Page 25 of Kiss of Death
Such a slow death you deliver.
The way you swing your hips and lick your lips has me blinded to your death blow.
IVY WAS IN THE LOCKERroom still trying to catch her breath. She was hot and it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. Her body ached in places she wanted Otto to ease. Bruno told her tonight would be the night to push Otto over the edge, and she knew she succeeded. Her dancing had been on par with when she used to practice pole all the time. She knew her dancing had been enticed by the feel of Otto’s eyes on her. He exhilarated her, made her want to move in a way that was only for him.
She thought for sure with everything going on she wouldn’t be able to perform tonight. The weight of her guilt was burying her, and seeing how frantic and shaken up Mary had been when she burst through those doors made her feel like a fraud when she tried to comfort her. When Ivy stepped on stage she thought for sure it would be the same old shit, but she felt Otto’s presence still in the club, and when they locked eyes everything melted away. She might have been up there because Bruno said so, but that dance was all for her and Otto.
Ivy could feel herself growing wetter as her breathing increased. She let her hand travel down her neck, dipping in between the valley of her breast, imagining Otto was the one touching her. The locker room was packed with other women, but she couldn’t see past her want for a man she needed to emotionally stay away from.
Ivy heard the door slam open, jarring her. She looked in the mirror and blinked a few times to make sure she hadn’t conjured him out of sheer imagination.
“Everyone out,” Otto gritted through clenched teeth.
Ivy smirked in her mirror before she stood up to leave. “Not you, Ivy.” His voice held a hint of heat and promise that made her pulse quicken.
Once the last of the women were out of the dressing room, Otto turned and locked the door, effectively shutting them off from any outsiders. She watched in the mirror as he stalked toward her with angry eyes and a clenched jaw. This wild storm that had been brewing since they met was getting closer to touching down. The air in the room evaporated, and all Ivy could think about was getting his hands on her body again.
The darkness in his eyes reminded her of rain clouds in a storm, and the way her heart hammered in her chest sounded like thunder in the sky. When he stopped just behind her and her head came up to the middle of his chest, he leaned down so his lips were a breath away from her neck. The anticipation coursed through her like lightning.
This was dangerous, and thrilling and if tonight was their beginning and their end, she was going to enjoy dancing in the rain with a man who made her experience pleasure when she had forgotten what that tasted like.
Otto kept his eyes glued to hers as he spoke. “My poison Ivy.” It wasn’t an uncommon nickname for her, but he had no idea how poisonous she was about to be to him.
His breath fell against her neck, and as much as she wanted to fight the attraction she had to him—wanted to push him a little more—her traitorous body had other plans. Her head fell back against his chest, giving him more access to her body.
He was a distraction for her. He was supposed to be the mark that would set her and her sister free. She tried to bury her emotions and make sure this stayed as physical as possible, but the longer he held her gaze with more than hunger in his eyes, the harder it was not to let her emotions into the mess they were about to create.
She wanted him with a desperation she never felt before. She wanted the freedom he represented—the one she may never get a chance to taste again.
“That little show you just put on is going to cost you, my Ivy,” Otto whispered.
“You sound jealous, O.” She licked her lips, never taking her eyes off the man who was going to destroy her in more ways than one.
His hand fisted in her hair, and his other hand came around to untie the robe she threw on after her performance. She still had on what she wore on stage, and the way Otto stared at her through the mirror made her nipples pucker beneath the fabric. She could tell Otto liked that reaction by the way his nose flared and his jaw ticked.
His fingertips were light to the touch as they traveled down the middle of her body, landing just above the lace of her thong. Ivy held her breath as they stared at each other, daring the other to make a move on the undeniable attraction they had toward one another. It had been there the moment he stepped into Tres, and it only intensified the more they crossed paths.
“Tell me my wicked Ivy, when you were dancing for them, it was me you pictured wrapping your legs around.” His hand inched lower and her breath hitched, silently begging him to continue to move his hand lower.
He bit the bottom of her ear before his lips found her neck. He nipped at her neck before she felt the press of his warm lips against her skin and her legs almost gave out. She fell forward grabbing on to the table to keep her steady. But the feel of Otto’s thick erection pressed into her ass was doing the exact opposite. Her body shook with need. Desperation clawed at her, making her core throb, and she almost wept at the emptiness she felt.
His hand was against the bare skin of her ass, and her damn body arched into his touch. His deep chuckle only made her grow wetter. She had to stay focused. She couldn’t slip up and fall for the man who infuriated her and somehow had her body on the edge of coming without physically being inside of her. This was the most in control she’d been when it came to sex, and yet she wasn’t in control at all. Otto had her body on puppet strings, pulling each one to get a desired action out of her.
This was mental foreplay, stimulating parts of her body just with the anticipation of being fucked by him.
Ivy shifted her thighs together, and Otto kicked her feet apart. Hetskedunder his breath. “Are you wet for me?” She felt his fingertips on the inside of her thighs, and she hoped he’d touch her where she wanted him the most. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of begging for it though.
There was a loud knock on the door and Otto cursed under his breath. “Let’s go, Otto. No fucking—or fraternizing—or whatever the fuck you told me not to do with the girls. If you’re in there fucking one of them, I’m going to fuck you up.”
Ivy knew that voice. That was Smoke, the biker who not-so-subtly threatened her if she hurt the people he cared about. She was instantly grateful for his interruption because it reminded her of what was at stake, but she hated him for it in the same breath. She wanted Otto to fuck her right here on her vanity. She wanted to feel his power inside of her, branding her so she could hold onto a piece of him, but she knew once she got him in her system, it was going to be damn near impossible to get him out.
Otto released her, and she turned to see him readjusting himself. His eyes never left hers, and she could have sworn he saw right through her—past their sexual attraction, right down to the person she truly was and who she had to be to survive.
She licked her lips. “I guess you have to go. I do hope you enjoyed the show.”
There was another knock. “Yo, dickwad, hurry up.”
“I’m coming, dipshit,” Otto barked, but he never took his eyes off of her. “Or rather you are.” He stepped into her space again and quickly picked her up and sat her on top of her vanity. He spread her legs wide as he knelt down in between them and gripped the back of her legs, throwing them over his shoulders. “Do me a favor, and make sure you scream my name loud enough so that asshole on the other side of the door knows you belong to me.”
