Page 51 of Deadly Passion

“And what about Ivy?” I press. “She could blow the lid on your entire operation.”

“We all know Ivy will keep her mouth shut until she gets what she really wants: Spencer Bexley’s head,” Stephanie says. “Besides, Ivy’s already proved where her loyalty lies. We have no use for traitors. If she returned to us, we’d be taking her head. But you had to know that when you made me an offer, didn’t you?”

My gut clenches. “Yes.”

“You’re colder than I thought,” Stephanie says, looking at me with a newfound respect. “I never thought you’d let her die. I got the impression that the Dukes had grown fond of her.”

“She’s our prisoner,” I snap. “Nothing more.”

“How about I make my previous offer a little more interesting?” Stephanie bargains. “If you agree to work for us, we’ll also let you keep Ivy alive until you get bored with her.”

Stephanie rises from her chair before I can answer.

The bartender returns at the exact moment with a Martini overflowing with olives and places it in front of her. “I got the extra olives!”

She ignores him and addresses me, “I’ll give you a week to think it over, Freddie. That’s our best and final.” She drops the phone she must have used to contact me into her drink. “We’ll see each other again soon.”

Her hips sway as she heads onto the dancefloor, leaving me reeling. The negotiation hadn’t gone as I’d hoped. I thought Ivy meant more to them, but I was wrong. She was right about them using and manipulating her. She was nothing more than a disposable pawn in their game.

Now, I have to choose, and I only see one way out. It’s a near-impossible feat. One that will likely kill us all, but it’s our only hope. We’ll never work with the Killers Club, so I’ll have to honour the deal I made with Ivy and work with the woman who broke my heart to take them down…

CHAPTER 32

BRAM

My lips tingle against hers, like static electricity fizzles between us. It’s different from the frenzied urgency that devoured us before when we were prisoners.

She pulls away again and asks, “Are you sure this is the right—”

When will she understand? How many times do we have to kiss for her to realise that I’m not going anywhere? When will she accept that I see her—the real her—and I’ll do whatever it takes to pull her out of the darkness?

I crush my mouth against hers to steal her breath, while I rest my hand over her beating heart. She inhales sharply, ending our kiss to look up while I listen to the thudding rhythm beneath my hand.

“You’re still injured,” she murmurs feebly, eying up my wound with a guilty look. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I grin. Does she think that’s going to stop me? What’s the point of surviving if I’m not prepared to live my life to the fullest?

I shove her backwards onto my bed to prove my point. I drop to my knees and push her legs apart, but her dress is too tight.She helps me roll it up to her hips, and her thighs fall open to reveal a pink thong underneath.

I caress the zebra stripe patterns over the tops of her thighs. I love those marks. They are the marks of a woman whose flesh drives me insane, and I stroke them, wanting to show her how much I adore every inch of her. I ignore the nagging pain from my movements. Nothing is going to ruin our moment together. Besides, pain is good. It’s a reminder that we’re still here.

Her pussy taunts me as I stroke her delicate upper thighs. They clench under my fingers, and I can see how turned on she is through the patch of wet fabric. I smirk with satisfaction and slide a finger down her slit to make her squirm.

For the last few days, Freddie has tried to keep us apart. He thinks she has influence over me. He believes I’ve developed Stockholm Syndrome and am incapable of making my own decisions, but he’s underestimating me. I know what I want, and that’s the woman who is lying in front of me right now. A woman who is as fucked up as I am, who can truly understand my pain, and who I don’t have to hide from.

“Bram,” Ivy says, propping herself up on her elbows.

From my angle, I struggle to see her face over the top of her massive tits, which makes my cock harden more. It throbs against my boxers, begging for release. This room may not be the perfect surroundings she deserves, but it’s better than a dungeon.

“Are you really sure…” Her sentence merges into a long moan as I push her knickers to the side.

Does that answer your question?

Her inner thigh muscles continue to twitch as I stroke between her pussy lips, letting her slippery juices coat me without entering her. She spreads her legs wider in encouragement, jutting her hips impatiently.

I withdraw to pull her panties down carefully, then lean in, breathing in her delicious scent. I tease her entrance, stroking her with a light touch, teasing her like a tongue would do. This is the only time I’ve really missed having my tongue intact. What I wouldn’t give to lap at her cunt and drink her down…

Ivy wriggles, fisting the covers to try to stay still as I pay attention to her clit. I rub her pink nub, applying pressure, then use two fingers to part her lips and see her glistening insides before I fill her. She whimpers as I push two fingers into her. Her tight walls stretch to make room while she arches her back, flips her long hair back over her shoulder, and surrenders to the sensation by closing her eyes.

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