If we go back to his house, I’ll lose my nerve on the way. I’ve loathed the feeling of a man in my mouth since the first time Lorenzo took me there. The gagging, loss of air, and utter humiliation of something so vile squirting across my tongue…
I want it to be different with Emeric. I need him to show me how to do this willingly.
Surrounded by the stiff muscle groups of his chest and legs, I stroke my hand over the pulsing swell of his erection. “I will crawl to you. Bow to you. Whatever you want, I want. Just…give me this.”
A thick, hoarse noise escapes his lips. “Christ in hell. How the fuck do I say no to that?”
He wraps my hair around his fist, his gaze cutting through the theater and pausing on the closed doors.
Is he thinking about Joanne and the time they were caught?
It’s after seven on a Friday night. We’re probably the only two people in Crescent Hall, and no one comes into the theater after school hours. But if those doors open, I’ll be on my feet before we’re spotted. Besides, only my back is illuminated by the dim edge of the lights. No one can see him in the shadows.
I know he considers all of this before he whispers gruffly, “Take me out.”
Excitement shivers through me as I loosen his belt and slide down his zipper. My hands shake, and my mouth floods with moisture.
The fist in my hair clamps down as tension ripples from his body. He lifts his hips, ripping at the trousers with his free hand. As the zipper shifts below his heavy sac, my gut quivers with anticipation to touch him.
In the dim space between us, the largeness of him juts up, long and beautiful and throbbing with veins. My hands gravitate toward it, fingers curling around the thick base.
He wrenches me backward by my hair and studies my face, his blue eyes a faint glow in the darkness. “The moment you want this to stop, raise your hand in the air.”
Because I won’t be able to use my voice? Fear trickles in, but I shove it away. I have the strength to be vulnerable with him. “I will.”
He releases my hair and grips the arm rests with both hands. “Now suck me.”
Kneeling to him, with my fingers trembling against the dark short hairs on his groin, I lower my head and slide my cheek along his shaft, nuzzling, kissing, and savoring the feel of steel sheathed in silky flesh.
His entire body melts into the seat.
I drag my nose along his length, inhaling the scent of a man I trust, pulling his woody musk deep into my lungs.
A groan notches his breaths, and his legs widen, stretching the seams around his fly. “Stop playing with it, and suck it.”
Smiling, I swirl my tongue around the tip, shredding a gasp from his throat. The sight of his blanching fists around the arm rests produces a throb between my legs. The jerk of his cock against my lips rushes wet heat to my core. His pleasure is my pleasure.
As I suckle and lick the crown, I reach into his briefs to tease his balls with kneading fingers. Then I close my eyes and draw him into my mouth.
“Ah fuck.” He grunts. “That’s it. Deeper. Flatten your tongue. There you go.” His legs shake. “Jesus, Ivory. Just like that.”
I thrill at his praise and bob my head faster, tightening the suction of my mouth. When he’s not turning his neck to glance at the door, I know he’s watching me, absorbing the contentment on my face as I give and give. Imagining the desire hooding his eyes charges me up, almost as much as the way he bosses me every step of the way. Spit on it. Lick under the head. Twist your wrist. Take it deep.
Holy hell, this man. He can’t just sit there and enjoy a blow job. His harsh whispers demand I do it the way he likes it, ordering the exact motions to make. Suck faster. Stroke harder. Make it wet.
He’s a control freak through and through, but I knew he’d respond exactly this way. I love him like this. His filthy fucking mouth and the coarseness of his timbre makes my lips tingle and my nipples harden.
When he loses the last of his restraint, there’s no warning. In a blur, he grabs my hair and slams my head down. I gag, slobbering atrociously and sucking for air. A pained moan escapes him as he bucks his hips and drives harder, deeper. I choke so violently my eyes water against the pressure, and my fingers scramble for purchase in the folds of his slacks.
Both hands tangle in my hair as he holds my face against his groin, his cock digging against my throat, his voice hoarse. “Raise your hand, dammit, and I’ll stop.”
