Page 77 of Ivory's Ruin Romance

His fingers tightened again, cutting her off as a guttural growl left the back of his throat. “Last rule,” he grit out. “My orders are absolute. I can and will establish additional rules when and where I see fit, and you will follow them. You’ll get a safe word, which will either pause or stop what we’re doing altogether. It’s important you know I will never punish you for using it or for voicing your concerns, but I expect obedience to the best of your ability.”

She nodded.

“That’s yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir,” she hummed, torn between the ache between her legs and the fullness in her heart.

“Do you have a safe word in mind?”

In all her prior thoughts about this very moment, she hadn’t settled on the right word. “I haven’t thought of one yet.”

“Then you will use ‘violet’ for now. Is that all right?”

“Yes, sir,” she purred, already in love. It fit her too well, and even better, it had been bestowed. A gift. A divine blessing. “I like it a lot.”

“Good,” he murmured in her ear. “Don’t forget it.” He relaxed his hand around her throat and coaxed her to lean on his shoulder, letting her eyes peer up at his, which had turned into black orbs surrounded by a ring of gold. “And for me?” His fingers fluttered over her skin with slow, delicious strokes from her neck down to her collarbone. “Do you have any rules or requests?”

She smiled, astounded once again. Of course, he’d think of her when all she could think about was him. “Only one.”

The next words caught in her chest, their significance saturated with feeling. This wasn’t just about being good, or part of being his submissive. It wasn’t something she thought he’d say no to—but it was a desire so potent and so close to her heart that it threatened to rip out her very soul.

“Hm?” he prompted.

“Keep me,” she whispered, searching his face. “I don’t want anyone else—anything else. I want to be the one you keep and the one who gets to keep you.”

He hummed low and dark, then leaned down to brush his lips against hers. “You will always be mine, sweetheart.”

He swallowed her mouth with his, parting her lips with insatiable kisses and stroking her tongue the same way he’d stroked her pussy only hours earlier. She moaned, and he ate that, too. “From this point on, I own you. Every sigh, every whisper, every plea. You’ll beg for me. Cry for me. You’ll come for me and me alone.”

His hand dipped down to her breast, easily cupping her in his palm and plucking the hardened nipple through her nearly soaked shirt. Her hips bucked, and her core clenched, flooded with arousal and unbearable need. Her legs kept spread open around the frame of the bike.

She whimpered as he pulled back from her tingling lips. “Now…does my sweet, brave witch think she’s earned herself a reward?”

The clouds covered them in soft shadow, rain droplets hanging from his defined eyebrows and long lashes. She sucked in a breath that pushed her chest into his palm. “I hope so, sir.”

Staying still was so hard—and so very impossible—but she could do nothing else as her body lay strung out for him, hung over a vast, enticing precipice. The promise in Adrian’s words, his touch, and the warm shelter of his hard muscle proved too tempting. Anything he could give her would be a blessing—pain or pleasure, desperation or release.

He pulled his lip between his teeth, then teased his thumb along the seam of her jeans. Her clit pulsed outwardly. “I think you have earned a reward…but I also think you’ve earned a punishment.”

THIRTY-SEVEN

His sweet witch shivered in his arms, eyes wide and skin warm even as rain slid over her cheeks and down the slight curve of her neck. Droplets ran under the sweater clinging to her breasts, and he followed their path, rolling the furled tip of her nipple between his fingers.

What a fucking privilege.

Not only did he have the most amazing woman in the world between his legs, she wanted to belong to him—she wanted to call him sir—and he was going to show her just how much that meant.

Watching her wings unfold as she drove his bike, seeing her own it like a personal throne, had left his chest pounding, threatening to tear itself wide open. Maybe he had a heart inside there after all. He wanted nothing more than to see her raised to her rightful place as queen. A person so exalted no one dared think about defiling her.

Except her king, of course.

Except the black knight who would pledge his entire existence to stand at her side. The one person who would protect her at her lowest and worship her at her highest.

“Mm, yes,” he affirmed, grinding his hips into her just to feel the friction, the give of her cheeks, and the sigh from her lips as he squeezed her throat. “A reward for being such a good girl and not giving up, even though you wanted to. And a punishment for having such a wonderful smile, for laughing so beautifully it made my dick hard as fucking steel.”

She pressed into him as if she had to feel for herself a third time just how true his words were. He twisted her nipple until she let out a squeal and squirmed to no avail. “Teasing me with that sweet ass while you rode my bike like it belonged to you. For that, I should make you ride my cock the same way. Fuck—” All the blood in his body surged at the thought. Merely saying the words rendered him speechless.

Taking a deep inhale of the rain-saturated air, he reveled in the smell of earth mixed with the floral scent from her hair, in the rich aroma and taste of her climax lingering in his stubble. He traced the curve of her breast, trailing his hand back down to the front of her jeans. She practically shoved herself into his palm.

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