Page 4 of Born To Be Bad

I keep thrusting slowly, hoping she’ll get wet enough for me to pound into her the way I’m craving. I reach forward and grab a breast, tweak her nipple, then smoosh her face and shove two fingers into her mouth. She moans and nods, opening her mouth wide for me, encouraging me to go further, deeper. I add more fingers until my whole hand up to my middle knuckles are inside her warm silky mouth. Slow thrusting is getting harder as my desire mounts, but she is getting slicker, so I’ll be able to increase my pace soon. Ivy gently bites my hand, grazing the skin of my knuckles with her perfect teeth. I feel my balls contract, but I don’t want to come yet. I need to possess Ivy, to penetrate her very existence.

I reclaim my hand and start rubbing her clit. “Fuck!” she says, and her muscles contract around me.

I feel my orgasm rear up, but I push it away. Not yet. Not until I get what I need.

I work faster; rubbing her labia, skimming her clit with my flat hand while I begin thrusting in earnest. She moans. It’s a long, deep, satisfying sound that I’ll never tire of. She squeezes me and I forget where we are. I forget everything except the feel of my swollen cock in her magical pussy; I allow myself to be transported by sheer carnal pleasure. I forget where I am, who I am. Sensation overcomes me and I start pounding into her, tightly gripping her hips. Ivy moans again; it’s a more urgent sound, now, higher in pitch, and it makes me drive deeper. Her hand takes over from mine, strumming her clit to push herself over the edge. I can feel by the way her muscles are fluttering and the sounds she’s making that she’s close. I’ve never known her to come so quickly. She increases the pace of her strumming, and I take that as a cue to do the same. There is a wildness to us. We’re both panting and hissing like animals, adding to the feral feel of the forbidden moment as we both near our climaxes. So close. So intense. So delicious.

I cover Ivy’s mouth just in time to muffle her scream, using the added leverage it allows me to drive deeper into her grasping muscles. The orgasm I’ve been pushing away with gritted teeth explodes through my cock, and my whole pelvis sparks and judders as I empty myself into Ivy. She’s still coming, still clenching, and it feels like her pussy wants it all.

CHAPTER 4

Catastrophic

IVY

“Holy fuck,” I pant, as Alistair pulls my panties up and gently turns me around to face him.

“Too hard?” he asks, brow furrowed. He’s concerned that he’s hurt me.

I smile, trying to stand up straight even though my legs feel like jelly. He takes my elbow to stabilize me. “No, not too hard. Just … intense. And incredible.”

“I never want to hurt you,” he says, sweeping my hair out of my face. “Never.”

I look into his eyes and see so much affection there. “Did you get what you needed?”

He leans his face into mine and kisses me long and slow. “Everything and more.”

I’m not the one who needed healing, but I feel like I got some, too. I feel simultaneously more grounded, yet lighter.

“Am I really the love of your life?” I ask.

Alistair scoffs and shakes his head as if he can’t believe I have to ask. “Of course you are. I thought I’d made that clear.” He gestures around the poky room. “I’m just sorry you had to hear it here, first. I’ll make it up to you. Take you somewhere amazing.”

My heart glows. “You know I don’t care about any of that.”

“The top of a mountain,” he continues. “Or the Eiffel Tower. Or a tropical island.”

“Okay, I do care about that. I’d love to be on the top of a mountain with you. Like one of those office motivational posters. Let’s do it.”

“Only if you let me yodel,” he quips.

I snort.

We go to our respective bathrooms and then rendevous in the waiting room. Alistair has arranged coffees and golden buttery pastries for us, which I gratefully gulp down.

“Do you want to talk?” I ask him. I’m unsure if he’s ready, and I don’t want to push. “About Moscow? The baby?” Ariana?

He sighs and puts his coffee down, scratches his temple. “God. I don’t even know where to start.”

“You don’t have to talk,” I assure him. “I’m just offering to listen.”

“No,” he replies. “I owe you more than that.”

I shake my head and put my hand on his thigh. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the whole truth. I mean, he did bring home a baby. A freakin’ baby. Who he named Ravenscroft. I wouldn’t mind hearing his thoughts on that. But I could wait. At the moment I’m sure all he can think about is his prodigal risen-from-the-dead sister.

“I missed my target in Moscow,” he says in a hushed voice. “The Glass Baron was arguably the most important of the targets, and I failed. His family is dead, but he is alive.” Alistair rubs his temples. “As you can imagine, we are now in significant danger.”

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