My hands are free. I can lift them anytime. Then he’ll release me, and the discomfort will end. The power in that breaks something open inside me.
I want this. I feel it at gut level, this need for him to fuck my mouth savagely, carelessly, and without thought. Maybe because he’s held back for so long, restraining himself for me, and I ache to give this back to him. Or maybe because I want his hurt so hard and deep inside me that he’s all I feel.
With the broad head pounding the back of my throat and taunting my airway, it already hurts. My tonsils feel like painful masses of swollen tissue. He’s doing this because he wants to, and I love that, crave it, like no decent woman ever would.
I’ve never been decent. I’m dirty—Emeric’s kind of dirty that leaves a claiming painful pleasure in my throat. He tries to fuck me as deeply as he can because he’s my master, the man I hunger for in the darkest, most terribly beautiful way possible.
“Raise…your…fucking…hand.” He punctuates each word with jabbing strokes in my mouth.
I bury my nails into his thighs, a silent plea. Don’t stop.
He stabs his hips and pulls my hair, legs shaking, and breaths wheezing out of control. Just when I think I can’t take any more, the balance shifts. He goes quiet, slowing his thrusts, stroking my hair, and filling my mouth with his release.
My name reverberates through the theater as his body convulses and sighs.
The power is mine. I bask in it. His hands tremble, and I grab them, hold them, our fingers intertwined. I have him.
Ivory
The next morning, I shield my eyes against the glaring sun and step toward an unfamiliar car in Emeric’s driveway. “What is that?”
He follows me out of the house and walks ahead of me. “A Porsche Cayenne.”
“Okaaay. Why is it here?” I thought he was driving me to my doctor’s appointment in his muscle car. “Where did it come from?”
His strong legs carry him toward the white sporty SUV, his gorgeous ass flexing in low-waist jeans. With the chirp of a key fob, he unlocks and opens the driver’s door then faces me with a wide stance, arms crossed over his chest.
The t-shirt stretches around defined biceps and formidable shoulders, and creases of denim outline the impressive bulge between his legs. I stare without apology, a smile hitching my lips as I recall the way his swollen length pounded against my throat last night.
“Look at me.” Censure hardens his tone. When I lift my gaze, he says, “I had it delivered this morning.”
I grit my teeth. This car better not be for me. “I thought you preferred loud American gas guzzlers.”
The blue in his eyes glows magnetically in the sunlight. “True. But this is one of the safest SUVs on the market.”
Yep, it’s for me, dammit. Another gift I don’t need. Now I know why he asked me earlier in the week if I had a driver’s license. “Thank you, but no—”
“We’re not arguing about this.”
“Uh, yeah, we are. It’s hard enough explaining my wardrobe at school. But a car? No way.” I anchor my hands on my hips. “Return it.”
“No.” He tosses the fob in my direction.
I let it thunk to the driveway at my feet and give him my best glare.
His mouth sets in a thin, severe line.
Oh shit. My pulse trips.
He clasps his hands behind his back and prowls toward me, slowly, methodically, his eyes boring into mine.
Double shit. I lower my arms to my sides and scan the yard. We’re behind the estate, hidden from the street. The t
owering oaks form a living wall of privacy between the lots. Not that I’m afraid to be alone with him when he’s like this. Or maybe I am, but any fear I have is smothered by the heady mix of give and take that melds us together so beautifully.
Doesn’t mean I have to accept a car, though. I glare down at the key fob.
“Eyes on me!”
My focus flies to the sculpted lines of his face and the pulsing vein in his brow. It’s been a few days since I riled him up, but I know that look. As he circles me, I’m both dancing and cringing inside, anticipating a strangling hand on my throat or a hard smack on the ass. Maybe he’ll finally have sex with me, right here in broad daylight. I’d welcome any or all of it. I’ve been in such a heightened state of arousal since I moved in, I might just strip off my clothes and make the decision for him.
