my heart racing. “Yeah?” I’m suddenly aware of the key at my throat.

He outstretches his hand, palm up. His solid fingers wiggle as he silently coaxes me, but all that does is make my pussy clench, imagining those digits slipping inside of me. With one fell swoop, his face is mere inches from mine, and I don’t know when he found the time to slip away and brush his teeth, but mint stings my lips. “Give it to me.”

I fight the urge to finger the edges of the small key, to show him and torture him with how close his freedom is. But this is my time. I may never have Trace Calhoun as captivated as I have him now, with his cock locked and the key to it in my possession.

“Not until you’re ready.”

His eyes flick between mine but he stays close to my face, unmoving. “Not until I’m ready?” he repeats, drawing the words out as if he’ll find the subtext in them. But he won’t because there is none.

I nod. “Yep. Not until you’re ready.” I lick my lips and love that his gaze follows the tip of my tongue as it slides along my mouth. “Not until you learn.”

“Learn?” To his credit, his face only slightly bunches, his wrinkled nose calling attention to his piercing. My stomach flutters each time I notice another wild detail about Trace.

Putting on a shield of confident indifference, I smile at him as I get to my feet, bringing our faces and bodies even closer than a moment ago. “You’ll learn that you don’t use your cock as a weapon to hurt the woman you care about.”

He opens his mouth but I press my finger to his lips. “No matter what she does, you don’t use your body as a weapon.” With my heart in my throat and my hands clammy as shit, I lean forward, take a breath, and press my lips to his.

They’re soft, so much softer than I’d ever imagined. And I have imagined. Many times alone in my room with his sketches on my phone in my hand, my other hand pinching my clit as I ease the ache of wanting him.

I’d envision him dusting his lips against mine, pushing his way inside of me as he warned me of his size, warned me of the upcoming twist of pleasure and pain.

And even though my plan is a soft, slow kiss with the right amount of pressure and promise, I veer off course within the first few seconds, moaning into his mouth, past his soft lips.

He groans, reaching behind me, surprising me with a hand in my hair, his fingers gripping me passionately. His other hand falls to my hip, and suddenly, our kiss transforms from soft and timid to wild and frantic.

“You’ll learn,” I breathe as his lips slide from my mouth to my cheek, along the curve of my chin and down my throat. He sucks at my pulse point, causing my hands to fall to his shoulders, gripping and slapping him.

“Fuck, Ivy, you make me fucking crazy,” he groans, pressing his groin against mine. Suddenly, he jerks back, his lips swollen from journeying over my body. My nipples ache beneath my bodysuit and sweatshirt as my pussy weeps for him. “Now’s when I’d have you cup my cock and feel just what you do to me.”

I tug my off my sweatshirt and toss it aside, grabbing the key at my throat. I hold it until he looks, and he growls his arousal and frustration, taking me by the hips. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” he says, pressing his lips to my throat, sucking the key onto his tongue.

My head falls back and my legs spread, allowing Trace to take me by the hips and sit me atop the table. “Am I?” I breathe, fishing my fingers through his hair as he moves his mouth all over my body. His kisses trail my shoulders and down my arms, along my belly and thighs, too. Finally, he finds my breast, sealing his mouth over my covered nipple, making me moan.

“God,” I breathe, loving the feel of his soft hair between my fingers as he sucks my clothed breast. It’d feel better with no clothing between us, but as it is, this is questionable enough for being on camera.

“Trace,” he murmurs, moving his mouth to my other covered breast to suck that nipple. “But you can call me God.”

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