Page 73 of Burning Ivy (The KORT)

I’m guessing that’s in regard to the beignets. When I told him he was a fucking moron for defying orders, putting Ivy at risk, and returning with a souvenir of his insubordination, he insisted it was a sacrifice to help her acclimate because she wanted to win Gage over with food. Looks like it worked.

“I’ll still bake, Big Guy,” she vows. “I don’tonlydo it when I’m sad. Do you like lasagna?”

His whole face beams, wrapped around the pint-size finger he screamed about weeks ago. She seems so sweet and harmless, usingbaked goods to win over the one guy in the house who I was nervous she’d always be at odds with.

But my girl is cunning. A genius, like the man who raised her. In the most unsuspecting package.

Lethal.

We chat with the guys while Ivy eats, and they finally bid us good night with a handful of jeers that she fields much better. She was right. Ripping that shirt off her will be a lot of fun. I swoop her into my arms and sprint back toourbedroom while she squeals.

“I came up with something that won’t make me a bit sore, at least not in the same area,” she says with a sexy smirk as I drop her onto the bed.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” She bounces onto her knees and tugs at the waistband of my sweatpants with a suggestive lick of her luscious lips.

I hold her hand still. “You want to suck my cock, Little Storm?”

I didn’t entertain the idea earlier because of that asshole in college who had tried to hurt her, but if she’s asking.

She nods emphatically, her teeth sinking seductively into that pouty lip. “I do.”

“Get off the bed.”

When she obeys, I tear the shirt open, buttons popping as she giggles, the abused fabric collapsing to the floor.

So gorgeous.

“Take off the boxers too,” I instruct.

She complies and looks back to me with one brow bowed, so I keep guiding her.

“Free me, but then I’ll sit on the edge of the bed, and you kneel.”

She removes my pants, rolling the waistband down to reveal my solid dick bobbing in earnest. Her eyes roam, studying me, while I kick the garments to the side and wait on the bed for her to process. She notes the burn marks on my hip with a subtle wince, but doesn’t linger there, moving wide eyes back to my aching length.

I squeeze her hand. “Only if you’re sure.” Too much hesitationon my part may tip her off that I know her experience, but I need her to be certain.

“I told you I was.” There’s an edge to her tone.

Defensiveness? Regret for volunteering? Remembrance of her assault?

“Say it,” I order.

She rolls her eyes with a huff. “Why?”

“Because I appreciate clarity, I enjoy hearing you say filthy words, and I told you to.”

She balks, and we stare each other down for three solid minutes before she lowers herself between my legs. “I want to give you a blow job, Wells. I’m not sure I’ll be very good at it, but I’d like to try.”

I lift her chin. “You’re already more than enough.” Smoothing my hand over her head, I stare into eager eyes searching mine for direction. “If you need to stop, pinch my leg. Hard. You can start by licking, and when you’re ready, take me into your throat and suck.”

She does exactly as I said, licking up and down the shaft with a few pumps of her fist before taking me into her mouth and sucking. I scrunch her hair into my fist, careful not to force her head down, and keep her big, watery eyes on mine as her pouty lips perform magic, rosy cheeks hollow from her work, drool escaping down her chin.

Breathtaking.

“Such a good girl, Ivy. So beautiful with my cock in your mouth. Open your throat and breathe through your nose.”

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