by J. L. Beck
“Okay. Only get into the car with you. Got it.” She giggles, and it’s adorable as fuck. Hearing it makes me want to make her smile and laugh more—it makes me want to make her happy.
“Do you live far from here?”
“No. We’ll be in there shortly…” My next question lingers on the edge of my tongue. It’s not any of my business, and I shouldn’t care, but I do, and I can’t stop myself from wanting answers now that I’ve tangled myself up in her business.
“What would compel your parents to force you to marry that prick?” I grit my teeth, knowing I won’t like her answer, not after she has already told me her parents forced her into it.
“The short version? Money,” she whispers, clearly heartbroken. “Joseph is not only rich, but also powerful, with connections my parents want. They told me they took care of me my whole life, and now, it’s time for me to return the favor and take care of them. My mom said it is my duty as her daughter.” Sadness seeps from her.
“What a load of bullshit. What is this, the fifteen-hundreds? Who forces their daughter to get married for money or connections? Marriage is something that should take place between two people who love each other. Your parents are assholes.”
“You don’t have the first clue,” she whispers as I park in front of my apartment building. I watch her as she curiously looks up at the building.
“This place looks nice.” She smiles. I open my door at the same time she opens hers, but by the time I walk around, she’s still trying to get out of the car without getting her dress stuck.
“Here, let me help you,” I tell her just before grabbing her hips and lifting her up and out of the car. A soft, feminine gasp escapes her lips. Her chest rises and falls, the swell of her breasts pushing up over the top of the gown.
“Thank you…” She bats her eyes innocently, and I don’t even think she realizes how gorgeous she is. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask your name earlier.”
“Bishop.” I hold out my hand. She places her small, fragile-looking hand with perfectly manicured fingernails in my large, rugged one. Even though they couldn't look any more different, they fit together perfectly.
“It’s nice to meet you, Bishop.” She smiles, and I can’t help myself, I pull her into my chest right then and there, not caring about anything but my lips finding hers.
Tipping her chin up, I stare into her blue eyes. The heat inside them flares, and I know she’s feeling everything I am.
Without a word, I take her hand into mine and guide her toward my apartment. I can barely keep my eyes off her as we walk. When we finally reach the door to my apartment, I fish out my keys and unlock it.
Before Ivy has the chance to walk over the threshold I’m bending down and picking her up. She let out a squeal, but I can’t tell if it’s from fear or surprise. I can’t picture her being afraid of me, and I’d never allow her to.
Her arms come up around my neck as I carry her into my place bridal style.
“What are you doing?” She giggles, not understanding the meaning of carrying a woman over the threshold for the first time.
“Well, it’s your wedding day and you are in a wedding dress. It seemed only right to carry you over the threshold.” I set her back down on her feet once we reach the middle of my living room, and for a moment, I’m unsure of what to do next. I only thought up as far as getting her to my house. I watch as she looks around the room curiously.
She’s so beautiful with her high cheekbones, heart-shaped face, and plump lips. She has curves, and though she’s tiny, she looks fierce. Fuck. I damn near groan at the thought of keeping her here, claiming her, making her mine.
I envision fucking her through the mattress in my bedroom, across the kitchen island, against the wall overlooking the city. I shake my head, pushing the thoughts away before they take root. I should know better. I’m not like that, and Ivy doesn’t seem like the one-night-stand type. Plus, if she is a virgin, that just makes all of this worse. Her first time should be perfect.
I lift my gaze to hers, catching her as she stares at me. As soon as our eyes meet, she drops her gaze, and I watch as her already pink cheeks turn a shade darker.
Leaning down, my lips ghost against hers, gently, unsure at first. I don't think she has ever been kissed before just from the way her lips don’t move against mine right away. Then, as if something connects in her head, she fists my t-shirt, and the kiss deepens. She tastes like sugar and vanilla, just like she smells. I nip at her bottom lip, needing her to open that pretty mouth of hers so I can taste her tongue with my own.
