Page 41 of Thorns of Malice

She says, "Dax, I hold no hard feelings. I told you that."

"Eat your food and shut up," Bobby says, shoving another forkful of meat into his mouth.

"Yeah, eat your dinner," Ivy agrees, sliding her hand up my inner thigh and grazing my erection.

I shudder. My chest grows heavy, rising and falling slowly, as I try to pull it together, staring at the lobster and filet on my plate.

Everyone begins to eat. I barely hear the conversation. I take another swig of scotch, my appetite gone.

The no-name steps back on stage when dinner is finally over and dessert is served. He booms, "Everyone please welcome our MC tonight, Dean Bramwell."

The room erupts in polite applause, and Dean Bramwell steps on stage. He's gotten fat over the years, and his shiny bald head has larger sunspots. The alcohol's turned his cheeks redder, and he grips the podium. He begins, "Thank you all for being here tonight. The funds that come to our university are important for our future students. The research we do here at Clifton University?—"

Ivy leans into my ear. "We did a lot of research, didn't we, Dax?"

I stare at her, uneasy, blocking out Bramwell's voice.

She slides her hand on my thigh again, revealing, "Lots of research on how to make me your good little slut, right, Dax?" Her lips twitch.

My mouth waters. I've dreamed about those lips for over a decade. I'd do anything to have them against mine again. And those words coming out of her mouth...

She slowly licks her lips, tormenting me, and then the room erupts in applause. She winks and rises.

I grab her wrist. "Where are you going?"

She points to the stage. "The stage. Dean Bramwell just called me up."

I don't release her. My pulse skyrockets, unsure of what's happening and hating every minute.

She giggles. "You have to release me, Dax."

"Yeah, release her," Bobby orders.

I nudge him in the chest with my elbow.

"Fucker," he barks, then takes another swig of scotch.

"Don't make a scene," I advise him.

Ivy pats me on the shoulder. "I have to go, Dax."

I finally release her, unsure what else I can do.

She struts across the room with all eyes on her, our table in a trance, swaying her whore-red, satin-covered ass, making my cock throb harder.

A student holds her hand to help her up the steps of the stage.

Dean Bramwell hugs her as she approaches him. He retreats and says into the microphone, "It's my pleasure?—"

Ivy covers it and leans into Dean Bramwell's ear.

He chuckles and steps back, opening his arm.

"Okay, then, all yours."

Ivy waits until he sits down. Then she takes a deep breath and states, "Most of you probably remember me. Some of you might not. I'm Ivy Ford. You know...the sex video girl." She beams.

Gasps and a few lewd comments echo around the room.

---