He stops behind me, not touching, but close enough to stir my hair with his breaths. “I’ve had my fingers in your cunt, my cock in your mouth, and your taste on my lips. I’m the only person on the planet who knows how beautiful you look when you come. All those freckles on your thighs, the sounds you make when you sleep, the passion you evoke with a piano, everything about you is priceless and irreplaceable. So I’m going to wrap you in nice things and protect you in a safe car. And you are going to thank me with those gorgeous lips around my dick when you get home.”
My heart rises and dips with each word, my breaths stuttering noisily.
“This is who I am, Ivory, and you are the essential and most important part of me.” He steps back. “Now bend over.”
My knees wobble at his words. I reach for the black Chucks on my feet, and the fancy designer denim cuts into my thighs. The downside of low-rise jeans? He’s getting an ungodly view of my butt cleavage right about now.
His palm slams against my ass with a force that steals my breath and topples me forward. But his arm catches me around the waist, and the hand on my back keeps me in a doubled-over position. Sweet Jesus, my butt cheek is on fire. The heat fans outward, circulating through my blood and gathering between my legs.
He rubs the sore spot, limited by the heavily-stitched pocket of my jeans. “Pick up the keyring.”
Hanging over the brace of his arm, I snatch the fob from the brick pavestones.
He grips my bicep and walks me toward the car. “I would redden your fucking ass if you weren’t about to show it to the doctor.” He stops at the driver’s door. “Hands on the roof.”
Shit. What now? I drop the fob on the seat and place my palms on the shiny white top, smudging the pristine paint job with sweat.
His fingers slide around my hips and release the button of my jeans. My heart kicks into a feverish crescendo. He unzips the fly and, in one shove, yanks everything to my feet.
Standing outside in the daylight, nude from the waist down… This is a first for me. I can’t decide if I’m shaking from the thrill of someone seeing, from the fear of inevitable pain, or from the burning anticipation of him touching me again. Probably all of the above.
“Bend down and grip the seat.”
As I follow his command, a sense of peace washes over me. Whatever he does next will make me feel a little less lost. Every time he takes me in hand, he opens another door that shows me more about myself. The person he reveals isn’t ashamed or weak. I’m finally figuring out what I want.
His Doc Martens scuff against the bricks as he lowers behind me. His hands wrap around my thighs, and in the next heartbeat, he buries his nose in my pussy.
A slap of embarrassment flushes my face. But it quickly transforms into a torrent of desire as his exhale brushes against my flesh. A deep inhale follows, and his fingers tighten against my legs.
He’s smelling me. Down there. Deeply and repeatedly. I never would’ve imagined being so wildly turned on by this, but I’m shaking and panting against the strange and incredible sensation. He’s shaking, too, and… Oh fuck, he’s licking me, kissing my pussy the way he kisses my mouth. Another—holy fucking shit—first.
I bite my lip to silence my cry as he stabs his tongue between my legs. He laves my folds, brutally bites sensitive skin, and scratches me with his stubble. It’s pain and pleasure, soprano and bass, and every octave in between. I’m going to come. I feel the pull, and I reach for that wondrous place, grinding my pussy against his face and digging my fingers into the leather seat. Almost there. Almost—
He steps back.
I straighten and twist around to grab him, but he’s right there, catching me in the tangle of my jeans with his hands on my hips and his tongue in my mouth. He slides his lips over mine in slippery strokes, spreading the tangy taste of my arousal between us.
He breaks the kiss and drags my panties up my trembling legs.
My insides throb, aching to finish what he started. “I didn’t come.”
“I know.” He pulls up my jeans and fastens them. Then he grabs my hand and presses it against the erection behind his zipper. “I’ll wait for you.”
“You’re not going to the appointment with me?”
Regret etches his face, and he releases my hand.
Of course, he can’t go. Someone might see us together. I mentally slap myself. “That’s why you gave me the car.”
He cups my face and kisses me.
“I’m sorry.” I lean back and peer up at him through my lashes. “I was kind of a brat about it.”
“The brattiest.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
A smile stretches his gorgeous face. “Where would the fun be in that?”