A deep moan rumbles out of my chest, and I pull her closer, until there’s nothing but the heat of her body surrounding me. I want her out of this dress and withering beneath me.
My cock is hard beyond belief. It has been a long time since I’ve felt pleasure this deep coursing through my veins. Pulling away, I lean my forehead against hers, allowing her to catch her breath. Her pupils are dilated, telling me that she wants more, needs more, just as I do.
“What’s wrong? Why are you blushing?” I ask without thinking.
She tilts her head, as if she’s trying to gage me, her movements causing a few more blonde strands to slip from her bun. “I know this dress looks beautiful, but it’s incredibly uncomfortable. I would really like to take it off.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Come on. I’ll find you something far more comfortable to wear.” I lead her into my bedroom down the hall, my entire body vibrating with need.
I walk up to the dresser and pull out some sweats, a t-shirt, and a pair of boxers. I’m not exactly sure what she’ll be most comfortable in, so I give her different options.
“Here.” I hand her the stack of clothes. “They’re going to be big on you, but at least you’ll be comfortable.” I smile and head toward the door.
“Actually…I…I kinda need some help…out of this dress,” she stumbles over her words. My mouth goes dry, and for a moment, I forget how to breath. Then, I take another look at the white angel standing in the center of my bedroom...asking me to help her undress. This is something her husband should be doing for her—something a man who isn’t me should be doing.
“What do you need me to do?” I ask gruffly, the need inside me bubbling over. This is dangerous.
“There are some hooks in the back, and a zipper...and underneath that, the corset needs to be untied and loosened.” She instructs me, and then stands impossibly still.
I step behind her, hoping she can’t see how fucking hard I am for her.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” I murmur into her skin, watching as she shivers a little. My fingers skim down the back of the dress. It takes me a moment to find the hooks tucked away just under the edge of the fabric.
After I undo those, I pull down the zipper very slowly, revealing a matching lace corset hidden beneath the fabric of the dress. There is a bow on the bottom, and as I untie it, I can’t help but feel like I’m unwrapping a present that was given to me. I loosen the strings, my knuckles briefly touching her skin, and feel her exhale slowly. As soon as the corset is loosened completely, Ivy sucks in a deep breath.
Helping her makes me feel good—makes my heart beat furiously against my ribcage. “How is that? Do you feel better now?”
“You have no idea. It felt like I couldn’t breathe, and when you have to walk around in heels for hours...” She shakes her head, and the dress starts to slide down her torso.
I’m about to ask her if she wants me to leave when she starts pushing it down farther. Before I know it, she’s standing a foot away from me in nothing but her loose-fitting corset, lace panties, and thigh-high stockings. My feet refuse to move, and my body’s reaction to her is what any man’s would be:
Need. Want. Lust.
But there’s something deeper, something far more than lust stirring beneath the surface. I want to be the man to take care of her, to support her, cherish her, love her. I want to possess her and listen to
her whimper as I give her my cock. I want her pleasure to mirror my own. I want to give her a baby and watch as it grows deep inside her.
I want her.
37
Ivy
A nervousness slithers through me as I stand before my savior, my knight in shining armor. He just saved my life in more than one way, and I can’t help but feel the need to thank him, repay him, but there is more to it.
It is clear that he wants me from the way his eyes gleam. I want him too, and I wonder if he can tell. I feel this string tugging at my heart, pulling me forward. My parents never allowed me to date who I wanted to, never allowed me the freedom of doing anything.
I never got to choose—my clothes, my car, what school I went to, who I married—and that changes now.
Today, I choose him.
Turning my head, I look at him over my shoulder and our eyes lock. I give him a seductive smile...or at least what I think is a seductive smile. By the hunger in Bishop’s eyes, I’m certain I’m doing something right.
There is a longing in his gaze that matches my own, but he still hasn’t moved and I wonder if I just imagined it. Maybe he doesn’t want me...maybe I’m just imagining him wanting me like I want him.
