Page 70 of Born To Be Bad

“What does that mean?”

“Let’s do something kinky.”

“We’re literally on a sex yacht.”

“More kinky than that,” she says. She is full of surprises tonight.

“When I’m this horny you can pretty much get away with anything,” she says. “Is there anything in particular you’ve been wanting to do that you’ve been reticent to bring up?”

“Well,” I reply. “I’ve been wanting to hear about you and Freya, but now that I’ve heard the story I’m so hard I can’t move. I’m going to need a crowbar to get me off this leather.”

Ivy wiggles are eyebrows at me. “That’s something I can help with. The erection, I mean, not the crowbar.”

She takes her lethal shoe back and moves to sit right next to me, stroking my cock through my trousers and kissing my neck. She murmurs into my ear. “I want you to fuck me while I’m still wearing these ridiculous shoes.”

“That can certainly be arranged,” I reply.

“But, first, it’s your turn. To tell me about what it was like with Freya and I.”

“I don’t think I can survive another five minutes of talking. Especially about you and Freya. Not without a trip to a dodgy island hospital afterward, anyway.”

Ivy strokes me harder. “Just a snippet, then,” she says. “One that won’t land you up on a reality TV show.’”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You know those shows. ‘Sex sent me to the ER—Thailand edition’.”

“I’m pleased to tell you that I know nothing of the kind.”

Ivy crosses her arms. “Snob.”

“Voyeur.”

“You think you’re too good for reality TV?”

“I know I am.”

“Probably never watched an episode in your life.”

“Hopefully it will remain that way,” I reply. “Can we get back to the issue at hand? I’m dying a slow and painful death here.”

Ivy snorts and squeezes me, almost making me yelp. “The issue at hand? I’d love to.”

She unzips me. I sigh in genuine relief as my cock is finally freed.

“Oh, thank god,” I say. “Finally.”

“You do know you could have done that yourself, right? As you just said, we’re literally on a sex yacht.”

“I guess I’m not much of an exhibitionist.”

Ivy thinks for a moment. “You know what? I think I am.”

I feel a zing up my spine. “Would you like to … take off your top?” I ask.

She hesitates again, then takes off the whole dress, leaving on only her panties, stilettos, and tiara.

“If you had told me you were going to just take it off like that, I wouldn’t have bought it for you,” I joke. “I could have saved two dollars.”

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