He likes me to act out so he can discipline me for it? Today’s lesson: the worst punishment is a denied orgasm.
When I’m settled in the driver’s seat, he leans into the open window and gives me a flinty glare. “Don’t argue with the doctor.”
“I won’t.”
“Get the blood work.”
“I will.”
“And the birth control he prescribes.”
My pulse leaps. “Of course.”
Those hard eyes soften into a look I’ve never seen on him before. “Come back to me.”
I reach up and stroke his shadowed jaw. “Count on it.”
Ivory
Unease buzzes through me as I turn out of Emeric’s driveway. Maybe because I’m wearing designer clothes, driving an expensive car, and obsessing about a man with no idea where I’m headed. I know my way to the clinic, but after that? Months down the road? After I graduate? Where am I going and how will I get there?
I know Emeric intends to keep me around. That both delights me and troubles me. Part of the reason I want to go to Leopold is to get out of Treme. Well, I did, and here I am with an address even Ann would envy. But I yearn to continue practicing piano, and not just under any instructor. The very best instructors Leopold has to offer. How could I throw away my dream for a man and forgive myself? How could Emeric respect me if I did that?
He wouldn’t. Of all the lessons he’s taught me in and out of the classroom, the most profound is how to recognize my own strength and go after what I want.
Amid my churning thoughts, I wonder about Mom and Shane. Do they question where I am? Emeric keeps the bills current, so maybe they don’t care. Or maybe they’re too strung out to even notice my absence. I try not to dwell on that. The things I want from them, their interest and concern, died with my dad. My family is broken, a harrowing truth I accepted a long time ago.
A couple of minutes from his house, I park the Porsche in front of Southern Family Health. Tucking the phone in my back pocket, I head inside the modern one-story building.
A few people fill the waiting room, but none of them look up from their phones when I enter. I check in, fill out the forms, and return them to the middle-aged woman behind the counter.
“Take a seat.” She brushes her frizzy brown hair behind her ear. “Dr. Marceaux will see you shortly.”
I stiffen, my attention darting over the rack of pamphlets, searching for something to validate what I just hea
rd. “Did you say Marceaux?”
“Is that not…” She glances at the computer monitor. “Says here you requested Marceaux.”
My veins turn to ice. Emeric mentioned his father’s a physician, but I assumed the man worked at a fancy hospital or something. For fuck’s sake, why would he send me to his dad to have my vagina examined? Maybe this doctor is a different Marceaux? Is it a common last name?
“Does he…” Is it too risky to ask this? Fuck it. “Does Dr. Marceaux have a son? A teacher?”
“Oh, yes.” The woman cracks a huge smile and leans back in the chair, regarding me. “From the look on your face, I’m guessing he’s got you under his spell, too.”
“No. I…” My cheeks burn. “What do you mean?”
“Every time that fine-looking man comes in here, he gets all the girls in a tizzy.” She laughs. “Take a number, honey. There’s a long line of women waiting for a piece of that.”
Did she seriously just say that? Grinding my teeth, I find a seat and pull out the phone. I have two names in my contact list. Stogie and LordandMaster. The latter was Emeric’s attempt at humor when he set up the phone. I haven’t had the heart to change it.
I launch a text window.
Me: U sent me to ur dad??? To get birth control? R u crazy?
The front door opens, and a very pregnant woman sashays toward the counter. She’s all belly. Skinny and petite everywhere else. How the hell does she walk so gracefully in those sky-high heels?
The vibration of an incoming text draws my attention back to the phone.
LordandMaster: He’ll do everything but the Pap test. Don’t question me.
But he’ll see me in a thin gown and check me for STDs? I feel sick.
Me: Does he know about us?
LordandMaster: Yes
Yes? That’s all he’s going to say?
I pinch the bridge of my nose, debating the wisdom in storming out.
“I need to see him right now.” The pregnant woman’s rising voice brings my eyes up.
She gathers her long blonde hair and holds it away from her pale complexion, her tense posture screaming with frustration.
Falling For The Forbidden Page 24