“I’m sorry if…” My cheeks heat with embarrassment. Of course he wouldn’t want me. I was crazy for thinking he would—for thinking I saw something in his eyes. Dumb. So dumb, Ivy.
“Don’t you dare apologize.” He chuckles. “I’m harder than… you have no idea how hard my cock is right now, but you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to offer yourself to me. I won’t lie and tell you I don’t want to fuck you through the mattress, Bambi, but it’s not why I brought you here. I just wanted to help you get you out of there.”
His response causes a heat to bloom in my chest.
He wants me. And for some odd reason he cares about me too.
Neither of those things have ever been expressed to me. My parents wanted what I could offer them. My future husband didn’t care about me.
And because of that, I’m done caring, done trying to be what everyone else wants. I’m going to do what I want...be who I want.
“I want you. I’ve never been with a man before, but I want you.” I lick my bottom lip, seeing the hunger in his green eyes deepen.
“Don’t say that. We hardly know each other. We literally just met,” he responds gruffly, his body tense, his muscles begging to be touched. He’s trying to convince me to walk away, but I don’t want to. I want to touch him and let him touch me.
“I don’t care. You’ve been kinder to me than anyone else ever has. You saved me…” I whisper. I try to step out of the mountain of dress puddled around me, and almost fall on my face when my heel gets stuck on some fabric. Of course, he’s right there to catch me. Standing directly in front of him on unsteady feet, I stare up into his face. He grabs me by the hips, and I’m not sure if it’s to pull me in or push me away.
“Tell me no...tell me not to. Tell me to walk away, and I will. You’re pure white snow, and I’m tainted. You deserve better, and I know that even without really knowing you.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter if we know each other. There’s always time for that later. It’s about giving our hearts what they want.” And right now my heart and my body wants him. As if he feels the same tingling deep inside his belly, he’s on me, claiming my mouth, searing his lips to mine.
He kisses with a fierceness that makes my mouth dry and my heart heavy. I sigh, melting into his body, his touch. His lips move, and soon, they’re trailing over my chin, down my throat, and over my throbbing pulse. He nibbles on my collarbone, and I moan loudly, the noise vibrating off the walls of the bedroom.
My nipples harden, and my chest rises and falls. I grip the edge of his shirt, and he helps me pull it up over his head. My eyes bulge out of my skull as I roam over his exposed flesh. His muscles ripple, the dips and planes of his body make my insides clench with need. He looks like a damn Roman god.
Where do men like this come from?
I run my fingers over the skin and watch as it moves. His chest and arms are painted with intricate lines of black ink. My mouth waters. He’s the man I want—the man I need.
“Has your pretty pussy ever been fingered? Tasted? Touched?” His words caress my ear, and I find I’m shaking my head instead of responding.
“Use your words, Bambi.” Bishop’s voice is deep, and it makes me shiver.
“No. No one has ever touched me,” I whisper, seeing a grin pull at his lips. He looks devilishly handsome when he smiles. I want to see him do it more.
I want to make him smile, make him happy.
“Fuck…” he growls before lifting me and walking toward his king size bed in the middle of the room. He deposits me onto the cotton sheets, and my legs fall apart, as if I’m beckoning him forward. I know it’s impossible to think he could be the one, but I feel it. I feel something deep inside me sparking, cracking, fusing together.
“I want you,” I whimper, looking up at him.
“And you’ll have me, every last fucking inch, Bambi.” The growl in his voice makes me shiver. Before I can respond, he drops down to his knees in front of me.
“What are you doing?” I croak as his fingers slide down my lace-covered slit.
“Tasting you, sampling your sweet little pussy…I want to see what you like. Feel you come all over my tongue. Get you nice and wet before giving you all ten inches.”
My eyes go wide.
Ten inches?
Holy shit.
My blood whooshes in my ears, and I watch with eagerness as he grips my panties between his fingers and pulls them down my legs. My body feels hot. My breasts heave with every breath I take. It feels like I’m about to combust into a raging inferno, and he hasn’t even touched me or tasted me yet.
Tossing my underwear over his shoulder, he pulls me to the very edge of the mattress and pushes my thighs apart, centering himself between my legs. I rest my legs on his shoulders as if they belong there, and then I feel it.
He’s spreading me open...spreading my lips and exposing me.
“So pretty…so fucking pretty, Bambi.” I wiggle beneath his touch, and he chuckles against my folds, his tongue flicking over my swollen clit.
I’m already soaked, drenched, and I don’t understand how or why. This man knows my body far better than I do. I want him to take from me, claim me, own every inch of me.
My hands weave into his thick hair, and I find myself pushing his face into my pussy in a frenzy to get more from him.
He licks me like he’s starving, sucking on the tight bundle of nerves until my legs start to shake. Pleasure builds deep inside me, the tension unraveling in my belly. He must feel my impending orgasm. In a second, he’s moving my legs, pulling them together, and pushing them to my chest.
My muscles clench, and then I feel him there, at my entrance. His tongue dips in and out, over and over again, such shallow, little thrusts, but they’re enough to leave me seeing stars.
I fall apart, thrashing against the sheets, gripping onto them as if they can hold me to the ground as my body floats far, far away. Bishop doesn’t ease his assault against my center. He continues to fuck me, his tongue swallowing up every single drop of my arousal.
“Fuck, Bambi. You taste just like honey.” He licks me all over, his teeth nipping at my thighs as he pulls away and comes to stand at his full height. He undoes his jeans and pushes them down his legs.
His thick cock springs free, and I can’t pull my gaze away from it.
He wasn’t lying.
He really is huge, and thick, and oh dear lord, how is he going to fit inside me? He's going to break me, impale with one stroke.
“I’m going to fuck you bare...come inside you…do you want that? Do you want my cum dripping out of your tight little cunt?”
I don’t even have to think before I’m answering him.
I lick my lips. “Yes, come inside me. Own me,” I moan, s
preading my legs real wide for him. I never wanted anything more than for him to take me.
I was already prepared for losing my virginity today, but I was not prepared for this overwhelming need I’m feeling for the man in front of me. I was not prepared for a man to look at me like I'm the most important and most precious thing he has ever laid eyes on. I was not prepared for Bishop.
“Scoot up,” he orders in a low, raspy voice. I do as he asks and scoot all the way up the mattress, coming to a stop once my head touches the pillow.
He moves up onto the bed and crawls over top of me until his whole body is hovers mere inches above mine.
His heated breath against my cheek, and our mingling scents fill my nostrils. As soon as he lowers himself, I feel his long, rock-hard erection pushing up against my thigh, so close to my hot, wet center.
I tilt my hips up, trying to get him closer, which makes him chuckle against my skin.
“Such an eager girl for my cock. You want him inside you, don’t you? You want him to pop your cherry?”
“Yes,” I admit. I should probably be embarrassed, but I’m not. I’m not ashamed of what I want, and right now, I want him. I want him to fill me up until I can’t take anymore—until his release coats my insides.
“Please…” I beg.
“Fuck,” he growls, grabbing onto my hip tightly. He shifts on top of me, bracing himself with one arm, he moves his other between us and takes his cock in his hand.
He guides himself to my entrance, but instead of pushing inside me like I want, he drags the smooth tip up and down my slit, moving my wetness around.
Every time he touches my clit, another jolt of pleasure zings through me into my core. My arousal gushes out and onto his cock, coating him in my slickness.
“Please…” I keep begging. “I want you...inside me.” The weight of his body, the movement of his muscles, his cock as it slides over my clit—it's all got me hanging on the very edge, teetering.
With a grin, he moves back to my entrance, and this time, he stops, centering himself before the velvety head of his cock crowns my entrance. He's so thick, so huge, and the pleasure is so intense, for a moment, I don’t know if I can take him. I whimper at the pleasure and pain searing my entrance, and dig my nails into his back hard enough to draw blood.
